I stood up as tall as possible, the wooden shaft of the spear gripped by my claws. The spearhead glinted in the dim light, the edge as sharp as a dragon’s tooth. Through the fur on my fingers, I could feel the grains of the wood. In total, the spear was almost a head taller than me, clearly made for someone much taller than myself. In my hands, it felt awkward and uncomfortable.
Facing me was a bipedal creature, clearly canine in nature, standing nearly two heads taller than myself, with fur of a dark red, almost brown color. His arms seemed almost too large for his body, capable of reaching the floor while he was still standing up. His tail, lithe and ending with a few small spikes, was slowly sweeping back and forth across the floor. He wore a dark red vest that matched the color of his fur, a sign of his family’s dominance, and a black collar around his neck that was studded with small rubies, the gemstones glowing faintly with reflected light. In his paw was another spear, about the same length as mine, although he clutched it with paws nearly two times the size of mine. His face was a mask of indifference, real emotion hidden behind his expression of apathy. As it happened, I was quite familiar with my opponent; his name was Rust (due to the color of his fur), he belonged to a species known as Alpha Gem Hounds, and he was my brother.
Like Rust, I was also wearing a red vest, although mine was of a more faded color. Likewise, I too wore a collar studded with rubies, although my collar was less prominent, the rubies and overall size much smaller. My arms were nowhere near as long, or as muscular, as my brother’s. In fact, I was unable to touch the floor with my hands when standing up, a skill that almost all Gem Hounds share. My fur was a silvery color, which had led to the inevitable name of “Silver.”
We were standing in a small cave, dug out of the ground years before by Beta workers. A lamp stood off to the side, slowly burning through a candle that had been illicitly smuggled to us the week before. The lamp was encased by orange stained glass, regulating the airflow to the candle’s flame and thus controlling its burn speed, and the intensity of the light given off. I had been ecstatic for nearly a week after I had figured out how it worked.
Suddenly, the candle’s flame flickered for a split second, plunging the room into a state of semi darkness. When the candle’s flame came back to life, I saw that Rust had already begun to move, lunging towards me with his spear lifted up into the air.
Quickly, I brought my own spear up, just in time to deflect my brother’s weapon as its blade scythed down towards my head. The sound of the strike rang out, echoing in the confined space as his spear fell off just to the side of my body. Even holding my weapon with both paws, the force of his blow was enough to knock me back a step. I tried to recover, but just as I got my balance back my brother struck again, another overhead blow that forced me back once more.
Even as we fought, as I grunted with the strain of each blow, my brother’s face remained seemingly indifferent, without a twitch of a smile or the hint of a grimace marring his countenance. His pupils were black as night, betraying nothing.
Rust followed it up with a side strike, and I jumped back to avoid the razor sharp tip of the spear as it swung past me. Then another overhead blow, this one a two handed blow that forced me to my knees. I tried to regain my footing, but before I could get all the way to a standing position Rust spun his spear around and hit me in the chest, hard, with the butt of the weapon.
I cried out as I was knocked backwards, my spear knocked from my hands from the force of the blow. My head crashed against the wall behind me, where Rust had been forcing me the whole fight. For a second, my eyes lit up with bright lights, and when my vision cleared I saw the tip of my brother’s spearhead resting lightly against my neck.
“Good technique,” a gravelly voice called out. Rust pulled the spear away from my neck, and I let out the breath that I had been holding. A third Gem Hound stood on the other side of the room, the mouth of a tunnel opening up behind him. He was wearing a vest of such a deep red color that it seemed almost to have been died with blood. He had well muscled arms, even for a Gem Hound, and a large collar that was covered with blood-red rubies with a golden jewel hanging down from it. His fur was a light gray color, like the walls of the cave, and if it hadn’t been for the vest it would have been difficult to keep track of where the stone ended and his body began. He stood even taller than Rust, by nearly another half head’s length, and his pupils were jet black slits in his green eyes. Packleader Graystone. Father.
There was no question as to who he had been complimenting.
“It was smart of you to strike when the light went out,” he continued, his voice the sound of stones being crushed against each other. Most Alpha Gem Hounds had voices that sounded like rocks grating against each other; indeed, for many females it was considered one of the most attractive features, the rockier the more pleasing. “But you use too many head strikes. It makes you easy to follow, easy to stop.” He looked at Rust, to make sure he got the message. “Again.”
Slowly, I picked myself up, pushing against the wall as I got to my feet. On my chest, I felt a bruise beginning to form, to match the other bruises all across my body. I even had a cut on my arm from when I had been too careless with a block, and my brother had gotten past my guard with the sharp end of his spear. I walked over to where my own spear still lay after having been knocked from my hands. I bent down to pick it up, wincing as the motion put stress on bruised areas. Using the spear as a staff, I forced myself to my feet. My brother already stood across from me, spear gripped tightly in his paws.
“Ready?” My father’s voice called out once more, just like the last hundred times. It didn’t mean anything, of course; Rust was always ready, and as for me, I knew that he didn’t care if I was ready or not; we both knew that I would never dare to claim that I wasn’t ready, and if I did I doubted he would acknowledge my dissent. Still, we went through the motions.
“Ready,” Rust replied, his voice sounding like rocks falling from the ceiling and smashing on the floor. It was a voice that, combined with his other traits, had already earned him the attention of numerous females, not that he noticed any of them.
“Ready,” I said, quietly. My voice was not the least bit rocky. Instead, it was smooth, smooth like the voice of the soft-hearted ponies. Or at least, that’s what I’d been told. I hadn’t actually seen any of the ponies for myself. Either way, it was most definitely not the voice of a proper Gem Hound. As could be expected, it was a source of embarrassment for myself, although certainly not the only one.
Father gestured with his paw to begin even as I spoke, and I could tell that he hadn’t listened to me at all. Suddenly, I felt a small flame of anger rise up in my chest. Each bout I would get clobbered, hit over and over again as Rust moved in on the attack, as I desperately tried to keep up with his blows. It occurred to me that if I attacked first, I would have the advantage of surprise on my side. If I struck quick enough and hard enough, I might be able to defeat Rust, and then I wouldn’t get another bruise to add to the collection.
In retrospect, it was perhaps not the best of plans. Even with surprise on my side, I knew rationally that it would be difficult for me to take down an opponent who was so much bigger than me, who had practically grown up with a spear in his hand. And even if I did beat him one round, he would be ready the next round, and he wouldn’t fall for the same trick twice. Still, at the time, I figured that just not getting hurt one time would mean it had been worth the effort.
As I felt the adrenaline surge in, the pain of the bruises seemed to fade away. The adrenaline was really the only way that I kept going, despite being sore in almost every part of my body. Each fight came with another burst of energy, letting me stay on my feet long enough to be knocked back to the ground by Rust.
“Begin!” my father barked out into the cave. Usually, Rust would wait until something occurred that drew my attention, or temporarily disadvantaged me, but I couldn’t afford to wait for that. I knew that if I waited too long my brother would be able to tell what I was planning on doing, and I would lose my only advantage. Instead, I had decided to instantly go on the attack.
As soon as my father stopped speaking, I was in motion, rushing towards the wall of dull red fur in front of me. I spun the spear around in my hand, holding it out in my right paw. As I reached Rust, I let my front paw come out in front of me, whipping the spear around towards his unguarded side. Wood clacked against wood as he brought up his own spear just in time, his eyes registering some surprise at my sudden move. It was an awkward block, one that would have made me lose my balance at the very least. He barely moved.
Quickly, I pulled back before making another strike, this one coming down on his head. My paws gripped the wooden shaft firmly as my blow struck with all the force I could muster, but Rust only grunted under his breath as he blocked the blow, barely moving as he stopped my spear. It wasn’t surprising, really, but I had hoped that he would at least been knocked back some.
I pulled my spear back, spinning it halfway around and then jabbing it with all my force at his now unprotected stomach. To my surprise, this time Rust didn’t even try and block it; instead, he leaned to the side and took a half step in the same direction. As a result, the end of the spear missed him by the tiniest of margins, even disturbing some of his fur with its passage, but it missed nonetheless. I suddenly found myself off-balance, not meeting the expected resistance of either his weapon or body.
I saw a tiny smirk appear on Rust’s face as he turned, his spearhead glinting as it sliced towards me. As it came towards me, I was able to calculate in a split second where it would land, even as I tried to pull my own spear up to block it. In a moment I realized that the razor sharp metal was coming directly towards my neck, and that I wouldn’t be able to stop the slice with my spear shaft before it connected with my throat. And if I couldn’t do that, then I was as good as dead.
Stones, I thought to myself, my anger suddenly replaced with cold fear. Desperately, I tried to find some way of avoiding the spear that now seemed to have slowed down, as if it was slicing through molasses or honey instead of air. It was clear that I wouldn’t be able to block it in time, and I was too off-balance to dodge it. The blade was closer now, and getting more so with every thought I was frantically thinking.
Finally, I fell back on blind instinct, subconsciously trying to push my brother away from me. Logically, I knew that it was pointless, but I hadn’t been thinking logically since the beginning of the fight. And so I pushed out away from myself with my mind.
Suddenly, somehow, I was able to feel the rubies around Rust’s neck. The blade was only a hair’s length from my neck when I slammed my mind’s might against the feeling of my brother’s collar. In response, I saw him stumble as all the gemstones around his neck simultaneously lit up with a red glow and shot directly away from me, pushing him backwards. Just in time, the spear jerked back as well, all but missing my neck, leaving nothing more than a scratch as it passed by.
I didn’t have time to think about what had just happened, though. The empty swing and the stumble had set Rust off-balance in turn, and I couldn’t afford to waste that opportunity. I took a step to settle myself, and then another step towards Rust as I brought my spear into his stomach, jamming the wooden end into his center of mass as I had meant to do previously. This time, my brother was unable to dodge, and the spear knocked him off his feet and onto the floor. I wasted no time in rushing towards him, twisting my spear around as I started to move, bringing it up above my head and orienting it so it was pointed directly at my brother’s unguarded body. I stopped in front of him, driving my spearhead down towards his neck. As it came closer, I checked its movement, slowing it so that it would stop just before it broke his skin.
Before my spear even touched a hair on his body, I felt an impact in my side as he swung his spear like a club, the wooden shaft hitting me with the force of a full-bodied tackle. I felt myself fly to the side, this time bracing myself for the collision before I hit the floor. I let my body grow limp as I twisted in midair, protecting my head and reducing some of the collision’s strength. Even as I fell, I knew that if I hadn’t checked my blow, the tip of my spear would have taken Rust in the throat before he hit me. And from the look I had seen in his eyes, I knew that he had reached the same conclusion.
When I opened my eyes, I saw the metal of my brother’s spear once again held against my throat, stained slightly by the blood that had started flowing from where he had just sliced into me.
For a moment, there was silence in the cave. Then Father’s voice broke the silence.
“You need to be ready for anything,” he said, and I knew that he was speaking to Rust, and not me. For a moment I had been hoping he would at least he would acknowledge my effort, but that hope quickly died. “Your attack from the ground was good, though,” he admitted, gesturing down at where I lay without actually looking at me. I felt my anger start to boil up again, but I got control of it this time. It wouldn’t do me any good; it had never done me any good.
“Your training is over for the day.” His voice rang out in the small cave. He turned away and limped away back down the tunnel leading away from the cave, holding a spear shaft as a cane. He had been injured on a raid before I’d been born.
As he left, Rust and I looked at each other, locking eyes. Slowly, my brother lifted his spear.
“You would have died a hundred times,” he told me, his voice soft, like pebbles being slowly ground against each other. He said it every time we fought, to remind me of his victories.
“And you once,” I told him, watching as his face twitched into an angry grimace for a second before regaining his stoical expression.
“You should know,” he began, his voice a raspy whisper, “that I only make mistakes once. Never again.” I involuntarily cringed, leaning back to move away from him. I could tell that he was furious about stumbling, and he wasn’t entire concerned that it had been a mistake on his part. With that he turned and started to walk away from me, back down the tunnel leading away from the cave.
I watched him go and let out a sigh of relief, although it held some sadness as well. At one point, Rust and I had been friends, but we’d started to separate as we had become older. Rust had started growing and had never really stopped, while I had barely grown at all, and we had started to go our separate ways. The final straw had come about when our father had made us train against each other. Over the course of time, our friendship had frayed before finally coming apart completely. Now, we were little more than enemies in the dueling room.
I wondered if, perhaps, Rust actually couldn’t stand me. What if the errant swing that nearly took my life hadn’t been such an errant thing, after all? Had my brother just tried to kill me? I didn’t think so, didn’t want to think so, but it was definitely a possibility that I had to consider. And if he had, why? He had never expressed anything beyond cold disdain for the past three years; why now? And what would be my father’s response if he had succeeded in the act.
Which led, of course, to the question of what had happened instead. How had I pushed Rust’s collar away? And how had I felt the rubies on the collar, anyway? What was going on here? Each question only led to more questions, but no answers.
The adrenaline had long since faded, and I winced as I pushed myself to my feet, using my spear to help push my tired body up. Using the shaft of the spear as a walking staff, I made my way across the room to the end of the cave, and slowly began to make my way down the long tunnel.
~&~
I turned my head to look around as I left the tunnel, and then winced as the cut on my neck protested the movement. I came out into a massive open space, the floor nearly a full body length beneath me. This was the central hub, a cave that served as an intersection between the various parts of the Pack. The cave itself had been massive even before our Pack had decided to settle in it. From the ceiling, gigantic stalactites hung down, threatening to crash down on the stalagmites that poked up from the ground beneath them. In places, the two structures touched, creating pillars that stretched from the ground to the roof.
Running off to the side was an underground river which briefly came out into the air of the hub before running back into the ground. The water was pure, filtering out impurities as it trickled down through the soil and coming out into the air of the hub perfectly drinkable, if slightly metallic.
All around the cave were various tunnel entrances, leading off to different parts of the Pack and, occasionally, to other Packs and even to other Tribes. The tunnels were, for the most part, large semicircles, with rounded walls and a flat floor. The tunnels had been carved out of the rock by claws as hard as diamonds, and they all had numerous slash marks on the walls to prove it. There were tunnels leading every which direction, some going up towards the surface above, others leading deeper into the ground, and shafts going out in what seemed like every direction possible.
For an outside observer, it looked completely chaotic, and in some ways it was. New tunnels were built whenever the need for them arose, and when that happened they would just be dug out of the ground in any direction they could find that didn’t already have a tunnel leading off that way. Fortunately, I had two advantages that kept me from being lost: first, I was a Gem Hound, and as a result had an excellent sense of direction, and second, I had lived in my Pack long enough that I could tell where each path led on sight.
As I emerged, I saw a group of three Beta males come up out of a tunnel traveling northeast that I knew led to one of the Beta barracks. They paused for a second, sniffing the air, ears twitching, before they walked across the room and climbed up to a second tunnel, this one much larger, running directly west, which led to the Pack’s central mines. I waited until they had all disappeared into the tunnel’s darkness before I climbed down to the floor of the hub, gripping the wall with claws as strong as diamonds.
On the floor, I looked over to two other tunnels. One led to the Alphas’ rooms, and on one paw I definitely wanted some solitude to think over what had happened during that last bout with Rust, and try to unravel at least some of the mystery. One the other paw, I knew that the other shaft led to the kitchens and I was certainly hungry. And there was another reason why I wanted to go to the kitchens.
My decision was abruptly decided for me by a feeling of sticky warmth on my chest. Looking down, I saw that blood was trickling down from my neck, pulling the fur into red spikes. It looked like Rust’s cut was deeper than it had first appeared, because it hadn’t scabbed over yet. That settled it; I was going to the kitchen.
I walked across the floor, ducking under a stalactite and walking around a stalagmite hanging down from the ceiling, before climbing up to the entrance of the kitchen tunnel. With a muffled grunt, I pulled myself up to the tunnel floor and then set off down towards the kitchen. It was obviously a well traveled path, the floor worn smooth by thousands of paws moving over it. The tunnel was lit by another lamp, this one burning much brighter than the one in the sparring cave. Of course, Betas can navigate in complete darkness, by feeling the walls or listening to echoes, but Alphas had more difficulty with the feat, and as long as we had the resources it was nice to have the light. Father had recently finished a trade with a smuggler, and he had been able to get enough wax candles to last us at least until the next one came along.
Of course, trading with Gem Hounds was illegal by pony law, but smuggling still occurred, especially among ponies who wanted to make a quick buck or who were looking for gemstones for some reason. I’m sure that the pony authorities could have stopped the smuggling, but it wouldn’t really hurt any of the Packs, and some of the Packs would almost certainly resort to raiding if the peddlers stopped coming completely; in fact, our Pack had and would resort to raiding pony villages and caravans if there was too long a gap between the smuggler’s visits. It wasn’t really a surprise that most of the ponies that could have stopped the trades tended to turn a blind eye.
I walked on past the lamp, the light fading behind me as I continued down the tunnel. Fortunately, the tunnel wasn’t
very long, and about a minute later I made it to the end, coming out in the room that the Pack used as a kitchen.
The room was massive, about half as wide as the central hub, but it was clearly artificial. The ceiling barely three times my own height; some of the taller Gem Hounds would probably be able to scrape it if they jumped. What it lacked in height, however, it more than made up for in width and length, and was the larger than any other room or artificial cave in our whole Pack.
What made it even more incredible was that every part of the room seemed to be bustling with action. Although it was technically called the kitchen, the room was involved in much more than simply preparing food for the Pack.
In the right most corner near me, I could see Betas melting down the wax we had received in our last trade and pouring it into candle molds. Closer to the wall came the cacophony of metal clashing against metal as Alpha blacksmiths pounded metal into spear heads and pieces of armor. The Gem Hounds working in the mines often came across large quantities of metal, and it was shaped into form by the hammers and anvils that clashed against each other at irregular intervals.
Despite having Gem in our name, many Alphas have a talent with metal. In fact, Gem Hounds are some of the most talented smiths on the whole continent. Especially in the Center, there were Gem Hounds that could create a perfect impression of a rose or a sword that was fine enough to cut through almost anything. Of course, in our Pack we didn’t have anyone that talented, although we did have one or two workers that were pretty close. Most times, the smugglers are as interested in our metal as our gemstones, if not more so.
In the back of the room, I could see the metallic glint of Beta armor and the gray vest of an Alpha Hound, being treated for injuries they had received during practice, or perhaps still healing from the raid a few weeks ago. To my left, all the way across the wall, were stores and tables just for the preparation of meals.
Rows of emeralds, lines of sapphires, and, of course, bins upon bins of rubies were visible, distinguished by their color, in the dull light of the room. Of course, next to the more exotic gemstones was a more plebian fare of marble, slate, and schist, to name a few. Gem Hounds have extraordinarily strong teeth, as strong as their claws, and as a result we can eat almost any type of stone, and what’s more, Gem Hounds stomachs are actually able to dissolve the stones and extract the nutrients the body needs from them. Of course, we can eat other foods as well, but stones are more commonly found underground.
All across the room was the white fabric of Beta workers’ shifts and blindfolds, the gray color of Alpha workers, and in the middle of it all, rushing between all of the different workers, a splash of blue color. It was that splash of color, or more accurately the Hound wearing the blue cloth, that was the real reason I had come. I walked out into the room, making my way towards where I had last seen the blue fabric, dodging around the Hounds that were constantly moving around the space as they worked. Eventually, I was able to weave my way to the blue wearing hound.
“Star!” I cried out, my voice carrying over the background noise just far enough for her to hear it. She turned, and I dodged around an Alpha that was walking past to reach her side. Star was my sister, and considered by most of the Alphas of the Pack a remarkably attractive Hound. Like Rust, she had red fur, although hers was a deeper red than his. On her brow, she had a white patch of fur shaped like a four pointed star, which was where her name came from. She was wearing a blue shift, starting at her shoulders and coming down to barely above her knees. She had a slender, tall build, standing a head taller than me, but she had never been cruel or condescending to me, like so many others were. To be completely honest, she was my first and only friend in our Pack.
“Hey, Silvie,” she replied, grinning at me. She knew I hated the nickname. Like most female Alphas, Star’s voice was deep and melodious, with a faint rasp like shifting sand.
I grinned at her as well. “So,” I said, gesturing to her blue dress, “How’s being Prima suiting you, sis?” She gave me a small groan in response, and we both started to laugh. Suddenly, Rust’s cut decided to remind we why I had come to the kitchen with a wave of pain. I brought my hands up to my throat.
Star’s laugh died down as well as she noticed the cut for the first time. “Oh no, did Rust cut you again?” Her tone was understandably frustrated; in training bouts, neither Gem Hound was supposed to seriously hurt the other. Unfortunately, mistakes happen, and sometimes things a little bit more than mistakes happened as well. I wondered if I should tell her what had really occurred, but I couldn’t mention Rust’s attempt to possibly kill me without also telling her why he hadn’t succeeded. I was worried that if I tried to tell her that, she would think I was crazy. So instead, I just nodded.
Star sighed in response. “Hold on. I’m going to go get some bandages for that cut.”
Turning, she made her way towards the back of the cave, where I knew there was what functioned as a medical area if some Hound got cut or hurt. As she passed through the crowd, everybody in her path moved out of the way, moving aside for the Prima.
I feel like I should explain more about how Gem Hound society works. Most of the ponies that I’ve met seem to think that the Gem Hounds are just one species. I can assure you, that is not the truth. The term “Gem Hound” technically refers to two different species: Alphas and Betas. They’re related, of course, but the two are quite different. In fact, we aren’t even similar enough to have offspring together.
Betas are large, hulking creatures, and every part of their bodies is muscled. As a result, they are incredibly strong, and can rip a large boulder to shreds in seconds. They aren’t very intelligent, and are barely bright enough to talk. In fact, a good portion of them aren’t even able to do that, although they can all understand orders, as long as they are simple enough.
Another less important but still noteworthy difference between Alphas and Betas is in their eyes. Betas are for all intents and purposes blind, their eyes rendered useless by thousands of years of living underground. They can see vague blurs if they are really close to something, but they can’t even rely on their vision to stop themselves from tripping over the ground in front of them. This makes their sight pretty much worthless, and as a result, they’ve taken to wearing blindfolds or armor over their eyes to keep them from being distracted by vague sights, relying instead on sound, smell, and touch to navigate.
Beta females tend to be found in the kitchen cave, while Beta males tend to be found in a Pack’s guard. Of course, there is some crossing over, with a few Beta males working on tending wounded or preparing food, and more than a few Beta females standing in the armor of the guard, but for the most part the Betas don’t stray over the gender line much. The only place where Beta females and males can be found in equal supply is in the mines, where intuition of where a gemstone will be matters much more than strength or precision.
Alphas, on the other paw, are in general tall and lean (although they are still incredibly strong by pony standards), and they are much more intelligent than their Beta cousins. The average Alpha is at about the same intelligence as the average pony. Most Alphas put little stock in learning, though, which leads many ponies to think that Gem Hounds as a whole are a rather stupid race.
Gem Hound Packs are led by two Alphas called the Packleader and the Prima. The Packleader and his family are all supposed to wear red, to represent their dominance. As you probably guessed, my father is the Packleader of our Pack, and he commands one of the largest packs in the Ruby Tribe dominance.
My sister Star is the Prima of the pack, the leader of the females and the director of what’s known as domestic affairs. The Prima and her family are supposed to wear blue, unless she’s related to the Packleader, in which case only the Prima wears the blue dress. Generally, though, the Packleader and the Prima are related, either by mating or by direct family ties. It’s rare to see anyone other than the Prima herself wearing the blue cloth.
“Hey, Silver,” A voice called out. I was broken out of my thoughts by Star’s return, carrying a roll of bandage in her right paw. “You’re zoning out again.”
She handed me the bandage roll and I began to unwrap it, trying to estimate how much I would need. After pulling out a few paw lengths of bandage I ripped it away from the rest of the roll and then began to wrap it around my neck. It went around about three times, as I had hoped, before I ran out and had to tie it off. The blood started to stain the cloth, and then slowed.
“You never answered my question,” I said, as I finished. “How is it being Prima?” Star had only acquired the position of Prima a few months ago, when the last Prima, and elderly female, had stepped down from the job.
“It’s fine, I guess,” she said, actually considering the question this time. “There’s a lot of work to be done, for sure, but it’s not all bad.” As she spoke, a small smile came over her face. I knew that that was an understatement. Star was practically born leading; even when we were younger, when we had played together, Star had been the one directing our activities. I knew that our Father was grooming Rust to take over as Packleader when he grew older, but despite all of Rust’s skill with a spear, he’d never had the same ease when it came to other Hounds as Star had always possessed. Thinking of which…
“Do you know where Rust went?” I asked Star, although I doubted she would know. He rarely set paw in the Kitchen, preferring to have somebody set a few jewels outside his room instead.
“Sorry, I don’t,” Star replied. “He’s probably out exploring one of the unused tunnels.” As Rust had grown apart from us, he had become increasingly fascinated with the tunnels that hadn’t been used for centuries, often exploring them for hours on end. Sometimes, it almost felt like he was searching for something, although nobody had any idea what it was.
I shook my head. Part of me really did hate him for all the times he would attack me, over and over again during training, at our father’s command. Another part of me, though, still loved him, or at least still loved the pup who used to play with me, who had grown up to be Rust. The emotions were so conflicting that I tended to follow his lead and avoid him just as he avoided me.
Suddenly, a yelp of pain pierced the room’s noise. Everyone in the room turned to look at the left side of the room, where a Beta was holding her paw and howling with pain. Underneath her was a pool of wax, slowly solidifying, and a bucket had been carelessly tossed aside. I winced, although I was grateful that it hadn’t been molten iron, which would have done a lot worse than just burn hair or skin.
Star turned to me with an expression that I knew, one of being caught between what she wanted to do and what she had to. “Father has a guest, and I think he’s going to want you to serve the food,” she said quickly, alternating between looking at me and at the situation that was quickly unfolding on the other side of the room. “Sorry, but I…”
“It’s fine,” I told her. “Go.” I wanted to ask her more about the guest, but I knew she had to help out with the spill. She turned and walked towards the Beta as I turned and started walking back towards the tunnel entrance. Behind me, I could hear her comforting the Beta, and I turned around for a second to see Star leading her over to the back of the room.
My sister had always been good at helping out when we were pups, and it had come as no surprise to anyone but herself when she had been given the position of Prima. But because she was so eager to help, I had found myself spending less and less time with her as her duties pulled her away, and spending more and more time by myself. I didn’t blame her though; she was born to lead, just as Rust had been born to fight. What I didn’t know was what I had been born to do.
The pack only really needed three kinds of dogs: warriors, workers, and leaders. But although I had acquired some skill with a spear, I still couldn’t stand up to Rust for more than a minute’s time. I wasn’t strong enough to work in the mines, and I had no talent with metal. I couldn’t do very much for the injured outside of applying bandages, so that was out as well. And as for leading, I barely had the respect of one Hound, and that was my own sister. I had always been the useless Hound, the Runt of the litter. That’s an actual title, by the way- Runt. The Hound who’s significantly smaller than his brothers and sisters, who in the past and in many Packs today would be killed to keep the Pack healthy as a whole.
I made my way out of the kitchen tunnel, coming out into the center hub. Climbing down from the tunnel’s entrance, I made my way across the room to the river that ran through the cave. Setting my spear down next to me, I splashed water over my chest, getting the blood out of the fur there. The river ran swiftly, carrying the blood off of me and back to the ground, leaving only pure water for the next hound.
Part of the problem was the way I thought. Unlike most Gem Hounds, who were mainly concerned with things like glory for the pack and for themselves, I thought about things like water purification, or worse, what it was like outside. To Gem Hounds, the outside had one purpose, and that was for resources that couldn’t be mined from the earth, either traded by the smugglers or taken on a raid.
“Hey, Runt!” A gravelly, if slightly high pitched, voice from behind shattered the silence.
Stones, I thought, breathing out through my teeth. The role of Packleader always instilled jealousy in the Hearts of Gem Hounds. Nobody would dare to insult the Packleader himself, but his family could easily become the subject of resentment. In our case, Rust was too strong to be picked on, and no one would dare to tease Star; she just didn’t have anything to be teased about, and most of the male Alphas were in love with her anyways. A Runt son, though, who was different, who was strange, who the Packleader barely acknowledged- that was a different story indeed. As Rust had drifted apart and Star had become busier, I’d found myself dealing more and more with Hounds who were angry with or jealous of our family. Of course, there were also some who liked to pick on me because they were strong and I was weak. Sometimes Hounds are mean just to be mean.
“Mutt! I’m talking to you!” I growled despite myself. I don’t like getting angry, and in my experience it never helps. It had gotten the better of me when I had been fighting Rust, and that had almost ended my life. So this time, I tried to keep my anger in check this time. Not that they were helping.
“Mutt!” the voice called again. I hated that name, mutt. A mix, a disgraceful combination of two different tribes, or even species. It was generic insult among Gem Hounds, insinuating that they had mixed blood and were therefore less pure or valuable. The hounds behind me were probably just throwing insults, but the word struck a particularly strong chord with me.
“What do you want?” I asked, trying to keep my tone civil. I grabbed my spear as I started to move, swinging it around to help push myself up. As I turned, I was able to see the Hounds coats. They weren’t ones that I was familiar with; a russet coated Alpha, short for Gem Hound standards although still taller than me, with a slightly dim looking brown furred Alpha behind him, almost as muscled as a beta.
As I moved, I saw the two recoil away from me. I could tell that they weren’t used to this kind of thing. Clearly, they hadn’t seen the spear when they had approached me, and although there were quite a few Hounds who could beat me in single combat, these two did not fall into that group. I decided to press my advantage.
“Excuse me, I’m afraid you two are in my way,” I said in my best polite but menacing tone, which was admittedly not very menacing. At the same time, I brought my spear up, holding it out in front of me. I wasn’t planning on using it: not against these two, anyway. Fortunately, they didn’t know that. The two moved back, and I walked deliberately past them, entering the network of tunnels referred to as the Alpha Barracks, where all the Alphas lived and slept. The tunnel I was aiming for was in the center, larger than the others near it and, as in every Pack, it was reserved for the Packleader and his family.
As soon as I entered the tunnel and was out of view of my two would-be harassers, I broke into a run. I didn’t think they would follow me, but it was better not to push my luck. When I had put some distance between myself and them, I slowed down. Already the cut on my neck had started to bleed through the cloth, and I didn’t want to make it any worse than it already was.
This tunnel was shorter than most, and it quickly opened up some. As it did so, eight side passages came into view, four on each side. The first four were for my father, Rust, Star, and myself. One of the advantages to being the Packleader’s son was that I got my own sleeping quarters. Most other Alphas had to share their rooms with at least two or three other Hounds, and Betas were packed in ten to a room. Having my own room where I couldn’t be teased or bothered meant a lot to me.
I walked into the second passage on the left, pushing open a metal door that stood in the center of it. It swung open, revealing a much smaller cave that had a single lamp and a stone bed carved out of the wall. That was quite normal for a Gem Hound, and every sleeping room in the entire Pack was outfitted much the same way. What was unusual was the small wooden table with a single drawer that stood right next to the bed. It was what the smuggler had called a nightstand, and it was my second most precious possession. I walked over to the nightstand and pulled the drawer open. There, sitting in the carved wood, was my single most precious possession, as out of place as it looked in any Gem Hound’s possession. In the drawer, its cover an emerald green, lay a book.
Author's Note
Hello everybody! I want to thank you all for giving this story a chance. This isn't my first story, but it is my first attempt to create a long, complex storyline. I'd appreciate any and all feedback, although I would appreciate constructive criticism more than anything else. Feel free to point out grammatical mistakes as well. If you downvote, please tell me why in the comments below, or PM me if you aren't comfortable with that.
I plan on updating this somewhere between once every week and once every two weeks. I already have the next chapter written, and am currently working on the third, but I would like to keep a one chapter buffer in there for last minute edits and unforseen circumstances. Don't worry, it will pick up- the first few chapters are mainly exposition, although I'm going to try to mix it up with some action as well. Just bear with it.
I think that's everything. I hope you enjoy this, and I'll see you all next week. Bye!
I sat on the bed, holding the book in my paws. The title proclaimed, in shiny gold letters, that it was The Complete Abridged Encyclopedia of Equestria. I had owned the book a long time before I was able to read, and it had been even longer before I understood all of the words on the cover. I’ll admit, to this day I’m still confused as to how something can be both abridged and complete.
The reason that I could even read at all was my father, surprisingly. It had come as quite a shock when I had found out he knew, as most Gem Hounds can’t. Reading is considered a pony activity, something from outside, and is therefore disregarded by many as useless. And indeed, it is useless in the Pack. Reading is only truly useful when there is something to read, and there are not many books in the caves and tunnels.
Despite that, for a reason he never explained to us, my father had been taught how to read, and when we had grown old enough he had decided to teach Rust, Star and me how as well. Rust had always had trouble with the lessons, and I knew he considered them to be a waste. Star had appreciated them, but I could see that words bored her as well. I had been the only one to really pick up on the words, and I had dedicated days to learning what sound each letter made, and then stringing those sounds together into words. It had been the only time I could remember when I had actually been better than either of my siblings at something, the only time when I had felt recognized as a real person by my father.
Part of why I had taken to reading with such enthusiasm was the Encyclopedia. As long as I could remember, I had owned the book, and when I was younger I used to take it out and open it up, to stare at the pictures and smell the paper. When I had started learning how to read, I had realized that the squiggles around the pictures were words, and that had driven me to study in a way that my siblings had been unable to match.
It could be argued that the book was the source of my problems, but I didn’t like to think of it that way. It expanded my vocabulary, my curiosity, my mind. For me, that was well worth the price of being considered different or strange by other Gem Hounds. Even if I hadn’t had the book, if I hadn’t learned to read, I would have been considered different for my height or my father’s position. The way I saw it, the book had shaped me to be who I was, and I wouldn’t give that up for anything.
There was another reason I held on to the book, a secret that not even Rust or Star knew about, because although they had both seen the book before, they had never expressed any interest in it. I was sure my father knew, but I didn’t dare ask him. I didn’t even think of talking about it to somebody else. I was being called a mutt by enough Hounds without them knowing the truth, and I didn’t dare to even think of what they would do if they did.
I opened the book up, taking a bite out of one of the pieces of marble as I did so. I flipped the book open to the first page. On it was an inscription, this one written in a flowing ink rather than the printed text of the book itself. I had read the message a thousand times since I had first figured out what it said, although the way the letters flowed into each other had stumped me for a while due to it being so different from the crisp words formed in the rest of the book. Ever since I could remember, I had always found myself coming back to it and reading it whenever I had a bad day, an occurrence that had recently become more and more frequent.
My eyes glanced over the page once again.
Dear Silver,
If you are reading this, it means your father has kept his promise and has taught you how to read. I hope you enjoy this book and share the same curiosity that I once had. I am sorry that I was unable to be there for you to watch you grow up, but I had to leave before you grew to be two years old. I am sorry for that, as I am sorry for everything. Know that I will always love you.
Your mother,
Willow Tree
Even when I had first read those words, I had known that Willow Tree was not a Gem Hound name.
I had no memories of the name Willow Tree. I had been raised until I was nearly seven by a female Hound named Digger, who had been my father’s mate and my sibling’s mother, and who I had thought was my mother as well. When Digger had died of an illness, my father took over raising us, teaching us to read and teaching Rust and me how to fight. It’s been five years since that day, and sometimes I still had trouble believing that Digger wasn’t my mother.
It made sense, though, I’ll admit that. Digger had never treated me like Star or Rust, her real pups. When she had been watching over us, I’d always felt different, like I didn’t belong like my siblings did. I was so much shorter than everyone else in the pack my age, and I wasn’t anywhere near as strong as Rust. My voice was clear, with no hint of a rocky sound whatsoever. My mind worked differently, too- even when we had been playing together, there had always been some slight difference between me and my siblings. But there was one other piece of evidence that I couldn’t ignore.
I wasn’t completely honest when I said that I had no memories of Willow. I do have a memory a light gray head leaning over me, hair of a dark gray color cascading over a spiraling horn. In fact, that was the first memory I have, the very first thing that I can remember. At the time I didn’t know for certain if it was Willow Tree, of course, but I couldn’t think of what else it could have been.
That was why I hated the name mutt. I hated it because it was true; I was a mutt, a hybrid between a pony and a Gem Hound. It wasn’t so much that I hated myself for being a hybrid as that I hated the term. Carried in that term was the idea that I was inferior, that I was a disgrace, because I was of mixed blood. The truth that my father didn’t even acknowledge me, had barely spoken to me after he had taught me how to read. That one term held all of my father’s shame, and all of my resentment.
I shook my head as if to push those thoughts away, and then turned back to the book in front of me. Slowly, I began to turn the pages, being careful not to rip them. I had read the entire book ten times over, but I still liked to take it out and read parts of it from time to time.
I turned to the section with words that began with the letter C, and began to narrow in from there. Eventually, I found the entry that I wanted: Crystals. I had read the entry before, of course, but I hoped that another reading might provide some explanation of what had happened.
Crystals, I read. Found underneath the ground, crystals are transparent or translucent stones that are generally one pure color, although there are some exceptions to this rule. Crystals are excellent conductors of magic, and in fact conduct magic better than any other known substance. Because of this, they are often used to store and release magic, and as foci for complex unicorn spells.
Some scientists have even speculated that crystals are the solid form of magic, although there had been little substantial evidence to back up this theory.
The entry wasn’t very long, but then again, it was an abridged book. Despite that, it gave me a decent idea of what had happened, like I had hoped it would. Most Gem Hounds barely understood magic, but the Encyclopedia mentioned, described, and referenced magic in almost a third of the entries, and from that I had been able to build up a thorough understanding. The book had made it clear that magic required a source, a conduit, and a will to succeed. In other words, there needed to be a definite source of magic, a channel for the magic to travel through, and a desire for the magic to accomplish something. Even if you had the will, without a proper channel or source the magic was worthless.
All of this meant that I couldn’t chalk up the incident to a random magical occurrence as most Gem Hounds most likely would. In fact, there was no such thing as a random magical occurrence, and although there were magical stones and plants, anything that happened with those could always be observed, studied, and reproduced. There was no way that what had happened had been a random occurrence, which led me to only one other conclusion, although it seemed almost as impossible.
If I had been the source, and if I had somehow been able to channel magic, then what had happened would make sense. Of course, I knew that Gem Hounds couldn’t control magic, but I had no idea as to what a Gem Hound and unicorn hybrid would be able to do. It would make far more sense than some kind of divine magical intervention that saved my life at the last moment. And since I had definitely had a strong will not to die, and the book told me that crystals act as conduits for magic, it would make everything fall into place. I didn’t know the expression then, but I still used the logic of it; when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever is left, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.
But if I had been able to use magic during the fight, then theoretically I should have also been able to use it in my room. I figured that if crystals really were conduits, then the best place to start would be the ruby I had snagged from the kitchen. I grabbed it out of my vest’s front pocket where I had put it for safekeeping.
At first, I didn’t notice anything unusual. After a second, though, I felt my eyes widen as I realized that I could feel the gemstone, the very essence of it, in my mind’s eye. It hadn’t felt strange to me because I had always felt it whenever I had held crystals, felt the connection to the stone itself. It was like being colorblind, but in reverse- I had always had it, but I hadn’t noticed until I had actually concentrated on it. Now that I was, I wondered how I had never consciously thought of it before.
In my mind’s eye, the ruby felt like a massive space, unfolding all around me, with me standing in the center of it all. Extending in ever direction around me, I could feel paths, channels where power could easily flow. From each channel came a different sensation: of growing, of folding, of shielding, of light…
It was at the same time staggeringly complex and remarkably familiar at the same time. There were hundreds of channels, and with each channel I could feel different paths, different modifications that could be made to the flow of energy. And yet, I felt like I had known this place, these channels, my entire life; and in a way, I had. Every time I had touched an emerald, ruby, or sapphire, this place had opened up in my mind without my conscious acknowledgement.
(Technically, they aren’t channels. They aren’t anything really but themselves. They’re… pathways of energy, I guess, although that’s still an approximation. The “sub-channels” or modifications are just that- different ways to change or modify the flow of magic to do a more specific thing within the path itself. I’ve found the whole process to be rather difficult to describe in abstracts, so I’m going to stick with the channel metaphor for now. It’s the closest thing I have to actually describing it, and the association between channels and flows is helpful.)
My curiosity demanded that I pick a channel and see what happened. I picked the channel closest to me, the one that gave me the feeling of light. As I reached towards it, I felt another part of me awaken, a well of power that I had never noticed before. I could feel some of the energy leave my body in a stream and flow into the ruby I was holding in my paw.
Despite on some level expecting it, I was shocked when the jewel lit up with a red glow. I had read about magic, of course, and I had heard stories of unicorns, but I had never actually seen it for myself. Still, there was no denying that the red crystal was lit up, or that I had been the one to make it happen.
Slowly, I took my paw off the jewel, expecting it to fade out as soon as I let go. To my surprise, the ruby continued to shine with a red light even after I released it from my grip. I realized that I could still feel it in my mind; not the space that I had felt before, but a sense of light coming from around my neck. At the same time, I felt magic trickle from my body into the ruby, flowing into the gemstone and illuminating my room far better than the meager light coming from the lamp.
Instinctively, I stopped the flow of magic, imagining one of the dams I had read about in the book coming up around what I quickly recognized as the source of the magic. The feeling of the magic had always been in the back of my mind, and it was that constant presence which had kept me from consciously noticing it, similar to the feeling that came from gemstones.
As I blocked the flow, the light slowly died out from the ruby, and the feeling of light drifted to the back of my mind until I hardly noticed it. As soon as I thought about it, though, I was suddenly able to feel the gemstone and its potential.
My mouth went dry as I stared at it. If I had magic, then that could change everything, from my uselessness to my fighting to even the other Hound’s picking on me. I shook my head, stopping myself from thinking too far ahead. Before I could even think about any of that, I had to be sure that I could even do magic more than once.
I let some of my magic flow over the “dam’s” walls and into the feeling of the ruby. As the magic was channeled into the crystal, it lit up again, painting the walls of the room red once more. The dam came back up, this time with barely any conscious thought, and the glowing stopped.
The ease by which the magic came to me was astounding. Everything felt like I had done it thousands of times before.
I reached for my magic again, this time concentrating on pulsing it. I watched as the jewel flickered on and off, making movements look like they were far faster than they actually were. I let out a laugh, not just a chuckle but an honest to goodness laugh, something I hadn’t done since Star had first become Prima.
I let the jewel die out, cutting off the flow of my magic. My magic. There wasn’t any doubt anymore- I definitely had magic. I knew, at that moment, that things would never be the same.
~&~
An hour later I had completely devoured the marble slabs, and I was still experimenting with the jewel. More specifically, I was exploring the sub-channels within the channel for light. There was a sub-channel to control the color of the light, one to control its brightness, one to control its size, and even one for its shape. I was currently experimenting with the color, and the jewel was producing an eerie dark green glow instead of its natural red. As I watched, it progressed from green to a light blue that reminded me of what it looked like when I had stuck my head beneath the surface of the stream into the central hub. At my mental command, it changed from blue to a purple, darkening and gaining back some of its true red color.
It seemed to be able to produce any color of light, although it took more energy to do colors that were more different from the color of the original ruby. Green, for instance, was the hardest to produce, while purple was much easier since it was closer to the original color. I was even able to produce light that was a pure white color, although that had hurt my eyes and left me seeing spots for nearly five minutes afterwards.
The shapes and sizes had by far been the most fun to play with. I had been able to create something in the shape of a spear, a rock, the book, and the gemstone itself. Interestingly enough, the gemstone had been the easiest shape by far, taking far less energy than any of the others except for the pure light.
I had come up with an idea that the ruby took less power when what it was doing came closer to matching itself. For instance, it took less energy to glow a red color because it was itself a red color. Since green was the opposite of red, it took the most energy to produce, although it still didn’t take much energy. Even after experimenting with the jewel for over an hour’s time, I barely felt a difference in my magical energy, in the well of power. So far, all of my experiments had backed up the theory, although I knew that that didn’t necessarily mean anything.
In addition, I was starting to understand how the various sub-channels worked together. If you were skilled enough, you would be able to create an illusion by changing the various sub-channels to all line up, in the shape and size and color of a certain object. I could see already, though, that it would take hours of work just to create one illusion, especially if you were working from memory. Even if you had an object to base it off, you would have to have an insane level of attention to detail to pull it off, matching every part of it to create a convincing decoy. Of course, once you had created it, you could always use it again later… The thought was intriguing, to say the least.
Of course, the entire business was intriguing to me. I had only been working with light, which I later learned was by far the easiest of the channels. Still, I could feel the other channels, even if I hadn’t worked with them, and I wondered what they did. I could feel the sense of a shield, of an attack, of movement through a fabric of some kind. I didn’t know what they all did, but I wanted to find out. The one that was most interesting to me was the one that was furthest away, and the deepest, requiring more power than I thought I had for even the simplest of tasks. When I had reached for it, it had given me a sense of creation, of making something from pure energy. I had seen thousands of sub-channels, although I hadn’t been brave enough to try and touch any of them. It was incredibly complicated, more complicated than any of the others by a magnitude of a million, but it was at the same time by far the most beautiful, carrying some sort of divine majesty.
Needless to say, I stayed away from that one.
I was working on trying to control the brightness while I cycled through the colors. The tricky part was not letting it get too bright or too dull on certain colors. The problem was that any overflow from the color channel was automatically diverted into brightness. For instance, if I switched from green to red without changing the flow of my magic it would become far brighter due to the lessened resistance. It was a problem, one that I was having quite a bit of trouble with.
Finally, I was able to make the gemstone cycle through all of the colors I could picture without changing the brightness, although it took all of my concentration to keep completely focused on the magic flowing into changing the color to make sure I didn’t use too much power. By the end of it, I was sweating from the anxiety of trying to avoid making a mistake. I let out a sigh of relief.
Suddenly I heard somebody knock at the door of my room. Once again, I was grateful of having a room to myself and a solid metal door. I didn’t know what would happen if the rest of the Pack knew I had magic, but I wasn’t convinced it would be entirely good. I stopped the flow of magic, turning my head to look at the door, although I already knew who it was. The gem faded back to its original red color.
As I had expected, Star was at the door, holding it open hesitantly. She stepped clear of the door, letting it swing shut behind her, and then stopped. I’d known it was Star before I’d even seen her, though, since she’s the only one who actually knocks before entering.
“Star!” I cried out, acting surprised. Well, it wasn’t entirely an act- I was surprised that she had decided to visit me. Normally she spent all of her time in the kitchen, since it was her job to oversee all preparations. “What are you doing here?”
“What, I can’t see my little brother?” she asked with a pout. My eyes widened as I realized my mistake.
“No, I was just, I was just wondering why you weren’t in-” She smirked suddenly, and I realized she had been messing with me. She laughed and I glared at her in return, pretending to be angry. I couldn’t hold it for long though, and it quickly slipped into a grin.
“So, seriously, what are you doing here?” I asked her.
“Well, remember what I said about father having a guest? It turns out that it’s actually the Ruby Senator, all the way from the capitol.”
“And father wants me to serve them?”
“Well, yeah.” She sounded a little disconcerted at my flippant tone, but she didn’t say anything. “You know the tradition. The host’s family is supposed to serve, especially for something as important as this.”
I did know the tradition, but that didn’t mean I had to like it. As the Runt, I had always been assigned to serve whenever we had had a guest over. I could also tell that Star was a bit put out about how casually I had spoken of the Senator, but she decided not to mention it.
Instead, I changed the subject. “So, why did you bring the message? Why not somebody else?”
“Well, father let everyone in the kitchen take the night off, and… I really was serious about wanting to see you. I feel like ever since I’ve become Prima, all I do is run around and take care of everyone else. I haven’t had much time to talk to you.”
That was an understatement, and we both knew it. I only ever saw her when I snuck into the kitchen to get some food. Otherwise, I stayed in my room reading the encyclopedia, when father wasn’t in the mood for extended practice sessions between me and Rust.
We were silent for a bit after that. I knew I wasn’t seeing Star as much anymore, but I didn’t know how to fix the problem. Finally, I spoke.
“When does he want me there?”
“Preferably, five minutes ago.”
“I guess I should get going soon.”
“Probably.”
I looked up, swallowing as I did so. I’ve found that to become at ease with someone, you have to spend a while talking, finding interests. Star and I didn’t have much to talk about anymore, besides our mutual past or concern for our brother. Outside of that, I didn’t see Star enough to know anything else. Our memories were all we really had left.
I moved forward, and Star stepped aside, letting me grab the door handle in my paw.
“Silvie-” I turned around, looking back at her. She moved her mouth for a bit, but no words came out. It looked like she didn’t know what to say. For that matter, neither did I.
I gave her a tiny wave, and then pulled open the metal door and left.
~&~
I stood in a small tunnel, the entrance barely noticeable in the central hub. Unlike most of the other tunnels, its design was actually, well, designed, made to be inconspicuous and elegant at the same time. The tunnel itself was well lit, with torches lining the walls every ten body lengths, burning smuggled oil.
At the other end of the tunnel was a small room, although what it lacked in size it more than made up for in opulence. To start with, the room itself was completely square, something that was incredibly uncommon among Gem Hounds due to the extreme difficulty involved in creating anything with right angles. Every other room, tunnel, cave, or mine in the Pack had rough, rounded walls, except for this one. Instead of the smooth transition that I was accustomed to, the room had sharp cut-offs between the floor and the wall. Every inch of the angle had to be scraped into the sharp angle by an expert stone worker. In fact, my father had had to hire one to come from the Capital just for the construction of the room.
In addition to the straight edges, the room also had three pieces of wooden furniture. Two pieces of polished wooden chairs sat at either side of a wooden table of a deep golden color. The table held two glasses, made of actual glass, which held a strong wine that had been quite expensive to buy off the smuggler, if father’s bad mood for the next two days was any indication.
Next to the glasses were two piles of jewels and gemstones, each highly prized and very valuable. There was a mound of emeralds, a small pile of amethyst, a smattering of diamonds, and even an egg sized star sapphire. And, of course, there were Rubies of all sizes, from gems that could almost be swallowed whole to larger ones that took three or four bites to finish.
I knew what all of the gems were because I had served them, holding them out and setting them on the table while my father explained to his guest which mine each gemstone had come from and the care that had been taken to extract each and every one. That wasn’t entirely true, since most gemstones were taken from the wall around them by a sharp claw or, if that failed, a strong jaw, with little regard for damage to the gem itself. Fortunately, gemstones are much stronger than the surrounding stone, and they usually survive the harsh treatment. And if they did break apart, then that just meant more small gems.
I was familiar with father’s guest routine, though. After having me display the food, he would make me stand in the hallway, in case his guest wanted something, while the two of them chewed their way through the gemstones and talked about various topics. Usually the guests were travelers, skilled smiths or healers, and occasionally pack leaders of the different Ruby packs. This was the first time that the Senator had paid us a visit.
I suppose now would be a good time to explain the hierarchy of Gem Hound society. As I mentioned before, each Pack is led by a Packleader, someone who directs the activities of an entire Pack of Gem Hounds. The size of a Pack ranges between forty and four hundred Hounds, of which usually about twenty percent are Alphas. As I said before, Packleaders and their families wear red vests, and the Packleaders themselves wear golden gemstones from their collars to show their status.
Every pack is part of one of five tribes: the Ruby Dogs to the north and northwest, the Emerald Dogs to the northeast, the Sapphire Dogs to the south and southeast, the Diamond Dogs to the west and southwest, and the Coral Dogs to the East, on the sea coast. Every tribe is named for the gemstone that is found most abundantly in their area, except the Coral Dogs who are named for the coral that they collect from offshore reefs.
The Pack that my father led was to the northeastern section of Gem Hound territory, and more specifically to the northeastern section of the Ruby Tribe territory. It’s pretty far away from most of the other Packs, although there is one other Pack a bit to the southeast of our tribe that is about the same distance away from the rest of the tribe.
As I mentioned, each Pack is part of a larger Tribe. The Tribes were in turn represented by a Senator, differentiated from a Packleader by the purple vests that they wore, and the purple jewels that hung around their necks. The Senator is chosen from the leaders of each Pack after the previous leader died. The five Senators acted as both advisors and heirs for the leader of our entire nation, the Stonelord. The position of Stonelord had come into existence a few hundred years ago, when one Hound had managed to unify the five warring tribes into one coherent nation. The Senators acted as representatives of their tribes when advising the Stonelord, and as representatives of the Stonelord himself when talking to their tribes.
With the exception of the Senators, no one really knew what the Stonelord looked like, or even what kind of clothing he wore. There were rumors that he wore an all black cloak and an obsidian pendant from his collar, but they had never been confirmed. Even travelers who passed through the capitol had no idea what he looked like.
There’s one more thing I feel like I should mention, although it’s difficult to truly understand until you live in a Gem Hound pack for a while. Almost every single Gem Hound that I’ve met has absolute loyalty to the Stonelord and, by extension, the Senators. If I had to guess, I would say that it was a trait that dated back to the time when Gem Hounds were little more than dogs or wolves that hunted together in packs. The strongest dog would take the position as alpha, as leader of the pack. That mentality still exists to this day, and in everybody’s mind the Stonelord has taken the position of the ultimate leader. They give him their undying loyalty because they know on a subconscious level that without him they would be leaderless and ultimately helpless. And for all I know, that’s completely true. Without a leader, it’s entirely possible the Tribes would just go to war once more.
For whatever reason, though, I didn’t seem to have the same instincts as everyone else. I didn’t feel the need to worship at the feet of some Senator I had never met, and didn’t know anything about. It had puzzled my sister when we were young, and we had gotten into quite a few fights over it. We might have gotten in a fight when Star had fetched me if we’d had more time, although I thought that Star trusted me enough to behave myself in the Senator’s presence, even if I didn’t have the same devotion for him as everyone else seemed to have.
“So, Senator, how’s life in the capitol?” Father schooled his face into a look of interest as he asked, so different from the actual interest he showed in Rust during our practices. It was one way that I could tell he was just trying to be polite, and wasn’t actually interested in the answer.
For those interested, the capitol is the network of caves and tunnels where the Senators, the Stonelord, their family, and their servants all live. It’s a large complex with tunnels stretching out between it and every Pack of every Tribe. It’s also a rich place, filled to the brim with expensive gifts from Packs to their Senators as a show of their loyalty.
My father shifted in his seat, giving me an unobstructed view of the Senator. I had been forced by tradition to look down while I had been serving, for fear of offending the powerful Hound, but now that I was in the tunnel outside the room I finally had a chance to observe him for myself.
The Senator did not live up to my expectations, or rather the expectations of everyone in the pack who talked of him. He had a large belly that wobbled around as he talked, and what I counted to be at least three chins. His mouth was smiling, but it wasn’t a smile that reached his cold, calculating eyes. His purple vest barely fit around his body, and it was covered with glittering stains of gems long past.
“It’s fine, the food in particular is most excellent.” He finally answered my father’s question, after a pause that had been just a few seconds too long. He had a high, whining voice, like the sound made when a Hound cut through a shale slate with their claws. “One of the Stonelord’s servants came up with a particularly delicious mix of corral dusted with diamonds. Quite excellent, if I may say so myself.” He made a high, obnoxious sound that I came to recognize as a laugh. I could see in his face what he thought of the food in front of him, and in his voice I could hear what he thought of father. Neither of those opinions were pleasant, and neither of them slipped by father’s notice.
Suddenly I remembered a conversation that had taken place a few months back between my father and a traveler, a Hound from our tribe, though not from our Pack, who had just been in the capitol a few months ago. He’d talked about how the other Senators had recently been displeased with the Ruby Tribe and in particular our Senator. At the time, the traveler had passed it off as a slight against our tribe, but now I wondered if it really was simply due to how unlikeable the Senator was.
“Any news of the other Tribes?” Father’s face had the same look of polite interest on it, as if he hadn’t even heard the contempt in the Senator’s voice.
“Yes, the Diamond Dogs got into some trouble a few months ago. Did you hear about the rogue group, the three simpleton Alphas that left their tribe and took a number of the Betas with them too? It was quite the scandal about five years ago, as I recall.”
“Yes, I remember. Caused quite an uproar, didn’t it?”
“Indeed it did, and we didn’t let the Diamond Senator forget about it soon. Caused her to lose a lot of her standing with the Stonelord, as well. A pity, that.” He smirked at that, and father gave a polite smile, but I knew him well enough to know he was growing angry with the Senator. I was a bit irritated at the pompous twat as well, and I wondered if he ever thought about anything except himself. “The senator stepped down a month or two later, and her successor was- is, I should say- rather naïve. I doubt that the Stonelord is going to be putting much trust in the tribe for a long time. Especially not after what happened two months ago.”
“And what was that?” Father played along, but I could tell his patience was wearing thin. He had never been one to suffer fools, not with myself and not with the others in his Pack.
“Well, they found the rogues, hiding out inside the borders of the Pony country. They were out of gems and slowly starving themselves of resources, as we had expected. But they had the most incredible story to tell.”
He paused, but this time my father just nodded. It was clear that this Senator was used to Hounds hanging on to his every word, and it was irritating me to no end.
“Apparently, the rogue alphas had stumbled across a pony, a female unicorn I belive, that could locate gems with its… magic.” He waved his paw in the air to indicate his opinion of said magic. It was one reflected by most Gem Hounds. “They captured it, and were able to fill up six cart’s full of jewels. But then- and this is the worst part- they let it go. Because it was whining, or some nonsense like that. And what’s more, it took all six carts with it.”
Father gained some real interest at that, sitting up a bit straighter in his chair. “And how did the Stonelord react?” he asked.
“Well, he was furious, of course. Letting it slip away like that, with six carts no less! But letting something that valuable get away at all… well, there’s only one way he can react. The entire Pack (if you can really call it a pack) was executed last week.”
My father nodded again, accepting the answer. Out in the hallway, though, I felt almost sick to my stomach. Taking slaves isn’t exactly endorsed by the Stonelord, but it isn’t prohibited either. If you can get away with it, and you can feed and house your hostage, then you’re free to go. But culling twenty hounds for failing to keep hold of a single pony, no matter how valuable she was, made me feel nauseous. Sure, I didn’t agree with taking slaves, but it seemed to me that taking lives was worse.
“A fitting end, though. Imagine what we could have done with a tool like that. If one of my tribe let something like that go, I daresay that mere death wouldn’t be enough.” He looked at my father, as if he was warning him not to do the same thing. My father looked down, trying to appear scared and failing at it. From the way he held himself, I could tell that he wasn’t frightened in the slightest. Fortunately, the Senator didn’t notice, too absorbed in trying to be an intimidating presence.
“And, in the other Packs?” my father asked, looking up.
“They were doing fine the last time I did the circuit,” the senator replied, taking a large bite out of a ruby. “That must have been, oh, five years ago or so.” He finished the ruby off with a second bite, his other paw reaching towards the smaller pile of sapphires. “Packleader Coalfur visited about two years ago and informed me of a shortage of gems, but I think they were able to build another mine before the problem became large enough to require my intervention.”
I remember my father discussing Coalfur with one of the other Packleaders about a year ago. His tribe had completely run out of gems and had completely disbanded, the Hounds leaving for other Packs. Nobody wanted to live in a Pack that was unable to trade with other Packs or smugglers. Apparently, Coalfur and his family were still there, living off a vein of granite they had found in the rocks, too proud to go from Packleader to an ordinary worker.
There was silence for about a minute after that, my father looking into his glass of wine, the senator slowly making his way through the mound of gemstones in front of him.
My father was the one to break it. “I noticed that you didn’t bring any guards with you, or anyone else. Tell me, why aren’t you afraid of me?”
The Senator swallowed the ruby he had just popped in his mouth, then let out a guffaw. “Afraid? Why would I be afraid of you? A Packleader from my own tribe, and a cripple at that.” He chuckled again. My father gave a polite laugh in return, before responding.
“You know, I’ve been talking to some of the other Packleaders. They come here sometimes, to discuss trade agreements and that sort of thing. I’ve been asking some of them about you, as well. And do you know something they told me? They said that you never visited without at least twenty guards. So that makes me think that you aren’t afraid of me because of my limp.”
The Senator’s eyes shifted around the room, trying to avoid the accusation, but his silence spoke for itself.
“And, quite frankly, that makes you a fool. A gimp leg does not change my ambition- or my power. I am a Packleader, and what’s more I lead one of the largest Packs in our tribe. As such I have access to more than twenty trained Alpha soldiers, and a little under a hundred Betas who know enough to stab you. I could have had you killed five hundred ways before I even brought you here. But I didn’t. I wanted to meet you, to see if what the other Packleaders have been saying is true.”
The Senator seemed glued to his seat as my father stood up, gripping his spear shaft in his hand to support his right leg. I could see the scar, running across the upper part of the leg, where a unicorn had sliced him across the leg with his own spear. It made it difficult for him to even stand, making walking an impossible effort without an aid.
“This dinner was a test. I wanted to see if you really were as lazy and self-centered as I suspected, from listening to travelers and the other Packleaders. I hoped you would pass the test, but you didn’t. You failed.”
This seemed to have the effect of bringing the Senator out of his state of shock. He opened his mouth, starting to stand up as well. As soon as the Senator started to move, my father came into motion, jumping off his left leg and using the pole to launch himself over the table. He landed on the Senator feet first, breaking the chair and knocking the other Hound to the ground. As the Senator crashed to the ground, my father landed on his left leg, bringing the staff around just in time to keep himself from falling over. I felt my breath catch.
“Now, I want you to listen closely to what I’m going to say here. You’re greedy and you don’t care about the tribe. You failed the test. Do you know what that means?”
“Packleader Graystone, what is the meaning of this? What do you mean to do to me?”
“It’s simple. I’m going to kill you.” As he said this, I saw the Senator’s face grow ashen. “Once you’re dead, I’ll become the new Senator. Every Packleader that’s come here to visit has come away with a favorable trade agreement and a good impression of gimpy Graystone. Nobody wants to sacrifice their precious raids, not if they don’t have to. I’m just the perfect canidate. I’ve got enough Hounds who pledged their vote to me that even if you die while in my care, I’ll still be chosen.”
“And, from what I hear, nobody in the capitol would miss you. And nobody would suspect me. Especially,” he paused, reaching into his pocket, “after they see this.” He held up a two-sided metal blade, the end of each side glistening with some kind of green liquid. “Cost me a fortune to get one, or rather it cost me a fortune to buy their silence. You know who I’m talking about, don’t you?”
I looked at the prone Hound, and saw recognition in his eyes. I was completely mystified, and although I had realized that the liquid must be some kind of poison, I had no idea who “they” were, or why their silence was so important.
The Senator started to scramble backwards, but once again my father was too fast for him. In a second, the Senator was motionless once more, and this time my father had his staff pressed against the Senator’s neck. In his other hand, he still held the poisoned blade, holding it over the Hound’s chest. He smirked at the figure on the ground, the first real emotion he had displayed the whole dinner.
“Goodbye, Senator,” he said, dropping the double-sided blade. It slammed into the Senator’s chest with a dull sound, and blood immediately began to well up around it. A few seconds after it landed, the senator gasped, a long drawn out sound. His body began to convulse as a foam began to form at his mouth. Suddenly, he was still. The blood flow slowly came to a stop.
I must’ve made some noise then, because my father turned to look at me, almost as if he had forgotten I was there. He met my eyes for a second, and I saw pain flash across his face for a moment. Then he turned away, going back to ignoring me. He reached out, grabbing the former Senator’s wine glass, then downed the liquid in one gulp. He slammed the glass back down onto the table, then went to the other side and sat back down in his chair, staring at the dead body.
The last thing I saw as I backed away down the tunnel was my father staring pensively at the Senator’s dead body, dead in a small pool of his own blood.
Author's Note
Hey guys! I made some changes this time around. First of all, sorry for not sticking entirely to the schedule I set last time. I am working on chapter 3, but school, life, and books got in the way for a while there. I'm updating the character tags to include the "diamond dogs" tag, although those three aren't actually going to be in the story. I felt like I should do something to indicate that this isn't just a completely OP OC.
In addition, I'm going to be sending this in to EQD this week. Hopefully I'll get approved, but if that doesn't work out, at least I'll get some helpful edits. Speaking of edits, if there are any editors out there who want to help, I would be happy to have someone else to look these over before I post them.
Again, thanks for sticking with this story this far. It really means a lot to me, and I want everyone who's reading this to know that I'm writing this for you. Thank you all.
