A Game of Chess

Valice stood in the room that the sleipnirs had assigned her and the others to. Even if they were monstrous creatures and freaks of nature - having eight legs rather than four -, the scout had to admit that the creatures were quite polite. Especially Asgard, who never seemed to raise his voice or act in any way other than what could be considered as being perfect etiquette. However, even as she stood, watching the sleeping forms of those around her, her mind still ached for a question to be answered.

Why didn't she just run? Why couldn't she force herself to just flee, get away from the others, and make her way back home?

The only reason that she could come up with was that she was afraid of the damned sell-sword, Dusk, and possibly the others as well. The more she looked at them, though, the more something else began to worm its way into her mind. Maybe she hated Dusk, but she could hardly fault the others for the hell that they had to endure.

No! She purged the thought immediately. These ponies were her enemies; They'd taken everything away from herself, her friend, and all of her friend's subject all those years ago.

But, at the same time, Valice couldn't find it in her heart to hate them, even if she knew that she should, even if she ached for vengeance. Only Dusk was the subject of her disdain, and that was mostly because he'd held a sword to her throat and threatened her with death if she didn't comply to his wishes. Checkmate, Rainbow Dash, and the others, however, did the exact opposite for her.

She actually was starting to kind of like them.

Rainbow Dash may have been an egomaniac, and had such pride and arrogance that the air around her reeked of it, but Valice couldn't deny that she had some interesting and exciting adventures, and that she was probably as strong as she claimed.

Checkmate Vigarde, however, created mixed feelings whenever she saw him. One of them was simple: Pity. She felt pity for all the pain that he'd inevitably gone through at Wendigo's hooves, and part of her wanted to try and stop him from getting himself killed for something like revenge or a desire to help his friends, no matter how noble it was. The other was different, being a desire to see him reach his goal, and a want to watch him cut through the flesh of her friend's ultimate enemy. Checkmate's victory over the one who'd hurt him throughout his life, in other words.

However, the more she thought about it, the more she saw her actions as being completely selfish and arrogant. After all, she didn't want to see Wendigo die so that Checkmate could feel at ease, or that the ponies of Darkfrost could be freed from his wretched influence.

No, it was all so that the hatred - that damned, damned, damned hatred - could be forever wiped away from that place. So that the hate could be replaced by love, and then...

Valice heard herself giggle slightly, but regained a straight face. The more she thought about it, however, the worse she felt. Checkmate - all of those creatures, be they pony or windigo - suffered for years at Wendigo's monstrous hooves, and she planned to make sure that nopony else would have to hate their oppressor anymore. There would perhaps not be as much love as was necessary, but her friend was a patient creature.

All that was necessary, now, was to give Checkmate assistance, and she could become not only be able to stop the bastard, but do something that was deemed impossible, as well. This was shaping up to be a fruitful scouting mission, even if she had been caught, and even if what was happening was far from what she had planned.

Her thoughts were interrupted, however, as the sound of eight hooves hitting the ground behind her snapped her out of the fantasy.

"Enjoying your stay, I hope?" asked a calm and polite voice. Unlike Asgard's, this one was distinctively feminine, but carried an air of coldness that seemed to be only slightly less evident than that of Deun.

Valice turned towards the source of the noise. "Of course," she said. "And... who are you?"

The new sleipnir had a coat like copper, and a mane the color of rust, and was roughly the size of an average mare. Unlike Asgard, whose eyes were bright-green, hers were light-red, but not quite pink. Her voice was close to Twilight's and Valice's in range, but was somewhat higher pitched than theirs were, and she carried a short-sword - again, much like Deun's - on her side.

"My name," said the new sleipnir, "is Cora, the captain of Asgard's guard. He sent me here to ensure your comfort so that you would be well-rested for tomorrow."

"How thoughtful of him," said Valice, although she added some slight sarcasm to it. "You sleipnirs are very hospitable, aren't you?"

"We very rarely get any guests," replied Cora. "We must make sure that, when they arrive, they are rather well-situated. The last thing that any of us desire is for Hecatoncheir to tear you to pieces, after all."

Valice sighed. "Yes, I can understand that sentiment," she said.

Cora sighed, as well. "Indeed," she said, but her eyes were cold. "That is why I have come here. If there is anything I can do, please do not hesitate to ask."

The scout waved her off. "Don't worry," she said. "We're all fine."

"Very well," Cora said, bowing her head. "Then I would advise you to rest. Depending on Asgard's choice, tomorrow may cause you some pain, however I would like you to know that you are very welcome here, no matter what some may say." She turned as if to leave, but paused, and looked back. "Even if one of those who says that is myself."

Then, just as she'd entered, the sleipnir turned and left, leaving Valice to her thoughts once more.

The scout looked over to the prone forms of her allies, all of whom lay on their beds except for Dusk, who had fallen into slumber while sitting in a nearby chair. How easy it would be to just leave then-and-there, she told herself. But still, as it had before, something held her back. Maybe it was, as she thought, her selfish desire to stop Wendigo just for herself and her friend. Maybe it was fear induced by Dusk, Checkmate, Twilight, Rainbow, Applejack, and Fluttershy (she'd made a mental note not to enrage the pony, lest she feel the wrath of her and - quite possibly - an antlion, or maybe a dragon, because she could never be so certain about the seemingly benign yellow pegasus). Or, perhaps, it was something more than that...

But the more she thought about it, the less sense it made. If she didn't want to stop Wendigo for selfish reasons, or for reasons fueled by terror of the various creatures around her, then why? What reason could she possibly have to continue this quest, if neither were the case?

"No reason" was her first answer, that she was doing this spontaneously, just going along with what was happening. However, an even better reason which was far more simplistic and obvious was evident not too long after the first thought crossed her mind. Perhaps she simply wanted to see the others succeed, regardless of what they'd done to her in the past. Perhaps, just perhaps, she wanted her allies to win this battle just so that the ponies that the bastard hurt could go free.

Or maybe it was just one of reasons that she'd thought of before, and she was just trying to justify her own terror. That was as possible as anything else, she thought, but went back to going over her motivations anyway.

After all, it wasn't as if she had anything better that she could do at that point, considering that the others slept so peacefully, but that she, in her nervousness and questioning of everything, could not rest.

Eventually, however, this questioning of morals took its toll, and Valice soon fell into an uneasy, pained slumber.

Rolan was not well-known for his stealth. Perhaps it was due to his newfound youth that came with his newer personality, or perhaps it was simply because he enjoyed trying to make ponies slightly happier (he'd have to talk to Pinkie about throwing a nice party for Darkfrost once Wendigo was slain). Despite this, however, he was not the fool that everypony claimed him to be.

In fact, one could go so far as to claim him to be a genius when he tried, or when he had the chance for a pre-emptive strike. So, naturally, he did neither of those, and instead stepped through the streets of the Hellgate Mines as one would through the streets of Canterlot, blissfully ignoring the fact that Wendigo clearly wanted him dead.

What surprised him, however, was just how calm many of the windigoes - and even the ponies themselves - had been when he'd grilled them for information. Any weaknesses that Checkmate could exploit, and areas that could be easily snuck into, and others of the like were his main points of questioning.

That was, of course, until he ran across Deun.

The general stood, calmly, in front of him, regarding him like one would an ant or rat. "You've returned, Rolan," he said, but his voice was neither caring nor kind. "How... interesting."

"I have, Deun," replied Rolan, his voice surprisingly serious as he realized the gravity of the situation, "although I can tell that you're still enjoying your time as Wendigo's lapdog rather well."

The two locked eyes. Even before Rolan's betrayal and Deun becoming Wendigo's general, the two never were anything except for allies. Even long before the tyrant usurped the king's throne from the former and when the latter had been nothing more than a simple soldier in Rolan's defense force, the two had rarely regarded each other as much except for the king to be loyal to and the knight who was loyal. Although, they had at least had several friendly conversations then, and Rolan had seen Deun's excellent skills when the windigo was at a young age, even planning a promotion before the bastard took the throne and turned the word "Darkfrost" into a synonym for "Hell".

But that was many years ago. More than twenty-five-hundred, in fact, and Deun had since changed. Gone were his traits of loyalty to the former king, his compassion towards his fellow windigoes, and his love for the ponies of the land. Instead, they had been replaced with betrayal and deceit, as well as the coldness that permeated the air as he spoke.

"Indeed," said the general, "although I'm afraid that your betrayal is not one which I can easily overlook."

"Of course," supplied Rolan. "Of course... However, I'm not here to bicker with a child."

"Intriguing," Deun's voice didn't fluctuate in the slightest, "because the only one who is acting the role of a petulant child is yourself. Leaving Darkfrost, attacking Wendigo, joining with Checkmate and his foolish friend, Khaza..." He shook his head, although his eyes seemed somewhat sad by the last fact. "A shame, truly, that you would waste your life so readily."

"'Waste my life'," muttered the former king. "Indeed. Just as you have done by working for a certain heartless bastard."

"I'm not one to sit idly and be belittled by an ignorant, foolish monarch who lost his crown on account of his weakness, and the fact that he could not protect his own country," said Deun, his voice sharp as ice, and twice as cold. "Perhaps it is time to bring this to an end." He drew the silver short-sword at his side, pointing it towards Rolan. "Do you not agree?"

Rolan grit his teeth. "Perhaps," he responded, his hoof dancing over the hilt of his own dagger. "Perhaps I -" and then he stopped and let out a gasp of pain, as blood began to run down his side, and he clutched at the massive wound that had only just emerged.

"My apologies, Rolan," said Deun, now behind the former king, and he flicked the now-bloodied short-sword with his hoof, causing the liquid to run off its blade, "but I'm afraid that was necessary. You will awaken shortly, I'm sure, but by that point you will have to answer to Wendigo of your betrayal."

The former king felt himself falling, then, and dropped to the ground as he lost consciousness.