Chapters Chapter One: Tartarus
I awoke to the taste of dust in my mouth. Not dirt with it's warm earthy taste, not sand which sparks a memory of beaches, but dust. Ashen, lifeless, bland, and overall red dust. Opening my eyes was my first mistake. No. Waking up at all was my first mistake.
When my vision cleared, I would behold a desolate red plain, dotted with dead trees and clumps of decrepit grass so dry it should have already caught flame. Overhead would be a sky wracked with silent storms, lightning flashes and the dull glow of refracted light giving the whole place a feeling of being a nightmare. A red dust bowl of a nightmare.
I was laying in the dust. I got up. Checked myself over. Feet, check. Hands, check. Face, still ugly, probably. Hair, still...dull red? That's new. Important parts, check. Belongings, non-existent. Pants, though. No shirt. No shoes.
The whole place gave off a feel of strange familiarity, like I'd been here before. Naught to do but look around. I turned around, and immediately the feeling was justified. A rather famous landmark stood out at me like a lighthouse in a storm-tossed sea. Something I knew, not that it would help me.
Ayres Rock. The red heart of Australia.
Well. I always wanted to visit the stone heart of my birth-land.
I went for a walk. Might as well die somewhere nice.
As I stepped up to the monolithic stone, I paused. Not sure to which prayer to say to this ancient edifice, I simply said a bit of every prayer I could remember. I reached out my fingers to graze them against the dark red stone and discovered something fascinating. The rock was warm to the touch. Everything else was almost cold, but the rock was warm.
For some reason that made me smile. As I did, the rock began to...thrum? Yes. It thrummed like the skin of a drum after being struck. The deep bass heartbeat to the song of a culture most likely long since dead. For the first time, I wondered how alone I was.
The echoing silence answered me.
Alright, let's pause our tale here to let past-me wallow in self pity and loneliness so we can tell you about me. I am a twenty something human male who has far too much time on his hands. Or at least, I did. I had it all, really. A bright future, great friends, two loves: my elskede and my sword, and a strong and loving father.
Now let me tell you about Tartarus. It's Australia, reshaped after thousands of years of being a prison country for, you guessed it, ponies. Celestia needed some humane(hah) way of dealing with cultists of the Nightmare, seriously re-offending criminals with no family, and the unredeemable. So she sends them here. There. For them it's perfectly habitable. For me, well, you likely won't like how I survived. Especially those of you who are listening to this and are of said equine origin. So most of you.
Now let's get back to the story.
An hour had passed. Maybe. I had no way to tell time. It could be the middle of the night for all I know. I had slumped down against the rock, my back leaning on it's warmth, and my hands playing with a sprig of bone-dry grass. I leaned my head back against the stone, the thrumming becoming a steady drum beat in my head. By this point, I didn't care. I was just trying to lie down and die.
Screw it, I thought. I'm going to die on TOP of this rock. It'll at least be warmer. The first attempt was horrible. The second attempt was miserable. The third attempt...was me walking around to find the old tourist track to walk up it. Shoot me, I cheated.
It was like standing on the living heart of a titan. Unmoving and ancient, but alive and wondrous. The top was bare uneven ground, but by the gods was it marvelous. In a place where all I could think of was death this old rock was alive and would be for eons after my bones had turned to so much red dust.
That life flowed up my legs and into my heart. I could feel it pulsing with the one beneath my feet. The wind picked up, swirling the dust around my feet like so much cheesy anime. I wasn't going to die here. I was going to live. If a dusty over sized pebble in the middle of nothing but wastes could live, so could I. And you know what, so could the damn wastes!
This was my train of thought before the world shook like I'd taken two too many shots of whiskey in the space of a half second. Or maybe it was just me who shook. I dropped to one knee, vision blurring. I thought I saw a haze of green before I collapsed, maybe heard a voice call to me. I kept myself awake just long enough to see something like lightning strike the ground in front of me. And stay there, suspended in midair. And have a face that wore no expression. It moved, and I couldn't hold myself any longer.
All my strength left me. My willpower was drained. My life faded away on top of an ancient heart of stone as my heart began to mirror its stillness. My skin tingled, and I was gone.
You see, that lightning was what loosely translated to a creature known as a Lightning Brother. You probably have a different name for them, something silly and horse-pun related. But they're old. Creators all. They bring life-giving fire and forge the sands into glass at a touch. Living lightning that lives to create. Lovely creatures. and although I didn't know it then...
Lightning Brothers always come in pairs. There's never just one.
I dreamed of bushlands. Trees with bark like steel. Bushes with thorns sharper than knives and almost as long.
The source of all of this was a large red mountain in the distance. I flew to it. This was a dream, flight is a constant. It's like swimming with your soul. The mountain eroded away as it spewed out water and fire in equal measure, feeding the living before burning it to cinders to make way for the new. After a while, the fire and the water stopped. The mountain was nothing but a red heart, thrumming with life that it had yet to give.
It spoke in a tongue that was not in words. It spoke of life and water. It spoke of rebirth and fire. It told me things I can't remember. Old things. Ancient things.
I awoke with a start. The sound of the storm above me was no longer mute. It rolled and it thundered. In a haze, I got to me feet and looked up. A single drop of water fell on me. Then another. Then another. Then there was a pause, as the universe and I held our bated breath as the storm made up its mind.
Thunder roared. Lightning flashed. Uluru thrummed.
"Come on." I breathed. "Break."
The rain felt like the joyous tears of a God. Perhaps they were.
Meanwhile, only two miles away and an hour before, an earth pony by the name of Sturdy Gaffer was just trying to get by. He was only a young buck, with his whole life and sheriff -related life ahead of him, being a sheriff to sheriff a small western town where he wasn't really needed. You can guess his mark. Badge and star, gold and blue against his dark green hide and stark white, sorely in need of a trim mane and tail.
He was another one who had wandered out in the dust to die. He'd heard it was a popular way to go. No-one left Tartarus. Not alive, anyhow. Sturdy longed for the Elysian fields. He dreamed of home every night and prayed that Luna would just let him stay in his dream until he starved and passed away, still smiling.
But she wouldn't have it. He had to keep going, subsisting on dry grasses and tasteless water dug up from the ground near the largest of the dead trees. He was running on empty, nary a fume left to drive him forward.
But the red plateau on the horizon? That was somewhere he could die. So on he walked.
And walked
And walked.
The wind was dry. The dust was red and dry. The sky was rolling and grey and above all dry. Nopony had seen rain in Tartarus. Ever. As he walked he thought about his months here. Dust consumed most of his thoughts. How it had stained the tips of his mane and tail a dull red. How it caught in his nose every time he bent down to take a bite. How it was everywhere. How after one humid night it had caught in his fur everywhere, just enough to completely cover both of his cutie marks.
He thought of the other residents. The inmates. The people he swore to help, to reform so they never had to be thrown in a place like Tartarus. Where he, and they, all were. To him, the dust was a symbol of his failure. The red was the blood of all who he had failed. The dust, their ashes.
Shortly after that, he just let himself walk on. Thinking only got him down.
He reached the plateau. It was tall, many times his height. He reached out to it and placed a hoof to it's red ochre surface. It felt of sunshine. Of warm summer days and of green grass. It pulsed gently, like a rushing river just on the other side of a paper sheet, washing with the tide. Somehow, it brought a smile to his face.
He had no way of knowing another was smiling the same. That same smile of hope in the face of almost inevitable death. His heart quickened. His spirits rose. Dying? Who dies? The euphoria overtook him and soon he was beaming like to rival the sun herself. If I can live, he thought, so can they. Everypony in Tartarus can live and by the sun and moon they're going to!
A heavy heartbeat wracked his body. He stumbled, the world going hazy. He slumped against the red plateau, breathing slowing to a painful crawl. As everything faded, he saw a silent flash of light strike the ground before him. And stay there. And turn it's muzzle towards him, flicking it's tail. It moved, and Sturdy saw no more.
That's the thing about Lightning Brothers. There's always two.
Sturdy awoke to the feeling of rain. Faint droplets. One, then two.
He stared at the now thundering sky.
He whispered. "Come on. Break"
The rain felt like the joyous tears of the goddesses. Perhaps they were.
He laughed like a maniac. So did I. And that is how Sturdy Gaffer and I realised we weren't alone.
That just made us laugh even harder.
Author's Note
So, yeah. New story, first story, HiE, criticism well welcome. And I know I can't spell. Or write. But I needed to get my creative on, so...yeah. Slightly classic story. I had honestly no idea what to tag, so I just tagged things. Later on, there will be characters we know and love, but first...we have to get out of hell.
Let's see where this goes.
For a long time, the rain fell. We both just watched it, laughing like jackals long since gone off the deep end. I'm not sure who moved to find the other first, but we met by the start of the old tourist track. He was clad in red mud from tip to tail, a maniac grin on his face. I was drenched in the clearest rainwater like I'd just fallen with the storm, the same expression plastered on my weather beaten face. There was silence between us. Just grinning madly with the newfound desire to live.
"Hello." he spoke with a rasp, like a man who hadn't had a drink for two days and smoked two packets of cigarettes in the last minute to try and make up for it.
We stood perfectly still for a moment before bursting out in strange synchronization "You can TALK!?" We circled each other. Studying. Watching. Waiting. We circled the other way. Rain still fell. Lightning flashed behind us. Thunder clapped to see the showdown. He smiled. I smiled.
Slowly but surely, a smile built itself unbidden into a smirk. A smirk built to giggles to chuckles to full blown guffaws. Before we knew it we were on the red muddy ground throwing ourselves in fits of hysterical laughter.
"So," I spoke first, testing the newly rained waters "I don't suppose you have a name to go with that sentience?"
Here he went on a ramble I payed attention to, but you'll all know it by now. This is a long and generally boring conversation about how this world works. Celestia rules the day, moves the sun, Luna rules the night, moves the moon, Nightmare incident, Gryphons, politics and finally we got to Tartarus. Or Australia as I am going to continue to call it.
"So this is prison."
I'd never heard anything pronounce an ellipsis before. Hearing it from Sturdy was kinda...Well, it was an odd day. Things are allowed to be a bit silly. "Come on, my little pony. Adventure awaits!"
He fixed me with the most mutating deadpan look I'd ever seen. It was a combination of "You're mad" and "You can't be serious" moved on through "Oh god you are" and finished with a classic "I'm not getting out of this, am I?" I'm not sure what set that one off. Perhaps it was the stance, the pose, the arm pointing to the stormy heavens.
Sanity is for other people.
"Fine", he resigned. "But I do so under protest. What is the plan?"
We looked at the water, the clearer parts of it at least and began to drink. I scooped it to my mouth with my hands, Sturdy just leaned over. When we'd had out fill we started to walk in the direction I assumed was north. Not that I had any way to tell. I just headed in the direction the wind was coming from.
"Where are we going?" Sturdy asked.
Conversation, like the rain, began to dry up after that. We made small talk. I asked him about his home. He described a small western town called Oaten, where the mares are pretty and so's the sunset but that's about all there is. It's not as dry as Tartarus, or rather how Tartarus usually is, so they can grow trees. Mostly lemons. Lemons and hay. He told me about his family, a father who grew lemons, a mother who grew hay and a sister who had the sense to get out before everything went to pot. After a little while, I asked him the big question.
"So if this is a prison...why are you here?"
I didn't know what to say to that. We kept walking. When we couldn't walk anymore we lay down and slept on one of the sturdier dead trees that had given up and fallen. When it was alive it would have been a behemoth stretching far into the sky. Now it was so many meters of dead wood the thickness of a small car and half as high. Comfortable? No. Dry? Still no. But it was better than the alternative.
When I awoke Sturdy was already awake. He was looking over the edge of our log at something on the ground. The rain hadn't started again, but the faint rumblings echoing overhead promised more soon. I joined my strange companion at the log's edge. My eyes went as wide as his when I say what fascinated him so.
A river. A creek. A brook, a stream. Two meters wide and barely a foot deep etched out of the hard-packed dust overnight. We watched it for a while, the slightly murky water flowing past us and continuing on its way.
"Huh."
We left a while later, trusting the river to lead us north to the coast. It snaked and swerved, sometimes splitting and rejoining itself. Sturdy and I followed in it's wake, the cool waters heralding our arrival.
Okay, I'll be honest here. This isn't the most exciting part of the story. There's a lot of walking and walking and drinking water and stomaching barely alive grass and walking and even more walking. Let's fast forward a little here. I don't know how I survived the week, but Sturdy and I were a little thin by the time we got out on the other side. When we did...
Ruins. Old stone walls left to decay in elements they were never built for. The light gray stone was obviously imported from somewhere else, given that all the rock around here is deep red. What looked like the remains of a hangar-sized cathedral stood proudly and defiantly and corroded beyond belief in the midst of a dozen half-crumbled walls, shattered and bleached wood and what looked like the bones of a very, very large creature. With three heads.
Dead trees sprouted in abundance here, a forest of black needles erupting from the earth. They didn't look native either, as if someone had just transplanted a giant european cathedral the an area around it and plonked it down in the middle of the red. Of course we headed towards it. The half-light from the storm painted it in a cool glow, seemingly highlighting it in the middle of the wastes.
By this point, Sturdy was living up to his name and carrying me. I wouldn't have made it out of there without him, we both know that. Then again, he would have never made it out of that desert without me. For different reasons, of course. Thing is, we owed each-other our continued lives. I don't do mushy, you'll have to ask him about it if you want more than that.
The ruins, right. They towered over us. They loomed. They crumbled at the slightest touch. Sturdy carried me over to the main building and sat me down beside it. I couldn't move. Not for lack of trying, but my arms and legs wouldn't respond to my brain. I had nothing left. I saw Sturdy slip off into the cathedral before I lost the ability to turn my head more than a little at a time.
I wasn't going to die. I wasn't. Not here, not like this. I had to. Get my country back. I had to. Stand on my own two feet. I had to. Had to live. Why did I think of it as mine? Do I own it? Am I some kind of heir? No, no. I don't think so. It's just mine. Like a...like a...
Breathing came hard. I was gasping like a fish out of water. A drowning fish. Slowly but surely, the rain began to drizzle. Not a full storm like the first downpour, but just light. Enough to soak into the ground. Enough to keep me awake while I listened to Sturdy rummage around amongst what sounded like metal. Enough to...
I trailed off. Thinking was taking up too much effort. Breathing took what was left of everything I had. Soon, seeing became too taxing. So did listening. So...did...
"Ayre. Ayre wake up."
What? I'm not Ayre. I don't even know my name.
"Ayre if you die I am going to be furious."
Oh, that's right. Ayre was the name I took. Because of the rock. Ayers Rock. Yeah, where I met...
"Sturdy Gaffer" a death rattle with his name dripped past my lips and curled in the air
I think I nodded. I'm not sure. I couldn't tell. I felt some kind of mashed something be pushed into my mouth. I swallowed. I felt a pain I'd forgotten about suddenly lessen. I took a few breaths. They came easier. This went on for a little while as a talking pony in the middle of a prison named for a Hell fed me mashed potatoes. Later, more solid things were pushed past my lips as I was able to chew. I think I recognized spinach.
I found myself capable of thinking again. I hoped he'd been eating, too. I opened my eyes again to find him right up in my face. I didn't have the energy to flinch. There were cans of food scattered around him, bottles of half empty things I can't remember eating. He had potato on his muzzle. He's been eating, good. Maybe this wasn't so bad.
"You should eat, pony man" I managed to gurgle out "No lady pony's going to want your scrawny bones. You need muscles, like me." I got a smile. More of a wry smirk but I'll take what I can get.
I drank as he ate. Rain water was quickly becoming a staple. After we could move again, I stood up. Very slowly. My legs screamed in pain as my brain roared in triumph. But just standing was all I could do. Walking proved impossible. I have no idea how Sturdy managed to keep himself mobile. More legs, probably.
We managed to close out the day as the rain decided to hit harder. The storm crashed down again and I know I saw two or three of those sickly looking dead twigs that used to be trees blow away. Sturdy and I sat inside. Cold, but not alone. Wet, but no longer hungry.
On the floor of an empty cathedral we watched a river of red mud wash away three skulls the size of small buses.
Author's Note
Two chapters. Woo. That's three more than I ever thought I'd write. Comments welcome, tell me I suck, because I honestly know I do.
The rain lasted for days this time. We made a mud wall in the cathedral door to keep at bay the worst of the sky's gifts at bay. Somewhere along the line we found something dry enough to make a fire. Old planks, scattered about in one of the side rooms, stuck together to resemble long chairs. Of all the things I first feared when I first awoke, being cold and wet wasn't one of them.
Sturdy was a pillar of strength. When I couldn't walk, he was there. When I couldn't climb, he was there. I'll never forget his answer when I asked him why he would do something like this for almost a complete stranger.
"I can still see it."
Then he got up, walked over to me and lay down next to me. It was warmer that being alone. That was the end of the second day. When I say day, I mean sleep cycle. The light here never changes. It's always a dull glow of lightning bouncing off the formerly sterile clouds. The first time we found darkness was in the cathedral basement. Unfortunately, it flooded after the storm that washed away our resident bones.
Sturdy was the one who suggested waiting the storm out. Exploring the cathedral, as soon as I was well enough to run on my own. The main chamber was nothing but a cold stone floor and a raised dais at the far end. Several chambers split off, all of which he'd been in, searching for food. The first thing he supported me towards was the storage room, and gods was it a sight for sore stomachs.
It was packed. Packed with cans of food. Beans, potatoes, tomatoes, carrots, pickled everything you can pickle. Anything you can stuff in a can and make last forever. There was even a jar of honey. Opening it we found it to be crystallized. Completely solid. It was sweet and sticky and wonderful. There were other things I didn't recognise. Pink banana shaped fruit the size of a...small thing. Half the size of a banana. I don't really have many points of reference right now.
Further on down that dry-storage was a great metal door. Sturdy wasn't able to wrench it open, so he didn't know what was inside. There was a bar on a circle in the middle of it, just out of his reach. I turned it. Inside was the light smell of decay and a memory of cold air long past. I'm not sure why, given that there was a flourishing plant and mushroom colony inside. The plants were an odd shade of reds, oranges and browns, and the mushrooms were a pale, almost luminous white.
We later found out they glowed. Huh. And that you shouldn't eat them. Ever. We awoke the morning after out first fresh dinner in Tartarus to the sound of rustling leaves, strangely hallucinating that the rain had grown faces and the plants inside the metal door had migrated and covered the cathedral in leaves and flowers of every colour.
Sturdy, or at least what I thought was Sturdy suggested sleeping this off like a bad hangover. Not his actual words, but I'm paraphrasing. So we slept. I'm not sure about Sturdy, but there was something speaking to me in that dream. Made of lightning and silent, but speaking. I tried to understand, grasped desperately at his words but, no. It was all crackles and a faint song that sounded like home and loss, hope and the future.
When I awoke, Sturdy was still asleep, the rain was no longer looking at us...but there were still red vines growing across the ceiling. It was both intensely disturbing and strangely comforting. The rain continues to beat down. No luck there.
The next room we happened upon was what looked like an old armoury. Or it would have been, if there were swords and suits of armour where there were only small piles of rust and slightly larger piles of rust. Faded pictures lined the walls behind glass screens, encouraging us to...I couldn't read it, but they looked encouraging and terrifying. A large white horse towered menacingly with an outstretched hoof towards a cowering pony working on a field. Others were ponies working together holding strangely shaped jars and glasses. Some even depicted ponies with wings, posing strongly for some kind of artist.
I didn't get it, but by the look on Sturdy's face, he did. I tried asking him about it, but he just mumbled something about radicals. There were more symbols on the wall, faded and red. Sturdy wouldn't translate them for me either. The look on his face read disgust, the first time I saw that express cross his usually benevolent deadpan.
We left that room quickly.
The next and penultimate room we found was full of...nothing. Nothing useful, anyway. Just shelves upon shelves of books. All the same. They seemed like...books. I opened one to see if I could...nope. Can't read it. I briefly contemplated burning it, but something within me just said no. I put it back, and left the book room.
On the fifth day, we heard something thump outside. At first we thought it was one of the walls breaking after so much abuse, but a shouted screech soon knocked us out of that. We scrambled to the mud wall, eyes darting around for the source of the noise, desperate to find another like us. Another survivor.
Sturdy spotted it first. A newly formed crater in the earth, quickly filling with the endless rainwater. He may have seen it first, but I acted without thinking. I jumped over the wall, the rain stinging and making the already cloying mud worse, and darted to the now frantic screeching.
Damn that was a large hole. In the middle was a small black looking insect thing I don't care about that it's going to drown. I jumped in. I could climb, but I wasn't sure about it. It flailed in the mud, sinking up to its neck, sending red splashing everywhere.
As I slid down, time began to slow to a crawl. I thought. Lightning flashes overhead, catching the mud and lighting it up like the land's blood pouring from a thousand unseen cuts. The insect screeched, it's fangs a pearly white and it's eyes utterly terrified. What was I doing here? Why was I going into danger to help something I never met?
"I can still see it."
I stood up, still sliding, still slowed. Somehow, I walked. Sturdy was beside me. I didn't care how. As time was still nothing, we walked like we always did. We pulled the squirming insect out of the mud, throwing mud up into the air where it caught and stilled. The light of the lighting began to fade and we, calmly as you like, scaled the crater like it was flat ground and placed the rescuee down. The flash ended, and time resumed it's normal march.
"WHAT WAS THAT?" I screeched, the insect silencing itself in shocked disbelief. Sturdy just looked at me. We were silent in that rain for a long time. Nothing moved but the flows and rivers of mud sweeping past our feet.
It was a beetle-pony, now I got a good look at it. If you cross a pony with a black-shelled bug and give it the look of a kicked puppy, that is what I was looking at. Wait...if that was made the crater, where did it come from...I spun around, searching the skies for...there!
A hole. A big, fluctuating, circular hole in the sky. Through it I saw green fields, tall ivory towers and one other thing. A great white horse, mane of striped pastels, golden regalia and an expression like she just saw something impossible before it's eyes. The hole began to close up as her horn began to glow a cool gold. I just had time to do one little thing.
I pointed at my eyes. I pointed at her. Given her step back, I think she got the message.
We took the small black pony-thing inside and sat it by the fire. It curled into a ball. I guessed it was exhausted. I turned to Sturdy.
"You know what he or she is?"
It was a long day that would only get longer as time passed. Thinking that, I realised something.
"Hey, Sturdy."
So I hugged him. For good measure, I picked up the changeling and hugged that too. That thing was light. Must be the starvation and the lightweight exoskeleton. After a while, we noticed the rain had stopped falling. No-one moved.
"T-thank y-you." the grateful squeak came from ball of chitin that had curled itself around my leg.
We left that morning after scavenging whatever we could. Vines made net bags for food. Half rotted wood and some more vine made terrible but better than nothing sandals. Before we could go, however, Sturdy asked me to help him with something. Together we pulled all the wood into the center chamber, then the posters, then the books. The pile was so very high. Then he brought a log from the fire and set the entire thing ablaze. We watched for a time, until the very top caught the wooden rafters.
The ceiling began to buckle. The flames quickly caught the vines and raced away along the creepers. Soon, the entire building was up in smoke, falling masonry crashing down where we once stood. Thankfully we were gone by that time, the inferno of what was once a great structure warming our backs.
"Pax Celestia." Sturdy spat the words of peace like a curse. I didn't want to disturb him, so I just patted him once on the haunch and kept walking. The changeling was confused and terrified. I knew what both of them felt.
The three of us walked away from the dilapidated cathedral, leaving naught but red dust and smoke in our wake.
Author's Note
So, that was a chapter. Questions and comments welcome. Also people have actually liked this. Four. Which is about five more than I was expecting.
"Sturdy, is there something you want to share with the class?"
Stirring conversations where my excellently charming friend says very little and means even less aside, this is another boring part of the story. Which means traveling. Lots and lots of walking. Walking and raining. The rain fell almost constantly, although just barely there. What would have been a welcome kiss of the cool on a summer's day was now our constant companion. I just wish it had bought me dinner.
Speaking of food, this was about the time I began to notice something was missing from my diet. Not that I really had much room to complain, given that food itself was only a recent luxury. Vegetables and pickled vegetables were all well and good, but... It was the feeling of a hole in my stomach that no potato could fill, no pickled leek could patch.
Although seriously, try pickled leek. It's awesome.
Yes, the food situation. Judging by how I was rationing everything we had, Crater fed off hugs and Sturdy ate the half-alive grass we were fine for a good while. Not more than a month, but that's a good while when your distant future survival prospects used to end at tomorrow.
We walked. We walked some more. After a little while, Crater opened up to us. While walking, of course.
"Um, mister Ayre?"
Side note: This was the moment I was banned from puns. Forever.
Another stretch of time passed with nothing but eating, walking, admiring the nothing, walking, walking on mud plains, that was a new experience, walking on fallen tree corpses, I refuse to call them trees, trees have leaves and are actually alive and...more walking. This is an exciting and compelling story, isn't it? So much action.
Let me skip to the good part: the beach. After who knows how long we managed to find ourselves tasting the salty smelling air wafting enticingly in from the ocean above, and gods was it weird. It didn't smell like the regular ocean, at least, it smelled wrong to me. Gone was the tiny note of decaying sealife and the miniscule wavering scent that is dead seaweed. They were instead replaced with...more salt.
Let me explain that. Sorry for pulling us off track, but you may have noticed by now that there is almost nothing living in Tartarus, at least not for long. Remember the sky? No sun, no moon. And though that may seem creepy as hell and generally not good, it's worse for plant life. Which needs the sun to live. Animals are little better, you know, because they need healthy plants to live. When whoever set up Tartarus or whatever created this magicless (tell you later) domain of half-light pulled the storm over it's head, they signed the death warrant for every native species. Only the hardest species of grasses can survive that kind of sky. Again, sorry. Back to the story.
We raced towards the smell as fast as our weary legs could carry us. The dead wood that once comprised the bushes and trees around the once fertile coastal lands were brittle and tasted stale, according to Sturdy. I wish he wouldn't eat the supplies, but we cut through that morgue of trees. Or perhaps corpse. As opposed to copse, of alive trees it's a corpse of dead trees. I like morgue better.
The beach was tiny gray rocks amongst slightly larger slightly grayer rocks. It was still exciting. They were so smooth and cold as opposed to the rough heat the rest of the country. Exciting things, small smooth gray rocks.
"This sucks."
Those were our reactions. Endless rocks one way, endless rocks and a bend the other. Larger jagged rocks blocked our sight to what I'm going to call the east and around the west was that bend. Picture it, if you will. Indigo seas, flat and still. Storming skies, rolling and silent. Gray stones, rolled flat. And black corpses of trees, pointing like accusing fingers at the traitorous sky.
Quite a picture, if you like morgues.
There was nothing here but stones and the sound of faintly rippling waves. They didn't even crash. The wind barely blew and it's not like there were any leaves to rustle. Although, looking at that giant pile of weather-resistant wood...
"Hey, Sturdy?"
Turns out you can pronounce an ellipsis. It's a croaky, click-y sound from your throat. Like a half formed groan of disbelief. We set about gathering whatever wood didn't immediately break. About two in every three trees were useless. They became flooring after we packed them together and stamped them down. Well, Sturdy stamped them down. Crater and I jumped up and down uselessly. The old hardwood became pillars. Crater stumbled on the idea of how to keep the place warm and not drafty.
"Mister Ayre?"
Yup, that was a hive. He had formed the leftover splinters into a kind of structure and stuck it together with mud. Huh.
"That's stuck together with mud."
The mud made everything better. The walls were four pillars and stuck together kindling. The roof still had to be logs, though. Well, long branches. That took the better part of... Not like there's a measurement of time here, but we were sleepy by the time it finished. I want the sun back. Well...I want the moon back. Everything else wants the sun back. We stood back for a moment and admired our handiwork, the first of what would turn out to be many of these. Which is when the kidling asked the killer question.
"Um, where's the door?"
Damnit.
Author's Note
All dietary suggestions are fictional and you shouldn't do them. Probably. You might like pickled leeks. I don't know.
Trying for less grim in this one. Trying, I never said said succeeding. Everything is dead, you try to crack a joke.
In the middle of the dead, a structure tends to stand out. Even if it is dead, black and spiked like some kind of giant warning sign. It screams "You're not alone!" "There are others here!" and to some funny people who need better hobbies "Oh look, victims!". Guess what group our first visitors fell into? Kindly neighbors? No. Back of the room. Go on, shuffle back. There we go.
We had hoped that nearer the coast would be some kind of edible food. Something of substance. We had hoped we would find others like us so we could build some kind of gatherer settlement. Work together, build a boat, leave. We had hoped that the coast would be better. It wasn't.
I awoke one morning with an unfamiliar hoof to my throat. The pony that it was connected to was a light purple with more scars than I'd ever seen on anything else. No mane on this one, only a ragged tail stained beyond all original colour by dust and mud.
"We got an alive one, Skip." she called. Yup, female voice. I think. She flapped what looked like decrepit and plucked wings on her back. Must be one of those flying ones I saw on the poster.
There was a muffled response from outside, shortly cut off by a muffled crack of hoof on bone. More noises came in from outside, frantic screams, terrified cries for help and that sound again, over and over. The mare in the hut with me froze as outside became deathly silent.
I took the opportunity to break a rib of hers. Grab by the wing, deliver punch to weakened and malnourished ribcage. Simple as that. I know some of you are squeamish about fighting and violence, so I'll skip over this part too. Let's just say I had to replace one of the weight rocks we keep inside to keep the floor down, and that the weak, underfed, terrified, easily overpowered and already broken pegasus got a killer headache and had to lie down. On that rock. Repeatedly.
I raced outside as soon as I was clear. to find... Sturdy forcing the little one to wash her mouth out. He caught me looking and flickered his eyes over to the side of the house.
"Oh. There were three larger ones. Good to know." I just stared for a while before continuing "Wait, that's that on their necks? How did..?"
Hang on. Marks on the neck. Crater has teeth like mine.
"Sturdy?"
That stopped him in his tracks. He froze. I meant it as a throwaway statement, but he took it like a shot to the heart. He stood very still for a little while, then walked off. He later returned with firewood as I was throwing the...sleeping...guest out of our nice and dry home and Crater was playing around in the blood. Mud. Mud is what I said.
"We do not waste food."
I told you you wouldn't like how I survived. I think I started this tale with that little warning. No, I won't tell you what you taste like. It's nothing flash, believe me. You may now take a moment to be sick. Yes, over in the other room. There are buckets prepared for you in the corner if you can't make the other room.
To make you feel better, that night was rough. The dreams. I dreamed of flight. The joys of soaring through the skies without limit or cares. To see the ground fade away beneath me and it all felt to real. My name was Farrow Yard. I loved life and most of all I loved...wait, no. That wasn't me. I'm Ayre. Ayre the something unusual. After I knew that, I knew this was not my dream. It was her last. I took my place outside of her form and watched her gallivant through the skies. I turned to the large indigo being next to me.
"This is her last flight, isn't it."
I had nightmares for the rest of the week. Crushing deaths, horrors beyond counting. Lost loves turning to me with sickly smiles and ripping my heart out and earing it. Crater grown huge, tearing the emotions from my walking husk and forging them into a replica of me who was superior in every way as I blew to dust. And every dream ended with an image of sunrise over the Heart. Horrors, yes. But hopeless? Tell her she's dreaming.
Now, the next day we went exploring. If there's one thing Sturdy told me about ponies it's that they stick together. The herd survives what the single cannot. Makes a certain kind of sense. We found them afraid. Very, very afraid. There were dozens, maybe a hundred. Weak. Scrawny. A few had dropped dead from hunger and terror as they watched us, unmoving. Some had foals with them.
Two things unified the mishmash of equine. Not the coat or mane colours, no, these were a dozen different colours to every square meter. Not the age, there were some here that looked ancient, and some that were just born. Two things. The dust that covered each and every one, catching the light like blood and painting a hopeless sanguine pattern across the throng. And the despair. Every set of eyes wore it heavily. You know that sparkle in a ponys eyes that shimmers like sunshine? Not even a hint of it. Just blank faces.
I thought they would run. They didn't. I waked over to one of them, what would have been a yellow and brown colt if not for the reds that marked him exile. He didn't as much as flinch when I touched him on the haunch. Just stared forward.
"They want to die." I breathed aloud. "No."
I looked around for a large rock, a fallen log, something. A stump sufficed.
"Ponies. Stallions, mares and foals! I have something to tell you, so you better bloody listen. I am the Red King, and do you know what that means!?"
They were looking at me now, awaiting the promise of their death. Sturdy fixed me with a look and mouthed "Red King?". I ignored him before he ruined my fun.
"It means..." I paused for effect before bellowing "YOU WILL NOT DIE HERE!"
NOW they were paying attention.
"I refuse to die here. These two refused to die here." I gestured to a grumbling Gaffer and a bashfully hiding in herself Crater "And so will you. There's no speech that will give you back your will to live, but by the gods I am going to try, SO! You are alive! We're going to keep it that way! You know why? Because Luna is a giant horse who needs a bit to shut her up and we are going to BE that bit! Every day we survive, be it out of spite or the realisation that yes, we can live in this waste is another day she is proven wrong! We were sent here to die. You know that. I know that. Screw that! We died already."
They mumbled amongst themselves as I let them work each other up a little.
"You see the blood on yourselves? The red that marks each and every one of us? That's where you died." I knelt down in front of the now attentive yellow and brown colt in front of my stump. "Who were you?"
I jumped back on the stump. "Now, what were your names?"
Have you ever seen a crowd cheer their own names? Seen hope flame, not a shine not a shimmer but a furnace? Felt the hope rise like a physical force enough to almost lift you off the ground? I have and it's brilliant. Absolutely wonderful.
"SO! Now that you are free, what are you going to do?""LIVE."
They're a good bunch.
"Someone find me a name, because we are going to need one for ourselves! Oh wait. I haven't told you MY name! How silly of me. I am Ayre, the Red King! I made that name up on the spot to sound important in front of the blue princess, and I like how it sounds so I'm keeping it! Anything have a problem with that!?""NO!"
They cheered. They chanted the name of Ayre and the Red King. They started with nothing and now they had nothing to lose and everything to gain.
"Ayre."
The rumbling of the sky cut him off. The crowd of ponies milling about looked up. I looked up. The storm was roiling again, lashes of thunder the harbinger of the rain's bounty. Lightning flashed in twin arcs, circling the assembled mass. They looked familiar. Some of the ponies in the crowd pointed up at them and whispered something. I missed it in the thunder, but their eyes flickered between the two bolts to Sturdy and myself. Interesting. The rain began to tap against the dry earth, beginning the song that would herald the new age of Tartarus.
"Did you time this?" he smiled through his fake disappointed tone.
"Okay, so. What if we got a really big fire-"
The planning was not going well. Ideas are hard and I'd already had my "Let's make a city with ponies/things we find and farm things and live in it." brilliance. Let's do a quick count of what we had. Ponies, about four dozen. Small rocks. Wood, mostly useless. Larger rocks. The ocean. A tiny changeling. More rocks.
Not good.
I think it was Crater that hit upon the idea to actually ask the ponies if they knew anything. This was the obvious idea, really. Although, their answers were very interesting. Tell you what, I'll give you the standard questions I asked them and my top three favourite answers.
Why are you in Tartarus?
Are you seeing the pattern here? Because I did. Less than a quarter of ponies here were meant to be here. Magical accidents, shipwrecks, off course flight teams, there were a half dozen non-criminals for every pony actually convicted and for each innocent alive there were a dozen or more who didn't make the landing.
Have you seen anything useful here?
Back up. No magic?
"Professor portals, what's this about Tartarus having no magic?"
I wasn't at that point. But that was a maybe. There's no use in letting a perfectly useful resource go unused. Speaking of, the ship. It was where the young sailor said it would be. It was sideways on the stony shore, masts broken, hull holed and I think the keel was embedded in one of the larger trees. It's my story, the keel was sticking out of a tree like a lazy nautical-themed sign-writer stopped getting paid halfway through a job.
The ship was covered in dust. It poured out of every hole blasted it by the rocks and weather every time the wind gently rocked it. Barnacles looked like they bled red along the keel, making the old trader look more like a great dying beast than an idol of wood. I won't talk about the bones. That's too depressing. They were small. Too small.
Moving on.
We salvaged three things from that caravel. Caravel, how do I know that word? Doesn't matter. Three things. The wood from the hull, the masts and the cloth. Gods if there wasn't a ton of it. Turns out that was it's main cargo and Saddle Arabia pays well for Equestrian wool and cotton. Oh, and the rope, we took the rope too. And one other thing.
It was made of what was easily recognisable as the hardest wood on the ship, and the hardest I had ever seen. It was barely two thumb-widths wide, and as high as my shoulder. It was carved with some manner of writing with a vine pattern twining along the length. A staff. A short one, anyway. Mine.
Now, what can we do with decent timber, three masts and a ship's worth of sailcloth? Other than make a giant tent, not much. So, we made a giant tent. The boards from the ship made walls and more of the mulched trees made a serviceable floor. Some of the ponies even made a chair. A large, Red King sized chair. I put Crater on it, then got back to work.
What? I was busy. I had hands and there was stuff that needed to be done.
So now we had somewhere to stay. A nice building-esque tent with a broken mast in the middle and sails draped over each-other forming the canopy. Nice enough. We all slept after that, in that half-sturdy tent. Synchronized our sleeping patterns, finally.
The dreams came again that night. The Heart spewed forth rivers and great flames in equal measure. The green was everywhere, reaching up towards the storm as if praying for their own salvation until the flames burned them to ashen cinders. The waters came after and they once more thrived. Burn and grow, burn and grow, the endless cycle.
"Have you lost your way, 'Red King'?" a familiar voice echoed through the dream, bouncing off the walls of green and flickering from waves of fire.
She didn't have a response for that. The dream ended without fanfare, just one final cycle and it was over. Fire and water. In my post wake haze I thought of the burning cathedral. It was probably washed away by now. Fire and water. Sturdy really needs to stop burning things down. Fire. The rain keeps coming whenever I need it. Water.
Stop. Haze clears. Eyes wide. Fire and water. I stood. The others were asleep. Waked outside. Nothing here, nothing moved. To the water. The wind played in my hair. I didn't notice. Didn't notice when I was up to my knees. Nor my waist. Nor my shoulders. And when my head was under, well...
"Swim like a fish" is the most used euphemism.
I don't know how long I was under. But when I surfaced out of that darkened sea they were calling for me. Something about the water. Yes, I'm in the water and it's awesome. Yes, yes, the water. What? Get out of the water? Why would I do tha-
You know that feeling when you think there's one more step that there is? The feeing of falling briefly before the foot jarringly crashed down. It was like that, just with teeth around my ankle and no breathing. I saw glimpses of it as it pulled me under. Bone white skin. Flailing tail. Fins. Larger than me. It was fast and heading straight down. It left me deep underwater.
I could barely see. The surface was too far above me. The bottom was rocks and bones. Some of them shifted in the depths. It came at me hard. I don't think it even tried to bite, it just rammed me squarely in the chest. It was all sleek angles and bones. No skin, no flesh. Just bones and cold light. The shock took seconds to wear off before I grabbed whatever I could and tried to pull. Bones ripped away like twigs, but it kept going. The deep cold had numbed the pain so I just kept ripping. The skull was barely attached by the time I ran out of breath.
The thing kept going, further and further out to sea. My hands wrapped around it's skull and began to wrench. I saw it crack, saw the light begin to flicker and fade. Other things were passing us now as we hurtled far from she shore. Fish with lanterns danging from their faces. Strangely large multihued shrimp. I forgot about dying for a moment as one of the latter landed on my attacker's head and looked at me. Then it turned its bottom at me.
And shattered the skull.
The bone creature fell apart, leaving me to drift along, wondering what that little thing was. I looked down at the fading form. Cracks rippled through the water and I saw red start to pour from the teeth embedded in my torso. Oh. More of the creatures swarmed around me, a sea of bone within a sea of cold. the edges of my vision began to blacken as I did the stupidest and luckiest thing possible.
I opened my mouth and breathed in.
The black edges receded. The swarm stopped looking hungry and started looking...respectful. I touched the red seeping from my wounds. It was solid gritty, like dirt. No, not dirt. Dust. Red dust. Of all the pressing matters, I believed that could wait. For now, I had to get back and I didn't even know where I wa-
The bone fish glowed. Glow, if I am right, is magic.
The dust doesn't affect outside of the island.
Well now.
But first things first, I had to get back. The surface was my first stop. The air was a breath of fresh air. Well, stale air. Right next to the storm wall. It was silent like the skies above, not an arms length from me. So what do you not do when a magical storm is sitting right next to you? Touch it? Why not. I'm going to start thinking things through one of these days.
I felt like I was gone the moment my hands touched the curtain of waiting thunder. Floating high above everything, at a word I would be gone and nothing would hurt. That sounds nice, I thought. Peace forever. I thought about Sturdy. He would miss me if I was gone. He'd never show it of course, but he would. I thought of little Crater. She's miss her only source of food. I'm not sure what else i was to her, other than her occasional carrier. I thought of the others.
I thought of their chanting to live. Their determination that I sparked in their lifeless eyes. Something burned within them, and at that moment it burned in me too. A fire that scorched the despair from my cheesy wording and my soul. I felt more whole. The storm began to rage at my denial of it's offer.
"Oh shut it." I roared at the tumultuous din. "There has been too much magic crap today already. Why aren't you affected by the dust, eh? Is it because you've never touched the ground?" The storm quavered, a sour and defeated note. "It is, isn't it. Well. You want me to die? To give up? Screw that! Too many have died already, so you are going to listen. To. Me. from now on, you are mine. You got that!?"
Lightning asked out at me, ripping chunks from my partly corporeal form. It burned, gods it burned and I screamed my lungs out. It lashed again and again, as if trying to simply rip me apart. I tried to bat the lightning away, each time missing, timing poorly. In the end I just thrashed with the limbs I had. Not giving it what it wants. It killed everything I knew. Destroyed a healthy land for the sake of making it a prison.
This storm needs to change. The last bolt faded away and I was still alive. Red poured from me like rain. I'd lost chunks from both legs, both arms and I couldn't see from one eye.
"You...*gasp*...done already?"
And like that, it all stopped. The pain was gone. The storm stopped flashing. One last bolt thundered towards me with all the speed of a dead stone. The last flash hung in the air like a fading dream. I reached forward to the bolt, once more unstuck in the syrupy progress of time. It was round, not pointed. Arcs looped off it like vines trying to catch something to support it. So...I grabbed the arcs.
This is when I realised the flash had ended, and the bolt was pointed squarely at my head. It didn't move as much as it disappeared. The storm stopped moving and went silent. I fell.
Flying is nice. Oh look, there's that tent. I should bring them some rain. Wait, where did that come from?
The blur of motion is something I can't describe, I'm sorry. I remember the ground becoming glass and slag. I remember the ponies backing away from my sizzling and horrible form. I remember how Sturdy didn't even seem phased. I even remember what little Crater said before I just fell over.
"Do it again!"
Author's Note
So that just happened.
Okay, okay. I'm going to skip a bit forward because my recovery is long and boring and decidedly painful. Mostly for me. Accounts of my laying around being fed vary widely. Sturdy claimed I was delusional, making up stories of fire and water spewing from the mountain at the heart of the world and claiming that lightning could talk and was a boring conversationalist. Crater insisted that I wouldn't calm down enough to sleep without somepony laying on top of me, a job she was usually delighted to perform. Others were a bit more outlandish, making up stories of strange glowing beings visiting me in the night and the tent dripping water over me days after of not so much as a drop of rain.
Ignore them. I guess they wanted a legend of their own and here I was, a being different to them that was tying them together with the promise of a better life. So I was turned into that legend. I meant the whole Red King thing as a joke, but then they took it too seriously, and too far. The fact that we later had a Black Queen and a White Lord is proof enough of that. Again, I'm getting ahead of myself with silly details.
Timeskip begins now. Picture months flying by in the blink of an eye. The rains and the fertile mud that the rains swept in were full of long dead seeds, but that tiny vine that crept it's way out of the cathedral wasn't. It flourished in the half-light. I was told that it was tasty, but left much to be desired. That was of course, after the euphoria of GROWING FOOD faded into the background. Given the starvation that had plagued them until the moment the first leaf skittered across our patch of rocks and dirt, that took a long time. That particular discovery was something I had missed while I was delirious from pain, fever, and several missing bits of important skin.
But they were happy. They were eating, they were drinking and they were happy. Some of the ponies even reported dimmings and brightenings in the sky every so often. Oh but that got them going. I heard the party was something to witness. "The Red King has tamed the sky" they said. "The Red King has brought back the day and the night!" they exclaimed. "The Red King can tame lightning WITHOUT magic!" they chanted. The legend thing is a little creepy. Really.
I can do without it.
So yes, time passes. Ponies build tents, then actual buildings. The only thing that changes in my original large tent-building-thing is the giant chair. Made from driftwood, they tell me. Packed together and carved lovingly by sharp hooves and detailed by sharper horns. I hear that's something special for a unicorn to carve something with their horn and not their magic. Not that that's an issue here, but I appreciated the gesture. Comfy chair, too. More often than not I just kind of dumped Crater in it and went to work on something that needed doing, but it was comfy for when I wanted to pretend to be a king and dole out laws and solve problems.
Which I did. I like to think justly. "This neighbor stole my leaves"/"They were over my side of the fence" was a common one. My solution? No fences. Also stop bitching, the stuff's growing everywhere. I figure if we start fencing ourselves off we'll start metaphorically fencing ourselves off. So every fence was immediately torn down. I was softer with the judgment calls after that.
We had a diverse lot. Ponies of the academic societies, sailor types and even a few actual thieves graced out midst. The scientists were happy to study, the sailors were working on building a boat and in a twist of happenstance I accidentally created a guild of thieves who only stole from approved members, i.e. themselves. Well, themselves and me. Anyone who held that staff I fished off the first shipwreck at the end of the tensleep got a pat on the head. What? They were a simple folk really. Just needed something to do that involved their special talents. Which was stealing.
After a few months of pleasant boredom, or what I assume was pleasant boredom that took months, I had yet another dreaming visit from our favourite dream-walker. Oh she was present a few times before that, but it was a conversation we'd had a thousand times before.
"You're a monster."
Like that, backward and forward for hours on end. I think she was just looking for something to do with her nights. Ponies must be really boring if she had time to endlessly argue with me.
"So, monster, we have come to you tonight with a different topic of conversation."
We didn't speak for the rest of the dream. Just hovered in the blackness, looking at each-other. Romantic? Back of the room. Go on. Shuffle back. No. The indigo princess did nothing for me. Too...whatever she was. Yes, that. I'm fairly sure I did nothing for her either, not everyone's a fan of xenophilia and since it's my story no-one's getting laid. Not even me, so shut it before I kick you out of the room.
Now where was I... Right, the deal. I get locked in jail and everything else goes free. Seems horribly unfair, right? Right. Well. This is the point where I got to know how Celestia worked. Remember how Luna said her sister would be the one to handle it? That was a good thing. A very good thing. It's also the reason that alliance went back on the table.
A few sleeps of planning later, we got this thing together. I was to float, row, or swim out to the storm wall, where the dust's magic-sapping effects were the weakest. We had a few boats by that point. They never did anything but they made the sailors happy. Not hurting anyone by existing, they were shoddy and ramshackle and made from stripped off timber and some hollowed out tree, I just sort of let them be. Until now, that is.
My destination was obvious. The glowing portal that wasn't there the sleep before that showed through to a land of happy sunshine and wonder. I think it gave me diabetes just looking at it. Even the smell of dirt was saccharine. Gross. Celstia stood up front, with a number of angry looking guards behind. Quite a number, now that I think about it. Might have been anywhere from twenty upwards.
Celestia spoke first. "Greetings, Red King Ayre of Tartarus. We are here today to deliver your punishment for defying the rightful Equestrian government, claiming royal status without legitimate title, misusing Equestrian lands for your own purposes, squatting, unlawful salvage of Equestrian trading vessels and a number of other changes. You have accepted your punishment and thus the law will be merciful."
There was a pause in the conversation.
"Ayre of Tartarus."
Birds chirped in her world. The barely contained storm rumbled in mine.
"You are sentenced to."
The guards sneered. The waves crashed against my spit of a boat.
"No less than..."
The winds synched up for a moment, carrying the smell of salt and sugar.
"One hundred..."
Yeah, here it comes.
"Days in..."
Wait what?
"The Exiled land of Tartarus."
Wait.
WHAT?
"Time previously served will be included in this term if incarceration."
She's messing with me. She has to be.
"Said time of ninety nine days will be deducted from your sentence, and you will serve the remainder in the prison you have been sentenced to."
No...
"As per the agreement, I will now teleport the deeds to Tartarus to your home, at which time you may sign them with the quill provided and become sole inheritor of the lands and any legal title which rightly belongs to the holder of said lands."
You've got to be kidding me...
"Now, have you anything to say before sentence is enacted?"
The portal shut with not a peep of fanfare. I liked her immediately. I still like her. Before you open your mouth, the next one who asks about any romance subplot gets kicked out. Got it? Good. A gentleman never kisses and tells anyway.
Yeah, mull that over. I know she did.
While he's pondering what I mean, let's continue on. Everything was exactly where she said it would be. Except Crater, who was playing with the quill. I had a number of quills. All donated by local pegasi. Exactly one from each. I was really going to have to ask what that meant one of these days. Some of them went bright red when they gave them to me, already sharpened. I don't know how green and brown ponies can blush red, but It's apparently possible.
I signed the papers. They predictably disappeared to parts unknown. So apparently transferring paper isn't impossible as long as the other end is the one doing the magic. Good to know. I was just signing the last document when...
"Ayre. We need to speak."
He let me have it. That was a lecture I'm not repeating. He told me how each of the pony tribes all have their own methods of showing respect, love and adoration. Earth ponies will make something intricate and beautiful and give it as a gift to show respect or something small and infinitely valuable for love. For unicorns a well woven spell crystal or recurring matrix spell, whatever that is, represents ever renewing love and something they have marked with their horn represents adoration. For pegasi, it's a little different. For both respect and love a gift of a feather is traditional, but it's which feather marks the distinction. A smaller feather, usually one of the unimportant ones, marks respect and the larger ones that control flight display love in that they would put their lives into their intendeds hooves.
"This is why your use of that quill in that manner is disgraceful."
Crater, of course, found it hilarious and fell off my throne laughing about halfway through. I swear all that one does is laugh at me. Laugh at me and be cute.
I slept my last as Ayre, and awoke as Ayre, the Red King of Australis. Which I now owned. Oh, the ponies threw a banquet of vines, leaves, stewed vines, more leaves, and the small berries that seem to appear whenever the vines are stewed. They tasted like...tasty ash. Not bad though. The party was part celebration, part coronation and part religious ceremony. I didn't like how this was going. They put a crown of carved wood, polished stone and wrought glass on my head and a cape of sailcloth on my back. They called me the Rightful Lord and the True King and made toasts of water to Australis and everypony shouted to the Storms Above that everything was going to be different now.
I didn't feel any different.
I sure didn't like all those capital letters.
Author's Note
I have to remember that this is Ayre telling the story later on in his life. So I can snark at the audience, answer questions that they never ask and generally be a prat to them.
Alright, here is the part most of you have been waiting for. The long talk with Princess Celestia of Equestria, Diarch of the Sun and Protector of blah blah blah. Oh there was talking. So...much...talking. I think I agreed to half her minor conditions just to shut her up.
The treaty mostly went as follows. All mineral rights belong to Australis. All dust rights belong to Australis. All taxes, dues, levies and other administrative charges gained from Australis are the property of Australis. This goes on for a bit, mostly just confirming that both sides own their own stuff and anything that comes from it. So if our homes catch fire we can't just bill Equestria. After the ownership bit, there were a few clauses. Australis becoming a protectorate of Equestria was throw out without so much as a second "no".
We gained a few things. Equestria would pledge to render aid to build and feed the growing populace for compensation. The storm cloud would be opened in places to allow travel and tourism. Celestia offered some of her brightest scientists to help us understand the effects of the red dust, but I declined. We have our own scientists. Besides, her people would report to her and I don't trust her that much yet. Also I think we understand the dust just fine given that it is a permanent part of each of us. But food and the ability to leave were our main goals, and achieve them we did.
However, there were some losses. Firstly, Australis is not permitted for a period of ten years to form a standing army, guard corp, battlemage division, navy, or air force. Secondly, Australis must remain shrouded in the storm cloud. Celestia wouldn't budge on that one. If the cloud went, so did all Equestrian aid now and in the future. We would be defenseless and exposed. I had to accept it, fates damn me for it. And finally, all surviving Equestrian equipment would have to be returned to the mainland. The last one wasn't much. Just a few ships of personal effects to go to the grieving families. Nothing major. The ships themselves would be cannibalised if they weren't already to make new ships.
But there was one little niggly thing that stuck in my craw.
"You will have to travel to Equestria to finalize this alliance."
Long story short, It was. But not for some time. I had time to build some manner of residing government and laws and structure and all those things I just couldn't find myself caring about. I resolved to talk to Crater. Maybe find out her real name. It was a learning things kind of day.
I found her on her own again. Being the only one of her universally hated species didn't leave much room for a social life. Being a unique personage myself, I felt her loneliness sometimes. But only sometimes. I'm strong and the Red King and I fear nothing and feel no emotional pain at being along in a world of candy-coloured equines. None at all. Arr.
Yeah, she was alone and I said hi.
"Hey cutie."
Alright, let's take a moment to let captain romance over there read through my private letters. Take your time, no rush. Oh? Wide eyes, slightly green, shaking hooves, you've just read one of my favourites. Wait until the next page when he gets really creative and describes how he's fashioned a rock and two vines to... Yup, you just read it. How can I tell? He's throwing up into the bucket again. Just try not to get it on the letters, champ. I still need those to disturb ponies who won't keep their nose out of my business.
"I can't be your queen, silly King." Crater chided with a smile "You need another of your species for that."
I left her in higher spirits than I meant to. Rolling about in the dust giggling like a maniac. Which left me with one thing left to do in the day before I could do as I liked. Judge things. I don't want to call it court, that sounds too formal. Ponies come to me and ask for things that I can usually provide. Help with building, farming the vines, try new recipes, make a decision on some quasi-legal matter, that sort of thing.
Ghost was the first case of the day. Now Ghost used to be a researcher at Canterlot U, which is funny because the U is shaped like a horseshoe. Okay it's not that funny, moving on. She took the name because of her old field of research, which was intangibility. She used to be called Sunshower. I think I liked Ghost better, but she always had the strangest requests.
"Can I study the affects of dust on the red vines?" Sure, go ahead.
See, weird? She was harmless enough though. This time was an attempt at making paper. No harm there, so I gave it the okay. Paper is made from trees, so no possible loss of life or molestation. Next up was a young foal wanting to show me her newly acquired cutie mark. Aw, isn't that sweet, a little one finding out a part of themselves. And her mother was so proud too, one of the first little fillies to get her mark in Australis.
It was a red crown. Pointed. Hard edges. The colour of blood and dust.
"It's the Red Crown of the Red King, your grace." she was positively hopping. "It means I'm good at serving you!"
The joy in the room did nothing to counterweigh my sudden despair. There was a reason I wore the wooden crown rather than even think about having a new one made when the Equestrian supplies started coming in. Other that it would be selfish to use all that dust for a small amount of gold instead of a large amount of food, I liked this crown. It was light. It was made with care and love. Apart the wood and glass and stone were practically worthless but together they were brilliant. It was a symbol of togetherness and unity, not of royalty and riches.
That symbol on that little filly's flank was not the one I wore. Not the one I wear. Some days I wake up and have to remind myself that and for just a moment, I forget why. But then I remember. I remember the blood in the dust. When the old things came back and we had... I'm getting ahead of myself. Where were we?
Right. I said it was very good and that her parents must be proud and then patted her on the head, told her to go outside and play with her family, declared council over for today, crawled into a corner and froze. I froze for a good long time.
"I believed I would find you here, brother."
No.
Not you too.
I don't like to think about this next part too often. But for the sake of the tale I will tell you. After all, I can't just very well stop now, now can I? Just...just don't ask me to tell it again.
Author's Note
Shorter one, because it's 2am and I have work in the morning but too much coffee now.
It all started with the little one's mark.
No, wait.
It all started with the lightning incident. You know, the time I fell into the midst of an impressionable crowd as a magical bolt of lightning in the midst of a magic-eating country covered permanently in a sea of endlessly boiling storm clouds. That turned out to be a terrible idea.
It was the day after the filly showed me the first cutie mark to be earned in Tartarus. Well, I say day, but you know what I mean.
I woke to the sound of screaming. Painful, joyous screaming. I think I should have taken that as the first sign that this day was going to be the kind of day I don't want to talk about. My tent was as high and spacious. The wind softly wafted through the gaps in the sailcloth, bringing the ever-present smell of freshly fallen rain and blood. That was sign two.
Look, long story short, the survivors all thought it was a great thing to wear the mark of the red crown as a cutie mark and so...they began to change theirs. Or rather, they asked the little one who already wore it to change them. There are few sights as disturbing in the world than seeing a tiny, formerly innocent filly half covered in blood with a sharp rock in her mouth carving bloody rips in the shape of a sideways E into the individual special talents of the fanatical ponies as they all sung the praises of the Red King.
When did they write songs? HOW did they write songs? I still don't know that. These were the original songs. You must have heard them by now. All "The Lightning King will Ride from the Heavens" and "Dust is the soul of Australis". They're weird. Don't get me wrong, I like my fanatics. They're cute. But they're crazy. The only reason I haven't come down on them harder is my rule of "You believe whatever you want, just don't try to make anyone else listen to it".
There, you see that? I changed the topic to something slightly funny. Songs are always funny.
What?
Stop giving me that look. And get some blood back in your faces. Look, you see this? I have my own red crown. Same rock, same filly. You know why? Because we're all in this together. The dust runs in all of our veins, not just mine. Well, not yours. You're all candy and sunshine. It's why you're still all too shocked to faint from horror.
Now. Stop asking for stories you really don't want to hear so I can stop skipping over them in a vain hope to keep what's left of your shattered sanity in one vague piece. Okay? Good.
I'll tell you about the Celestia visit, that's a better story. Now go home. I'm sure your loved ones will comfort you after your self-inflicted horror story. Yes, yes, storytime is the same time tomorrow. Go on, shoo. That's right. Thousand yard stares fixed on the door and walking out of it. Good, well done. Oh, yes you can have a hug. There. Now get home.
. . .
Is anything there?
. . .
Hello?
. . .
Sigh. They're gone. Who's there? Sturdy, it's you. Yeah, I'm done for the day. Of course they asked. Cute little fillies make the best stories, of course. Everything loves small children. Even creepy ones. No, I didn't tell them about your part in it. They don't want to hear how you got MORE blood on your hooves. That said, we both have enough of that as it is. Blood on our...forelimbs.
Didn't tell them about Crater's part in it either. Who knew she could still transform? So it was just a little filly who was innocent and sweet, rather than a changeling's cruel joke and the trigger happy earth pony who took a sharp hoof to her two dozen victims.
I still love you bro, don't worry. You and her. We have to stick together, like we always do. That was how long ago now? Damn. That old tent would be dust now. All we have are scars from those days. Remember that time we took on that guard squad? You lost an eye in that fight. Thank the fates for magical healing, eh? It's not your proper colour, but it sees, doesn't it? Tell you what, when I lose a peeper I'll replace it with a magic rock too.
Yeah, I'm heading back soon. I'll just throw out the...Oh hey. Thanks Crater. You know I'm not going to stop calling you that, I don't care what your swarm calls you. You're still the cute little ball of chitin Sturdy and I pulled out of a mud-filled hole in the middle of an anti-magic desert. Queen or not, you still purr when scratched behind the ears.
See? You just be glad I don't strike down behind you during those speeches you're so fond of and do this.
I'll do it.
I will.
. . .
Scritchy scritchy.
Yeah, works every time.
Author's Note
Very short chapter this time. Very. Didn't think there was much more to be said here. After all, we can't tell the audience everything.
Alright, alright, settle down. You were here just yesterday, stop milling about and sit down. Alright. Yes, I've changed the buckets. No, I'm not going to not skip over telling you things I don't want to talk about. Yes, there are cushions this time, they're in the closet over there. Ooh, could you get me one? Thanks. Now, where were we? Right.
The Canterlot trip. Now the first hurdle we had to jump was the fact that I simply couldn't teleport halfway around the world while covered in magic inhibiting dust. It was Sturdy who came up with the solution to that, hook onto the lightning and fling myself upwards as far as I could. I was halfway through explaining that lightning didn't work that way and even if it did I had no idea how to throw myself about as a bolt of energy when Crater gave me those multifaceted puppy dog eyes and I ended up rowing my dumb self out to the storm wall.
Ever had a conversation with an object that shouldn't be sapient and yet is? That is what talking to the storm overhead was like. Only it rumbled back instead of used recognisable language. I have no idea how it heard me, but in the end the result was the same. I was staring at an impassive curtain of thunder and lightning that simply refused to listen to me. I think it might have been telling me that lightning doesn't work the way I wanted it to.
Damn logic. Of course, you've read your textbooks so you'll know that that's never stopped me yet.
"Alright. We've had our differences, you and me. You're a giant storm. I'm not. Either way we need each other. I think. The Heart knows both of us better than we think, and I believe it knows what it's doing. It has to. Doesn't it?"
I rowed over and touched the pro-offered cloud. I heard that the boats I keep rowing out in come back on fire and covered in dust and glass. Not sure why, or if they were just making it up. You should know what's coming here, only this time I didn't have to pay with important parts of my bones for the trip.
I miss being a part of the storm sometimes. It's chaotic and harsh and glorious and beautiful. It's an ocean in the sky with all the terror and wonder that brings. The shifting greys and grays of mist and cloud. The lazily arcing yellows and blues of lightning. The ripples where the thunder and lighting begin just before they launch off across the roiling plain.
It's nice.
"So...so. Now I need to be high. As high as you can fling me and as bright as you can make me shine. I don't want to leave a mark on the landscape if Celestia misses the catch."
It threw me upwards, oh yes. Grabbed me by the legs with it's bright electrical tendrils and threw. Well, more of put a bolt beneath my feet and shot, but the result is the same. Screaming, flailing, crying, ruined shoes, scorched feet.
Oh but it was glorious up there. I've never been back, but I do want to. That first sight of the night sky? I can't describe it. It was so dark and the storm-light below didn't extend upwards. The stars were tiny loops of lightning or the tips of a thousand bolts all suspended in complete darkness. And in such patterns like I had never seen. Yep, I thought. I'm definitely coming back up here. Then the tingles started. First questioning, identifying. Then securing and powering and finally they glowed hot enough to burn and I was whisked away.
To the smell of candy. Candy, burning flesh, blood and pain. I think the latter three drew away from the sickening smell of the former. The familiar helped me cope with the saccharine. I remember hearing shocked gasps and calls for something I didn't understand. I touched my hand to my face and was mostly unsurprised when it came away covered in blood. My gritty, dark red blood.
I could make out enough of my surroundings to recognise the golden figures were the guard, the large white and blue figures were probably of Celestia and the blue one, and the pastel throng below us is a crowd of ponies. The hard, wooden and white thing beneath me was some kind of white and now slightly red platform for speaking and there were a crowd of the horned ponies racing towards me.
I felt the tingles again. These didn't burn, but they did feel like...concern? Shock, horror, disillusionment, disgust, curiosity, regret, sorrow, sympathy, all of these things. So many at a time. None of them did anything, just conveyed these emotions. After a little time to recover my sense of up I managed to clamber to my feet. It wasn't that bad, actually. Just surface injuries. They stung like crazy, but that calmed down after a while.
The look of shock on the faces of the gathered little ponies was fairly understandable. The first of my kind, brought out of the worst place in the world by magic that should have been impossible and standing under the strain of seemingly insane injuries. The guards were having trouble keeping that stony face and even Celestia looked like she wasn't expecting me to show up barely clothed and covered in fresh burns.
"Ah, Princess Celestia," I started, trying to seem unphased by the pain and abrupt change from night to day. "It is good to finally meet you face to long face." Please let that joke pull you out of your stunned expression. If everything else wasn't the same way your critics might be having a field day.
"Luna, you're looking fat." Start simple, build up to a compliment.
Okay, that hit home.
Her next words for about an hour were nothing but indignant spluttering and the occasional curse word. It was hilarious, but not very productive. I was hoping for a bit more of a verbal spar, but I seemed to have temporarily broken her. Ah well. Something for next time.
Celestia led us away from a confused herd of pastels and into the castle grounds. We talked as we walked through a statue garden and past an old hedge maze. Guards were every twenty paces, all with their eyes trained squarely on me. You'd think they'd be everywhere, but no. Just me. I was going to point out that they could be easily attacked while they were distracted, but I didn't care enough.
After Celestia and I were inside the palace she excused herself and I was to be given the grand tour. No real choice, she apparently had official duties to attend while I was escorted around the castle and told about it's excellent history and achievements and so on. I use this exact excuse to put off doing things I don't want to do for an hour or so. I may have learned all the wrong lessons from watching Celestia govern.
Since we all know the story of Canterlot castle, I'll skim here. Luna's becoming Nightmare moon and being purified by the Elements of Harmony. Discord, the same, only he was just being himself when they made him good again. Tirek, the same. Turns out he was some kind of, from what the glass shows, half horse, half gryphon thing. Some kind of gray wall that moved and was sung away by little flying things. A giant dark crystal saved by a little purple and green thing with the power of love. Those windows were really abstract.
Victories, tapestries, portraits. Various requisite castle equipment. Ponies in armor charging, flying, standing in golden glows. I didn't understand half of them, but they didn't look as...new, perhaps...as the similar posters I'd seen in the cathedral. My guide carefully ignored my questions and spoke slowly as if speaking to an animal who could mimic language but wasn't sentient.
In the mean time, I had questions. What were those emotions from before? Why did I feel them? When can I find out more about the storm? Where was something to eat that wasn't vine related? How am I going to get back home? What was keeping Celestia? Can I have some kind of bandage before I bleed over all the floors? And the final question. The one the storm and I needed an answer to. The one question I had never asked.
Who was I supposed to be?
Author's Note
We're reaching the light and fluffy peak of the story. Look, no-one is getting killed for no reason, worshiping anyone in a psychotic death-cult or otherwise starving half to death in the midst of skeletons of those who came before.
I know. I'm disappointed too.
What?
Sorry, just thinking about...things. Don't worry. Now, where was I...Right. Celestia's hall of past glories. Grey stones and coloured glass. Sunlight streaming through pictures of old victories and vanquished foes. Lionised ponies and demonised everything else. There was a theme there, I thought.
Celestia took her time getting back. Before she did, a strange beige and dark blue little thing walked in all bold and curious. I was later to learn that this was one of the children of the staff who snuck out of wherever she was supposed to be. Of course, the first thing out of it's mouth had to be-
"You're very tall." Classy, kid. You're going to go far with material like that.
We stared at each other for a while. Circled like bored and curious sharks circling something that might have once been a painting of a seal. Moderately interested because there's nothing else here. I'm ashamed to admit that we ended up resorting to pulling funny faces to kill time.
So when Celestia, a half-dozen golden guards and a still pissed looking Luna walked in to see me pushing up my nose at a giggling filly it did absolutely nothing for my reputation as an evil tyrant-king bent of world domination and some kind of eternal constant. Another theme I noticed around here, the villains always wanted their forever. I wondered if that was their version of "happily ever after", having changed the boring status quo and living their dream life for the rest of their days.
Oh yes, I can see the gears turning in your little heads now. As hilarious as destroying your perceptions of the world is, which I could likely do with a few minutes, I have to get back to the story, my little ponies.
I don't care if you don't like how I'm smiling, let me get back to my story.
Now, Celestia and the clanky troupe brought gifts for the newly crowned king. I would have thought a country was enough, but no, clearly not. Each of the guards had with them a box. Now, these boxes were all the same, albeit different sizes. Perfectly lacquered finish, polished brass fixtures, intricate filigree. Another theme I was picking up in was the wonderful and not in my face at all "Everything we have is better than anything you'll have in fifty years" theme. Perhaps I should have called this part of the story Themes. Doesn't matter.
What matters is what was in the boxes. Except one, one was just a box. It was supposed to contain goodwill and sunshine but it just contained dust and the faint smell of something burning. Not even the good kind of dust that impedes magic, but the gray castle-y dust that builds up in unused boxes you want to get rid of. I'm not counting that one, but it was a good sized box.
The first actual gift was paper. Paper with writing on it, or what I assumed to be writing. At this point, I still relied on Sturdy to read things to me, and he was overseeing the ponies back home.
"As the second" Because the first one was crap. "gift to you, I present a copy of the letters sent by my sister and student, Twilight Sparkle. May they be your guide out of the darkness of Tartarus and into the shining light of Australis."
She imperceptibly cringed on the last word. I wordlessly thanked her as the box was set down, fixed on that little twitch, that crack in the mask. Well, good to know she's nowhere near perfect or accepting. Perhaps she just wanted to avoid the inevitable bloodshed if she refused my demand for my storm-wracked hole in the ground. Perhaps she just didn't want...
Let's not break you all just yet. The second gift was a circlet of gold and gems. Not as nice as hers, but in some opinions far better than mine.
"Very nice, I expect. Some of the best workmanship your little ponies have ever done as a gift for a new ally?"
Even the guards could see her gritting her teeth. I wasn't purposely antagonising her. Really, I wasn't. Just speaking the truth. Tartarus was so much sailcloth and boards. We didn't have the luxury of eons old palaces and a healthy economy. We had blood and dust. But I can still see it.
"I'll put it in that box. Should keep the rain off it."
"What do you want?" Celestia finally cracked. Which was strange, because I didn't think this would be enough.
The silence hung in the room. There is nothing I can liken it to. An oppressive haze, perhaps, but that lacks the feeling of rage and sorrow. A bad smell, sure, but that says nothing of the sunlight filtering through, casting a mosaic of ponies and villains across the whole tortured scene. So the silence hung. And just for a moment, I could see the noose.
A breath of wind whistling a ghost's lament cast itself through the chamber. No echo to see it off, just the fading notes of it's entrance. That summed up the day. Without speaking another word, Celestia and I turned and walked out of our respective doors. I'd find no answers there. But perhaps I'd found a clue. Something as big as she described had to leave a mark on history, right? I'd been through the statue garden and if that told me one thing it's that these ponies like their heroes on platforms above them.
Back I went to the forest of stone and old triumphs. Most of them were ponies of various natures. Laughing, I think. Some stoic in their defiance. Some somber in their service. No anger, no rage. No love either, and little joy. The eyes were all silent as the rest of the statue screamed virtue.
"Well now, another one of you. In for some fun, are we?"
This was the strangest thing I'd ever seen. All bits and pieces. Charming voice, though. I mean, who knew this was the prince of madness? I know it's not his official title, but I like calling him that. Makes him seem more...something. I'll put my finger on it eventually.
"Yes, yes, another one of me. Ayre of Australis. You are..?"
He gave me a look. I didn't like that look. It was the look that promises mischief, mayhem and some kind of pie afterwards while surveying the carnage. On second thoughts, I did like that look, but you'll never get me to admit it.
"No."
"Tartarus never used to be a barren waste. It had plants and trees and birds and even a native species. Wonderful things, looked like a duck and a half dozen other things all got together and had one too many nights with one too many pots of hallucinogenics. They were a race of jokers and generally very nice. Tended towards vulgar some of the time, but mostly harmless. Oh, and there were the giant jumping rats, and the tree-things and...well, you get the point. Full of life and joyously random.
"Which is probably why Celestia and Luna dropped the storm over them. Oh yes, it was those two. They weren't in their right state of mind, you see. I, well, I had just vacated the throne. They wanted to take their anger out on something that wasn't in the middle of a quite catchy musical number. Of course, to their eyes the entire island looked like it was some kind of strange army of mine. They didn't want to risk any of their little ponies, you see. Invasion would be an overt act of war when they needed peace and togetherness and all that friendship gag.
"So they just suffocated an entire civilisation. Anything that touched the clouds fried and everything trapped inside was used for fuel for the storm. Magic fuel, that is. Why do you think the dust absorbs magic? Because it's hungry for it. It's been empty for so long that it doesn't know when it's full. It was a long and probably painful death. I would have done something about it, but I was far too busy being decoration for a 'Down with Discord' party."
"Is there anything else you would want to know?"
Author's Note
Life. Stop getting in the way of the fanfic I started to procrastinate but then grew to like.
Meanwhile, thousands of miles away...
What? I'm sick of talking about me. Really. So you get a meanwhile, thousands of miles away.
Sturdy Gaffer's shack, not that you can call it a house, was the original one. The first building that he and I made all those weeks ago from the splintered wood and decrepit trees that dot the coast of Tartarus. He awoke to the sound of chanting.
"Red King. Save Us. Red King. Lead Us. Red King. Return to Us."
He was too tired for this. Ever since Ayre left they'd been getting worse. The red crowns were everywhere now. On buildings. Plastered on signs. Some smart pony had discovered ochre at least, so now they were all paint and not blood. Still Tartarus was officially back on the map, straddling the dead corpse of Australis and riding it into a new blood red dawn.
Sturdy took a look out of his front door-curtain. Oh. They'd made another statue. Ayre had been gone for three days and they already had more than a dozen statues, each made by an individual or a family. To "Honour the Red King who will Save Us." they always replied. Sturdy even had one. It was the size of a hoof. For some strange reason, it had wings and a horn.
Which should tell you everything you need to know.
Sturdy knew that the praying and the kowtowing that these statues 'needed' would last at least another hundred or so verses. Which was far too many. The princesses never demanded elaborate worship. Only on their holy days did they-
Ayre never demanded worship. He wore the mantle they made for him, and he lead them out of their thirst for death because he saw that they could live. He gave them law and seemed to make food appear as if conjured. He worked magic where magic was impossible.
And that was the reason that Sturdy had a hoof-sized statue of Ayre hidden under one of the floorboards. He should have known better. He was right beside the now Red King when he stumbled through his 'miracles', carried him through an endless desert and defended him from very mortal ponies bent on their death. He had seen him eat a pony, for...the sake of something. Faith was in short supply in Sturdy Gaffer's home. It may have run rampant outside, but there it was so much blood and smoke.
He tried to go back to sleep. He really did. The chanting was incessant. The stamping started soon after as the ponies outside whipped themselves into a religious fervor which only served to make the chanting louder and faster. Nope, not happening. Sturdy wished he had a pillow to cover his ears.
Or the standing order from the Red King to just kill them.
Now, was that so bad? A short interlude that is very important to the story. Besides, Sturdy is more important than me, in the long run.
You'll see.
Right, back to your regularly scheduled me.
I had to live up to my end of the bargain. Discord said giant moose chaos and giant moose chaos was what I was going to do. I followed his floating, snickering form through the gardens and up to a spot on the castle's outer wall, that he just walked through. Noting that this little bit wasn't solid I walked through it too. Or at least, tried to. The wall was as solid as the ponies who built it. Which, knowing earth ponies, was very.
"Problems, neighbor?" the irksome spirit poked his head out of the rock to smirk at me.
This time, I just touched it. Since my fingers slipped through I figured it was safe, so I walked through the wall, holding my breath and closing my eyes. Like a gullible idiot. Tell me, which of you can tell me what Canterlot is located on top of? That's right, a ridiculously steep mountain. And what did I have no possible way of knowing at the time? That Canterlot is located on top of a ridiculously steep mountain. Do you see where I'm going here?
The wind whistling past my ears was the cue to open my eyes. Not ashamed to admit I screamed. I screamed until it was hard to breathe. That mountain is huge, which any pegasus can tell you. Great view, though. The candy-land stretched out before you. Too-green trees and too-blue rivers and lakes.
I my head as I fell, I heard the rumbling of the storm. Not a shower of petals and sunshine from this sickly-sweet place, but a real storm. So it had hitched a ride.
"Okay, okay. I know we don't get along sometimes but I'm going to die and that would really suck and oh look a giant brown thing let's go over there "
I can never really remember the feeling when the storm takes control. But I remember standing in the middle of a glass crater in the middle of a field, surrounded by slightly singed black goop. Taking a proper look at my surroundings, I noticed a number of ponies gathered under a banner, also covered in slightly singed black goop. And a floating draconequuis. Covered in brown goop. I think I can remember fluttering slightly, as if gravity hadn't properly caught up.
"You..." Discord stammered.
In one lick. I...even....don't...know...
"Well, this was supposed to be a little party I threw together with little Luna to say hello and welcome to Equestria, but...this is far better, don't you think, Lulu?" He scooped some of the now scattered mousse from the angriest looking pony in the crowd and ate it.DISCORD! "
I ran. Oh yes, I ran. Not staying around there.
I was sane.