- Chapter Two -
Death of a Carpenter
First, there is silence; then suddenly, the sound of wood ripping and shattering is heard. Now there are voices...a male and a female. What are they saying? Night tries to make out the words, but suddenly there is the sound of strong wind, loud but low. A couple of screams are heard, an explosion, then nothing. Night Wisp opens her eyes to see a figure standing over her, muttering something she doesn’t understand. She tries to speak, but cannot. Darkness begins to swirl in her eyes, and there is sharp, wrenching pain in her chest, as if something was trying to rip her soul away. She cannot scream, she cannot move, pain, pain everywhere, darkness closing around her...then suddenly, there is light.
The mare opened her eyes and sat up with a gasp, breathing heavily to satisfy her burning lungs. She looked around frantically, only to realize she was sitting on her bed, in her bedroom, safe at home. After a few minutes of slow breathing to calm herself, Night looked over at her window. It was dark out, which was a small relief. At least she hadn’t slept in again. Squinting her eyes to make out the face of the bedside clock, she read the time and sighed. It was 3:17 AM. A light, cool breeze suddenly touched Night’s face, sending wisps of her mane blowing across her forehead. She looked over to her right to find her window open, curtains lit by moonlight as they danced in the silent wind.
Mom must have opened them before going to sleep... she thought. A second breeze blew in, and something about it drew the pegasus from her bed and to the window. Her silvery irises lit up in the pale glow of the moon, creating a sight that would have mesmerized anypony who were to look at them. Her gaze slowly scanned across the cloudless sky; Luna had made the night sky particularly beautiful. Each star was like a diamond sequin among hundreds of others that created a shimmery dark dress, and the crescent moon was the centerpiece that held the black cloth together. A truly beautiful night...but even Luna’s masterpiece was not enough to distract Night Wisp from her worries.
Her thoughts continuously drifted back to the workshop, to the sight of that shadow, her shadow, writhing on Elmwoods hoof, then suddenly revealing that the wound was gone. She had healed him, but something about it felt...odd. She wanted to say it felt wrong, but there was nothing wrong with what she did. The unicorn’s injury had been quite severe, and she had made it disappear, as if it had never been there. And yet, she felt bothered every time she pictured the image. Another point was Elmwood himself. How does he feel about knowing his assistant had abilities she never told him about? she wondered nervously. He was so shaky from the shock...all I made out was him saying I could have the rest of the day off. Is he afraid of me? It isn’t like I'm different. Maybe he'll would reward me?...or fire me? And if that happened, who else will he tell? Will I be able to get another job?
These thoughts were quickly suppressed by Night, to be worked out in the morning. There was no need to plan on being fired, or feared. It’s not helpful to think of bad outcomes, she thought to herself. A small phrase from Harvest suddenly came to mind: even in the darkest moments, hope is the brightest light. The grey mare whispered it to herself as she turned from the window, returning to the warmth and coziness of her bed. Pulling the sheets up to her neck, her eyes closed, and soon she was asleep once more. She was asleep...but deep inside, something was waking up. Something that sat at the back of her mind, but had yet to be seen...
There was a large crowd gathered in front of the carpentry shop when Night arrived that next morning. She had woken up a little early to not be late, and thus had to walk since Applejack and Big Mac wouldn’t be there for another ten minutes. In all honesty, she was surprised by all the ponies who had also shown up; she had never seen so many ponies gathered on a day without any events.
Or maybe there is an event? I certainly didn’t hear about anything going on this morning... she thought. Maybe somepony in the crowd knows? She began to trot forward, but as she approached, she began to feel the same odd feeling from the day before and early that morning. She felt like something was wrong, but it was soon clear that something was wrong. Nopony seemed to be showing any form of joy or excitement, or even any casualness. The air was tense, with ponies talking in lowered voices. Upon reaching the crowd’s edge, the feeling was now stronger, like a cloud of uneasiness was being created amongst all the ponies gathered. Over the whispers and murmurs, her ears could detect a stallion’s voice, louder than the others but not quite loud.
“Everypony stand back a little...we need room to work...no ma’am, we don’t know what happened yet..” Night could feel her heartbeat quicken. The pegasus, growing worried, began to nudge her way to the center of the crowd, the feeling in her heart becoming worse. At the center, she found herself muzzle to muzzle with a white, stallion pegasus in golden armor who looked a little overtaken by the ponies nearby whom were asking questions. “Again, ma’am, I know as much as you do,” he explained to one lavender earth pony. “I’m just here to make sure the crowd doesn’t get too close. I don’t have any information.”
“What about her? She’s the assistant!” a mare’s voice called out.
All eyes quickly turned to a sea green unicorn who had stepped forward, with one hoof pointed right at Night Wisp. The eyes followed the hoof, and soon everypony was staring at Night as if expecting her to say something. The grey pegasus was frozen, unsure how she was supposed to react, having only just gotten there. Looking at the unicorn mare, Night noticed the cutie mark was a lyre. She recalled a few times when she had seen this pony in the streets, oftentimes with Ponyville’s chocolatier, Bonbon. A name suddenly popped into her mind: Lyra. The name rang in her mind, but she couldn’t place it. It was hard to think with so many ponies watching her.
Lyra...hadn’t Elmwood and I been making an order for a Lyra yesterday? she wondered. Lyra, Lyra...yes, we had been working on a table for Lyra! Elmwood had talked about her briefly, said he had had a conversation with her about the order. Maybe he mentioned me to her? It seems to be the only thing that makes sense-
“Um excuse me, miss?” a voice said, one that was very close. Night almost jumped, having been deep in her own thoughts again and forgetting she had a crowd of curious ponies staring at her. Looking up, she found the armored guard now standing in front of her. “Miss, is it correct that you’re the assistant here?” he asked calmly. Night, not sure if it was the best decision but knowing it was her only decision, slowly nodded. At her confirmation, the guard turned and whistled to another, similar-looking guard standing by the front door who was speaking with a third pony, a stallion in a trench coat, obviously not a guard. A detective, maybe; this made Night begin thinking again. Why would there be a detective? This isn’t a crime scene..is it?
The first guard trotted over to the second guard and began talking to him, motioning over towards Night. The second guard’s expression became one of interest, and he looked to her and motioned for her to come forward. She did so, though a little hesitantly. Oh Luna, what am I getting into... she murmured to herself as she trotted up the steps. The first guard turned and returned to his position holding the crowd back, and the second guard motioned Night over towards the trench coat pony.
“Detective, this young mare says she works here. I thought you might want to talk to her.” The stallion looked to the guard, then to Night Wisp.
“Is that so...well then, maybe she can give us some information,” he replied, keeping his gaze on Night for a moment before looking back at the guard. “Meanwhile, I need you to disperse this crowd around here. I don’t want to cause a commotion when we move the vic-" he paused, eyes glancing to the the grey mare, then back. "...well, him. He’s not exactly a pretty sight.”
The guard said not a word, but simply nodded before turning and trotting down the steps to relay the orders. Night watched him go, her insides feeling ready to turn inside-out. She was not one for anticipation, the good or the bad kind. She just wanted to know what happened to Elmwood. A light hoof tap on the shoulder swiftly directed Night’s attention to the stallion who was now facing her once more.
“Allow me to introduce myself. I am Detective Windrunner, the best detective that Canterlot can offer,” he said as he made a small bow; Canterlot ponies were always big on formality. Night quickly looked him over, subliminally taking note of how the detective looked. Cobalt blue coat, copper-brown mane brushed to one side, and lime green eyes. Detective Windrunner then straightened up and looked out from the small porch, as if surveying the buildings nearby, before continuing.
“I realize I’m a little far from my home territory, but when I heard that there was a puzzling case in Ponyville, I thought I’d take a swipe at it. And what seems to have happened here is, indeed, quite odd...” Night’s ears perked up, her mind anxious to know what it was that happened. The stallion paused, then turned back to the mare and chuckled. “Oh, where are my manners! Tell me, what would your name be, m’dear?”
“Night Wisp,” she answered quickly. “Look, Detective Windrunner, I don’t understand any of this. Why are there guards here? What’s going on? Why- mmph!” Her rain of questions was suddenly cut short by the stallion’s hoof holding her mouth shut.
“Have no fear, Miss Wisp, all will be told in good time,” he said, his tone soft so as to sound calming. “Until then, I need you to answer a few questions about mister Elmwood.” As reasonable of a request as this was, Night was becoming too frustrated to want to comply. Nopony seemed either able or willing to tell her what the hay happened, and more importantly, nopony was telling her where Elmwood was. She hadn’t seen him anywhere in the crowd, and this would be the first place to find him if something had happened at his shop. The mare glanced over to the shop’s front door, which was now vacant of a royal guard to keep anypony out.
“I will happily answer any questions you may have, Detective,” Night spoke, turning herself towards the door. “But after I find Elmwood.” With hardly a second passing from the end of her sentence, Night rushed to the door and pushed it open. She never saw Windrunner’s expression, but she heard him shout her name as she headed inside.
A quick glance around the room brought up a very clear statement: the place was a mess. The chairs, once on by the front window, were now strewn about, one of them even broken. The rack of boards that had once been up against the wall was knocked over, and one of the smallest boards had been pulled out and broken. All this, but no Elmwood. Night glanced to the workshop door, left slightly open, which had an ‘X’ of yellow tape across it.
To any, it was just a door, but something about looking at the door made the pegasus feel afraid. She felt an inner instinct telling her to stay away from it, to not go in, but something else pushed her towards it, as if it wanted her to see what lay beyond. And she wanted to see what lay beyond, but every step closer made her heartbeat quicken just a bit more, rising in pace, becoming louder. She heard the detective open the door and tell her something, but his voice was dulled, as was everything else around her. All she could hear were her hoofteps towards the workshop door and her racing heartbeats. As soon as she reached the door’s frame, she felt cold wash over her body. She felt that whatever was in there was bad, but the thing inside continue to guide her onwards, raising her hoof to pull away the tape, to slowly push the door open.
She hardly even felt herself enter the room, as if she were doing nothing but watching through somepony else’s eyes. Her eyes scanned over the workshop, which, like the first room, was an utter mess. The goggles and tools once kept piled on the tables were now scattered on the floor. Drawers were opened by what could be guessed as a result of frantic searching. Nuts, bolts, washers, and other metal pieces lay here and there. Her view moved towards the center of the room to show the cutting table for the steam saw. The saw blade still had the dark stains from the day before painted across its sharp blade, and there was a spray mark across the table where some more blood had fallen. Her gaze shifted once more, to the left side of the room, to reveal a sight that could be described as nothing less than horrific.
Blood was everywhere. Small red dots flecked the ceiling above. The walls were sprayed with red, complimented by a few sizeable splotches with small trails running down from them to the floor, to join in the large pool of dark crimson that spread across much of the ground. And there in the pool, his once decent tan coat now discolored by the blood and grime, lay Elmwood. His body was backed up into the corner, curled in a fetal position, his head adorned with bruises, blood trailing down from his face and within his mane, and his forehooves covering his eyes.
Night took all of this in, eyes wide and staring. In her mind she was wanting to turn away, run from the room, to leave the awful scene behind her and forget everything, but her hooves seemed to have a different idea. She could barely feel those few steps forward she somehow made, cool blood on her hooves as she slowly walked up the the body. She didn’t feel herself raise her hoof to Elmwood’s face and move away his own hooves. She didn’t even hear her own scream.
Elmwood’s eyes were gone, or so they appeared to be. The pair of murky green eyes that had once been filled with joy, humor, and kindness were replaced by emptiness and thick, dark blood that trailed down the stallion’s face like tears. And as if this mere fact were not bad enough, protruding from each of the eye sockets was about six or seven nails, some slightly bent to one side from being constantly hit upon when they could go in no further. Though the eyes were missing, Elmwood’s expression was one of true terror; his mouth was even still open in mid-scream, but his voice was long gone.
Whether it was the shock of what she saw or the finality of her curiosity, Night suddenly regained a feeling of control in her body strong enough to quickly back away from those eyes, to get away from the terror that she saw on the unicorn’s face. Her senses finally returned to normal, but the state they were in was ragged. Her breaths were fast and heavy, her heart felt ready to burst, tears rolled down her face, and her whole body was shaking. So many thought were flowing through Night’s mind that she could barely hear any of the thoughts at once. Nothing was making sense, but what she saw did make sense. Elmwood was dead. Her only friend lay dead, cowering in a corner with nails beaten into his skull.
“Night Wisp,” spoke a low, demanding voice from behind the pegasus. She turned around to see, with eyes blurred by tears, the two royal guards from outside of the workshop standing behind her. “Night Wisp,” one of the guards repeated. “You’re going to have to come with us.” This was the final straw for the mare. Her confusion and shock reached their peak; sounds grew muffled, her vision swirled, and she felt herself falling. What she never felt was hitting the ground.