//------------------------------// // Book of Quarrel, Canto 6 // Story: Fallen-Song // by Chicago Ted //------------------------------// The grains of sand that blew into her mane Outnumber’d the stars, much to her disdain. She wonder’d if, when she would wash it out, She’d make her own wastes with what it’d contain. Which was not t’ say o’ th’ baker, who about Had just as much as she, if not, no doubt, E’en more. Between the storm and th’ pitfalls deep, They both were coated all the way, from snout To tail, in that dust. They would have to steep Themselv’s in water, where they’d find, to keep Their fur clean and cool. As they went along, The wind pict up, and blew to them a heap Of sand. “At times I wonder just how wrong My thoughts o’ th’ future are,” said Luna. “Long Have I liv’d, yet some things still astound me. I’m sure you, baker, know of that same song.” “Indeed I do,” he said, “but I don’t flee Fro’ th’ likelihood my instinct may yet see Me right, and prove as such.” “I well can tell Your point,” said she. “During my regal spree, I saw so many ponies, most unwell With grievances that I had to dispell. Some were meant for my sister, so I’d send Them out, and told t’ return when my moon fell Below th’ horizon. A few, like your friend, Your son, saw merit in the darken’d wend To my court of night, t’ see if I could solve Their things of trouble, see them to their end. I truly tried, but your ills did involve A deeply-seated poison. To resolve It would need something anyone had not. You might have seen how the tar did dissolve My magical grip on the realm of thought Between the dreams – so even if I sought A cure for Shade’s Corruption, is it worth The pain or the expense it would have wrought?” “To end th’ affliction, I’d give up the mirth O’ th’ moment, knowing fate would still give birth To greater pleasures. Better far than t’ wait For that eternity when plac’d in earth. You would not know this true, what with your fate Of life, alongside sister dear and great. She raises up the sun, and you the moon – Should you pass on, what awful things await, And who should take your royal duties soon? So much I worry for, despite that boon That I need not do any of these things. What next, I ask? The night to turn to noon Before we wake?” “That is not true – such springs Of light would never pass, for the moon brings A shield to th’ sun perchance they ever pass I’ th’ sky together. The night and day swings From one to th’ other, yet they ne’er alas Shall cross their ways. My moon will win th’ impasse, There you have my word.” Thus the baker said, “I do suppose I’ve never seen the grass Be lit as well at night. But in my head I’m still sown seeds of doubt – I duly dread That something may go wrong still.” “Then allay Your worries,” Luna said. “Sooner would thread Hoist up a granite roof before the day Would pierce my moon. Now if you’ll do away With your hesitance, I do spy a place To rest our hoov’s.” “I see it!” Sans delay, They both took off at quite a breakneck pace – With wind to blow the sand into her face, The lunar princess then pull’d o’er her cloak To hide her eyes fro’ th’ grains. “’Tis not a race!” He call’d out t’ her. “I say this not as joke, But as a warning too!” But then she spoke, “If you recall from last time, we should haste Before that place may turn to ash and smoke!” As they ran on, Honeycomb could well taste That sweet life-liquor, which was deep encaste Beneath the ground. He’d need it sooner, too – The running left him parched as he chaste On to his goal. O what a splendid view It was from where he ran – it was no slough, But dotting trees meant water ran beneath For them to tap into – that much he knew! To his surprise, he found a grassy heath I’ th’ shade o’ th’ trees – the water sure was ’neath For them both to drink up – and when they stopt, He spat the gather’d sand from out his teeth And started digging at the ground. “I’d opt To let some magic do that work.” He hopt Aside and let her work. She felt it out With her light, then, when her arcane flow flopt About, she knew to dig there – then would spout That liquor sweet of life. He stuck his snout Into the spring and deeply drank. She roll’d Her eyes and dug her own spring – in this drought, She had to find all that she could. She’d scold Him for his greed, but then she had that old Urge to drink as well. He stuck his head up And askt her, “How do you find these untold Rests? Nothing catches my eye.” Like a pup, He then return’d to th’ water. To gallop That distance took a lot of force from him – But just as she kept on, he’d not let up, It seem’d. Again he wan’d – the flow grew slim From his relentless lapping; from the brim No water anymore would come. Forsooth, He had his fill at least – he felt his vim Return to him. The water gave him couth – He felt like he was back again in youth. The things that he could do! He’d not be beat By older age again! “To tell the truth, Perhaps we do need water in this heat.” “I thought so.” Luna laught. “Else we would meet Our ends too soon. That shall not pass – not when Equestria waits, where water is replete And other ponies, much more friendly.” “Then Let’s keep on moving – who knows where a den May be, where yet another clue could point Us in the right direction.” “O amen,” She said, “I wonder if we could appoint Some further help on our quest. Thus far, joint Work yields nought, not when others won’t assist – Or perhaps not deserve us to anoint Wi’ th’ fruits of our own labors. We insist At least on some repentance – yet consist Of just us two so far.” “Shall we take leave Just yet? A further hint may yet exist Beyond that hill there.” “O, do you believe So?” “Look where I point.” She would disbelieve His gesture, yet there was a darken’d hill – But what’d paint it so? What would that achieve? And if they go there, would it be for nil Like all the others? Its dark’d give no chill On the climb up there – th’ sun would roast them dry Before they would arrive. Her magic skill Of moving there at once may not apply O’er such a distance. Regardless how nigh They both may come, that hill would burn their frogs Before she’d cast a suitable spell. “Why Hesitate you?” askt he. “These dialogues Do not distract you, nor the wind befogs Your foresight, do they now?” “They don’t,” she said. “Now come, I shall not wait a’ymore.” Like dogs, They pusht on forward, valor in their head. Behind, he saw the thing that they’d both dread – A sandstorm, freshly brew’d. They hurried on; Away from danger they both quickly fled. That hill of blacken’d sand would seem a lawn Compar’d to th’ turmoil of the storm anon. More quickly than before, they ran away And to the new prize, lest it soon be gone. Ahead of them was constant light of day; Behind, the thing that made the daylight stray. As hot as th’ sun was, they would both prefer To see that far ahead instead of gray Mixt up i’ th’ air to make chaotic blur. But Fortune smil’d upon them, as it were, And that storm did not go beyond the grove Where once they stopt. They slow’d their pace after They saw th’ effects o’ th’ hill. At times they strove For something to quell dangers whilst they rove The land – they never thought to use the land Itself! The hill they found had specks of mauve, They soon saw, and what they thought to be sand Was not – instead, it lookt like sheddings, and ’Twas not hard to find what being would make these – “A changeling,” Luna said. “I never plann’d To see some here. Their stories bring no glees.” “How so?” He askt. “Their flying sounds like bees, Hard to mistake yet; they normally talk In voices shrill that would make you blood freeze. I do say ‘normally,’ because they’ll shock You with their changing magic – from a rock To bear to pony, nothing’s out their reach. They hide well in plain sight; they talk and walk Much like the things they imitate. And each One feasts on love from ponies. I beseech, Do not let them near you within your home!” The baker askt, “So why do you not teach Us ponies of this threat? Those things may roam Our streets and seem like us. Not e’en the chrome Of moon may bare their true form to our eyes – Pray tell, are they e’en found within a tome?” “Soft,” Luna said, “for if you all realize That they exist, then soon would spread the lies, And then the hunt for changelings. I’ve seen those Who were true ponies, yet they tore their ‘guise’ Away from them to find nought. The pain grows As they inquire even more; painful throes Wract through their nerves, which oft became a kill. – And were there any changelings? Noöne knows! This, more than anything else, is quite the real Cause why I do withhold their existence. Will You change your ways, pursue them with just cause? I doubt this ever would occur.” The hill Awaited both of them. A step, a pause, And Luna found that it was cool. It was True relief for her; they’d have trouble none To cross this patch and climb to where it draws His sight. “Come forth then, let your will be done. You’ve bought us this far, so don’t let our run Be all for nought.” Honeycomb then, did set Upon the darken’d ground, and found the sun Had shone no heat upon it. He felt no sweat Upon his brow; no reason, then, to fret Of burning himself on the sand! He crost As quickly as before, and did not let Himself slow down – and soon enough, he lost The lunar-princess in the dust. The cost Of teleporting all that way, she found, Was more than she could bear – she would exhaust Her mana in that blink, and sans a sound Belief to justify. Besides, the ground Was perfectly fine, so she made her way Uphill, behind the baker, who around That time had made it to the top. A ray Of sunlight toucht upon the ground; a stray Gust of wind blew in front of them; the two Then lookt for something that would soon display A changeling. “What thing might stick out to you?” She askt him. “That stone there – in the right view, It should be dull.” A flash, and there she laid. Her back was black as night; her belly blue, As were her eyes; her legs were hallow’d, splaid Along her sides. She weakly got up, staid Upright, then fell to th’ ground. “I would not stoop Down to her field,” warn’d Luna. “You? Afraid Of something quite so hideous?” “A group Is far more dangerous; a single troupe Could infiltrate and then replace a town Before they knew.” “She’s given up her dupe,” Said he – which only made her further frown. “Which does not mean the others will let down The same themselv’s. We must take caution here If we’re t’ approach – lest we both soon may drown I’ th’ swarm that forms from an impending fear.” The changeling panicked as they drew near, And sought a way to hide from them – but no, They’d not so easily be fool’d. “I hear That changelings like that are not keen to show Their ruse so soon,” he said. “What do you know Of this?” “I would not be stunn’d,” she replied. “A changeling’s fate is seal’d if one should blow The cover. Even if again one tried, It would not be quite th’ same. It’s why she’ll hide Where’er she can now, since her guise is dim. But nay, it’s not that she preserv’s her pride – He thinks her coming fate has now turn’d grim.” “If desperation’s so, then on a whim Why did she show?” “I think it may be due To magic limited – her stock grew slim, And she no longer could maintain her view. Observe his stance – she thinks she now is through, But we’ll show her otherwise. Come along; I’ll pull you out if danger should ensue.” The baker told himself, “I must be strong For my son, who awaits me still for long. A changeling’s nary threat right now to me, So there’s no fright – I pray I am not wrong!” But Luna heard all that, and said, “But we Are braver than you think – we will not flee From dangers you imagine. – There she is still!” She pointed with a hoof – and he could see That that poor changeling did not send a chill Along his spine, as it before had. “’Twill Be fine for us,” conceded he at last. ’Twould be impossible for her to kill Us both.” He still said nought to him – his past Fears still kept him quiet. But she said, “Avast, You who approach me. Tell me your purpose, And I may spare and help, or stop you fast Within your tracks.” “You should address both us As Princess and as baker too – no fuss! “I know no princess here, you pretender.” “I’m genuine as they would come – and plus, I’ve conquer’d dangers like you, as it were. I’ll vanish us into a sandy blur If you choose t’ attack us. We offer peace, But know that peace can be revoked on th’ spur O’ th’ moment. Do not test us, Changeling – cease Your words; I know you cannot fight.” “Release Me from your grip of sight at least – if not, I’ll not regain my strength and vim.” “The grease Of your words shall not work here. You cannot Escape us now.” “So what plan you? What wrought You such intent?” Honeycomb said, “But sit And stay a while. My Liege is quite well-taught O’ th’ nature of changelings, I’ll admit, But she would not allow this fact to split Us three apart.” The changeling spoke again: “I still know not your purpose here – to wit, Why you would spot and call me out. The pain Of truer form is agony; to feign A form that you desire more would bring Relief as such.” “Our purpose here is plain,” The princess said. “We seek a path, a thing, T’ return t’ Equestria.” “A, and by aiding You both on that, I would secure the same, Correct?” “We shall soon see – I will not sing Salvation for you just yet.” “What is this game You play, then? And how do I win?” “My aim, For me, is t’ hear how you came to this place. Hold nothing back; you must have nary shame.” The changeling laught – a weak laugh, ’fore her face Contorted in a cough. “You two would grace Me with your presence, tramp’ling on my lull And solitude, for only me to trace My life before? Your speech does pierce my skull, But I must warn you, it amounts to null What I might tell.” “We’ve heard the same before We’ve met – their tales prove never to be dull, So do not fear of being such a bore Yourself. We truly want to hear some more.” “At your insistence, baker – hear me out.” She clear’d her throat. “I once stept through that door Which led to th’ land of ponies. Without a doubt, I knew I’d not be welcome here – a shout, And I’d be trampl’d ’fore I pled my grief. You see, I was exil’d fro’ th’ hive, about Three years before, and I sought relief From my starvation. It had felt so brief Since I was cast away, without the love That changelings feast upon. I was a thief For longest time, to keep myself above The grave, and only just. Y’ extend th’ olive Branch, but you were the first – for nopony Would dare to shelter, safeguard, someone of The hive. ‘Well, you’re a monster, can’t you see? Go lie with someone else now! – Run and flee From my wrath, for I truly would not spare A changeling like you! Go, away from me!’ I’ll understand not why they all would care How I would feed from their love – I’d not dare To drain them dry, unlike my Queen of old. But they would not hear my words; they’d just glare Until I set away from their homes. Such a cold Form of their hospitality; so bold They were to think them right to do such act. I’ve sought out other changelings – I’ve been told That they too were left to their fates. A pact Between them made let ponies just exact Their wrath upon them all at once. I must Be by myself, until I find in fact Refuge at last. I soon came on a trust – I’d roam a mage of travel, though my rust Of magic kept me from fame and success. – Which was just as well; I’d not need the lust That came with notoriety – unless That was the thing I’ve always wanted. Yes! I realize that in hindsight clear and true. In any case, I soon found, I confess A lover of potential by my view. Alas, he would not see my offers through. He would insist that he was married To someone else – but that would not construe Surrender, not so soon for me. Instead, I doubl’d down on my aim – in his head I’m sure he thought me mad, but all the same I knew that he’d be mine. As my ‘love’ spread Across his village, others soon became Aware of my existence and my aim. Among the lot was his apparent wife – Who, nat’rally, did take offense and shame. So after long, I came within her strife – I’m simply grateful that she had no knife Or otherwise I’d be left there to die. No prey of mine was ever worth my life.” “Now wait a moment,” said the baker, “why Do you sound so familiar?” A sigh, And she confest, “I think that one was you. Your building stone, a thatched roof on high, And gaily-color’d decor in my view.” “O yes, that is my shop!” he cried. “And true, You must have been that one annoying mage.” “Indeed,” the changeling said. “You clearly knew My voice too well. I deeply rue your rage, But I starv’d, and your goods could not assuage My ill. You knew me ’fore as Arcane Tome, But my true name is Sark’e. Nary stage Would welcome me at all, so I would roam On stony land or soft-dissolving loam To show the ponies what I can perform Before their eyes. I could not move the chrome O’ th’ moon, unlike you, but I’d change my form To be like her – ” she pointed thus. “The norm For changeling-magic is deception cold – Be I alone, or in a massive swarm. But I was exil’d – even as I told The ponies this, they’d not believe their hold Upon me had been shatter’d long before. It matter’d not if I were paid in gold Or fully ridicul’d and shown the door, Th’ result was still the same – I could not score The love of others. As time moved on, I found the magic trickery a chore, One I could not stand for much longer. Gone Was my incentive, so one early dawn I gave the practice up, went to th’ city Of crystal ponies, and was shoct anon! For this was changeling haven, so to see – The love abounded, flowing widely, free For me to take. I found myself in health Restor’d, so then I had no cause to flee. My false appearance gave me greater stealth As I walkt through the streets. No larger wealth Could e’er exist, not in the hives, nor in Equestria. Then I met him, in poor health But quite resplendent in their love. He’d been In pain for quite some time, and would begin To shuffle off soon into that hereaft. He married some time ago. I’d win All th’ same, if you taught anything.” He laught, But then chokt on the sand in wayward draft. “In any case, to my surprise so great, She would soon leave him. I senst his love waft Through th’ air, his unrequited love. Too late ’Twould be to save their bind, but I’d just wait Until she left – and whilst she kept outside, I’d enter, and would help him ease the weight Of his affliction. I took him in stride, And never once left his bedridden side Until she would return. And in those hours When she would rule the roost, I’d run and hide In places yet unseen – amid flowers I’ th’ garden, or aloft in the towers O’ th’ square. A week of this, and soon she left Him for good – I told him the time was ours To do as we would please. He was bereft Of love, for once, so I had t’ change with deft Into his wife. He soon began t’ regain His health, but then I notic’d quite the cleft On his right side, along a bloody stain. I askt him, ‘How did this come? Did you strain Yourself too hard one day?’ He told me ‘Nay – Although she said it was all in my brain, I once was stabb’d there, in the light of day, But out of sight of others. I would pray For my relief, but she would give me none – “The wound has heal’d,” she told me so, “don’t stay In bed for such long time.”’ I lookt i’ th’ sun To get a better view. ‘You’d soon be done If I’d not interven’d. I wish you well – But first, I should give my healing a run.’ I cast a life-rift, let my magic dwell Upon his aging wound, until my spell Would close it up, and sev’ral others ills Were solv’d as well. ‘Why, I can’t even tell That that wound ever happened. Your skills As healer do not disappoint – it fills Me with renewed hope. My life as debt I swear to you.” How perfect! ’Fore my trills Would give away my form, or I’d forget Which look I must assume in public yet, I took her place as his wife. She’d return Not once again, to fortune mine – no threat Of giving me away I could discern Once that had past. I still kept taciturn Around the house, so as not to disturb The neighbors. Ev’ry night, as I would earn The rest and prize, I’d feast on his superb Love. I was careful quite not to perturb His sleep. For sev’ral years I kept the ruse – His love was cultivated like an herb, So delicate and sweet, I’d not refuse Another helping when I could – t’ reduce The odds of him deducing my purpose, Of course – I for one was above abuse (Though this had caus’d my banishment). So thus, I had to limit what I’d take from us. And in the interim, I’d thought I’d found A hive of mine own. Was it worth the fuss? Well, I say yes – beneath the crystal ground, ’Twas hard to dig, but it was very sound. With love abound in stores, I would gestate A newer generation all around The cavern I had made. At any rate, I’d soon enough, but their combined weight Would cause the ground to shift, and soon my plan Was found out all too soon. It was too late To keep my guise alive for them. I ran – But not before I took him, for my clan Would not survive without the other gone. We hurried away, for about the span O’ another week – once just another pawn, But now a queen in her own right. Noöne Could think that I could do it, yet I did – Or truly tried, at least – I’ve readied spawn F’ a conquest, but to my dismay, my bid Was foil’d before it could begin. They rid Of my newlaid brood, burnt them each and all, Left not a trace. They’d soon enough forbid My and his own return to th’ Crystal Hall, Which stranded us amid a winter squall – (I knew then why, in summer, we lay brood). We soon would come upon a changeling-thrall Who heard the news of crystal’s endless food For me and all of them. I broke their mood Informing them that this was not to be – I’d been discover’d, rooted out, and shoo’d Away from their home. This lot would soon see That I be disciplin’d for my deeds. Three Would carry me back to their home-hive, where I was put to work in their hatchery – A proud spy, now reduc’d to larval care! You may now understand my bitter air, If I still had one. One day, illness came, And as the code said in this foreign lair, I was suspected first of evil aim. I pled my case, to no avail – their shame For me was palpable; they’d not allow To hear what I would say to shift the blame To elsewhere in the hive. Despite my vow To their cause, none of them could e’er see how I could bring in the sickness to the hive When I have never left it anyhow! That left me little choice but leave – alive, At least, but pray tell me, how little drive Had I to keep on running? My love was Taken from me as soon as we’d arrive, So I could not bring him with me. Their laws Were strict, despite their conspicuous flaws. In any case, I was again alone, In unknown and cruel land, which e’en now gnaws I’ th’ back of my mind – changeling spy, turn’d drone, Turn’d nomad once again. If I had known My life would be insane like such, I’d turn And leave the hive at once. As fate had shown To me so many times, I’d have to earn A better end for just myself – return Was not an option anymore, not when I’ve done so much deception, all to earn The ire of my kind, notably my den. After a long time, I stopped in a fen, One damp still from the springtime rain. I wonder’d still if I’d survive – and then My final detriment: I saw my bane, The bane of any changeling – ’twas insane! A cockatrice had corner’d me, its stare To petrify me where I stood. The pain Of stillness was bad, but that stony glare Would also mean we changelings could not dare To shift our shape, as you know we are wont To do – which meant us stuck in naked air As our true selv’s. This nightmare would yet haunt Me, even now, because this land would flaunt The danger. I hid wherever I could, Which always workt, but left me very gaunt As I had nary access to that good Sustenance call’d love. Changelings never stood Its absence for too long – ’twas why we sought To infiltrate the pony’s land – you would Do th’ same, if you were I. You’ve seen the rot – Those patches of my chitin you would trot O’er to get here now litter this hillside. Each piece that falls off me protects me not Again.” “So I see,” Luna said. She sigh’d. “Without our love, you cannot live. Inside Yourself, you cannot make your own. How sad! Our love is easy to sustain – you’ve tried To steal that much away from us.” “Be glad You’re terrible at this your task. So bad You were, to gain it from me, back when you Met me in my town,” said the baker. “Had You been more subtle, you would soon accrue Enough love for yourself to live a true Long life. But nay! you had t’ annoy old me. Look where that got you. If I knew your true Identity – ” “’Twould be enough, I see,” Said Luna. “We will listen to your plea, And see if you are worthy of salvation. If true, then you can well make our two three, And see our way out with us – when we’re done, We would help assimilate you as one Of us. If false, if you should still deceive Our trust and notion, we’ll show mercy none; We’ll leave you here to suffer as you grieve Your fortunes of long past. All you’d achieve In such a case is our disdain, which will Not work well for you, if you could believe. – Do you accept?” “I do!” she said – a shrill Voice piercing th’ air, at her excitement still. “Though I must ask,” she added. “If I may, With your permission, I shall use my skill At shifting shape to demonstrate.” “I’d say That much is within reason,” she said. “Pray You do not tread too far – for we will know If you would shift to lie, and then – ” “Okay! I fully understand!” she said. “I’ll show You what I mean. I’ll shift now rather slow; You’ll presently see what I do.” In flash Of fiery green, she would emerge as though Th’ entire time she was another. Ash Would litter th’ ground, beneath her. “O, my stash Of magic has return’d.” “Thank me for that,” Said Luna. “I’ll ensure that you don’t crash.”