//------------------------------//
// Chapter 55: Of Beak and Claw 
// Story: The Bridge Between Worlds 
// by Artemis Orion 
//------------------------------//


Chapter 55



"Are you well, young one?"

"I am now, thanks."

I slid the empty mug back across the mossy wooden counter. The striped herbalist caught it in her jaws, setting it down next to the small bubbling cauldron of a dark mixture that resembled tomato soup. Or blood, whichever the mind chose to fancy.

Even though I knew Zecora was completely friendly, the contents of her hut always made me uneasy; bizarre masks, items that should have belonged in museums, and concoctions of undetermined edibility were propped, scattered and dangled all over the dank dirt hole beneath the tree that Zecora had fashioned into an exotic home. The african-esque hut was littered with souvenirs across lands I could only hear of. Items of unidentifiable origin were mixed with things that resembled olden human cultures, but have been renditioned for the use of creatures that were definitely not human.

Fortunately, the place was as intriguing as it was unnerving. Enough so that I did not mind visiting the miniature zebra when I needed to. Often times it would just be out of my own curiousity that I would venture into the Everfree Forest to learn from her, for I wanted to know how magical mixtures and potions effected humans, for the most part. Experiments were not always pleasant, but the outcome would always be worth it. I even kept a little cheat sheet of the buffs and effects of certain raw plants, potions or brews I had discovered, and it greatly differed from the effects it had on regular ponies. There was something about the physical constitution of humans that caused us to act differently to different herbs. In this way, it made more sense to why I found a mental relaxant in the same mixture that's sole purpose was to force ponies to upchuck.

Another example would be my first encounter with Poison Joke. I discovered that its pollen had temporary mind-altering properties that caused an excessive increase in human serotonin on contact and, in laymen's terms, made you high.

But that was not the purpose of this visit. Considering the circumstances, now was not the time for experimenting. Since I had arrived back in Ponyville a couple of days ago, I had diverted all my time into helping around town, especially with the overflow of pegasi that ran all the way from Canterlot. Though the residents of the village were used to me walking around the village, the refugees certainly weren't, and that made helping quite a bit harder.

Nevertheless, it was better than wasting time worrying about the Mane Six and their little adventure. They were gone now and in good hooves too. I began to wonder if any of their parents were ever actually worried about their daughters when they left on life-threatening missions. I certainly was.

After a while, I realized how wound up I became about it. With the stress of the entire situation -the assaults, the wounded, the Mane Six and more-, I could barely sleep. It was so much less dark and and much more carefree from a television screen, but getting to know the Mane Six personally turned that same feeling into something nerver-wrecking. I figured I could pour out to somepony wiser and calmer outside of Ponyville. Somepony that could give sound advice.

"Now you know the story, Zecora." I lay back down on the bed that once held my scarred, bloody body no more than a year ago. "Sorry if it sounded like I was ranting. With everything going on, I felt like I needed to let it out."

The mug slid back across the counter.

"Such an interesting tale you tell, Conway. And I'm glad that I could be of help today."

I took small sips of the murky substance, staring blankly at the dangling fixtures. It was working slowly, but I couldn't chug it all down. Excessive doses could cause unknown side effects and now was definitely not the time to find out. I still had things to do, and a choice left without a proper decision.

"Something still troubles you, little man." Zecora asked in concern, "Perhaps confide in me, and I shall help you understand?"

I knew I could tell Zecora whatever troubled me. Since the village ponies realized that Zecora was not in fact an 'evil enchantress', she had gained a more positive reputation of helping those with unknown illness and ailment. She was also a great hit with the kids, telling them tales from beyond the borders of their homeland. It never ceased to entertain them.

But now, it was my turn for a story.

"Zecora, you've been to more places than I count."

She nodded in way that acknowledged her feats, but was not boastful of them.

"Can you tell me anything about the Griffins?"

She kept that all-knowing smile on her face, making her way to the big bubbling cauldron at the other end of the hut. She beckoned me to follow her. I watched as she began to put together a mixture with greater ease than a certified chemist.

"The history of those regal creatures is still very gray. In neither book, nor scroll, nor word of mouth have I found truth until this day. The tales I tell come from only legend and folklore-"

"But tales of old have been proven true many times before."

The zebra's turquoise eyes glinted in pleasant surprise. I shrugged off my clever slip of the tongue.

"And then myths come true, as truth may have it. Indeed, you words do hold some merit."

With a swift neck motion, Zecora chucked a smokey grey powder into the seething cauldron. Almost immediately, a pearlescent flame erupted from its pungent liquid origin. The hut dimmed to handle the brightness of the flame that constantly spewed clouds of smoke that was half its size. I sat forward with my legs crossed, like an eager child waiting for a grandfather's tale.

Almost as quickly as it started, the fire died down to cling to the rim of the boiling cauldron, gradually producing smaller puffs of fumes to replace the ones that began to rise and drift from its maker. I watched in awe at the small wonder of the smoke, sharply forming at the command of the herbalist, forming images at the breath of a word.

The first image showed a creature, beaked and clawed with its wings outstretched and feral.

"The stories speak of a time before this age, when our kind and theirs had yet to engage. Legends speak of feral rage, fury and aggression, before they achieved their better days of power and progression. But what caused them to have this sudden change of heart? To leave their prey for order and a new start?"

The smoke-picture faded, leaving in its place a space for a rough shape to form. Slowly, an object became apparent. I made out a strangely-shaped club or mace of some sort.

"They say that griffins, wild and free, found something that gave them an opportunity. A mysterious relic of unknown origin brought the griffins together, kin by kin."

As if the cauldron itself had ears, out floated several wild griffins. Their vapourous outlined bodies encircled the object, or 'relic', like flies to a nightlight. Only flies do not gradually form perfectly neat rows overtime. One by one, each smokey figure closed its beak and wings, snapping to a cool calm state. It didn't take long for two uniform rows to form, equidistant from the central artifact they faced.

"From there, their path grew brighter as the new age came. They traded talon for metal and thrived far beyond their name. From creatures of beak and claw to creatures of ice and steel. It was then the true potential of these creatures was revealed. It wasn't long before the Griffins gained a reputation, and today they rule alongside all, as another leading nation."

The figures moved as such, portraying the Griffins as creatures far more majestic than they were previously. And all that time, bedazzled by the dancing silhouettes, I failed to notice one more figure, rising up beneath the relic. I only saw it as Zecora began to conclude.

"And so, under the rule of Gryphus, House of Kings, the Griffins move forward to see what else the future brings. But few have paused to realize, that their's was a blessing in disguise. They speak of the King's royal scepter, that was the first to bring his kind together."

The final picture was one of a single slightly larger Griffin, proudly holding the club-like object high. Zecora approached it and, with a single puff, blew away the entire mirage. The pearlescent flames licked at the air one last time before dying out on itself. And just like that, the spectacle was over. The masks of the hut became prominently unnerving once more, but I was too busy pondering the story that Zecora just told. Twiddling my thumbs, I went over the each of Zecora's rhymed sentences in my head. It sounded strange- like it was incomplete somehow.

"And there's nothing more to it?" I asked, rising from the bed, realizing how much of Zecora's time I had taken up.

She only nodded in response.

"But that last part... what was the blessing in disguise?"

"That is all the tale speaks of. No more, no less. Your assumptions are as good as my best guess."

"But... But you're Zecora. You're meant to know a lot more than I do!"

"Of all the places I have seen, Avia is one place that I have not been."

I did not question further. Of late, I learned from some ponies that the Griffins of Avia that did not stray from their land did not take too kindly to the hoofed folk, even before all this happened. Kind of xenophobic, in my opinion.

"Well, I'll leave it at that. Thank you, Zecora. You've allowed me to far overstay my welcome here." I peeked out a window to find that the sun no longer poked through the Everfree's grimy mist. It was almost Luna's time to shine. I figured it best to hurry home before I could get lost in the dark forest.

"T'was no problem, child. I'll-"

"Mister Conway!"

Zecora and I turned towards the muffled voice outside the hut, followed by rapid taps on the door. The voice of a mare called out again, reassuring us that somepony was indeed outside and looking for me. I turned to Zecora, who did likewise. Smiling that wise old smile, she gestured for me to get the door for whoever it was.

I briskly obliged, wondering what was required of me this time. Perhaps more overflow from Canterlot that needed temporary shelter? At this rate, ponies would be forced to use my home, no matter how uncomfortable they felt about it. I swung the door open to find a young messenger, carrying the symbol of Canterlot, trembling in either fear or cold with a scroll between her chattering teeth. Winter has been over for months now.

"Not from the Royal Guard, are you?"

"N-No, Sir, they're much braver than I am!" The mare scurried in without consent, but none of us minded. I couldn't tell if her paleness was her coat or from fright. With a sigh of relief, she handed the letter to its recipient. I looked it over and found that this one did not bear the Royal Canterlot symbol. So it was not from the Royal Guard nor the Princesses. Then again, the princesses would hardly send out a messenger that wasn't clad in shining armour.

"Who sent you?" I inquired.

"My colleague, Driscoll."

"Ah."

I unraveled the scroll and read it quietly to myself. And I soon came to wish that it had been just an overflow emergency.

Keith,

Driscoll here. How's it going? I don't think I'm actually meant to telling anyone about this right now, but I think it's best you knew.

I'll keep it simple; Cloudmaker 2.0 is becoming a timebomb unstable. We know it doesn't look like it, and it is serving its purpose. But there's a reason we let the pegasi control the weather. The core that is running the machine is like, as you told me, a hard drive. It can overheat and burn out. Only it doesn't just shut down. From what we can tell from the books, it sounds like it explodes generates a colossal fluctuation that will drop everything within its radius to a temperature of absolute zero. And we all know that Canterlot is within that radius.

Look, we all know there's a chance that that won't happen. We've advanced since then and have modified the machine, but some of us here wouldn't like to take the risk. And we don't know how much time we have; the more we use Cloudmaker, the harder it gets to use it. We're losing more Unicorn power than Celestia would like, but she doesn't want to upset everypony with that news. I'm telling you, though, because there's something you can do about it. You always can.

Driscoll, out.

P.S. I'm too busy with the Cloudmaker, so I've sent our 'little project' back to my father. Maybe he can help make more sense of it.

That letter just added more weight to my burdens, and at that point I really wish he hadn't told me. It was just like the young craftscolt to have this blind faith in others. It's admirable, but up to the point of whom his faith was in.

Zecora saw the smile that left my face, "Another problem, young one?"

"Eeyup." I rolled the letter back up and tucked in away in my pocket. If Celestia wished for nobody to know, then I would respect her wishes. "It sounds like everything is piling up... and I think I may know what to do about it."

"Do what you think is right. I am sure things will turn up bright." her positivism was certainly refreshing.

"We'll see." I dragged my feet to the door. Initially, I hoped that coming here would cheer me up a bit. Now, I was leaving in the same mood I came in. Only with a little more knowledge on my side. "Thanks, again Zecora."  Just I was about to shut the door, I turned up to the messenger pony, who was just about to drink my relaxing agent.

"And Ma'am?"

BLARGH!!

"... Don't drink that."

And then I left, too busy thinking about legends, Griffins and riddles to feel bad for the mess that Zecora had to clean.