//------------------------------// // Bonus: Early Version // Story: In Time, This Too Shall Pass // by Vermilion and Sage //------------------------------// A/N: This was the first version of the story that I gave my class. The first dozen paragraphs are the same, but the rest is an entirely different story. I didn't want to post it, until I remembered who I first wrote it for. Merry Christmas, Vermilion, this one's dedicated to you.         Creaking of wooden spokes echoed through the air as the aging cart wound down the street.  Each turn of the wheels over the soaking cobblestones clacked harshly against the soft patter of the rain.  Heads bent low, the two stallions drawing the cart shuffled forward, giving me a view of its contents.         Young and old, rich and poor, none of those lying in the back had escaped the kiss of the plague.  Bodies were haphazardly thrown one on top of the other into the back.  Boils dotted their faces and legs, and pus oozed from open sores, pushed on by the drizzle.  With every bump the cart hit, the bodies bounced and shook, but nothing could make them appear living again.  Living like me.         Just before the cart faded into the gloom, I caught sight of the two faces I’d prayed to Celestia I wouldn’t see amongst the dead.  Feather Waft lay near the top of the pile, her pink face covered by a mess of yellow-gold mane and her feathers a soaking mess.  She’d been thirteen, one year short of coming of age…I’d given her soup just a day ago.  She couldn’t sit up to eat it, so I fed it to her.  With every bite she thanked me, and told me how good it was.  When she was done she tried to hug me, but could barely move.  When I came back from washing the bowl to tuck her in, she wouldn’t wake up.         Thatcher, on the other hoof lay near the bottom of the stack.  All I could see was a gray foreleg, and enough of her face to know it was her.  With the one eye I could see shut, she looked serene.  I almost wished I could share in that peace.  Almost.  She’d been fifteen, and our parents were looking to marry her off soon.           As the cart which bore my sisters wound down the road and out of sight to the cemetery, I heaved a sigh.  They’d be thrown in a mass grave because nopony had the time or energy to dig that many graves anymore.  There was nothing I could do, and after shoving my hood all the way over my head, I followed my parents back to the cottage.  Looking up at the would just get my already soaking mane even wetter, and the gray would remind me of Thatcher.  Looking down at the path would make me glance at the pink flowers on the side, and make me think of Feather.  So for lack of anywhere else, I stared at my own brown hooves.         The problem with shielding my face from the rain was that the tears stayed.  When they ran down my cheeks, they clung on long enough to actually drip to the ground below.  We walked in silence until we were home.  Mother went ahead, muttering something about making dinner.  I could hear it in her voice; she wouldn’t know what to do, only making dinner for three.  At least the effort of making dinner and consuming it would be something to take our minds off of those who were not with us. I couldn’t hold it any longer.  They’d always told me to be a strong colt, and that my sisters would get through it.  Being the earth pony in the family was fun.  I could carry one of them all the way to the doctor to get medicine even though I was smaller than them.  How Thacher had wound her forelegs around my neck tight as I walked back between the hovels and down the stone-covered streets. “Can you pretend to be a brave knight for me, Brook?” she’d asked.  “I want to feel like the stallion of my dreams is carrying me away.” “Anything for you milady!” I cried as I began to gallop.  She’d laughed as I ran through the streets. Remembering that moment made the rising burn in my throat grow too hot to bear, and I choked out a sob.  The tears running down my face fell off as I shook, and disappeared into the mud.  My father noticed too, and the hood came off my face in an aura of azure magic.  He looked over me as I stared into his eyes, watching his grief turn to rage. “Why are you crying?!” he hissed.  “Both of my daughters are dead and there was nothing I could do about it.  Your mother is broken, and I am too.  And here you are, the only one crying.  You’d better put that away right now.  You’re a stronger colt than that, because your mother is going to need you to be strong for her, and you need to be strong for you.”  He paused, as if he were going to say more, then shook his head and followed mother inside. ---------------------------------------- There wasn’t a single red mark on the parchment.  Not a word circled, or even a comment amount my mouth-writing.  Did I really dare to believe I’d gotten a full score on the end of school exam?  Apparently yes.  Huh.  Well I can’t complain. “The results this time around were mediocre.  Not many of you did well, so looks like most of you will be staying here in this village.  For those of you who did well, make sure to take your exams to the minister when he comes into town.  You’ll find yourself with a nice job and a higher place for your family.”  The teacher bent over and started gathering his things.  Class was done for the day-no, for good now, and all the ex-students shuffled out the back. On the way out, two unicorns shoved themselves into my way, getting a good look at my test.  One was a son of the wine merchant in town, and the other...I’d forgotten who she came from, but it was somepony of importance.  It didn’t really matter anyway.  I knew that they hadn’t done as well as I did, and that it really didn’t matter.  They’d go on to run their fathers’ businesses like they’d always planned on anyway, and I’d go on to whatever life had in store for me. I stepped outside into the cool misty air.  After eighteen years in this village, not much had changed.  It still rained too much.  Still, I heard that in the capital,  Canterlot, it was sunnier, and that was likely where I would be headed.  After my parents had been taken by the plague two summers ago, the only pony I had to look out for was myself.  Such daydreams were torn from my just as the paper was magically torn from my mouth. “Think you’re really something, don’t you, you bastard?” With the voice came recollection.  Her name was Journeymare, and she was sneering at me. “You must think you’re real special don’t you?” I gave the honest answer.  “Well, I guess I studied hard enough, and wanted it bad enough to to get it.  Nothing more, nothing less.” “Who are you to brag?!”  Her magic slammed me into the side of the schoolhouse.  “You’re a filthy commoner!  Your parents were nothing more than laborers before they died and left you in the muck where you belong.  You’re probably so proud that you managed to fit your snout into that book that you’re too weak to make it in a job that isn’t cushy.” Weak, huh?  Shoving against the magic, I stood up, breaking the spell.  The magic snapped, and she fell to her rump, clutching her horn.  As the stallion rushed into to help, I landed one square strike across his face, knocking him clean off his hooves to land in the mud.  I spat at the ground in front of her hooves, then leaned over to pick up the exam.  More dirt in my mouth.  Mud for the mud pony. Later that afternoon, I found the stall by the edge of the market with no goods for sale.  Behind it was a stallion wearing a fancy hat adorned with a gilded sun symbol.  He brightened as he saw me come closer, holding papers. “Ah, another one for the guard?” I nodded and put the parchment down on the table for him to read.  He took it up and began to glance it over.  A series of nods and ‘mhmms’ followed until he got to the last page.  That last report of my schooling. “Colt, are you sure you came to the right place?  If I’m looking at this right, you should be headed to school in Canterlot to become an officer.” I shook my head firmly.  “Make me a soldier.” “Alrighty then.”  He stamped the paperwork and gave me a quill to sign it.  “Take these and report to Fort Shimmerlight within the next week.  Your training will start then.” A dozen deft strokes with the quill, and my name rested on the bottom of the enlistment papers.  Those went into my saddlebags to rest beside a small bag of bits and a cloak, the few material possessions I had.  It wasn’t like I’d be needing them for too much longer. ---------------------------------------- Up early today, just one more day, Gonna run like prey, hooves pounding the way, Working hard, low pay, for strength I pray, Gotta find my way, and get through the day…         I hummed the tune through my teeth as I swirled the mop back and forth.  Never before had I missed dirt and grime so much as when I had to clean the mess hall.  Beside me, Firebright pushed a scrub brush back and forth with his magic while he sang.  That red nimbus of magic gave a little extra light in the pre-dawn hour.         All the rest of the the recruits were out running.  I wished I could join them today, if for nothing else to relieve the tedium of cleaning the room, but it was my turn, so here I was.  That, and nopony told the sergeant ‘no’, not unless they wanted extra pushups or even lashings. One more day and one more night, Closer to done and ready to fight, On the pain and struggle we thrive, For all the pride of our lives, Never felt closer, or ever more true, To the glory of the sun and the moon, I’m not there yet, but I saw a way, That I’ll be a soldier one day.         It was a song that Firebright had written in the scant free time we had, something he did to keep his chin up.  Soon after, our platoon had adopted it as our own song, and we sang it whenever they could.  One more day...hah.  Got at least another five weeks in this place.  As my mind wandered, so did my hooves, until I was slipping on the wetted floor.         “Hold my spear up high, to prove I’m a stallion, march on through the heat, and prove I’m worth a damn, go until I puke then go some more, they say I--agh!”         I fell hard onto Firebright, knocking him over into the bucket.  Dark, soapy water went everywhere, covering the floor, our coats, and our armor in the dirt tracked in by hundreds of recruits.  We coughed and sputtered, stood up, and wiped the sludge off our brows.  I looked gray enough to be a unicorn guard, and my armor was scuffed and smudged.  At least it wouldn’t take too long to fix the floor up, Firebright could just levitate all the mess back in and we’d be caught up in five minutes.         “What in the name of the stars above do you idiots think you’re doing?!”  Or, Sergeant Irongut could find us.  “Private Firebright, why do I always find you bucking around on duty?!  This is the third time in two weeks you’ve found some way to make a pegasus or earth pony gray!  I’m so sick of your shit!  Get on the ground and do pushups now!  Private Brook, you can clean up the mess.”         “Sergeant Irongut, I--”         “Stow it private, and clean.  On the ground you!”         Firebright threw himself down, and starting heaving his body back and forth.  For a unicorn in full plate armor, it was a chore.  He began to shudder and sweat in the time it took Irongut to notice that I was staring.  This pleased him about as much as it pleased me to go on half rations.         “Private Brook, did I somehow not make myself clear to you?!”  His face was so close that flecks of spittle landed on my helmet and face.         “Sergeant Irongut!  This is not his fault!  I fell on top of him and caused him to knock over the bucket!”         “Did I ask you to talk, huh?  Did I bucking ask you whose fault it was?  Did I?”  He slammed me in the gut, and I fell to the ground, gasping.  “Since you’re so eager, you can do some pushups too, and then you can both clean it up.  Do fifty more, and then have this place spotless by lunch or I’ll put your heads on pikes.”         Falling to my face in the dirty water, I began to push my forelegs back and forth in a steady motion.  After giving a satisfied grunt at our discomfort, the sergeant walked off, whistling to himself.  As soon as the doors swung shut we both popped up, and I looked over at at Firebright.         “Sorry I got you in this trouble, figured he’d let you off if I fessed up.”         “Oh don’t you worry your rump about it.  He was looking for somepony to pick on, and you know it.  If he came in here and everything was going fine, he’d yell at us for being slow, and make us do pushups anyways.”  Firebright grinned at me.  “Now lets finish up this cleaning job.  I want to get lunch, and I don’t want to be last in line.” ----------------------------------------          “Present spears!” rang out the order over the parade ground.         In unison with every brother guard beside me, gripped the spear tight in my fetlock, and held it high in the air.  It had a heavy oaken shaft and an iron point, but I had grown used to that weight in the last few months.  Now it was comforting.  At the front of all the formations, a tall stallion in the fanciest uniform I’d ever seen was trotting into place.  We weren’t supposed to look at things while at attention, but that never stopped anypony from sneaking a glance.  When he stopped, he began to yell.         “Who are you?”         “WE ARE THE ROYAL GUARD!”         “And for whom do you fight?”         “FOR CELESTIA AND LUNA!”         “How long will you fight for?”         “UNTIL OUR DYING BREATHS!”         Nodding at our answers, the marshall continued.  “As it should be!  Now you have completed your training, and join me in service to our goddesses!  Today is for you to celebrate, but tomorrow at dawn we march!”         Cheering greeted his announcement, and didn’t die down until the sergeants turned around to dismiss us.  Instead of forcing us into formation, they let us walk to the mess hall.  It was a mess of chatter and high-hoofing, but we eventually made it there.  Once there, sergeant Irongut stopped us.         “Well boys, it’s been good.  I gotta stay here and train the next wave of recruits, and there are no words to express how badly I’d rather be out there on the front, killing changelings with you.  You all take care for me, and you’d better come back to visit.  For those of you who don’t…” he took off his helmet and bowed his head.  “...well I’ll see you again one day.  Now!  You’re welcome to eat what you want, and stay up as late as you want, so long as you don’t leave the camp.  That being said, you’re marching out at dawn tomorrow, so don’t stay up too late.”         Irongut held the door open for us as we streamed inside, and a few minutes later I found myself on one of the wooden benches next to Firebright, holding a mug of water and looking down at a plate of the usual slop they fed us.  It wasn’t quite the same when I didn’t have to shove it down without looking at it.  Food aside, I couldn’t help but share my cheer.         “I can’t believe we made it, Bright!  Can you?”         “Yes.  I can.”  He lifted a spoonful of the mush and then turned the utensil to let it fall back into his bowl.  “What’s got you so excited?”         “Well, we passed guard training.  We’re faster, tougher...maybe smarter?  We’re soldiers now.  I think we should be proud of that.”         “Who are you to be take joy in this?  You realize you’re one of twelve hundred other graduates in this camp, and in three months ago, there were just as many new ones.  In three months, there will be just as many more.  It’s not like you did something somepony else couldn’t, or hasn’t done.”  He shoveled down his dinner, and then left for the barracks.  I watched him go.  He’d come around eventually. ----------------------------------------                  The dark covered each rocky step of the trail in a haze, preventing each hoof-fall from landing quite where the eye intended.  Clouds prevented any light from coming down, save for a faint glow where the moon hid behind them.  If it weren’t for our LT up front with his magically enhanced night vision, we probably all would have gotten lost long ago.  That being said, getting lost might have been preferable.         When the officer out in front was almost at the top of the ridge, he held up a foreleg for us to stop, and dropped to his belly to crawl.  After looking around for a few minutes, he wiggled back down to us, a circle of about twenty.  I looked around, but couldn’t make out any faces.  Too dark.  Couldn’t hear anything either.  They’d made us leave the horseshoes back at camp, and pad our armor with rags.         “Alrighty, looks like our report on them was just a bit off.  Looks like there might be as many as forty of fifty down there, if all the tents are full.  That being said, if we take them by surprise, it will work just fine.  Take the next two minutes, get your weapons ready, and we’ll move out on my signal.”         Hurriedly we all sat down, and began unwrapping swords and spears.  It only took me about three seconds, then I got to watch Firebright tangle up the rags he’d wrapped around his blade.  I wanted to laugh, but it didn’t come out right.  He looked at me, but I couldn’t read the expression on his face.  Heck, I could barely see his eyes.         “Brook, what is it?” he whispered.         “Bright, I’m...I’m--”         “You’re scared, aren’t you?”         I nodded quickly.         “What is there to possibly be scared of?  It’s just like you said back when we graduated, remember?  We’re soldiers now.  Not afraid of anything, except how long it will take to get all green changeling blood out of our coats when we get back to base.”         I couldn’t help but give a chuckle at his remark.  The sergeant, hearing our noise, zipped over like a wraith and gave a howling whisper.  “Privates Firebright and Brook, if you’re done bucking around, get up there in formation.  Now.”         With his words, the severity of our situation crashed down on me, and I nodded.  Together we turned to march up to the edge of the hill and fill in the last bit of the two lines formed up at the top.  The LT was in middle of the second line.  He waved one leg, and we quietly began to run down the hill toward the camp. ----------------------------------------         The funny thing about promotions is that they are supposed to be happy.  Held in a public place, where all your friends can see and cheer for you.  It would mean you had more work and responsibility, but also more bits when you finally got sent home, and some respect before you went.  Usually promotions didn’t have you sent on leave right away either, but I guess I’m just different.         On the table in front of me sat a set of papers with my orders, a mug of...whatever it was that they served in this tavern, and my helmet.  I stared at it with a frown.  Three bars of a sergeant on that brass plated steel, and I really wished that I didn’t have them.  Hell, I missed the days when what I wanted most in life was a little extra hay in my rations.         Orders were to stay here for the night before I continued on my way back.  Billeting had been provided, a map back, the whole nine lengths.  Really, how could they afford something like this?  Not unless we were winning the war, and as best as I could tell it was still darn near even.  Sighing, I reached over and lifted the mug up.  In poor light and inside the brown earthenware mug, the ale looked like the depths of a bog.  At least I don’t have to pay for it.  Shrugging, I began to drink.  It wasn’t half bad.  When I was finished, the bar-mare came over to my table.  Pretty little thing, white tails really were not all that common around this part of the country.  She was smiling.         “Hey, can I get you another mug of ale?”         I frowned.  “No thanks.”  I’d been given just enough bits to make it back, and I really didn’t want to go hungry later.         “It’s on the house, sweetie.”  She winked at me.         “Uhm, alright then.”         She came back with a new mug, and slid it over to me before taking the other chair across from me.  She rested her chin on her forelegs and stared at me.  There was interest, interest, and then there was being blatantly hit on.  I didn’t really want to play that game, but I tucked into the ale anyways.  It was almost like food...and the stereotype about soldiers always being hungry is true.  As I tried not to finish it all in one go, she spoke to me sweetly.         “Well, looks like somepony sure was thirsty, but I suppose any big, strong stallion gets thirsty after a long day.  What’s your name?”         I set the mug down.  “Brook.”         “Oh that’s a nice name, I’m Starlight.  Oh, I’ll be right back!” she said quickly before dodging back behind the bar counter to greet a few new customers.  While she was a busy, an older stallion with that same white mane made his way from the shadowy corner of the room to take her seat.  He regarded me for a few moments before he spoke.         “Seems my daughter is intrigued by you.”         “Seems like more than just that to me.”         He leaned forward, disgust on his face.  “What do you think you’re doing?  I can’t think of a worse prospect for her than you.”         “Funny, because I can’t either.”  His eyebrows went up.  “I’m here for one night, and one night only before I’m on my way.  In the odd chance she really cares enough to write, I’ll be back in the field in three weeks, and may very well be departed from this world before long.  You’re a wise stallion to want better for your daughter than me.”  This made him pause again, but he eventually found his words.         “Well I’ll be...that was beyond your years.”         “No, it was a spot of common sense.”         “You look a bit young to be a sergeant.  How did that happen?  Come on now, I know that look.  You learn to see it.”         “I’m his replacement.”  He winced.  “Died in our charge.  So did the LT.  Half our squad.  And Firebright…” I stared down at my helmet.         The hoof on my shoulder startled me; I glanced up to meet his solemn gaze.  “Well, I’ll tell her to stop bothering you, and I’ll make sure you get a proper dinner and some more to drink.  Nuh-uh, don’t thank me.  It’s the least I can do.”         I nodded gratefully as he left me in peace. ----------------------------------------         “Why does life keep making reparations to me?”         Muttering aloud in a place like this was likely to get you taken to the medical tent, but I was all on my own, and I had good reason.  Turning my helmet over again in my armored hooves, I wasn’t quite sure if I was admiring it or willing it to melt in my grasp.  The damn thing changed too quickly, and I was forced to cope with the changes.  Not that I couldn’t, but it was...aggravating.         The colonel had left after telling me that I should get some food, and then meet my new unit.  I’d waited until not just he, but everypony else had gone, all alone before I donned the helmet and went out into the gloomy day.  This close to heart of the changeling empire, everything was practically a swamp.  Each step came with a loud squelch, as if I needed any more attention.         An entire year.  And here I was worried we might not win.  In that time, we’d pushed the changelings back into their own territory, back to the burrows and marshes that their twisted kind came from to plague us.  I had seen many more battles, and been given each as a chance to get closer to overcoming that fear.  I’d seen friends die, and I never made the mistake of letting them get that close before they inevitably left.  Most of all, the entire time I held to the foolish promise of my childhood days, until I no longer had a choice to do so.  Oh Thatcher...if only you could see me now.         Inside the mess tent was even more sweltering than outside; the raw stench of hay and sweat was nearly overpowering, but familiar.  Also familiar was the routine.  Grab a tray, wait in line, get a mess of slop that was supposed to be food, and take it back to the table.  This is where the routine ended.  I was sitting at a different table this time, and they were not happy to see me.         There was more room here.  Unfair to the rest of the soldiers, but that was how things were and I wasn’t about to buck tradition.  That room was to set my helmet down, where I could plainly see that like all the other ones on the table, a red crest poked out instead of the blue I’d become so accustomed to.  Where bars once were, the dark circle of a new moon adorned the front.  Looking down the table, I saw much the same, some in different cycles of the lunar calendar, but all the same.  Just like the helmet across from mine.         “Bet you think you’re real special, huh?”         I looked up to see a stallion perhaps a year my junior looking over at me, a sneer on his face.  “Pardon?”         “You heard me.  You never went through officers school.  I know the division commander can promote just about whatever he wants in wartime, but you shouldn’t be here.  There is a reason they only let the best go to that training, and that is so that the best will lead!  If I were you, take that new moon off your helmet, march on over to the colonel, and tell him you want your bars back.”  He pointed an armored hoof at my helmet, and I wrapped one leg around it protectively.  Heads were beginning to turn at the table toward us.  “Ha!  You want to keep it!  You really think you earned it didn’t you?  Who are you to be proud?  Just because you saved the colonel’s life doesn’t mean you should be here.”         I looked him right in the eye.  “Who are you to be so arrogant?”         “I finished officer training,” he answered haughtily.  “Something that you’re clearly too stupid to do.  I’ve trained hard and earned my rank, same as everypony else at this table, and proved that I have what it takes to lead my troops into battle.  And when we’ve won here, I will go back to bring the honor to my family.”         “Hmm…” I stared at him until his smile faded like frost under the sun.  “I was offered a chance to go to that officer training you speak so highly of, but decided not to.  I have fought in the mud for a year and a half, proving that I have what it takes to lead by the blood on the end of my spear and the terror I’ve endured.  I have led the hard-bitten warriors you see behind me into the fray, and I am proud; not of myself, but of them.  You might yet respect them too…one day.”         With a snort he shoved his helmet back over his head and neck, and grabbed his tray.  We all watched him as he pushed his tray over to the mare by the washing bins, and strutted over to where what I guessed was his unit sat.  He began to yell, berating them for not finishing faster.  Soon they followed him outside, grimaces on their faces and complaints on their lips, and I just sat and shook my head as I watched them go.