Chapter 10: Tearing Out the Roots
Dawn and Rumble came in for a landing. Better understanding the dynamics of carrying another pony, Rumble managed to set Sweetie Belle and himself down with minimal difficulty as Dawn touched down next to him, allowing Scootaloo to slide off his back. Thanks to their flight, the journey to Sweet Apple Acres had gone much more quickly. The fours foals looked around, scanning for any sign of their last remaining friend.
"Howdy young'uns." They looked up to see Granny Smith totter out onto the porch of the house. "Are y'all lookin' fer Apple Bloom?"
"Yeah," said Scootaloo, "Where is she?"
"She's in the barn, sweepin' up," said Granny, smiling as she looked over the four of them, "Go on ahead and take her with ya. Tell'er Ah said it was okay."
"Alright!" replied Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo in unison. The unicorn filly rushed in the direction of the barn while Scootaloo followed at an easier pace, her sore muscles still slowing her actions.
They found Apple Bloom in the barn, using a broom to sweep straw off the floor and into a pile. She'd been at her chores since breakfast, having been assigned an endless stream of menial tasks that didn't really need to be done. However, she didn't feel resentful. The work helped keep her mind from dwelling on the unease that had plagued her all night. At the sound of approaching hooves, she looked up and smiled. "Hey everypony!"
"Hi Bloom," said Scootaloo, "We came to see how you're doing."
"Ah'm doin' alright," said Apple Bloom as she set the broom down and trotted over to her friends, "Ah'm just glad Applejack stayed with me last night. Ah don't like to think what kinda nightmares Ah might've had if she weren't there."
Her words caused Sweetie Belle and Rumble to both visibly flinch and Scootaloo to look slightly uneasy. Dawn noticed that Rumble seemed especially disturbed for some reason.
Scootaloo sat down to think. "Well, now we're all together. What should we do now?"
"A-Ah don't know," said Apple Bloom uncertainly as she went to sit with her friend, "It's nice that all us Crusaders are together, but this ain't exactly the time fer crusadin'."
"Yeah," admitted Scootaloo, looking down, "I don't feel much like it either."
"Neither do I," agreed Sweetie Belle sadly, coming to sit down with them.
The three fillies exchanged looks before turning to regard the pair of colts. Dawn and Rumble exchanged rather nervous glances. In all honesty, neither of them ever had felt compelled to crusade from the very beginning, particularly when they were aware of the shenanigans the girls could get up to when left to their own devices, though they had been roped in more than once.
"Maybe we should talk about it," said Sweetie Belle softly, earning confused looks from her fellow Crusaders, "Rarity told me that whenever you're feeling bad about something, talking about it with your friends helps."
"Ah guess that makes sense," admitted Apple Bloom as Dawn and Rumble joined the circle.
"I guess I'll go first," said Sweetie. She explained her experiences from the previous night; how'd she'd been unable to get any sleep, how every creak and rattle of the Boutique had made her think of that frightening mare from yesterday, how'd she'd spent the morning in an exhausted daze before going to sleep listening to the sounds of her sister's work.
"Ah guess Ah can go next," said Apple Bloom. She talked about how she'd been terrified when she hadn't seen Applejack immediately after Willow's defeat, how she'd learned that Willow had killed herself from Storm Front (the revelation prompting a horrified gasp from Sweetie Belle and Rumble, having only just learned about it now), how she and Spike had come to the farm,how she'd spent the night sleeping up against her sister's side as Applejack's presence kept the fear at bay, and how hearing the sound of knocking was still making her jump a day later.
"My turn," said Scootaloo. She went back to the event itself; how Willow had taken her hostage and how Willow had slit her own neck and splattered Scootaloo with her blood. She told them about being taken home, how she'd nearly scrubbed herself raw in the tub, how she'd gotten up after a sleepless night to practice her forms until she couldn't stand up anymore, how the sight of ketchup at breakfast had nearly made her ill.
When the girls finished talking, they turned to Dawn and Rumble, clearly expecting the colts to pick up where they left off. However, they were faced with two very different reactions.
Dawn was pensive. After Scootaloo had finished talking, he completely withdrew into himself, staring at the floor, apparently lost in thought. As Scootaloo examined his face, she got the feeling that his thoughts were not happy ones.
On the other hoof, Rumble was trembling. He refused to meet the eyes of the other Crusaders. Beneath his gray coat, he was paling. His wings twitched erratically and his expression was ashamed.
"Rumble?" asked Sweetie Belle, "Are you okay?"
"Y-yeah," said the gray colt softly.
"Ya don't look okay," prodded Apple Bloom, "Did ya have nightmares too?"
Rumble nodded wordlessly.
"Wanna talk about 'em?" asked the farm filly.
Rumble opened his mouth, but stopped himself short before looking down again and shaking his head.
"Rumble, what's wrong?" asked Sweetie, her tone rising with a note of distress.
"I-it's nothing...I just had nightmares...that's all." Rumble squeezed his eyes shut, the action causing a few tears to leak out. "It's n-n-no big deal. I can handle it."
"It sure don't look that way to me," said Apple Bloom, frowning, "Yer shakin' like a leaf sugarcube."
"Please Rumble," pleaded Sweetie Belle, "Talk to us. It's okay. It'll help you feel better."
"No it won't!" Rumble snapped, causing the fillies to flinch away at the harshness of his voice. As gentle and even-tempered as Rumble was, seeing him lash out verbally like this was a genuine rarity.
"What's the matter?" asked Sweetie Belle as she scooted closer to Rumble, "It's okay to admit you're sad about something. Please talk to us."
"I can't!" Rumble cried out, opening his eyes wide and staring at Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle, heedless of the fact that Scootaloo and Dawn were watching him too now, "Y-you'll laugh at me. Big c-colts like m-me aren't supposed to do stuff like that!"
"Like what?" asked Sweetie, horrified by the change coming over the gray colt.
"Ya know we'd never laugh at ya," said Apple Bloom.
Rumble was very nearly crying openly. Whatever it was he was trying to avoid admitting, it was clear he couldn't hold it in much longer.
"I..." His voice trailed off into an inaudible squeak that would have done Fluttershy proud.
"Ya what?" asked Apple Bloom, genuinely confused and completely unable to catch what Rumble had just said.
Tho poor colt was trembling like a leaf, barely able to speak. "I...I..."
"What is it?" asked Sweetie Belle plaintively, horrified to see Rumble in such a state.
"I wet my bed!" Rumble snapped, his wings flaring out, betraying his fear and desperation, "Okay!"
Everypony stared in shock at Rumble, unsure whether they should be more surprised about his outburst, or what he had actually said.
Sweetie Belle honestly couldn't think of anything to say. Neither could any of the others, this sort of thing being outside of their experience. Unable to think of anything else, she settled for general encouragement. "It's alright," she said, leaning in towards Rumble, "There's nothing wrong with that."
"Yes there is," protested Rumble sharply, "That's something babies do! It's not something a grown colt like me should be doing!"
Scootaloo turned to look towards Dawn, wondering if he had anything to say about this. But the ebony colt was silent, his mind elsewhere entirely.
"Rumble," said Sweetie Belle softly, "Was Thunderlane mad at you for wetting the bed?"
"N-no," said Rumble, "W-when he and C-Cloud Chaser found out what I did, they just took my sheets and helped me clean up. Th-then they let me sleep with them."
"That's not so bad," said Apple Bloom, "That's what me and Applejack did."
Sweetie Belle nodded in agreement before wrapping her arms around the colt. "You see Rumble, there's nothing wrong with you. We were all really scared by what happened yesterday. And we all had our own problems because of it. Yours is just different, that's all. It'll be okay." She nuzzled up against his cheek, the display of affection causing Rumble to relax a little.
"You really think so?" he asked. The girls all nodded.
The only one who didn't respond was Dawn, who seemed completely out of it.
"Dawn? Is everything okay?" asked Scootaloo.
Dawn's reptilian eyes blinked as he was reminded of who he was with. "Y-yes. I'm fine."
Scootaloo's eyes narrowed and she exchanged glances with the others. However, the pensive expression on Dawn's face told her that whatever was bothering him was something he was still trying to figure out. Instead of pressing the issue, she turned to her friends. "So...what should we do now?"
Apple Bloom shrugged. "Wanna go to the clubhouse? Ah still don't feel up to crusadin', but we can probably find somethin' fun to do."
"Yeah," agreed Sweetie Belle as she continued to hug Rumble tightly, "We could use something fun."
The five of them stood and left the barn, making their way to the treehouse in the orchard. However, Dawn paused as he stepped out the door, throwing a look over his shoulder at the space where his friends and him had sat and shared how yesterday's events had traumatized them, how they'd been made miserable by the assassin who had come for him. Is this...my fault?
Fleetfoot tread carefully as she stepped into Spitfire's office. Given that it had only been a few days since her dressing-down for snapping at Rainbow Dash, she got the impression that, whatever reason it was that she had been called here, it wasn't good. Rapidfire had been evasive about what Spitfire wanted from her. However, she garnered that the Captain was very unhappy about something.
Seated at the desk before her, Spitfire watched Fleetfoot like a hawk, her expression completely neutral, her thoughts masked. Spitfire's experience as a Knight had given her a great deal of experience with projecting a stoic facade, a skill she'd further refined over years of grilling Wonderbolt recruits standing in the exact same spot where Fleetfoot was standing now.
Off to one side, on a perch by the wall, rested Ouranos, who observed Fleetfoot as well.
"Close the door," said Spitfire, her tone flat and even.
"Yes ma'am." Fleetfoot did as she was told and shut the door behind her.
That was the last thing said for a long moment. Silence descended on the room as Fleetfoot stood rigid beneath Spitfire's gaze. Finally, even though she knew she was dangerously close to stepping out of line, Fleetfoot broke the silence. "Why am I here ma'am?"
Spitfire lowered a forehoof out of sight behind her desk and pulled something out. "Does this look familiar?" she asked.
Fleetfoot's eyes widened and her jaw dropped at what she saw. It was a small willow hoop, strung with lines of twine that intersected one another like the strands of a spider's web. At the center of it sat a bronze charm, cast in the symbol of the sun. It was called a dreamcatcher. It was one of the newer charms being marketed by the Order, having been modified from the one used by the buffalo and distributed from the Appleloosian branch.
"Where did you find that?" asked Fleetfoot, beads of sweat breaking out on her forehead.
"In your room," replied Spitfire, her eyes narrowing in a glare, "Along with a few other trinkets. I'd never thought we'd have a member of the Cult Solar in our ranks."
"Don't call it that!" snapped Fleetfoot angrily, her fear and nervousness momentarily forgotten, "We are the Order of Celestial Light: Servants of the one true Princess!"
"Princess Celestia clearly dosn't think so," said Spitfire, casting the dreamcatcher disdainfully to the floor in front of Fleetfoot, "Is that one of those wards that's supposed to keep Princess Luna out of your dreams?"
Fleetfoot, bit back the urge to snarl like an animal at Spitfire, who continued talking. "I always thought you were strangely overzealous when it came to the orders that Princess Celestia gave us. Tell me. When did the Cult get their hooks into you? Was it before or after you were recommended to the Wonderbolts?"
"After," hissed Fleetfoot.
"Why did you join them?"
"How could I not?" Fleetfoot stamped her hoof on the floor. "Princess Celestia changed my life. She gave me the opportunity to do something extraordinary. She blessed my life when she gave her recommendation for my admission!"
"And so you repay her blessing by joining a group that caused her a thousand years of relentless misery," observed Spitfire coldly.
Fleetfoot ground her teeth together as she fought to keep from shouting exactly that. Having that charm was one of the few reasons she slept soundly at night. "S-so what if I am a member of the Order? That's not illegal, last I heard."
"You're right," said Spitfire, "It's not grounds for arrest. It's not even grounds for dismissal from the Wonderbolts. But this..." The next item she pulled up from behind the desk was a letter. "...Is a different matter."
Fleetfoot's heart stopped and her anger dissipated into nothing as she stared at the letter. "Y-you searched m-my mail!" She would have been outraged at the invasion of her privacy, a gross violation of Spitfire's usual standards had she not been terrified for her life.
"I could overlook you being a member of the Cult Solar. Most of them are probably nice enough ponies, well-intentioned idiots, if you ask me. But ponies don't need to be in a cult to be well-intentioned idiots." The whites of Spitfire's eyes began to shine yellow and the room began to get uncomfortably hot. "But after reading what you put in this letter, I hope you'll understand me, Fleetfoot, when I say it's only by the barest of margins that I'm keeping myself from jumping over this desk and ripping out your throat."
Fleetfoot paled beneath her blue coat, which her flight suit managed to conceal, as she backed away from the enraged Spitfire, only coming to stop when her rump bumped against the door. Her mouth worked silently as she struggled to find something, anything to say that could abate her Captain's wrath. Finally, she settled on a question. "H-how did you find out?" Spitfire would have never searched her quarters without a good reason.
The yellow mare snorted, the light in her eyes fading and the heat dissipating somewhat. "As luck would have it, your assassin friend failed. And while she didn't give up the name of her client, she did give you as the link she used to find Dawn Lightwing."
A tremor of anger surged through Fleetfoot at the name of that colt. From the moment they'd found him hanging around on top of that cloud with the mercenary stallion, she'd detested the idea of working with him. However, there had been no way she could have defied Spitfire's orders. So instead, she'd learned what she could and then passed on the information to Willow at the first opportunity. Like her, members of the Order had been kept informed of Willow's mission and her present location. It had been pure luck that Willow had been close by when Fleetfoot had contacted her.
"Do you have anything to say for yourself," said Spitfire coldly as she dropped the letter onto the desk.
Gathering her strength, Fleetfoot mustered the will to glare back at Spitfire. "I have nothing to say to a deluded fool who allowed us to work with that monster in the first place."
"I see. In that case, I am placing you under arrest for conspiring with an assassin for the purposes of attempted murder." Spitfire stepped around her desk and approached. From his perch, Ouranos opened his beak and squawked. There was nothing musical about the noise, only a single, harsh, angry note as the phoenix fixed its eyes of Fleetfoot with a predatory glare.
I can't let her do this to me, thought Fleetfoot angrily. Her instincts were screaming at her to run, to escape. However, she knew she had no hope of outflying an angry Spitfire. However, she still had one trump card to play. Each Wonderbolt was trained in a specific series of skills by Spitfire when they joined. Beyond that, they were free to work on their own skills as they wished. Fleetfoot was one of the few members who went armed, as the Daisy-Cutter technique they learned was more than enough for most Wonderbolts. Even Fleetfoot rarely employed her own weapon, and almost nopony knew she even had it. However, it had served her in good stead on a few important missions and she trusted it to serve her well now.
She waited as Spitfire closed in. Already, the yellow mare had pulled out a set of restraints and was getting ready to bind Fleetfoot's wings. As she came within reach, Fleetfoot snapped out with her left foreleg, a concealed blade springing from a tiny opening in her flight suit and burying itself into Spitfire's chest. With only her dress uniform, Spitfire had no protection against the hidden dagger. She staggered as Fleetfoot pulled it out.
"Let's see you arrest me now," hissed Fleetfoot.
Ouranos let out an angry screech and spread his wings. However, Fleetfoot bounded past Spitfire and threw herself directly through the window, shattering it and launching herself into the sky. Reaching up, she pulled her goggles over her eyes and ramped up her speed to its maximum and tore away as fast as her wings could carry her. Let's see, I need a place to go to ground. Dodge Junction would be a good spot. She angled her wings and banked towards the west. Already, Cloudsdale was falling into the distance behind her.
She made no evasive maneuvers. Spitfire wouldn't be coming after her. Even if her blade had missed the Captain's vital parts, the lethal poison that coated it would ensure her death in a matter of minutes. Hah! I knew the Knights were no big deal.
And then her ears picked up a sound like a clap of thunder behind her, followed by a low roar that rapidly grew in volume. Fleetfoot felt the bottom drop out of her stomach as she turned to look over her shoulder. No way!
At first glance, it appeared that a multi-colored ball of flame was pursuing her. However, as it rapidly closed, she was able to make out the details of a pony in the flames. It was a pegasus, a very familiar pegasus.
Spitfire's body was cloaked in flames. Her primaries and secondaries looking as though they'd been dyed with amethysts, a feathered crest sprouting in place of her mane, and jeweled plumes on place of her tail. Her featureless yellow eyes blazed as she rocketed through the sky, leaving a contrail of varicolored flame in her wake, rapidly closing the distance between her and Fleetfoot.
Horseapples! She's got the bird with her! Fleetfoot had seen Spitfire's Raiment even fewer times than she'd employed her own hidden blade. Fleetfoot didn't need to see Spitfire's eyes narrow in a glare to know that the other mare was angry.
Spitfire accelerated abruptly, the last distance between her and Fleetfoot vanishing almost instantly. Fleetfoot yelped and barely managed to throw herself into a roll to avoid the charging fireball of a mare. When she reoriented, she immediately saw that Spitfire was in front of her now, cutting her off. Damn! I thought I'd have more time.
"That was a stupid move," said Spitfire as she hovered in front of Fleetfoot. Her dress uniform had completely burned away, showing her coat, which appeared to have substituted phoenix feathers for her fur. A blazing nimbus of light surrounded her. Already, the temperature of the air around Spitfire was beginning to rise to dangerous levels.
Fleetfoot frowned and called upon her own pegasus magic for defense. Spitfire's Raiment was unbelievably dangerous and powerful. She blazed in the sky like a miniature sun. The heat from convection alone was enough to kill ponies if they weren't careful. Thus, to ensure that they were able to fight alongside her, one of the first skills Spitfire taught new Wonderbolts was how to use their pegasus magic to create a miniature cold front around their bodies, a barrier of chilled air that warded off the immense heat she emitted, ensuring that Spitfire's squad of elite fliers could follow her into battle without dropping from heat exhaustion in the first five minutes. Fleetfoot drew on this skill now, the air around her dropping to a more comfortable temperature and warding off the worst of Spitfire's heat.
I need to play for time, she thought. Obviously she hadn't pierced Spitfire's vitals with her strike. The only thing left was to buy time and wait until the poison took effect. She estimated that it had been approximately three minutes since she'd stabbed Spitfire. The longest her poison had taken to kill an enemy was no more than eight. It was fairly slow-acting, more designed as a failsafe in case she missed the target's vitals with her initial strike.
A smile spread across her face. She just needed to buy time. "I hope you're not expecting me to get all hot under the collar," she said, "It'll take more than your heat to burn me."
A snort escaped Spitfire. "You really are an idiot Fleetfoot. I thought you were smarter than this. I taught you that skill so that you wouldn't die just from being in the same sky as me. But there's no way that trick can block out my flames."
She drew her wings in close before snapping them all the way out. The movement caused a large number of feathers, feathers that resembled tongues of flame, to molt from her wings. In the same movement, she reared back. In the next movement, Sptifire snapped her wings together, pointedly flapping them so that they met in front of her, pointing directly at Fleetfoot. The detached feathers launched themselves at Fleetfoot like a storm of blazing arrows.
Instinctively, Fleetfoot beat her wings, launching herself to the side and throwing herself clear of most of the barrage. A few feathers came close and sliced through her miniature cold front like superheated knives. Through the tears in the barrier, Fleetfoot could feel the intense heat of Spitfire's presence begin to seep in. "Dammit!" She quickly used her magic to reinforce the cold front before it could dissipate. The air outside was like an oven. If Fleetfoot lost her defense, the feathers would be scorched from her wings in a matter of seconds.
Spitfire dove in, charging in close. She thrust out with a hoof, wreathed in flame. Fleetfoot quickly dodged away. However, as she did, Spitfire twisted her body and projected a wave of flame out from her wing. Fleetfoot backwinged quickly, scooting away just far enough that she managed to avoid being cooked. Her eyes narrowed as she realized how slow Spitfire was. My poison must be working if I can avoid her attacks.
That was the most logical reason. During the battle to protect the Crystal Empire, Fleetfoot remembered seeing that same wave of fire burn an entire squadron of griffons to ash before they could so much as flinch. Over a thousand griffon soldiers massed from six separate aires and Spitfire had accounted for nearly half of them on her own in a matter of minutes. If Spitfire attacked with her full speed, only a small hooffull of even her own Wonderbolts could avoid them. If she's slowed down this much, then I don't have much longer to wait.
Spitfire went into a rapid series of barrel-rolls that wrapped her flames around herself, transforming her into a blazing twister that barreled straight for Fleetfoot, who again dodged. She knew better than to try striking back. Spitfire's body was hot enough that she could melt solid steel on contact. Any attempt to hit back would merely leave a smoldering stump where her leg had been.
As she emerged past Fleetfoot, Spitfire came out of her barrel-rolls. She turned about and hovered in front of Fleetfoot. "You're not doing to bad keeping up with half-speed attacks."
What? Fleetfoot's eyes widened behind her goggles. Spitfire hadn't slowed down because of the poison. She'd been slowing her attacks deliberately. But then...what about the poison?
Spitfire's lips curled up in a smile. "Are you wondering why your poison hasn't killed me yet?"
Now Fleetfoot's jaw dropped. How did she know?
Spitfire's smile turned into a grin. "I'm a Knight of the Celestial Order. I've been stabbed, cut, bludgeoned, and blasted so many times in my life that it's not even funny. I knew your blade was poisoned the instant you stabbed me. I could feel the residue it left behind. I've gotta admit, that's not a bad trick to have up your sleeve. But you've forgotten something critical Fleetfoot. Don't you remember my nickname?"
Of course I haven't. Who would? Apparently, amongst the Knights of Equestria, it was something of a tradition for them to gift one another with little unofficial monikers based on their skills or personal nature. Amongst her fellow Knights, as well as her own Wonderbolts, Spitfire was known as...
"The Knight of the Undying Flame," hissed Fleetfoot under her breath.
"That's right," agreed Spitfire, having heard her former subordinate's words anyway, "When I fight together with Ouranos, I am merged with phoenix-fire. My flames don't just burn, they cleanse. When I attack, they cleanse the sky of my enemies. When I'm injured, they cleanse my body of its wounds. The instant I merged with Ouranos, your little poison was torched out of my system."
This whole time... Fleetfoot growled and bared her teeth, grinding them together. ...This whole time, she's just been toying with me. Her limbs trembled as she clenched her eyes shut, her anger boiling over. This isn't right. I may not be a Knight, but I'm a Wonderbolt. I shouldn't be this outclassed.
Unable to hold it in any longer, Fleetfoot let out an angry shriek as she charged straight at Spitfire, who didn't even flinch. Fleetfoot extended her right wing, her primaries humming and glowing blueish white along the edges as she unleashed the Daisy-Cutter. The chill of her own magic protected the feathers from being immolated by Spitfire's flames. Instead, Fleetfoot's charging strike allowed her to draw a line along Spitfire's flank. Pulling away, Fleetfoot turned to survey the damage.
Instead of blood, Spitifire's wound gushed flame, which flickered after a few seconds, then faded, leaving behind no sign of Fleetfoot's attack. Spitfire let out a sigh and fixed Fleetfoot with a look of pity. "You should know better than that Fleetfoot."
With a wordless scream of rage, Fleetfoot lunged in again, sweeping with the edges of her feathers a in a flurry of slashes that carved into Spitfire as Fleetfoot ducked and darted around her. The white-maned mare cut her from above and below, front and back, left and right. However, no matter how hard she tried, Spitfire's wounds melted into flame and then faded entirely.
"Give up Fleetfoot," said Spitfire, her voice heavy with sadness, "You're so pathetic right now, I can't even stay angry anymore."
"Damn you!" shouted Fleetfoot, "What would somepony like you, somepony blessed with power like yours, know about my devotion. I was nothing until Princess Celestia gave me her blessing! I owe everything to her! I can't be content knowing she must share her Palace, her reign, with a creature like Nightmare Moon!"
"Is that what they told you?" asked Spitfire sadly, "That you had no worth until Celestia gave it to you? Is that how they drew you in?
"Celestia recommended you to the Wonderbolts because of what you already had. She gave you nothing. That's why you're so weak now, Fleetfoot. You gave up on your own strength and determination and put everything on her. I feel sorry for Princess Celestia to have to deal with the boneheadedness of ponies like you."
"You arrogant witch!" screeched Fleetfoot, "How dare you look down on the Princess when she blessed you with such strength?" She moved to charge again. However, she was unable to move an inch forward. Before she could react, the feathers on her wings disappeared. Fleetfoot's eyes widened as she looked desperately for the source of the attack, only to catch a few, faint, orange streaks. Her eyes turned back to Spitfire in time to see the feathery plumes of her tail come to rest. The chains of varicolored, gem-like feathers were Spitfire's deadliest weapons, the intense heat circulating about their edges working like high-speed saw-blades, cutting through virtually any substance instantly. When she attacked with her full speed, Fleetfoot's trained eyes couldn't even see the tails in motion.
Unable to channel her magic through her feathers, Fleetfoot's cold front dispersed, leaving her at the mercy of Spitfire's heat. However, Spitfire had already relaxed her flames and the temperature of the air in her immediate vicinity was beginning to fall. Fleetfoot was beginning to fall as well. Before she could plummet all the way to the ground, she felt a pair of hooves wrap around her barrel. Looking up, she saw that Spitfire had separated from Ouranos and now held Fleetfoot up, the only thing between the white-maned mare and a long drop ending in a sudden stop.
"Princess Celestia gave me nothing aside from my title," said Spitfire, "If she had to give us our power, we Knights wouldn't be worth anything. Real power isn't something that can be given out like a party favor. It's something that you take and earn through your own efforts, your sweat and blood. When you give up and put everything onto someone else, you only make yourself weaker."
Fleetfoot opened her mouth to protest. However, Spitfire had already unwrapped one foreleg from around her barrel and cuffed the back of Fleetfoot's head. The blow jolted through her skull, causing the blue mare to fall into darkness.
"It's over Fleetfoot. It's time to face the consequences of your own actions." As Fleetfoot slumped in her grip, Spitfire let out a despondent sigh. "You damn fool."
Her ears twitched as she picked up the sound of approaching pegasi. Looking up, she saw that Rapidfire and Misty were coming in, both looking worried.
"Captain!" exclaimed Rapidfire, "What happened with Fleetfoot." He stopped as he saw the mare dangling limply from Spitfire's forelegs.
"You got the restraints?" asked Spitfire.
Rapidfire nodded.
"Get her trussed up, take her to the Guard station and stick her in one of the high-security cells. We'll interrogate her later."
Rapidfire nodded as Misty drifted forward with the restraints. A second later, she was carrying Fleetfoot back in the direction Cloudsdale while Rapidfire and Spitfire hovered in the sky. Spitfire watched them go before letting out a groan. "I can't believe this."
"What’s done is done," said Rapidfire, "What now?"
"I'll have to send Ouranos to Ponyville to make sure that Soarin' knows what happened," replied Spitfire, "If I'm right about the letter, we managed to cut things off before they got too bad. But it's still only a mater of time before the ponies find out that Willow died. When word gets back to the ponies who hired her, they're gonna put two and two together and figure out just where Dawn is."
"Anything else?" asked Rapidfire.
"One more thing," said Spitfire, "I was planning on waiting a couple more months for this, but we might as well go ahead and get things started. We could use some good news after what just happened."
Rapidfire found himself grinning in spite of the grim situation. He nodded eagerly and the two of them turned and began heading back to Cloudsdale, the colorful phoenix following in their wake.
"So why are we going to school now?" groused Scootaloo as she followed behind Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom. Behind her followed Rumble, with Dawn bringing up the rear of their little group of five.
Rumble seemed to be feeling better after their group session in the barn, followed by a couple of hours having fun with everypony at the clubhouse. However, Dawn remained detached and pensive, his manner reminding Scootaloo of his attitude back when he had first come to Ponyville. It was a bit jarring after seeing Dawn grow into a warmer, friendlier pony. Her few attempts to figure out what was bothering the colt had been unsuccessful. She hoped that, whatever it was, Dawn would voice his concerns before they ate him up from the inside.
"If we were in such bad shape because of what happened yesterday, then we probably aren't the only ones," said Sweetie Belle.
"Yeah," agreed Apple Bloom, "Ah bet there's hardly anypony at school."
"But then why are we even bothering to go there?" asked Scootaloo crossly.
"To see if Miss Cheerilee is doing alright," said Sweetie, "She was pretty upset yesterday. I want to see if she's feeling okay."
Out of the corner of her eye, Scootaloo saw Dawn shudder at the mention of their teacher's name, as though hearing it had reminded him of something terrible.
"That makes sense I guess," admitted the orange filly with a shrug before their group continued to make their way to the schoolhouse.
When they arrived, they were surprised to see it completely abandoned. There was nopony in the yard outside, nor were their any lights in the windows. The afternoon had worn on, but school should have been in session.
"Nopony's here," said Scootaloo noting the obvious.
"I'd thought Miss Cheerilee would be here at least," said Sweetie Belle, looking around.
"Maybe nopony showed up and she went on home," suggested Apple Bloom with a shrug.
A slight breeze stirred their manes as Rumble fluttered overhead to alight on the porch. He gently pressed a hoof against the schoolhouse door, which began to move under his light touch. "It's not locked," he said. A harder push sent the door swinging open.
He was quickly joined by the others as they all rushed to see what was going on inside the schoolhouse. The answer was...nothing. The building was completely empty, no ponies to be seen. There were no foals attending class, nor was Cheerilee anywhere near her desk. The foals moved cautiously as they stepped inside.
"Weird," said Rumble. It was exactly as they had left it yesterday. The door had been closed, but not locked. Their desks were untouched. Even the writing up on the board was still there from the previous day.
"Weird," said Scootaloo, "Cheerilee usually cleans all of this up when she goes home, doesn't she?"
"Yeah," agreed Apple Bloom, trotting up to the teacher's desk. As she did, Sweetie Belle climbed up onto her back to peer over the top of it
"Nothing much up here," declared the unicorn filly in disappointment. Looking over to where Cheerilee usually sat when she was at her desk, Sweetie Belle noticed a cluster of water-spots on the desk, where water had been dribbled on the wood and dried without being wiped away. It wasn't the sort of thing a filly like her would normally notice. However, spending a great deal of time with Rarity had given a keener eye for such things (if only as the result of being forced to clean up several of her own messes to Rarity's standard). However, she wasn't able to attach any significance to what she saw, and so dismissed it.
As Dawn trotted around the side of the desk, he noticed something else. There was a black frame, lying cracked against the wall...on the opposite side of the room from where it normally hung. Going over, he carefully lifted the object with his hoof and turned it over to reveal Cheerilee's framed copy of her diploma and license after graduating from her vocational training. The glass on the frame was broken, shattered from being thrown against the wall, which Dawn realized when he looked up and saw the small dent where the frame had impacted.
"That's Miss Cheerilee's diploma," said Rumble, "What's it doing over here?"
"Isn't she really proud of that?" added Scootaloo as she joined them.
"Uh huh," agreed Apple Bloom as she and Sweetie Belle also came over to investigate, "Remember, on the first day, she told us how it was the best thing she'd gotten since her cutie mark."
"What's it doing over here?" asked Sweetie Belle.
Dawn looked silently over at the wall where the framed diploma was supposed to hang, then back to the shattered frame on the floor. He looked up at the others. "Where does Miss Cheerilee live?"
"She lives just a couple blocks that way," said Sweetie Belle, pointing straight out the doors, "It's not very far at all."
"Let's go," said Dawn, already suiting action to word and making his way to the door.
"Hey! Wait up!" exclaimed Scootaloo as she rushed to catch up with the ebony colt, the others quickly following suit.
Together, the group of five foals quickly made their way down the street to the small house where their teacher lived. Dawn was the first one to the door and was already knocking politely when the others came up behind him, panting from the frantic pace he'd set. Scootaloo in particular was wobbling on unsteady legs.
The group settled back and waited. There was a troubling lack of response to Dawn's knock for a long moment. Then, just as Dawn was prepared to knock again, his ears picked up the sound of hooves approaching from the other side of the door. Slowly, the door opened and the five foals looked up, then hesitated as the pony answering the door was most certainly not Cheerilee.
Instead, the Crusaders found themselves looking up at a mulberry-colored mare with a cluster of grapes for her cutie mark. Her eyes widened as she saw the group of foals assembled before her. "What are you kids doing here?" she asked, sounding confused, rather than annoyed.
"Miss Berry Punch," said Apple Bloom, recognizing the mare almost immediately, "We wanted to check on Miss Cheerilee. Is she here? She alright?" Berry Punch was the owner and manager of the local pub, as well as a skilled winemaker. She also happened to be Cheerilee's elder sister.
Berry Punch relaxed when she realized what they were asking. "Well, she's here. But I don't think she's alright."
"Why? What's wrong?" asked Sweetie Belle.
Berry's eyes moved over the group of assembled foals, they settled on Dawn, and then narrowed. Dawn's sharp gaze picked up the faint flicker of anger and dislike that ran across her face before she managed to force it down. His body tensed involuntarily as the look stirred a memory stored within his body as he almost automatically readied himself to defend against an attack.
"She's...upset," said Berry, "I'm not sure that she wants to see anypony right now. It probably wouldn't be good for her students to see her like this."
"But if she's hurting, then we can help," said Rumble, giving Berry a plaintive look, "Please! We want to help."
Rumble, Sweetie Belle, Apple Bloom, and Scootaloo all gave Berry their best puppy-dog-eyes, pouting as they looked up at the mare. Dawn remained impassive, having never had much use for a look like that (many ponies having decided to deny him long before he could ask anything of them), and because he suspected that his joining in would have undermined the group effort.
Berry Punch let out a sigh of defeat. "Alright, fine. Come on in kids. But be careful. I don't want you to upset her anymore than she already is. Be careful with her." She shot Dawn a glare that seemed to scream "especially you."
The foals quietly filed in and Berry led them into the small living room. There, on the couch, lay Cheerilee. She reclined on her back, her eyes staring listlessly at the ceiling. Her right foreleg dangled limply from the couch, fetlock wrapped around the neck of one of Berry Punch's more average vintages, generally reserved for a pony who was less interested in fine wine than she was in getting thoroughly soused. Although, from the low groan the teacher was emitting, as well as the fact that the bottle was empty and that any residue on the interior appeared to have dried, appeared to indicate that she was well past drunk and was now emerging back into sobriety with the accompanying hangover.
"Miss Cheerilee," said Apple Bloom cautiously.
Slowly, carefully, Cheerilee tilted her head over to look at the pale yellow filly, showing off just how bloodshot the whites of her eyes were. There was also a faint swelling visible, indicating that she had been crying very hard recently. Her eyes took in the Crusaders. "H-hello everypony," she croaked, slowly rolling around in an effort to get off the couch. She nearly fell over as her hooves contacted the floor and only a rapid response from Berry Punch, who quickly pulled up alongside her sister and supported her, kept Cheerilee from toppling to the floor.
"What's the matter Miss Cheerilee? You look awful," said Scootaloo, who cringed as Sweetie and Bloom both shot her reproving glares.
"I'm sorry girls," said Cheerilee, her voice sounding hoarse, "I really don't feel all that good right now."
"What's the matter?" asked Sweetie Belle, "We went to school and there was nopony there, but everything was unlocked. We're really worried."
"Did we do something wrong?" asked Rumble, "Are you angry at us?"
"No! Of course not!" said Cheerilee quickly. "There's nothing wrong with you. It's just...It's just..." Cheerilee's body began to sag as her eyes started tearing up again.
"Just what?" prodded Scootaloo, completely oblivious to the shushing gesture that Berry Punch was trying to make behind her sister's back.
"I'm a failure as a teacher!" wailed Cheerilee, her legs giving out, letting her sink all the way to the floor as she bawled unashamedly. Berry Punch glared frustratedly at the foals, who were more-or-less oblivious to her anger as they stared at Cheerilee.
"That's not true!" exclaimed Apple Bloom, "Yer not a bad teacher. We all really like havin' ya teach us."
"Yeah!" agreed Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo in unison.
"It is true," cried Cheerilee, "What kind of teacher can't even protect her own students?"
Dawn felt as though a knife had been driven into his chest as Cheerilee continued. “Yesterday, all of you were depending on me and I couldn’t do anything! I let you down! I let your parents down!” Cheerilee sobbed into her hooves. “I can’t look at myself in the mirror anymore. How could I possibly go back there knowing I let you all down?”
“Ya didn’t let us down,” protested Apple Bloom, “It’s not yer fault that mare was there. Ya did the best ya could.”
“Yeah,” agreed Sweetie, “There’s no way anypony could expect you to do anything about a pony like that.”
“They’re right,” said Berry, standing next to Cheerilee, “None of this is your fault Cheery. If anything...” she leveled a pointed glare at Dawn, “...it’s his!”
“Huh?” exclaimed the Crusaders. Surprisingly enough, Cheerilee’s voice joined theirs as they all looked in confusion at Berry Punch, who hadn’t taken her eyes of Dawn.
“You’re the one who did this to her,” hissed Berry, “Because you walked out on her when she was trying to keep you safe...No! Because you were there to begin with. I heard what happened. That mare came looking for you!” Her voice was rapidly gaining volume. “And now, after everything is said and done, you show up here acting like you can make things all better! All you’re doing is rubbing salt on the wound. If you want to help, then GET OUT!” Berry’s voice terminated in a shriek.
A slight rustle was the only sound that came from Dawn’s direction. By the time everypony turned to follow the object of Berry Punch’s scorn, the ebony colt had vanished. Scootaloo’s ears twitched as she picked up the sound of his wings heading out the door.
“Dawn!” Completely forgetting about their teacher, Scootaloo rushed in pursuit of her friend, taking to the air as she went out the door, her eyes just barely catching sight of him as he rushed off into the distance. Calling upon everything she’d learned from him about flying, Scootaloo gave chase, pouring on every ounce of power she could dredge up from both her physical and magical reserves, her fatigue momentarily forgotten.
Meanwhile, the rest of the Crusaders stared at the empty space the colt had once occupied. Berry Punch was panting, still glaring at that spot, as though, in spite of her own words, she had been willing the colt to remain where he had been so that she could continue to rage at him. Her anger depleted for the moment, she felt the tension drain away. The sound of her sister getting to her hooves drew Berry’s attention. Berry turned to see how her sister was faring...
...And received a hoof to the face for her troubles. The older mare was knocked staggering as Cheerilee’s hoof connected with her face right beneath her right eye. What Cheerilee lacked in coordination at the moment, she possessed in power. It took Berry a long moment to regain her balance. When she did, she turned to stare, aghast, at Cheerilee. In this, she was joined by the remaining Crusaders, who were stunned to see the normally gentle, cheerful, Cheerilee lash out with such violence.
It was especially jarring for Berry. In spite of being the elder sister by about a year, it had always been Cheerilee who was the more responsible of the two. Cheerilee had always been the one to scold Berry about her problems, rather than vice versa, the one to keep Berry in line when she caused trouble. But never before had Cheerilee ever struck her. And never before had Berry Punch seen the look of absolute rage that adorned her sister’s face.
“HOW DARE YOU!” screamed Cheerilee, “I don’t care if you’re my sister! Nopony talks to one of MY students like that!”
“But sis! He’s the one who-”
“SHUT UP!”
Berry’s jaw snapped shut audibly. This was turning into a day of firsts for her as she’d never been cut off so viciously in any of their previous arguments.
“Listen here!” snarled Cheerilee as she advanced on her cringing sister, “Dawn Lightwing is a beautiful colt with a bright future! He protected my students when I couldn’t.”
“But Cheery!” exclaimed Berry, “That mare was here because of him! She came looking for him! Everypony that got hurt yesterday, every nightmare that every one of your students had is because he was there in the first place! You were here, drinking yourself into a stupor last night because he didn’t listen to you, because he ignored you when you were trying to keep him safe! He didn’t care about how he hurt you!”
“That’s enough!” Cheerilee’s voice emerged as a hoarse growl. “Don’t you dare talk-No! Don’t you dare even think that this was Dawn’s fault! What he did was brave and generous! He put himself at risk because he didn’t want to see anypony else get hurt on his account because he knew that mare was there for him and just him.”
“Th-then why are you so upset?” demanded Berry, “If he did the right thing, then why did you spend all night beating yourself up about it?”
“Because I’m a teacher!-” snapped Cheerilee. She looked like she was about to say more, but abruptly swayed on her hooves, her face taking on a greenish cast. Unable to say another word, she bolted out of the living room and down the hall to the bathroom, where the unpleasant noises of a pony being severely sick soon emanated. The foals cringed at the sounds, starting to feel a little ill themselves.
It didn’t take long for the sounds of retching to taper off. A moment later, they could hear the toilet flush, then the tap run. Finally, Cheerilee emerged and came back to the living room, still looking a bit uneasy, but seeming to be feeling better, physically at least.
Sweetie Belle, Apple Bloom, and Rumble exchanged confused glances, unsure of what to do. They were still worried about their teacher. But they were concerned about Dawn too. “Now what?” asked Sweetie quietly, looking between her friends.
However, it was Cheerilee who answered her query. “Now, I’m going to get myself cleaned up. Then I’m going to go to Fluttershy’s.”
“Huh?” The three foals cocked their heads in unison.
Cheerilee smiled down at them. “I need to make things right,” she said gently. Reaching out with her forelegs, she enveloped the three of them in a tight hug. “Thank you so much my little ponies. You really helped me. Now I need to go and do my job.”
“Sis?”
Cheerilee looked up and regarded Berry Punch, who was staring at her with a mix of fear and confusion, the bruise beneath her eye beginning to swell. “I’m sorry for hitting you Berry,” said Cheerilee, a look of regret flashing across her face. However, her expression almost immediately hardened. “But I want to make it crystal clear...Never. Ever. Talk about or to one of my students like that. Ever. Again!” She punctuated each word with a step advancing on her sister, almost pressing her nose right up against Berry’s. “Do you understand?”
“Y-y-yes,” stammered the mulberry mare, suddenly desperate to be anywhere else.
“Good,” snapped Cheerilee backing away, “Put some ice on that. When I get back, I want you to be ready to apologize to Dawn for what you said.”
Berry looked as though she wanted to protest. However, at the look Cheerilee was giving her, Berry shut her mouth tightly and could only nod in agreement.
“Good.” She turned her attention back to the foals. “You should probably go on home. It’s getting close to suppertime for most of you, isn’t it?”
The Crusaders were a little too stunned to articulate a response, but they nodded dutifully and filed out. Cheerilee returned to the bathroom to begin the process of making herself look presentable. Berry Punch stood in the living room, her throbbing bruise far away from her thoughts as she tried to piece together what exactly had happened.