The gray grayness of the day was pretty gray that day. Enough days and nights of travel, or so we assumed them to be, terraformed the land into more inviting colors. Sand grains like pearls glistened and met our hooves as we stepped of that final face of rock and found the next frontier. Clay formations abound guarded our valley of travel. True to the endless dunes and sparsely strewn bushes before us, our quartet trotted alone and with no stream of hoofprints to guide us. Rain always seemed to loom, but never came. Grains flew on their cycles and spirals to the foretold direction of South, as Sirocco had assured us. No fiends seem to lurk in the dunes, so we could all walk a little easier. This amount of travel may put one at peace amid the calamity of the world, plenty of time to make notes in my book of eloquent words I needed to remember to use later on.
I walked in front and lead our pack. Sirocco and Bella guarded the rear with voices loud like thunder making me ponder when the rain would follow. Laughter rolled out in heavy doses, though it was pleasant ambiance. Odd to recall the shell once worn by that Bella in her old home, and now she was laughing with angelic qualities. Sirocco too eased himself and assimilated into our folds. He carried the satchel with no complaints. A smile trying to find a stable platform and eager for company. I was sure Sirocco was enjoying himself with their chat.
That left benign Scattershot somewhere as a soul among this fervent train. She trailed behind me and answered questions or conferred which side was correct when asked by the two boisterous ponies behind her, though she made no effort to join the conversation. She seemed to like the quietude as much as I, though the sands were too harsh for floral guidance. She pressed on and amused herself, I would suspect, with what animals may live in this forsaken sandbox. I heard her yawn.
“Hmm…” I thought to myself, my mind aroused by the sumptuous melody of a new word. “Arcanum! What euphony!” My quill quickly scribbled the word below a long list of equally beauteous and obscure words. Every so often glancing up from my notebook to observe the endless sand, I looked to the world for inspiration. All it presented me was the winds and their play. We passed a meager cactus, no water in this existence. The sand dunes began to slope upwards. I read over my word banks for something new to see.
“Hey Osten, what are you writing?” asked a cautious voice. Still maintaining my quill and book’s flight, I turned to see Scattershot catch up to my pace and walk beside me. She peered over to see my writings.
“What does,” she squinted to make sure she had the word right, “’ palaverous’ mean?”
I chuckled a bit as I flipped the pages. “Ah, it’s nothing. Here! I’ve also been scribing our goals thus far.”
“Why write down those kinds of words? Aren’t they a little outdated?”
“Well, one must always remain magniloquent, as such reserves allow one to brave the unexpected.”
She gave a light sigh. “Never mind. Show me your list.”
I moved the book in between the two of us as we trotted along the sand. “A long world of mysteries awaits beyond us: Slay Bells’ pendant is the most curious. Sirocco assured me he never saw it nor anything like it from the village. The orbs, the flowers to plant, the evil to destroy, and my father’s legacy to save.” I clapped the book shut and slipped it into my bag, raising my head to the sky. “An adventure’s magnitude is only measured in its goals and missions, thus ours is truly marvelous!” Scattershot giggled at my enthusiasm, most likely inspired by me. Something struck me though. That evil, I was supposed to get something…
“Hey!” My head shot to face Scattershot. “I have not procured a single head of evil yet!”
“Pardon?”
“I am supposed to get seven heads of hell and bring them back to my father’s grave! Yet no such appendages have lent themselves to be taken!” My head drooped. I felt a single tear acquainting itself with the brim of my eye like two old friends and one of the friends died and the other friend promised to avenge the fallen friend but failed to meet such ends and felt a tear acquaint itself with the brim of his eye.
“But you still got your adjectives.” Scattershot soothed. I did not rise from my slump. “Well, maybe it’s less about violence and more about helping others?” Her tone picked up a passionate quality. “Like a metaphor?”
Her remark lifted my spirit and drew from me a hearty laugh. “Naivety meets thee well, though I am a gentlecolt of literary and artistic prowess unchallenged by the gods themselves. As such, I am a master of subtlety; any sort of metaphor cannot escape me, and I assure you of the literal meaning behind my grand quest. I appreciate your concerns, dear Scattershot.”
She commented, but something in the distance caught my eye and I did not hear her. I stopped and threw a hoof to my ear and leaned into the horizon. “What ho? On yonder mesa!”
A stray glance caught the end of the pearl dunes as they began to reach a climax point. The apex yielded a higher point lead to by a circular path. This small lookout fostered a beast overlooking the vista. Our band treaded softly upon the sand, following to where the sand became adobe and a wall grew. The figure on the mesa appeared to only be interested in the sights and ignored us for the time being. To us, the sights beyond the dunes lead to an interesting development: in that basin beyond we spotted lights, the roofs of homes, and that thing called life? It was all so! But troubles arose when the basin beyond our safe adobe perch sat at the base of this cliff and at a veritable drop.
“Wow, the bazaar sure has gotten huge! Look at that tree!” Sirocco admired. That once humble market place grew into this city of unimpressive buildings, save for the mighty oak spire rising above the town. It loomed over and shaded and watched over the small city beneath its massive canopy. From our lookout we were almost rivaling the top of the oak. Ornate with rosary and carvings and monuments, no splendor dared escape the beauteous façade of wood. All carved from its base and boldly defending the fortress.
Hell itself awed at the sheer ninety degree angle and the length that followed such sharp declines. Scattershot yawned as Sirocco and Bella went on talking while I surveyed the area. I instructed the three to gather strength while I attempted to tame the beast on the mesa, hopefully discovering a plan of escape. They had no qualms.
The spiral path of the rock soon led me to the precipice and the fantastic vista before me. Those walls of adobe and rock seemed to stretch around the busy basin, but peculiar geography lead to an ocean beyond that bustling city and its mighty tree. Our next frontier, surely. To my surprise, the one who I came to talk to had snuck up on me with his silence, motionless and only looking out to the world. No pony of any natural design, but a creature of a peaceful aura. Exterior rough and gray like the rocks, though some sort of beard formed around his face. Steeled legs of determination dare not move. It seemed as if the creature was gathering energy.
Settled on the tip of the creature’s snout stood a magnificent horn, sharpened by time. A horn of physical and magical prowess I could only dream of obtaining. Lids were shut as were all senses, not even knowing my presence or approach. I trotted beside the fellow, the birds on his back taking wind of this plot and flew into the direction of the ocean. Still, he did not notice me. “Good morrow!” I greeted.
Gray muscles of the rhinoceros began to come into activation and move minute features of the face. Eyes began to wake and meet the world and my cheery disposition. Slowly he moved his head towards me. “Good evening. I am the sedentary oracle.” He smiled as his eyes finally adjusted themselves to see me. “Do you have any eggs?” It replied with a creaking voice.
“Eggs?” I asked, confused.
“Eggs,” it replied. “If you give me some eggs I’ll teach you a new move.”
I looked back over the mesa to see my three companions, and then back to the fellow. “No, I haven’t an egg for you.”
“Okay then. Good Evening.” The creature closed its eyes again.
“Wait, good sir! Can we not barter anything else?”
The rhinoceros thought for a moment. “You are of a refined speech, my good friend, and I could use a conversation this evening.”
“Evening?” I asked. “Is it so?” I looked to that thick barrier and saw only gray.
“Have you forgotten? The sun has a power to it that can be sensed by those who allow themselves to sense it.” He closed his eyes again for a moment, and then returned. “The moon is ascending.”
“Surely one of such ability cannot be stranded on this cliff side?” I asked.
“I am in observation.” He faced back out to the ocean and closed his eyes. “I sense that power in you as well, my friend.”
“Thank you for noticing.” There was a silence as he gazed and I tried to see what he was seeing. “Do you know why a city sits between a desert and an ocean?”
“A riddle that to this day I may only attribute to this world and the nature of this world. It’s not natural, but it is there.”
“What’s the cause, then?”
“That tree, of course. It is of a special design.”
I let him have another pause, seeing he was deep in some form of thought.
“Why does the tree matter?”
An eye twitched, though he answered. “All these questions from someone so traveled. It’s from where the madness spreads. I prefer this distance from that behemoth.”
“Surely one of such greatness should easily remedy these disconformities.” I added.
The rhinoceros shook his head, eyes still closed to me. “I don’t know that I ever wanted greatness, on its own. It seems a lot like wanting to be a writer, rather than wanting to write. It should be a product, not a thing in itself. Otherwise, it’s just an ego trip.”
The comment struck me with perplexity. “But you have it nonetheless, and it is your curative arcanum! The power is yours!” I felt proud to use the word.
“The abuse of greatness begins when it disjoins remorse from power.”
“Are you not going on in years? A final swan song for your time does not interest you?”
He opened his small eyes, a tired look in them, and faced me. “I am not nearing any sort of age, and neither are you, my friend. Even so, I am not without a helpful bone to me, and since you have no eggs for me, you must do a favor to have one returned.” He paused for a moment, a faint glow surrounding his horn, then fading away. “I see you want to get down this cliff, and I’ve perfected a new skill I’m sure you’ll adore. I can help you if you want.”
As we stopped to stare into each other, the presence he spoke of pricked my senses for a moment. I felt some sort of majesty rising. Exhaustion would soon be upon us, therefore this mesa would serve as a pleasant station of sleep and discussion. “I shall gather my companions for your tale, my friend, for it must capture the ear strangely!”
The rhinoceros chuckled. “Tell them your friend ‘Nomad’ wishes to tell them a tale by a fire.” He looked back out to the sea. “We similar creatures always seem to meet and talk about the most important things to perfect strangers. In the perfect stranger we perceive unbridled wisdom; the image of knowledge is not disguised by color or frame. Don’t you agree? Go and get them, they must be tired.”
***
Three ponies lead by my enthusiasm returned to the summit of the formation and were welcomed by Nomad and a newly created fire. Its origins unknown, so we must have been in the company of true power. Sirocco and Bella sat beside each other as I sat to face Nomad, Scattershot following me. I tried my best to contain a yawn.
“I am Nomad. You truly have got an impressive group. What is your adventure now, my friend?”
I spoke up with a giddy smile. “We are here to war with and conquer the darkness of the Everfree Wastelands and rip away those boundaries obscuring the light of the sun.”
Nomad blinked. “Is that what they’re calling it now?”
“I suppose.” I replied.
Nomad shook his heavy head. “At any rate, you play a repetitive tune on your trumpet. An adventure lies in where a problem is set and creation is stimulated. There is no adventure in heads-or-tails, in betting that the toss will come out of life or death. War is not an adventure, and one must remain civil and moral.”
Something was irked in Sirocco. “Civility and morality are to be defined by the revolutionary, Nomad. Such concepts also have questionable importance in the teeth of evil. One might find it in bad taste to observe the teeth being polished.” He shot a smug smirk at Nomad, but Nomad did not seem to see it.
Scattershot looked up from the fire. “What is your story, Nomad?”
For a moment he closed his eyes and smiled. “Such a lyrical voice I haven’t heard in many passages of time. I am an old creature who finds frailty in his joints and a lack of motivation to move them. For a while I walked, this desert behind us taking the biggest toll on me. As I came to this peak, I saw an image before me and knew nothing else would rival it. I was aging and ready to pass, but something grabbed the hands of time.
“The darkness fell upon this world about the time I planted myself here. I paid it no mind, but I was just as ignorant to the laws of nature. An ocean grew, the cliff began to rise from the earth, and creatures began to build a city and raise an oak. Now I see the perversity of natural order and I am eternally spellbound in this realm.”
“A foul curse, indeed!” I added.
“Why don’t you just leave and go somewhere else?” Sirocco asked, an air of skepticism wafting in the words.
“Well, if I moved, I couldn’t be the sedentary oracle, could I? I’d have to pick a new title, and that’s cumbersome.” Bella giggled. Nomad looked back to Scattershot and I. “Though I can see that you two are not of the same world as we are.” I believe he noticed my shining mark.
“True, Scattershot and I hale from beyond the walls of mist and where the sun shines with magnificence unchallenged. I plan to bring that wondrous sight to all the creatures of these wastelands.” I finished my proclamation by rising to my hooves and erecting myself like a mighty statue, allowing the radiance of my mission to permeate and glow.
A chuckle was drawn from Nomad. “Sit down, my friend. It’s always been a mystery to me why such majestic and headstrong creatures define themselves by such magical charms as ‘cutie marks’. I have not one and I lived all the same. My art and profession is to live. I cannot see their use.”
Sirocco felt the need to chime in once more. “And I cannot see why anypony would stay up on a mesa their whole life.” He said flatly.
“Thus we are different species and different beings,” returned Nomad in calm and didactic manner that annoyed Sirocco to no end. He turned his head away and rested it on the ground. Bella giggled more and began whispering to Sirocco.
“Such a youthful bunch of ponies you have gathered, Ostensible.”
That name. Those syllables. A sight and mind to this oracle demanded I pry.
“Sir! Where did you hear that name from?” I demanded, my head shooting up from drowsiness.
“Excuse me?” Nomad blinked for a moment and leaned in closer to my, attempting to focus. He gasped. “What is this? Am I not talking to my friend, Ostensible?”
“I am his younger generation: Ostentatious. You knew of him?!”
“My apologies, Ostentatious. Yes, I knew your father well, as he visited with my and philosophized and brought me many eggs. How is he doing?”
My gaze fell to the floor as I mustered all my macho energy to relive the tragedy without crying. Scattershot put a comforting hoof on my back. “Recently he encountered demented forces who struck that sun down.”
“Is that so? I am sorry. It seemed like only yesterday he was talking to me about his travels.”
A smile grew on my lips as I raised my head. “True. It seemed like but mere days and hours that he bid me farewell for a day of work, but other forces were at work as well. What can you tell me of him?”
A surge of enthrallment caught me by the mane and I eagerly awaited the news and the tale, though a snore was heard. Annoyed, I looked over the roaring fire to spy Sirocco and Bella, who had since fallen asleep. I looked to Scattershot and she seemed awake.
Nomad cleared his barren throat and began. “He was a creature of uninterrupted prosperity and power. I sensed it somewhat in you, though thought it odd the power was so reserved.” His eyes grew an unusual spark in them in the light of the fire. “As I watched the city grow, he offset my disgust with the humorous way he turned a phrase and his copious supply of eggs. I am but a simple creature, and he yearned for the world. It is a shame he fell so soon.”
I was about to respond, but I felt something light, as if a feather had brushed my back and landed. A blanket of celadon locks obscured the sleepy face of Scattershot as she found a spot to rest. It was a sight to behold: not a noise nor grunt was made, only the airy sweetness of her warm and even breathing across my body. A giggle escaped from me. I knew she deserved the rest and needed it well, thus I picked her up from my back and rested her head gently on the rocky mesa, knowing she would sleep soundly on nature rather than on all my muscles.
I looked back to Nomad, the same tiredness plotting against my racing mind. His powerful head slid to the ground and refused to raise itself. I pleaded for him to continue.
Nomad yawned, his grand jaw creaking open a final time that night. “Walk on a rainbow trail; walk on a trail of song, and all about you will be beauty. There is a way out of every dark mist, over a rainbow trail.” His eyes lost power and fell into the dream world.
Severed from the discussion, I rested beside Scattershot and pondered my father and his ties to this world. I pondered and pondered until I found myself not pondering anymore but asleep.
***
The street corner was beautiful that time of day: majestic rays lit up the universe and the windows of the buildings all around me, like mountains of glistening diamonds. The sky was blanketed in clouds and there was not a soul on the street; only diamonds and mirrors for as far as the eye could see vertically and horizontally. Strictly perpendicular were these stunning monuments, almost like towers reserved for the perching of only the noblest angels. Cobalt tiles filled the streets and mirrored myself in them. Kneeling down to feel them, they were icy and reflected my apprehension disturbingly well.
I began trotting down the sidewalk of this immaculate street, looking for another, but only seeing myself in every direction; the clouds even showed no sign of individuality, reproducing my image in the heavenly sky and mocking my anxiety. Feelings of unease and desire came on stronger with every step I took, and my trotting pace turned to sprinting.
No smell; no sound; only my sight to see the magnificence beyond me.
Frantically, I called out to anyone listening, desperately hoping for a response. I stopped and yelled to the clouds. I yelled, seeing only myself all around me. My breathing became quick and heavy as all the mirrors began blending into a white haze.
“Are you okay?” I heard a sweet, lovely voice ask as if singing a soothing melody.
I looked up, still surrounded by the mirrors, but a mare looked on my fallen body with confusion and worry. Her hair fell like drops of golden dawn down past her neck and complimented her beautiful black coat. A simple and ebony body, devoid of any complications. Her face remained blurry, though it may have been the fall. Giggling, she walked to a table by a newly emerged café. I could hear chipper music and smell sweet drinks brewing, and I followed. Coffee was already on the table, and she was already gazing into my eyes.
We talked for what must have been hours, and all the mirrors around us only produced a quaint image of the girl and guy, both struck by some unforeseen arrow. The table soon shifted into the center of a stage surrounded by the towering complexes, and we kept on talking, laughing, and growing close. I felt so at peace with her; it felt liberating. Smiling was the only action I did other than talk and laugh, and she followed suit. Around us was only us, and as I stared into her eyes, I could only see us. In my soul, there were only us.
She picked up her cup and took a sweet, almost lyrical sip from it. She set the glass down, yet my heart skipped a beat; her eyes were still beautiful, her hair was still gorgeous, and her body was stunning, but her mouth had shifted in transit. Coffee began to bubble in her cup as words went nowhere. Her now alien figure took the bubbling mug and threw it to the side, smashing one of the mirrors. It was a terrible shattering sound, and rumbling was heard all around us. Her determined eyes remained fixed on me, and I on hers.
Paying no heed to the glass, she offered her hoof to me to hold. Keeping the flame alive in the face of the shattering, I took her hoof with both of mine, guarding it from the shrapnel. Another mirror exploded in a flurry of crystals and the explosion pierced the mare. More and more mirrors began crumbling and smashing and breaking, and the mare began melting away in an incredible blaze. It started with her torso, and soon the crimson light overtook her neck and limbs. Flames engulfed her head, and all I was left with became a hoof. The last mirror fell to pieces louder than all the others, and the hoof turned to scorching ash.
The ash spread, engulfing me in the way she had left the void. Like wildfire, it spread across my legs and body. I screamed a silent scream, and all around me was her eyes, simply looking at me, indifferent to my pain. As the flames ate up more of my body and burned my flesh and charred my bones, the eyes faded away into the darkness. I too fell to ash, and had not even myself to lean on. Picked up by a fresh breeze, my ashes were spread across the dark abyss, sinking into oblivion.
Truly, I did not see that coming.
I heard a voice speak. “Pity to any forlorn souls sent unto this world of magnificence and hell. With this world’s magnificence so radiant and hell so fiery, sight is nonexistent.”