Death to the Sun

by Mare Macabre

Chapter 4: Departure

The streets of Canterlot were not so unpleasant to tread as Sandhya had feared. The rough stone provided a heretofore unexperienced texture to her soft, uncalloused feet. Her head turned constantly as she walked, absorbing every detail that revealed itself to her with an almost animalistic hunger. The sights and sounds of the city proper had become all but a distant memory to the wizard-in-training; anything she truly remembered from the world beyond the palace walls was little more than phantom sounds and smells, vague impressions from a time that she had willingly forgotten.

But as the three companions strolled through the streets and alleyways to the train station, those vague impressions became more defined and pictures floated through her vision to accompany the half-memories as they came. A bright red roof brought her back to a street corner, looking up at a door and waiting for someone, probably he brother, to reemerge. A sign advertising an Apple Family Pie Shoppe struck her with the feeling of cold stone against her back as she sat propped against a wall in an alley, her face and hands sticky with the remnants of a just-finished pastry, the bloody light of evening glaring through one end of the corridor and stinging her eyes.

Sandhya reveled in the broken pieces of her life before the palace gates had opened to her, feeling emptiness she hadn’t realized existed within her being filled as the recollections gathered in her mind. She glanced down a street toward a cul-de-sac, seeing that the tightly clustered houses therein where heavily decorated with floral arrangements and colorful banners, and a flutter of excitement built in her chest. She recognized the arrangements as a sign of a marriage-to-be, and could not help but wonder who the couple could be to make such a grandiose display.

All the while her companions exchanged polite banter, equally content to walk in silence where the air between them not so heavy and tense. After a while, the aimless pleasantries turned to consultations as to how to begin their task, but Sandhya noticed scarce little the two said.

“—Could take quite a while,” Flash mused, scratching his chin. “We don’t know much other than where they were last seen, and it’s been three days since that. We might should start searching places other than Trottingham—just skip it entirely. They got what they needed there and they probably wouldn’t hang around.”

“But we don’t know that for sure,” Pinkie countered, hands on her hips. “There might be more than one thing of interest in the Vaults that they’re after. If that’s the case, Trottingham is still our best bet to catch them before they’re mobile again.”

“The train ride takes two days,” Flash counter countered. “On top of the three that have passed that’s five. In five days they could be anywhere, even if there is something else they want from the Vaults. They could be breaking in and stealing it now, then be long gone by the time we show up.”

Pinkie crossed her arms as they rounded a bend, pausing to be sure their third member followed through her gleeful stupor. “They could,” she agreed with a sigh. “They might. I guess we won’t know ‘til Sandhya gets a good sense of the place.”

Sandhya perked up at hearing her name. “What?”

The pastry chef looked back at her with a wide grin and wave of the hand. “Nothing to worry about, Sandy, just making plans.”

Sandhya blinked, the statement catching her off-guard. She shifted awkwardly, suddenly feeling highly superfluous. “Oh . . .”

Flash glanced in her direction, his faint annoyance almost hidden. “You can chime with this anytime you want, you know.”

Sandhya sunk deeper into herself, heat rushing to her face. “Oh.”

“What do you think?” Pinkie asked with a curious smile, slowing to keep pace with the girl. “Should we go to Trottingham or stop somewhere else first? Maybe somewhere closer to the capitol?”

“Uh . . .” Sandhya’s eyes darted around the street, seeking some calming image to help her think. “I-I don’t know. All we know is that the Sta—“ A warning look from both her companions cut the name out of her mouth, making her shudder and shrink again. “I-I mean, we only know that they were in Trottingham, right? And they’re a small group, so they could probably hide out there for a while without being detected. The Arcana Division of the Royal Army still has no idea what they took, so tracing it would be next to impossible. Unless they’re more organized than we know, it doesn’t seem like they’re plan would be any more complex than get the thing and use it soon, so they may very well still be holed up in a nook or cranny in Trottingham planning out their next move.” She paused thoughtfully. “It would be a good idea, to hide in Trottingham. Everyone is looking for them, everyone expects them to be on their way to Canterlot, so staying put in a secluded place near the crime would be perfect for slipping under the radar. Nobody would think they’d be stupid enough to stick around. If they are receiving orders from the inside that would probably be the order to give. They have what they need, so the clock only matters to them so far as the time it takes to mobilize the full army on Trottingham to smoke them out, by which time they’d already have snuck their way here.”

The two older agents of the Crown stared at her, one surprised and the other elated, and Sandhya felt the color in her cheeks darken. “I mean, I think . . .” she added quietly.

“That’s using that renowned noodle of yours!” Pinkie cheered, throwing an arm around the embarrassed enchantress. “That settles it then: Trottingham it is! If they’re not there, we’ll work our way back.”

Flash simply shook his head for his moment, then faced forward and resumed ignoring his companions. “Like there’s two of him,” he muttered, almost too quietly for Sandhya to hear.

Within minutes the three travelers had reached the Grand Terminus of Canterlot and Pinkie had somehow negotiated their way through the swarming crowds to the ticket counter.

“Three for Trottingham!” she piped, slipping a sheet of paper under the teller’s window.

The ticket master flashed the woman a disinterested look before taking the folded paper and examining it. His eyes drifted over the page, his brow creasing a he read, then he quickly set the sheet aside and tore three tickets free of a roll beneath his desk, passing them under the glass without a word. Pinkie smiled cheerfully and took the tickets, then took her companions by the arms and began wading their way through the crowd once again.

“What did you give him?” Sandhya asked, trying to push the sensation of dozens of unknown bodies closing in around her.

“A voucher,” the baker answered simply.

“You had a voucher for train tickets?” Flash asked skeptically. “They pay you well in the kitchen, don’t they?”

“I didn’t buy it, silly, the princess gave it to me,” Pinkie laughed as they passed through a gate to the platforms. “Among other things to help us get along.”

Flash broke free of her grip once they were released from the bustling crowd. “She gave you all our special supplies?” he asked almost angrily.

“Uh, yeah,” Pinkie scoffed. “Who else would she give them to?”

“Me!” Flash growled. “I’m the soldier here! I have the training to properly manage our resources!”

“O-Or . . .”

Pinkie and Flash both looked to Sandhya, noticed the somewhat hurt expression that clouded her face, and felt their own degrees of guilt. Sandhya meanwhile pursed her lips and turned her gaze to the tracks between the two platforms, her thoughts muddled by the fact that her teacher had not entrusted her with any responsibilities beyond her role in tracking the object of their search.

“Well . . .” Pinkie started awkwardly, “I do have some degree of training, actually. As a student at Sunfire, not the uh . . .“ she trailed off, motioning to Flash to imply the military.

The soldier studied his accomplice with a skeptical eye. “Magick school?”

“Yeah, I studied some,” Pinkie shrugged. “Who in Canterlot hasn’t?”

“Uh, me,” Flash admitted, leering at something in the distance. “If you went to Sunfire why aren’t you some kind of Magiocrat? Making up pastries for the princess pay better than nobility?”

Sandhya perked up at the question; it was indeed an odd thing that someone who had attended Celestia’s own school hadn’t gone on to do something that made use of the skills it developed.

“Eh, I didn’t actually . . . graduate,” the baker hemmed, shifting on her feet. “The types of magick they teach didn’t really click with me, you know? I prefer the simple stuff—the things you don’t need to read too much about before you can do it.”

“What kind of magick is that?” Sandhya asked, surprisingly attentive.

Pinkie shrugged. “Faith magick, you could call it? I don’t know. I don’t think too hard about it; I just believe it will work and it does.”

Sandhya’s face crinkled with confusion and annoyance. “What? That doesn’t make sense, how could you not know anything about it? I saw you use it earlier on Flash.”

“My sentiments exactly,” Flash muttered, absentmindedly rubbing his chest. “It sure as hell felt like you knew what you were doing.”

“Oh, pfft, that wasn’t magick,” Pinkie snorted, “that was chi.”

Flash scowled with a lack of understanding while Sandhya blinked in surprise. “Chi? Like life force chi?”

Pinkie turned a broad smile to her learned friend. “The one and only.”

“You attacked him with your chi?” Sandhya pressed, obviously surprised.

Pinkie nodded. “Neat, right?”

“Hm. Neat,” Flash grumbled.

“How did you learn how to do that?” Sandhya asked, ignoring the soldier. “It takes years, doesn’t it?”

“My parents taught me,” Pinkie explained, her eyes flickering with a memory. “They’re monks of the Order.”

“Your parents are monks?” Flash asked before Sandhya could.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t monks have some kind of code against having se—“

“A vow of celibacy,” Sandhya interrupted, her face bright red. “Isn’t that a part of becoming a monk?”

Pinkie frowned, tapping her chin in thought. “Mm . . . nope. Must be a different Order.”

“Are you sure?” Sandhya pressed.

“Pretty sure,” Pinkie smirked. “I’m the youngest of four. I don’t think celibate would be a good way to describe my parents.”

Her companions exchanged a look, then sagely nodded without saying another word. Pinkie looked like she might say more, but a booming voice down the platform announced that the west-bound train would be arriving shortly. The three intrepid youths stuck to the wall as a calamitous screeching noise filled the air and the black, smoking engine of the train appeared within the terminus. Doors opened down its length and people of all sorts filed out with various types and amounts of luggage, all chattering with acquaintances met on the train or company they had boarded with as they made their way to the exits.

After the crowd died to a trickle of groggy and disoriented looking passengers, the conductor stepped off his car and exchanged words with a similarly dressed man before making his own way out of the station, his replacement stepping onto the great vehicle in his stead. Some carts filled with fresh supplies were traded for copies that were less equipped, and some of the changing staff ate unabashedly from the unused foodstuffs that would be discarded. The trio, and the scarce few other passengers-to-be around them, waited for the signal to board before stepping into one of the many cars and passing their tickets to a smartly dressed man at the door, who punched holes in them and handed them back.

Flash whistled as he made his way into the hallway of a car, echoing Sandhya’s inward impression of the ornate interior of the train. She had read several books on the engineering and design of trains, even—rather, especially—those that were no longer in use, but to see all the diagrams and formulas working together before her eyes was a different experience. Despite the early summer warmth the insides of the cabins were blissfully cool and the carpeting beneath her bare feet was hard packed and rough—a far cry from the plush, ever-soft carpets of the palace. A very faintly sour, but not unpleasant, aroma lingered in the air, and dim electrical lights hummed above their heads, illuminating the car even in the shade of the station.

A stewardess in a smart uniform stood by an open door to her left, motioning for the three travelers to enter as they approached. “Will this room be to your liking?” she asked as they stepped inside.

The “room” was little more than two benches sat facing each other with a few feet between, but the seats were finely cushioned and surprisingly clean. Sandhya felt a faint tingle of magick in the air as she entered and suspected it was from a hastily cast spell used to scrub the room after its previous occupants. She made no mention of the less-than-par quality of the magick she detected—partly because she thought it might be rude and partly because she found it difficult to talk to the stewardess.

“I guess it’s as good as any,” Flash sighed, stepping in and dropping his own pack of supplies in the corner by the window.

“It’s great,” Pinkie assured the stewardess. “Happy birthday, by the way.”

The stewardess seemed taken aback. “Oh. Oh, thank you.”

Pinkie beamed at her and began blowing into her hands, a balloon she’d acquired from gods knew where inflating into a long, thin shape. She tied it off quickly then, in a blur of movement, presented a tiny inflated dog to the woman. The stewardess blinked in shock, taking the offered gift out of reflex, then flinched as Pinkie flicked its tail and gave it a prominent poodle-like poof at the end.

“Oh my!” the stewardess laughed, “Thank you!”

The baker bowed and discreetly pulled Sandhya around her back and into the car. “My pleasure. Say, we wouldn’t have to share the room with anyone, would we?”

The stewardess blinked, surprised by the new direction of the conversation. “Uh, n-well, yes, if the other cars are filled.”

Pinkie kept her smile, but her eyes scrunched in a phony wince the insincerity of which was lost on the distracted stewardess. “D’ya think we could keep our room to ourselves? We’ve got some important business, stuff we can’t really have people interrupting.”

The stewardess shifted awkwardly. “I-I suppose I can direct overflow to other rooms first,” she offered.

The baker beamed and hugged the train worker, surprising her once again. “Thank you! Have a good birthday! Oh,” she stopped in the door, looking back, “that means from anyone, the no disturbing.”

The stewardess nodded, flustered but putting on a convincing calm act. “Y-Yes ma’am. Of course.”

Pinkie smiled at her, then slipped inside and sat opposite Flash by the window. “You know how to soundproof, Sandhya?” Sandhya nodded. “Good. We could use it.”

Sandhya hesitated before nodding again. She loosened the straps of her pack and turned to her left, letting it slide off her arms onto the bench beside Flash with a thump then gratefully rubbing her sore shoulders. She turned to the door and closed her eyes and extended her arms, hushed, ghostly words falling from her mouth in a dull monotone, and the door shimmered faintly for a moment as a magickal silence slid over the glass and wood.

The world jerked suddenly, throwing the young wizard onto the bench beside Pinkie and toppling her bag to the floor. The awful metal grating sound picked up outside the window as the train started to move, growing faint as it picked up speed. Sandhya righted herself in her seat and glowered at her bag as though to reprimand it for falling from the bench opposite her, then turned the sour look to Flash for not having caught it. The boy smirked at her pouty look and turned his attention to the window, leaving Sandhya to pick up the bag herself. Pinkie reached it first, though, and quickly set it up on a rack and tied it in place. Once done she sat back in her seat, smiling her regular, cheery smile at her benchmate and erasing the annoyance from her mind.

The train squealed on, carrying the trio out of the Grand Terminus and along the mountainside edge of the city like a loose vertebra sliding down the back of an enormous, hunchbacked creature. The sun, bright and low, hovered outside their window as the tram broke free of the mountain’s shadow and passed over a long bridge before slipping through a gate at the city’s outer wall. Sandhya saw it as little more than a blur that briefly blocked the sun before her stunning view of the mountains returned. And then, like the veil of night had fallen without warning, the world went dark as the train entered a tunnel through the mountains. Sandhya fidgeted at the thought of being underground, a myriad of possibilities for disaster flooding her mind, but a gentle touch and warm smile from her new friend put her mind at ease.

Sandhya would wonder at what point she had come to think of the baker so, but not for some time. Now there was only one thing to think about, and worried her how to broach the subject.

“So, Pinkie,” she started, after several minutes of quiet. “You, uh . . . you cook.”

The chef’s eyes light up at the question. “I do indeed. Learned it all from my granny. Or the baking, at least; I learned everything else from the other palace chefs.”

Sandhya nodded as she catalogued the information. “Uh, this may be a silly question but did you bring anything to cook with? Or, well,” she stuttered as the baker regarded her with an odd look. “I mean . . . I could really use some tea right now,” she confessed, smiling awkwardly, “But I actually . . . didn’t pack anything to make it with, I just realized.”

Pinkie stared at her for a moment, an amused look filling her face, before she rolled her eyes and began picking through her pack. She pulled an oddly patterned, multi-colored bag out and set it next to her on the bench, then opened it and reached inside. From within she pulled out a thin metal rod, longer than the bag was deep, and immediately her companions were entranced. She pulled out two more such rods and set them on the floor between the benches to make a triangular metal pyramid, then latched a three-armed chain into a ring under its top. She spread the bag open wide and pulled out a shallow metal bowl with three rings to hook onto the metal chain and suspend it beneath the trifold, then reached in again and withdrew a handful of wood and charcoal. She placed them in the bowl, then reached again and produced a grate that lay snuggly across the bowl’s top and curled over it to fit securely. All this done she extracted an iron kettle and set it over the grate, then whispered a few words and waved her hands over the teapot.

The kettle, which Sandhya and Flash were both sure was empty when it had appeared, bubbled over, water trickling out of its spout and around its cap. Pinkie stopped her spell, pouring a little of the water into the bowl beneath, then set it back. She then repeated the whispers and waving, but this time roaring fire burst to life in the dry wood and flammable coals, then settled into a small, tame flame. Pinkie then reached into the bag one more time, drawing out an exquisite tea cup and saucer, and handed them both to Sandhya, then closed it and returned to rummaging through her pack.

“The princess,” she grunted, pulling something out from under something else, “said you prefer maharaja mate with honey, but I remember you like jasmine oolong too. Also white Zebrican tea, Peach blossom herbal tea with rock sugar, and matcha.”

She pulled a box out of her pack and set it on her lap, opening it to display its contents to Sandhya. Inside were a number of neatly organized compartments full to the brim with bags, smaller boxes, vials, and instruments to handle them all; each compartment was desiccated to a different type of tea or condiment for tea and the entire package wafted a mixture of pleasant smells that made Sandhya’s throat suddenly feel incredibly dry. She stared at in awe for several seconds before she remembered herself and felt a bright grin spread across her face. She looked up at Pinkie, who smiled back proudly and waved a hand over the contents of the box.

“Take your pick.”

After the water for tea was exhausted Pinkie had pulled a number of other utensils and cookware from her enchanted bag and used them and the three-legged fire pit to cook up what could only be called a feast. Chicken and pork was grilled and covered in rich sauces, vegetables were steamed and sautéed to accompany, and a thick, creamy soup was boiled over the modest cooktop. Each dish was met with surprise and joy as the three aimlessly chatted while Pinkie worked. The cookware was scraped clean at each piece of the meal, leaving little mess to be dealt with by the enthusiastic chef, and by the time the full arrangement had been made and set upon a table (which had replaced the cooking surface at some point without Flash or Sandhya’s notice) it was nothing short of breathtaking.

The food tasted almost better than it looked. Pinkie’s station, her companions realized, was well earned. They ate hungrily, sparing scarce little time to converse as forks and knives, having appeared equally surprisingly, moved quickly from table to plate to mouth. Sandhya and Pinkie both sipped at tea between bites of their food, Flash meanwhile drinking some of Pinkie’s conjured, and pleasantly cool, water. The three ate quickly and happily, surprised by how hungry they had become in the presence of such enticing food, and the meal ended all too quickly for them all. Pinkie made a show of licking her plate clean, earning looks of disgust from both others that quickly became giggling at the sight of her sauce-covered face.

Piece by piece the instruments of the meal disappeared into Pinkie’s bag, the table collapsing into a much thinner shape before following suit. In little more than a minute the room was once again stark and empty, but the atmosphere was much improved. Flash’s face bore an unwavering grin as he stared out the window, arms and legs both crossed. Pinkie folded her legs and settled herself in the corner, her breathing slow and eyes closed as she slipped into meditation. Sandhya simply sat and thought, her spirits high despite the uneasiness she felt when the realization that she had left Canterlot, indeed even the whole of the Canterhorn Mountains, for the very first time in her life. She looked to her travel mates—to her friends—and smiled as she studied them.

Flash caught her stare in the reflection of the window and looked her way, making the enchantress quickly turn her eyes to the floor. He looked her over, his thumb absently stroking his sleeve, then turned his attention back to the darkened window, his grin growing wider by an unnoticed margin. Sandhya sighed quietly and spared him another glance, then turned her back to the wall and stretched out on the bench, careful to avoid disturbing the woman at the other side. She nestled down into the velvety cushion, resting her cheek on her folded hands, and closed her eyes.

As she lay waiting for sleep, she heard Flash rise from his seat and step over to the entryway, where he flipped a switch and turned out the lights of their cabin. Sandhya stirred, giving him pause before he quietly made his way back to his post. Sandhya smiled, opening her eyes and looking blindly in his direction, then adjusted herself until comfortable and allowed sleep to find her.