With Good Intentions

by Hustlin Tom

Chapter 11

Trixie walked down the hallway to the arena hall, a smile on her face. Today was the day; the one winter’s day that all ponies across Equestria cherished above any other. “Hearth’s Warming Eve,” she announced aloud to herself, and her smile grew all the wider. Even though the coming months would be dreary and wet with thick snow and blinding blizzards, this was the day that the nation’s foundation was celebrated, and though Trixie didn’t have anything in the way of material gifts that she could share with the likes of Bunsen Burner, she was certain she could perform a winter themed light show like he had never seen, now that her knowledge of magic was greater than ever. As she approached the end of the hallway she saw through the window that large, fluffy snowflakes were gliding through the air, pressing against the glass panes, and falling to the ground. The local weather team had obviously done their best to make the climate picture perfect for today; they clearly deserved their day off!

Trixie turned into the hall’s doorway and exclaimed loudly, “Happy Hearth’s Warming-“ When she saw that nopony else was in the hall, her greeting trailed off with a deflated, “Eve.” The curtains were left drawn from yesterday, letting in the white light reflecting off the fresh snow pack. The showmare scanned the room, looking for anything just as equally unusual as the absence of her instructor. When her eyes fell on the mantelpiece she found her answer: devoid of any festive tinsel, the only things there were the usual two large wax candles, the gaslight, and a folded letter. She quickly trotted over, bringing the letter closer to her as she did with a small pocket of her magic. She flipped the bi-folded letter open, and saw beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was written in the old stallion’s precise block letter writing.

“Have gone to visit with family. Will be back in a few hours,” she murmured to herself.

Trixie frowned as she thought about the message. This mansion was Bunsen Burner’s ancestral home: he told her that direct bloodline and even cousins had lived here in the past. It was possible that he was visiting some form of distant relation she reasoned, but her first guess was that it his estranged wife, Lily Cloverhoof. She involuntarily leaned her head back and silently let out a long, "Ooooooh."

“It would be hard to explain to your ex-wife the mare more than half your age living in your house wouldn’t it,” she said as she put the letter back down.

It then dawned upon Trixie that she had never actually seen a photograph of Lily before. Bunsen had certainly described her basic details, but a picture is worth a thousand words, she reasoned. Having given herself a task, she set out to the place she was certain to find the object she desired; Bunsen’s study. As she idly walked up to the door she reached out with her telekinesis to the handle. She was surprised to find there was resistance to her movement: he’d actually locked the door. Even three weeks ago this would have been the end of her quest, but now things were a little different.

“A locked door,” she dramatically asked to a nonexistent audience, then she scoffed, “As if such a feeble obstacle could stopped the Gr-r-reat and Powerful Tr-r-rixie!”

She reared onto her back legs, waved her forehooves slowly, and lit her horn up. Probing the mechanisms of the lock with a thin field of magic, she slid each of the driver pins into its opened position, tugged on the handle once more, and gently shoved it open. The showmare could practically hear the ominous gong that should have followed such a feat, and she brought her right forehoof up to shield her face in a mysterious fashion. She chuckled to herself a little, and then entered into the office space.

The curtains were left open in this room; the books, chair, and country map were all still in their normal places. As she sauntered around the room she noticed a picture frame lying face down on the desk. Perplexed, she drew closer, certain that she had never seen this particular photograph before. She brought it closer, turning it over as she did.

Within the frame were five ponies. Bunsen Burner was recognizable, though he had a much longer, browner mane. The mare next to him was obviously Lily: crème coat, auburn mane, water can pouring down next to a flower Cutie Mark. She was a bit rounder than she was expecting, but she knew that happened to ponies as they got older. The powder blue unicorn with a window pane like Cutie Mark with arrangements of patterned triangles and circles was Punnett Square, and the mare next to him was obviously his wife Bolera. Between the two of them was a small filly. Her coat was pink, the wings at her side were as well, apart from the tips of her feathers which were tinged purple. From the looks of it the poor child was barely able to stand, and as Trixie looked further she realized that the way Punnett and Bolera had their legs placed made it seem like they knew the child could collapse any moment, and were gently bracing her by her sides. In spite of the filly’s obvious stress, she wore a sterling smile across her face, and her eyes danced with joy. In the background Trixie now saw that the five of them were standing on one of Canterlot’s famed skydocks, and from the look of the medium sized airship in the background the photo was taken just before departure. In the bottom right corner she saw a brief description, this time in more flowing, elaborate script ‘To the East! -978’.

Of all things she expected to be perplexed by in this picture, Trixie was most surprised by the filly. Her coat color, the eyes, and especially the tips of her wings! They were all alarmingly similar to…

Then Trixie remembered. It had been buried for so many weeks under other pressing things, like her training and shift in emotional state, but one factoid came back to her in an instant. “No,” she quietly murmured to herself in surprise and disbelief. She then whirled around to look through the windows of the study. As she looked out in bewilderment to the town below she noticed once again something out of place. Leading off into the east, towards the northern end of town, were a set of hoofprints, made especially evident by the wetness of the snow packed beneath them. They originated from the house. Undoubtedly they were the old stallion’s! The direction they seemed to be leading though was beyond the outskirts of town. Then she noticed something else: the snowfall had picked up. With the weather team off for the day nature was being allowed to take its course, which meant that the mountain was already in the act of brewing up a snowstorm that nopony should be out in.

Initially she paused, thinking that perhaps he would be alright on his own. He knew the area better than her, and he had decided to go out into the snow all the same. Even so, her curiosity got the best of her, and she had to admit she wanted to be certain he was alright for herself. Placing the picture frame exactly as she had found it, she galloped out of the room, closing the door behind her. As she approached the front of the mansion, she stopped by one of the less frequented rooms, where she grabbed a white dust shroud. She hesitated for a moment as she thought about what she meant to do with the fabric, but then she unconsciously exuded a smile. With a flash of her magenta light the shroud gently sheared and contorted, cross stitching itself together around her. When her horn’s light faded she stood in a white replica of her old stage cape and hat which she hoped would help shield her from the snow and wind somewhat. Delaying no further, she ran to the front door, swung it wide open and stepped through, disappearing into the white.

YOL 978

“Eventually, the mare’s many deeds reached the ears of the Prince, and he sought an audience with her. When they met, they fell in love, as if at first sight. In due time the two were married, and the Princess was able to do even more compassionate acts than before. The two became beacons for others to follow, and they, as well as the world, lived happily ever after.”

Little Cadence nuzzled further under her sheets as gently as she could, “That was a good story, Daddy.”

Punnett smiled warmly at his daughter as he scooted closer to her from the foot of her bed, “It was, wasn’t it?”

“What does it mean though? Mommy says every story has a meaning.”

Punnett waved his hoof gently at her and smiled even deeper, “That’s because Mommy’s a very smart mare, and she studies stories all the time!” The unicorn repositioned himself as he thought about what he wanted to say first, allowing his mouth to unintentionally fall open a bit as he thought, “I think what the story is trying to say is that when a pony is able to help others, their actions and character will make them look good to others. Eventually they will be noticed by somepony, and perhaps it will help them to be able to help even more ponies than before.”

“So helping others helps them help me help even more ponies,” she exclaimed, struggling a little to speak the jumble of words out loud.

“You got it, sweetie,” he replied before grinning and nodding, “That’s a lot of helping, isn’t it?”

Cadence laughed a little, “A big helping of helping!”

“Right,” Punnett half laughed half exclaimed. He then gently kissed her on the forehead, before hugging her, being gentle about how much pressure he used.

“Love you, Daddy,” she said cheerfully.

“As do I, Mi Amore,” he replied softly, and then let her lie back.

“Hey Daddy?”

“Hm? What is it?”

“Someday I want to be a Princess,” she declared firmly, “So I can help other ponies like the mare in the story did!”

Punnett got up from her bed and began to walk towards her door, “Well, we’ve already got Princess Celestia, and you are already helping light up Mommy and Daddy’s lives’ every day! If she needs a break, though, I’m sure she’d be happy to let somepony with a good heart like yours help out.”

They softly exchanged good nights, and then he closed the door to her room. He paused there for a moment before letting out a small sigh. As he slowly walked further down the hallway, Punnett Square seemed to shrink. After walking a mere ten feet he looked as if he had aged twenty years. He made his way to the dining room, where Bolera was waiting, as was Bunsen Burner.

“Did everything go alright?” his wife asked, her concern bringing out her Mustangian accent more than usual.

“You’re grooming our daughter well,” Punnett said with a sigh and a small smile as he sat down at the table, “Pretty soon we’ll have to offer a 3,000 word literary analysis with each bedtime story!”

“Did you make certain to give her her painkillers and other-“

He nodded, “Yes dear; she’s been properly medicated for the night. I know I don’t do this as often as you, but I can measure out pills well enough to manage.”

Satisfied with his answers she slowly nodded before she let her head sit on top of her folded hooves on the table, “Bene.”

Punnett nodded and scooted closer to her, placing his right forehoof around her. He then looked at Bunsen Burner, who was intently studying a portfolio his friend had put together for him. It was full of data on blood samples, bonemarrow, white blood cell count, prognoses, and treatments, all of which had failed: two long years of trial and failure.

“Well, what do you think,” the unicorn quietly asked.

Bunsen sighed, “You know I’m no physician. Are you sure there’s nothing left that can be tried from modern medicine?”

Punnett nodded, “Every doctor we’ve gone to has offered one crackpot idea after another. First it was vitamins and sunlight, then it was bloodletting. When the last one suggested arsenic I realized that they knew as little as we did, and were just tossing ideas out like darts, hoping one would stick. If they don’t have the means of beating this malignancy, Cadence’s only hope lies with magic.”

Bunsen looked back down at the data in front of him. Two years of medicinal and magical research had already been expended to try and study this disease, this ‘leukemia’, and nothing promising had come from that either; there just weren’t enough ponies with the disease so that it could be studied.

Bolera had quietly fallen asleep in Punnett Square’s hooves, while he waited expectantly for a response from his friend.

The earth pony quietly laid the portfolio down. He took his glasses off and laid them aside, rubbing his face with his hooves anxiously. Bringing his hooves down to rest on the table, he looked to his best friend, “Punnett, I know that magic is an incredible force: we both know that. You’ve been looking at this for years, and you’ve found nothing! What can we do? There is nothing in Equestria that can help Cadence.”

Punnett nodded slowly, and hugged Bolera a little tighter, causing her to murmur in her sleep, and her wings to twitch. “You’re right,” he replied softly, “There’s nothing in Equestria that can help her…but there might be something in other lands.”

Bunsen’s gazed had drifted away until he heard this. He slowly looked back to his friend, “What?”

“Magic isn’t just a unicorn’s right by birth; other species can do it in their own way too! In the East, there are legends of Zebharan shamans who can do magic through the earth itself, and talk to spirits. There are stories of their kind healing miraculously, and even coming back from the dead!”

Bunsen Burner sighed to himself: never in documented history had there been a magical resurrection, but then he corrected himself: never in Equestrian history. “How long?”

Punnett gazed at him intently, waiting for him to clarify himself.

“How long do you think we will be gone?”

“Six months,” he declared, “but I’ll take as long as I need to find a cure. I can’t ask any more than that of you, not with your foal on the way.”

Bunsen nodded softly, before slowly letting out a breath through his nose. “I’ll need some time to discuss this with Lily,” he finally declared before he stood from his chair. “I’ll let you know as soon as I am able.”

“Of course,” Punnett said as he gently removed his forelegs from around his wife and stood up, “Just please let me know soon. I have passage on an airship bought and ready to leave in a fortnight. Let me know by the end of the week?”

“I will,” the earth pony placed his left hoof on the unicorn’s shoulder, “You’ve always been the best friend I could ask for. Now I’ll do everything I can to pay that back to you.”

---

The morning sun gleamed off the lake below as the five ponies made their way up to their designated skydock. Cadence’s eyes were wide in amazement as she looked down at the valley below Canterlot. Its verdant beauty was unmatched.

“It’s so beautiful,” she said breathlessly as she looked down through the railing securing the stairs.

“It really is a magnificent sight,” Bolera agreed with a smile, “Perhaps one day when you are strong you can see it from the clouds, not from here on the ground.”

As they approached the dock, Lily leaned toward Bunsen, “Write to me as much as you can. Remember to make time to be back here for me: I’ll be due in December.”

Bunsen smiled warmly to her and nuzzled her gently, “I could never forget, dear. I will be back for the both of you.”

“Be sure to be a good girl while I’m away,” Punnett declared as he looked to his daughter, “I know it shouldn’t be too hard for you.”

As they approached the airship’s docking ramp, the captain of the ship, a deep brown colored pegasus with a small pipe approached to greet them with his gravelly voice, “Mr. Square, Mr. Burner, we are ready to receive you, and we should be able to leave within fifteen minutes time. Is there anything you might need in the meantime?”

“Yes,” Lily exclaimed as she unhooked a small camera and flash from her back, “Captain Rainbuster? Is there any chance you could take a photograph for us? While they’re gone we’d like something to remember our husbands by.”

Bolera chimed in as well, “Yes, if you please?”

The Captain tipped his hat, and took the device from the earth pony mare, “It would be my pleasure, Mrs. Burner.”

After they had gotten into their positions and offered their best smiles, the camera flashed. When they had made their final goodbyes, the two stallions followed the Captain up the ramp.

“Be well, Mio Marito,” Bolera called out.

“Goodbye, Daddy,” Cadence yelled from atop her mother’s back, and then coughed a little afterwards as she attempted to catch her breath.

“Have a good voyage,” Lily finished, “and come back safely!”

The two stallions waved as they continued up the ramp. A few minutes afterward the engines onboard the airship came to life, and propelled the craft slowly forward, away from the dock and from Canterlot.

Their voyage took them at first to the southwest, where they made a stop at the great Minotaur city of Labyrinth. After stocking up on supplies and fuel, they flew up the coastline. Once they found the safest jumping off point, Captain Rainbuster turned his compass East, and took the lot of his crew and passengers into the Furia Ocean. This particular ocean is near impassable, regardless of season, because of the many treacherous and deadly storms that pervade its waters. The only way to pass through is by following the Marianan Melody, a song created by the last sea pony Queen to protect travelers above her realm from the storms. By following its song the airship made it safely into Zebharan country, where the sands are fine and red, and the sun beams down with angry rays.

The largest settlement of Zebharans was in the mountains to the far East of where Bunsen and Punnett exited the Furia. Finally, after a month’s journey across lands and seas unknown to them, they arrived in the small city of Qua-Ach-A. It took them a few days to find anypony in the community who knew the ancient shamanic practices Punnett sought, but they eventually did.

The two stallions stepped indoors, out of the blazing sun’s reach. They were escorted into a small hut made of thatched reeds by two servants to the mystic. The zebras drew a line in the sand with a long wooden rod they each carried with them, before they gestured for the outsiders to sit. Silently Bunsen and Punnett took their places, setting their haunches on the ground behind their lines. The two servants then walked to a separate section of the hut to retrieve their mistress. Tribal masks and other mysterious ornamentation surrounded them, as well as clay and glass jars. Whatever were their contents was only the shaman’s right to know.

The two zebra servants returned to their presence, carrying between them a stretcher made from hoofwoven fabric and reeds; on it lay the Shaman of the Zebhara. It was charitable to describe her as old, more accurate to outright call her ancient. Her mane was pure white, held back in a tight bun. Her joints seemed almost ready to pop through her skin; what little muscle she had left was wire-thin and stringy. Surrounding her was a cloak made of deep blue fabric, to shield her from stray sand and to warm her tired, cold body. Once she was set down before the two travelers, her deep brown eyes scanned over them, aware but dull, as if she were in some sort of trance.

Finally she spoke in a wheeze, “Strange foreigners from lands far away, how is it I may help you today?”

Punnett adjusted his posture and his wide brimmed hat slightly before speaking, “Great Shaman, we have come seeking your healing knowledge. My daughter is dying; a disease is eating her bones from the inside. My country’s science has failed her.” He paused, and his head sunk a little lower, “My magic has failed her. I’ve heard the stories of your ancestors’ amazing power. Is there anything that can be done?”

“Hmmmm,” the Shaman stroked her chin as she thought, “Daughter’s plight on your mind does gnaw, but from neither the earth nor djinn can power I draw.”

“What does that mean,” Punnett asked, “What are djinn?”

“Patience, traveler,” the Shaman feebly brought a hoof up, “Let your worry unwind, and I will see about enlightening your mind.”

She gestured to one of her servants, who brought a small jar close, pouring its contents at her hooves. Something like green sand poured down, and when she blew into it, a green cloud appeared above them, its substances creating images for them to see, but more lifelike than any painting or photograph either of the stallions had witnessed. Something like energy swam around a replica zebra, but it seemed to have a mind all its own.

“Creatures made of fireless smoke did my foremothers and fathers invoke,” the Shaman croaked, “Beings lighter than air and just as thin, these represent nature, they are the djinn.”

“So these beings are spirits of some kind,” Bunsen asked as he stared up at the moving pictures above them, watching as the ball of wisps and energy circled the zebra.

“No, not ghosts,” she corrected, “Beings of only energy, bodies do they now scorn. Through them shamans gained harmony, and so our magic was born.”

The conjured zebra image changed: now it stood atop a pole, balancing perfectly on one hoof, while djinn circled around it in a gentle oscillating pattern of up and down. Up and down.

“They taught us much, even how to conquer death: by harmonizing with them, and joining breath.”

The djinn slowly drew closer, until they circled the zebra’s head. Then it opened its mouth, and the djinn were swallowed down its throat. Twin points of light now represented the zebra’s eyes.

“That past, though, is long behind,” the Shaman declared, and the scene changed once more. Djinn were now chasing zebras across the air, striking out at them with streams of fire, bolts of lightning, and cutting hail, “The reason for their displeasure: to this we are blind.” The enchantment ended, and the dust scattered into the wind outside the hut.

Bunsen looked to his friend, whose head hung even lower than before. “Is there nothing that can be done,” he asked, “My friend’s daughter’s life is at stake! Is there some way we could placate these djinn?”

“To cross a djinn’s path is done at great cost,” the Shaman declared, “but I did not say all hope was lost.” Both the stallion’s ears perked up at this, and they listened attentively. “In Saddle Arabia, in the lands to the West, I think you might find the answer best. When I was a little filly I journeyed there, and within that country’s royal court you’ll find a mare.”

“Who, which mare,” Punnett asked eagerly, desperately.

“She is like you; one with a horn, her coat amber and mane like fire. I am one hundred twenty-two, and she has not yet expired.” The Shaman chuckled, “I am old bones and bag: though she is older, I am the hag!”

Punnett looked to Bunsen, and the earth pony nodded. Punnett and Bunsen excused themselves with a thank you and courtesies, and as they left the old Zebra mare’s hut Bunsen was struck by something. “What? What’s wrong,” Punnett asked as he saw the new look in his friend’s eyes. “The mare she described, I think I know of her,” Bunsen said as he sprung to action, and they both galloped towards the airship as he explained, “She’s Saddle Arabia’s Grand Magus, or their equivalent at least: the Archsorceress of Baghdad.”

---

“It’s true, I am older than I look,” the Archsorceress declared as the three of them walked along a plastered hallway, illuminated by the sun outside through small openings near the ceiling and decorated with floral patterns, “but I am not nearly as old as this desert witch might believe me to be. My family has served the Sultan’s for well over three hundred years, and we have had many act as magical council to them. I have been told though that my resemblance to my great-grandmother is uncanny.”

Once again Punnett Square’s hope almost faltered, but he pressed on, “The Shaman also mentioned something about the djinn.”

“Ah yes, the djinn,” she said with a deprecating laugh as she drew a strand of stubborn grey and red hair out of the way of her cyan eyes, her exquisite robe of orange and plum colors billowing behind her, “I was wondering when they would come up. Whatever they may have told you; whether they grant wishes, or are the remnants of the Upright Ones, it’s all a lie. While they may have had something to do with Zebharan magic in the past, they are the East’s present menace. The great city of Baghdad is under constant threat from their chaos, and it has fallen to me to study how to capture them and lock them away forever.” She then looked at Bunsen and then Punnett with curiosity, “I’m surprised that you’ve come this far and searched so desperately, considering that the greatest healer in the world is within your borders.”

Both of the stallions look at her in bewilderment.

“Come again,” Bunsen asked, before Punnett quickly followed up with, “What do you mean?”

“Your Princess of course,” the Archsorceress said matter-of-factly, before she registered the greater confusion she seemed to be sowing, “Didn’t you know? We’ve heard of the great deeds she performed in the past both recent and long ago.”

Bunsen was especially perplexed, and blurted out, “What deeds? I studied under her, and I don’t remember her talking about any healings.”

The Archsorceress now looked at him in surprise, and the three of them stopped walking altogether, “You are one of the Children of the Sun? How could she not tell you of her healing of the Griffonian Knight, Sir Gawain, the founder of the southernmost states of the Griffon Confederacy?”

She paused to turn and look Punnett Square straight in the eye, “She changed the world by healing just one being.”

“That story is just a fable,” Bunsen replied, “One of the five used to establish the allegory of the Elements of Harmony: Generosity, Kindness, Honesty, Loyalty, and Laughter.”

Punnett looked at him in disbelief, “After the things you’ve seen, you still think that there’s nothing to Equestria’s legends?”

“I didn’t say it was all a lie,” Bunsen fired back, “I just don’t know if it’s all true.”

“Well I can’t afford your skepticism,” the unicorn stallion replied as he angrily ran off down the causeway back to the airship, “I have to believe. I have to save my daughter!”

“Punnett, wait,” Bunsen called out as he galloped after him, leaving the Archsorceress by herself.

Despite what others may have expected had they seen the turn of events, she was not offended or unnerved by her abandonment, but very pleased. Continuing down to the end of the causeway, she walked to a oval shaped balcony, which had an expansive view of the desert to the West. She watched as the Equestrian airship departed, and a sinister smile was on her face. As the late afternoon turned into sunset, shimmering across the sands below, the Archsorceress thought to herself, Now there’s another student of yours that will see you for who you are Celestia. May he crown your head with sorrow and anguish for what you’ve become over these long, long centuries, and let this act as my first step in the vengeance I will lay on you.

Comments

[Emperor]

An interesting piece of worldbuilding, and I clued in to who the filly in the picture was as soon as Trixie observed the colour scheme. The bit at the end makes me wonder just how old the Archsorceress really is. I notice you don't really delve into what Cadance's symptoms of leukemia are asides from general weakness, though I can't say with certainty whether the normal signs are the same for equines as they are for humans.

[Hustlin Tom]

6339527
I'm glad you liked it! Since Saddle Arabia hasn't really been touched apart from a few referential segments after its introduction, it was fun to begin constructing a whole new world. The Archsorceress is much more than she seems, and she is very old. Though it's more obvious with how I presented Cadence's identity, I think I put in enough details that you and others can deduce who our mystery pony truly is. It's a pony you might have seen before, just in a different place and time. Try taking another glance over her physical description and words, as well as the color of clothes she wears.

I have to admit, when it came to Cadence and her sickness I was lazy and just used human symptoms for Acute Myeloid Leukemia. Given the constraints I created early on in my version of Equestria, ponies are extremely resistant to radiation, so radioactive exposure or treatment would be ineffective even if it were already discovered. Because of this, Leukemia is even rarer in ponies than it is in humans, and with the understanding of the disease being as young as it is, chemotherapy is not an option either. In our world arsenic was and still is used to treat it, but we saw how far that solution got with Punnett Square. Symptoms of untreated Leukemia can include anemia, ease of bruising, physical weakness, shortness of breath, and severe pain concentrated in the bowels and stomach. Taking care of a child given these conditions requires being incredibly gentle, mindful of sharp edges and hard falls, and always moderating how much physical activity they do.