I
Volume 1
I
“It’s only the beginning now,
...a pathway yet unknown,
At times, the sounds of other steps,
...sometimes we walk alone.”
-Gertrude B. McClain, New Beginnings
Darkness.
He needed to get his bearings, but he just couldn’t see anything. His hooves scrabbled against the ice. Searching. Moving over the floor. He tried to drag himself across the ground. If he tried to stand, he might step on it.
Where is it? It should be here, where is it?!
Cold.
He was shivering. He’d lost his jacket. His wings were covered in frost. He could barely feel his hooves anymore. There was a terrible numbness in his forelegs.
Move. Keep moving. Never stop moving. Stop, and you freeze.
Pain.
His back ached from the fall. His hooves burned and stung with the cold. His face was dribbling blood. Wiping it away, he tried to catch his breath.
Don’t panic don’t panic don’t panic don’t--
His foreleg brushed against something warm and metallic. He breathed a sigh of relief. The lamp was still here.
Running his hooves over it, he found the handle. He lifted it, and felt across its sides and bottom. A slim smile spread across his face as he found the smooth glass unbroken. He shook it gently. A soft sloshing told him it was still full of oil.
He heaved an easy breath as his fear slowly faded. He was fine. He was going to be fine. He would not die in this cave.
Sitting up, he reached back and slipped his pack off of his shoulders. Roads rested the oil lamp on the ground, set the saddlebags beside it, and dug into them. He felt around inside it until finally his hooves found a small wooden box. Matches. Thank Celestia.
After sliding the thin wooden cover off the box, he drew a match and struck it. Hefting the lamp, he lit the wick and tossed the match aside. Squinting as his eyes adjusted to the light, he got to his hooves, picked up his jacket, and looked around.
He was standing in a narrow, icy crevasse, stretching far past the edges of the lamplight to his right and left. Just before him was a steep, jagged wall. Too steep to climb. Glancing upwards, Roads caught sight of the ledge he had fallen from. It was twenty feet up.
As he put on his jacket, he shook his head, giving a grim whistle. It was a lucky thing he was a pegasus. An earth pony would’ve broken something. Then again, an earth pony probably wouldn’t have found this cave in the first place. And if he were a unicorn he wouldn’t even have to live in this damned forest. He could be sitting by a fire in Canterlot right now...
Roads felt a twinge of bitterness rise in his stomach. He gritted his teeth and tried to tell himself it didn’t matter. Living in the Everfree Forest had taught him more about magic than most unicorns learned in their entire lives.
And besides, he thought, unfurling his wings, can a unicorn do this?
With a leap, he launched himself into the air, feeling himself grow nearly weightless as he stretched his massive wings to their full span. He flapped once, twice, then grabbed the ledge above him, and pulled himself over. Tucking his wings against his back, he flopped over onto the ground. He rolled over and pushed himself to his hooves, feeling the odd shifts in his balance as his body regained its natural weight. Princesses, how he hated that feeling.
Then again, he didn’t really like flying all that much to begin with. It was too much like exercise, and if there was one thing Roads hated, it was exercise. No, if he was going to strain himself, he would rather the effort be mental. And inside. Preferably in a library somewhere, with good books and a warm hearth. None of this ‘tramping around in underground caves’ nonsense.
But then, he thought as he hefted his lantern a bit higher and continued deeper into the cave, work is work.
And it was better than nothing. His job had its downsides--long hours, miserable conditions, isolated living--although it was better than weather patrol. Or, Celestia forbid, factory work in Cloudsdale. He really should have been more thankful. At least out here he got to study magic, to write, to research...
Not, he reminded himself, that anyone respects my research.
It was true. His theories had been met with near-universal rejection almost as soon as he had published them. The academics in Canterlot had requested he give up research.
Stuffy old bastards.
But he could always prove them wrong with the next book. He had more data this time. Or, he would, anyway. Especially if this cave panned out.
It would. Of course it would. The prickling along his back and legs was practically nauseating. There had to be something here. A font, at least. Maybe even a nexus.
It’s certainly cold enough, he thought, glancing around as he walked.
The whole passage was slick with ice. Here and there, icicles hung from the ceiling, casting ephemeral shadows in the flickering light of his lamp. From somewhere behind him, the steady dripping of water from the walls echoed through the chamber. The sounds mingled with the heavy clacking of his hoofsteps as he wobbled across the slippery floor.
He was heading deeper into the earth, and it was getting colder as he went. Roads was shivering now--though that might have been apprehension. If there was something here, the trip would actually be worth it.
The descent grew steeper, the air even colder, the passage narrower. Roads gripped the walls to steady himself as he tried desperately not to fall again. He didn’t want to tumble into another crevasse. He might not make it out again.
Before long, he reached a small ledge which overlooked a wider tunnel. He paused, listening. A deep droning had filled the air around him, faint but resonant. Curious. The fonts he had seen before didn’t give off sound...
Spreading his wings, he glided down onto the other path, and peered down it in each direction. To his left, it grew wider and steeper, and he could just make out hints of light glinting off the ice. Checking the oil in his lantern--plenty left, nothing to worry about--he teetered off into the tunnel.
Within moments, the ground leveled, and the walls widened as he came to a sprawling antechamber. Roads let out a low gasp as he entered the frozen rotunda. The walls here gleamed with an unearthly blue light, the ice sparkling bright as day. Intricate patterns of frosted stalactites lined the ceiling, quivering with the baritone hum that echoed through the room, now loud enough that he could feel the sound in his chest. In the center of the room, hovering just above the ground a massive blue orb was shaking with the force of the din.
A nexus...
Roads was awestruck. He had only seen fonts before, nothing with this kind of strength. The surface of the orb shifted and rippled with power, and the backs of Roads’ legs and head throbbed in resonance. He stared into it, transfixed.
Finally, he thought. Finally...
His reveries were interrupted as the nexus flickered, letting forth a burst of cold. Shivering, Roads set to work. Sitting, he unshouldered his pack, and pulled from it a lengthy copper contraption, covered in gleaming tubes, wires, and gauges. Smiling, he held it up, admiring the way it caught the light. An arcanometer. His very own, built from scratch, using his own schematics and everything.
Flipping open a tube on its underside, he jammed a rolled up length of parchment into it, set down his lamp, and crept carefully towards the nexus. With each step, the air got a touch colder, and his breath, a touch faster. It was imperative that he didn’t get too close. He didn’t want to lose a hoof...
Finally, he stopped, as close as he could get without risking his limbs. As gently as he could, he tossed the arcanometer into the nexus. It rolled directly under the orb, then sat, motionless and quiet. Roads’ brow furrowed. This couldn’t be right, the arcanometer had worked on all of the other--
A loud bang. A blast of force. Roads was sent flying backwards.
He landed on his wings with a muffled thump, and when he looked up again, the orb was shifting, coiling into a loop. A mighty roar filled the cavern as it bore down against one end of the arcanometer. The light of the nexus grew blinding, reflecting off the walls so harshly that Roads was forced to cover his eyes. Laying on the ground, he cowered in fear. This was not supposed to happen. None of the fonts had done this.
None of the fonts had been this powerful.
Roads swallowed, curling into a ball as the temperature in the room dropped further. So, he thought. This is it. This is how it ends, freezing in a cave, killed by the magic I just wanted to study. Fitting. Dad would be so proud.
Then it was over.
Roads blinked. He lowered his forelegs from his face and looked around. The nexus was gone. The cavern no longer hummed or glittered with light. There was only the quiet drip of water and the flickering flame of Roads’ lamp. He stood up, and walked over to the arcanometer. On its surface, a needle was pointing to the third dot on one of the gauges.
Three. The entire incident had lasted little more than three seconds. Roads let out a low whistle as he flipped the device on its side and pulled out the piece of paper. A scattered mass of numbers and letters, so small they were almost intelligible, was now scrawled across the page. At the bottom, he found the line he was looking for.
“Amb: -90 E, Curr: -12o E”
Roads smiled. Perfect. He whipped out his notebook, jotted down a few notes on what had happened, and tucked the page just behind the leather cover. Sliding the book back into his pack, he picked up his lantern and strolled out of the chamber, whistling a jaunty tune. For once, it looked like something might just be going his way.
He made his way out of the cave more quickly than he had come. Roads was familiar with its layout now--or at least, familiar enough not to fall into any more pits. Within moments, he was outside, blinking in the light of the fading afternoon sun.
Roads looked around and frowned. Was it getting dark already? He had so much more work to do! With a sigh, he checked his watch. He let out a groan as he saw the time; if he left now, he would be lucky to be home by sundown. Everything he had left to do would have to wait until tomorrow. Roads wasn’t getting caught outside in the Everfree at night. That was when the manticores came out.
Roads shuddered. There were things in the forest he wouldn’t want to be within a mile of, then there were manticores. Dreadful, beastly things, with teeth like daggers and claws like... well, larger daggers. Roads had long since decided they were only one step down from chimeras on his long mental list of things to be afraid of. And, of course, they woke right at sundown, emerging from their dens to scour the Everfree for food.
No, no, no. He was not sticking around out here any longer.
Flaring his wings, he kicked off again, flapping hard to gain altitude. Within moments, he was soaring above the trees, dodging densely packed clouds. They were such a nuisance out here where the weatherponies couldn’t control them. One wrong move and you were liable to--
Crash.
Something in the air hit him in the side, something fast and heavy. Flipping onto his back, Roads went spinning out of control, spiraling towards the ground. Something was grabbing at him, pulling at his chest and jacket. Flailing wildly, he pushed it away as he struggled to gain control.
He closed his eyes and braced for impact. It was no use. He was falling too fast.
Then, suddenly, he wasn’t. Roads opened his eyes. A pair of warm, gold ones stared back at him. Or, rather, one warm golden eye stared at him. The other stared at something a few feet above his head.
“Ditzy?” he cried, looking around to find himself laying atop a cloud, the walleyed mailmare sprawled atop him.
“Roads!” she replied breathlessly. “I’m so glad I ran into you! I was just looking for you!”
“Well, that’s great, Ditzy Doo, but could you, uh, you know...?”
She stared at him absentmindedly, a wisp of blond mane hanging between her eyes. “What?” she asked.
“You’re crushing me.”
Ditzy blinked. “What? Oh! Sorry!” she said as she finally hopped off of him and helped him to his hooves.
“Thanks,” he said, looking her over.
Hat, check. Jacket, check. Mailbag, check. Everything seemed to be in order, except...
“You forgot one of your horseshoes again,” Roads pointed out.
She frowned and glanced down at her hooves. “Oh, no! It must’ve slipped my mind. I just had so much stuff going on this morning, and I totally forgot because I had to deliver to, uh...” she paused to think, ticking off names as she remembered them. “...Mrs. Cake and Mr. Rich and--”
“--Ditzy--”
“--Mr. Merriwether and--”
“--Ditzy--”
“--Mrs. Merriwether, they don’t live together anymore, and--”
“--Ditzy!” Roads shouted, interrupting her.
“What?” she looked up at him, confused. “Oh. Monologuing again. I’m sorry.”
Roads sighed. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it. You said you were looking for me...?”
“I did?” Ditzy asked, cocking an eyebrow.
“Yes, just now!”
Roads groaned inwardly. Every time she brought the mail, it was the same thing. She would crash into him--or a tree--or his house--tell him ‘good morning’, and then promptly forget why she was there in the first place.
Ditzy Doo, the most absent-minded mare in Ponyville. And of course they send her with my mail.
Her eyes lit, suddenly. “Yes! You’re right! I did. Because I was. Or, am. Right.”
Roads heaved another sigh. “Great.”
She nodded, then stood there, staring at him. He glanced from her face to the mailbag on her shoulder.
“Well...?” he asked.
“Yes?”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
Roads shot her a look, exasperated. “Why were you looking for me?”
“Oh!” she said, finally catching on. “Because you have a letter. Or, had a letter. We--or, well, I--kind of had a mix up down at the post and lost it--”
“--Ditzy!”
“--but then I found it again this morning! So I thought I would bring it to you as soon as I could,” she finished.
“As soon as you--it’s almost sunset!” he cried.
“Well, it’s a long way out here from Ponyville!” she protested. “And then you weren’t at your cabin and I had to look all over the forest for you and then I found this frog and I really wanted to catch it but it was too fast so I--”
“--Ditzy...”
“Oh! Sorry. So, uh, it took me awhile,” she said.
Kneading his brow with one hoof, he closed his eyes. “Well, do you have it?”
“Yes!”
Roads stretched out a foreleg, waiting for her to hand him the letter. He waited for a moment, then looked up at her. She stared back at him innocently, and he realized his mistake.
“Well, hand it over, then.”
“Oh! Right, yes, sure, definitely...” she said, taking off her mailbag and digging through it as she mumbled affirmations.
Roads stood for a moment, waiting, as she sifted through the bag. He stared at her for a while, until he realized this was going to take a while. Kneeling, he began scooping the cloud below him into a makeshift chair. Just as he finished and was about to sit down, she whirled around again, triumphantly clutching a tattered envelope.
“Found it!” she cried.
“Thanks,” he said, taking it as he sat down.
Before tearing open the letter, he glanced at the wax seal holding it closed. His heart leapt as he realized it bore the mark of the Princess.
A letter from Celestia!
His hooves shook as he ripped open the envelope. Trying, failing, to calm himself, he pulled out the letter, unfolded it, and read it aloud. As was their custom, Roads read it aloud so that she could follow along. She was his only friend, after all.
“Roads, please excuse my delays in responding to your last letter, things have been awfully busy around Canterlot these days. I fear I cannot go into it all in detail here, but rest assured I shall give you a full account when next we meet. I am sure you will find certain recent developments quite fascinating--”
“What?” Ditzy asked. “What developments?”
Roads shrugged. “No idea.”
“--speaking of recent developments,” he continued, “I was pleased to hear that your current line of research is going well. Rest assured that I look forward to hearing of your findings, and will spare no expense in lining up a publisher once again. Perhaps, though, be sure that you have more data this time--while I have had no issues with your last book, you and I are both aware of how the so-called ‘old guard’ of academia can be. But I am sure that the work you are doing now will persuade them to see things your way.
“However, I regret to inform you that for the moment this work must be put aside. As you are well aware, I have many close ties to the Royal Expeditionary Aggregate. As such, when they discovered that some ‘errant natural magiks’, as they so crudely put it, had been wreaking havoc on expeditions of late, they came to me asking for help before sending out their latest crew. You’ll be pleased to hear I volunteered your services.
“The Aggregate, you see, is attempting to map out Starbeard’s Triangle, and, due to the nature of the area, I assumed that your latest line of inquiry would benefit from a research trip there. I trust you have come across the Triangle in your studies and understand why--”
“Wait,” Ditzy interrupted again. “What services? What’s the ‘Starbeard’s Triangle?’”
“I’m not really sure what he wants me to do, but I have read about the Triangle--just about as much as there is to read. Which isn’t saying much, given that few people ever travel there, and even fewer come back and write about it. What I do know, though, is that the whole place is absolutely brimming with natural magic. Even more than the Everfree,” he explained.
Ditzy crossed her forelegs, thinking. “So... is it like... here, then?”
“What do you mean?”
“The weather, and everything. You know, no weatherponies controlling the weather, no tenders working the plants. You know... wild,” she explained.
“Oh. Yes, actually. The natural magic there changes the seasons, weather, and wildlife, just like it does in the forest. And wrecks expeditions, apparently. Which I suppose is why they’re sending me in,” Roads said.
“Sounds creepy,” Ditzy said, peering off the edge of the cloud to the forest below. “I mean, somewhere being even weirder than the Everfree.”
“There’s nothing ‘weird’ about the Everfree. Everything that goes on here is completely explicable! Did you even read my book?” he asked.
“No.”
Roads sighed. “Yeah, neither did anyone else.”
“Yeah, but I can hardly read,” she pointed out.
“Oh. Right.”
He glanced at her uncomfortably. She stared innocently back, utterly unphased.
“--so,” Roads continued, “you will be shipping out with a crew headed into the heart of the Triangle. You will need to head to Canterlot as soon as possible, as they cast off from the Skydocks on the thirtieth, at noon. Your purpose and the specifics of your assignment will be explained to you upon your arrival. I have already been in touch with several pegasi who will be happy to take on your duties as Warden of the Everfree during your trip.
“Sun shine upon you, Celestia.”
He glanced down at the letter again. “Hey, there’s a postscript!”
“--P.S.” he read. “Due to the impending monsoon season, you will only have around a week in the Triangle. As such, I have arranged for quarters for you in the Castle. Tell whomever is manning the gates your name, and that I sent for you, and they will direct you from there. I look forward to seeing you again.”
“And... that’s it,” he finished. “That’s all there is.” He looked up at Ditzy, beaming. “I can’t believe it, I really can’t! I’m going to the Triangle--this could be a huge opportunity for my research!”
Ditzy’s face fell. “Yeah, but... that means... when I come to deliver the mail...” she mumbled, staring at his feet.
“Relax,” he said. “Didn’t you hear? It’s only for a week! Besides, I’ll bring you back something exotic from the tropics.”
Ditzy’s characteristic smile returned to her face. “Promise?”
“Promise.”
He was taken aback as she threw her forelegs around him, embracing him--and grinding the mailbag into his ribcage. In a moment, she drew away and kicked off from the cloud, drifting slowly away from him.
“Thanks, Roads! Have I told you you’re my favorite stop on my route?” she said.
Roads smiled. “I’m pretty sure you say that to everypony on your route.”
“Only because it’s true! I have to get back on my route, though. Goodbye!”
“Bye, Ditzy,” he said.
He stared after her as she flew away, turning violent corkscrews in the grey winter sky. She waved at him as she zigzagged back in the general direction of Ponyville. Roads waved back, mildly impressed--for all her erratic flapping and lack of coordination, she moved absurdly fast. He was convinced she could give a Wonderbolt a run for his money--if she could ever learn to fly in a straight line.
The Wonderbolts... Roads shuddered. Don’t think about that. Not today... You’ve got other things to do. Things like getting home before the manticores wake up.
He needed to get moving. Pulling out the envelope, he prepared to stuff the letter back into it when something caught his eye.
“...Skydocks on the twenty-seventh...”
What was today, again? The twenty-seventh... when was that? Surely it wasn’t--
Tomorrow.
Roads stomach dropped like a cinderblock. He had to be in Canterlot by noon tomorrow? If he flew all night--even if he could fly all night--he would be lucky to get there by sunrise. How long had the letter been lost at the post office?
He felt his temper begin to rise. If Ditzy blew his one chance at a research breakthrough, she could cost him years worth of work. How could she be so thoughtless? How could she do this to him?
No. He took a breath. Don’t blame her. Don’t panic. You can still make it. There’s a ferry out of Ponyville that runs all the way down the river to Canterlot every night and gets there the next morning. If I can make it to that, I’ll be fine.
He would need to move, though, and fast. Most of his equipment was at his house, he would need it if he wanted to get anything done. Fortunately, his house wasn’t far. It would be flying all the way back to Ponyville in the dark that would be difficult.
Folding his wings, he let himself fall through the cloud. For a moment, he let himself free fall, wings tucked tight against his back. Then, as soon as he was moving fast enough, he flared them again, swooping low over the trees, speeding back home. He soared easily over the forest, gliding made easy by his massive wingspan. His oversized wings were one of the few things he had in common with his father, a former competitive flyer, a former Wonderbolt, whose impressive physique had won him countless races. That was before his injury, though, before the middle-aged pegasus had been forced to retire from the team, and had gone to work at the weather factories.
Roads could not recall exactly when the stallion had given up his dreams of returning to the team. He could, however, still remember the day in his father's recovery process when he had decided that if he couldn't be a Wonderbolt, then his son damn well would.
He remembered being called down to his father's room, being told that he was going to be a Wonderbolt, that his dad would teach him to live the dreams of so many other pegasi. He wouldn't just flop around in the air as he usually did. No longer would air travel be just means to get from one place to another. His old stallion would teach him to fly, to really fly! His only response:
"I don't want to fly."
Wrong answer.
Roads shuddered and tried to shift his thoughts to lighter things, determined not to let his memory cloud what was shaping up to be a wonderful day. He had found a perfect endothermic nexus, he had gotten a letter from the Princess, he was headed out of the forest. Things were going as well as he could possibly hope, why be unhappy?
Because even after you leave the Everfree, you will always be alone, a small voice in the back of his head told him.
He was about to retort, about to find something to refute the tiny voice, when the clearing around his cabin swept into view beneath him. He smiled at it, a burst of gratitude for the Princess rising in his stomach. The alicorn had set him up with the house as soon as she made Roads the Warden of the forest around it. The house represented everything the Princess had given him, from his education to his job.
And what a job it was--the forest was wild, and as such, there was little to do besides make sure no passerby ventured too deep into its depths. Celestia had gotten him the job knowing full well it would give Roads a stable income as he worked at his research. And then she’d built him a house to go with it.
Leaning forward, he swooped into a dive as he approached it. He angled himself into the descent, wings tucked into his sides, steadily gathering speed. The earth seemed to rush up to meet him, and after a second he was almost to the ground. He unfurled his wings, trying to shift his course a bit more forwards and a bit less... into the ground.
It didn’t quite work. He angled one wing too steeply, and as it caught the air he found himself flipped onto his back. And he was still falling.
Roads had just enough time to realize how much pain he was about to be in before he hit the ground. As he crashed into the dirt and rolled into a tree, he found his estimate was about correct.
His estimate being: a lot.
Still, nothing was broken. Or seemed broken, anyway, after he gave himself a cursory inspection as he dusted himself off. Thank Celestia for pegasus resilience. Centuries of crashing into mountains and falling out of the sky had left Roads’ ancestors with a keen resistance to blunt force trauma.
Not that it didn’t still hurt, but aside from a small gash on his elbow, Roads was fairly sure he would be fine. Shaking off the crash, he staggered over to the door of his cabin and pushed it open to reveal the miniature disaster inside.
He really needed to clean this place up. He had spent the entirety of the past week rewriting old magic manuscripts, and had completely neglected housekeeping. Now, books, music orbs, clothes, quills, and parchment were strewn haphazardly across the floor of his den, an untameable mess, the product of a mind equally unruly.
Yep, definitely needed cleaning—later. He had more important things to do.
Stepping over a pile of half-molded towels--how did those get there?--he made his way through the den to a stairway in the corner of the room. Pulling open a flimsy wooden door, he made his way down a dusty set of stairs into his basement.
The cellar was ill lit and damp, its stony walls half coated in cobwebs and mold and its hard-packed dirt floor uncomfortably moist under Roads' hooves. He stumbled blindly over to a wooden cabinet that stood against the far wall, and, feeling around beside him, lit a nearby lamp. Finally able to see again, he pried open the cabinet doors.
Roads was immediately assaulted by the pungent odor of musk and brewed magic. Trying—and failing—to hold his breath, he searched through the tiny collection of mixtures and herbal remedies until he found what he was looking for: Attunement potions, wedged between weak camouflage elixirs and his flask of amontillado. He thanked the Princess he had brewed so much yesterday. Had he been out, it would’ve taken hours to round up all the necessary ingredients, and even longer to actually make the concoction.
Scooping the potions into his bag, he breathed a silent thanks to Celestia for his good fortune, then turned and scurried back up the stairs. Rushing up to his room, he packed all of the clothing he thought he might need--he would dress lightly, this was the tropics, after all--as well as a few quills and notebooks and some research equipment.
He glanced in the mirror, checking his appearance. There were deep circles under his eyes, visible even through his light grey coat, and his dark mane was as disheveled as ever. Roads considered running a comb through it, but thought better of it. His mane hadn’t lain flat a day in his life, why would it start today? He turned to leave, then realized something. Turning, he pried open his cabinet and drew out a flask of whiskey. He stuffed it in his bag and closed the door.
Then, he promptly pulled it open again and grabbed another. It was best to be safe. Who knew how much he might need?
Packing finished, he headed back downstairs and burst out the door, only to see that the sun was setting. Dismayed, he clapped his hooves to his forehead.
No, no, no, no!
He had an hour to get to Ponyville. Maybe less. Spreading his wings, he took off again, racing for the city. He flapped as quickly as possible, moving as fast as he could stand. Roads was a weak flyer, and tremendously out of shape, but desperation spurred him on. Dodging cloud after cloud, he zipped through the sky, panting and straining, but forcing himself to keep going.
After half an hour of flying, he thought he might die. His breath came fast and shallow, and his wings and back were aching, his coat laden with sweat. His mouth was dry, and he was fairly sure that at some point he had accidentally swallowed a bee. Still, he had to keep going. The sun was low on the horizon, now, and swiftly getting lower. The ferry would be about to leave the dock. Exhausted and hurting, he pressed on.
By the time a full hour had passed, the sky was completely dark, but the lights of Ponyville flickered in the distance. Finally! he thought. He had never been so happy to see the town, not once in the six months since he had moved from Canterlot.
Swooping lower, gaining speed, he dove into the town, headed for the banks of the river. He passed the taverns and homes and shops indifferently, hardly giving them a second thought as he rushed for the port. Within moments, he had passed over all of Ponyville, and he landed hard on the wooden docks at the outskirts of town.
Stumbling, he collapsed against a wooden post, out of breath and on the verge of unconsciousness. He sat for a moment, wiping the sweat from his brow, trying to slow his racing heart. Roads was fairly certain it was going to explode. It was precisely the kind of thing he would expect from exercise.
Finally, though, he caught his breath and looked around him. The port was empty, save for a lone, mint-green earth pony sitting at the end of one the docks, lazily flicking a fishing pole. Roads groaned. After getting to his feet, he stumbled over the the fishermare.
“Have you... seen... the Canterlot... ferry... lately?” he panted.
The ancient mare turned and peered at him curiously. When she spoke, Roads could smell apple cider on her breath. Princesses, could he use a drink right now.
“Yep, Ah seen it. Went headed down the river three, maybe four minutes ago. Weren’t long. Yeh could prob’ly cetch it, if you fly fast enough,” the mare said, slumping against the post beside him.
Ah, sweet Celestia. Rural dialect.
“Yeah... thanks...” he said as he struggled for breath.
Turning, he peered down the river. In the distance, right on the horizon, he could see the dim flickering that just might have been the steamboat. If only he had been a little bit faster. Any other pegasus would have made it. Ditzy could probably make the trip in thirty minutes, and she couldn’t tell a right turn from a loop-the-loop.
With a groan, he unfurled his aching wings and lept from the dock. He was so tired he could barely stay airborne, but within moments, the ferry was within view. Sweeping low over the water, he gave his wings a few last pumps, then let himself fall onto the boat. He didn’t even bother landing. He simply collapsed onto the deck. Closing his eyes, he rested his burning wings.
Thunk.
He opened his eyes again, twisting around to find the source of the noise. An arrow had embedded itself in the deck of the boat, just inches from his head. It took him a second to realize what had happened, and in that second, another arrow buried itself in the wood of the deck. It had come so close to his foreleg that it sliced open his jacket at the shoulder. With a shriek, he leapt to his hooves and turned to dash for cover.
As soon as he turned around, he found himself face to face with the business end of a lethal looking saber. He barely retained continence. Screaming, he leapt backwards, falling to the ground and curling into a ball.
“Don’t hurt me! Take whatever you want, just don’t hurt me!” he cried, forelegs wrapped tightly around his head.
A grunt came from somewhere above him. Roads flinched, waiting for something sharp and deadly to rip into his flesh.
The blow never came. Sliding a foreleg away from his face, he peered cautiously up to see an earth pony wielding a wicked looking blade scowling down at him.
“You’re no pirate,” he said, an unsubdued hint of condescension in his voice.
“Uh--uhm--what?” Roads stammered.
“Ah said, ‘you’re no pirate’,” the stallion repeated, somewhat louder this time.
Roads stared up at him, confused and terrified. A grizzled, elderly stallion in a weatherbeaten fur coat stared back at him from beneath a wild, matted shock of grey mane.
“Well... no.”
“Hmph,” the earth pony said. He sheathed his sword, looking rather pleased with himself. “Thought so. Pirates don’t usually scream when they see weapons. Well, sometimes they do, but usually not like small children.”
Roads felt a pang of humiliation rise in his chest. “I was just--I needed a ride,” he stuttered.
The stallion nodded, and looked away from him, speaking to someone Roads couldn’t see. “Just a passenger, Wensley.”
From somewhere behind him, a disgruntled-looking unicorn levitating a crossbow sauntered into view. He stretched out a foreleg, and helped Roads to his hooves.
“I figured you were just a pegasus who was late,” he explained. “But these days you can never be too careful. Boarding parties are all over the place, and its almost always birds.”
Roads bristled at the slur, but did not say anything. The stallion was holding a crossbow, after all. He nearly leapt out of his skin when the earth pony beside him extended a foreleg.
“Calm down, son,” he said, shaking Roads’ limp, trembling hoof. “Ah’m Brindle Young, the captain, an’ this here’s Wensley. He’s the ticketmaster an’ head crewman. He’s also the only crewman, ‘side from the engineer--but then, if you see him out of the engine room, then start runnin’, because somethin’s about to blow up.”
“Uh--” Roads started.
“Welcome aboard,” Brindle said, then raised his crossbow, aiming at Roads. “Now, it’s fifty bits for a ticket.”
“Fifty? Normal fare around here is only fifteen!” Roads protested.
“Fifteen’s for folks who’re on time. You weren’t. Now, unless you wanna go for a swim, Ah’d suggest you hand over the money,” Wensley interjected.
“I, uh, I don’t even have fifty bits...”
Wensley prodded him in the chest with the tip of the crossbow. “Oh, you have fifty bits, alright,” he said, a steely edge in his voice.
Glaring at him, Roads reached into his bag, dug out his coin purse, and handed over the money. “Crooks,” he muttered as they took the money.
“What was that?” the captain asked, hoof on his sword.
“Nothing,” Roads said with a sigh as he stalked off the deck.
Throwing open the heavy wooden door he found at the aft, just below the wheelhouse, he made his way below the deck of the steamboat, into a lengthy hallway lined with open cabins. Moving down the hall, Roads peered into the narrow cabins, checking for open bunks. He found none, until the very last cabin at the end of the hall. Stepping into it, he glanced around at the quarters.
It was nothing special, little more than four hammocks strung up against the walls, with a rickety wooden table half-collapsed between them. Two of the hammocks were already occupied, one by a giant, brick red earth pony with his face buried in a newspaper, the other by a unicorn reading a book. She glanced up at him as he entered, and he noticed a Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns crest on her jacket.
“You a student?” he asked, pointing to her coat.
“Hmm?” She looked down, following his gesture. “Oh, at the CSGU? Yes, I’m just about to graduate. I just have to head back for one last visit.” She glanced back up at him. “Oh, where are my manners? Chelsea,” she said, shaking his hoof. “Chelsea Sparks.”
“Roads,” he replied.
“Roads...?”
“Just ‘Roads.’” he said.
“Ah...”
There was a brief pause as Roads struggled to think of something to say.
“So... uh... Celestia’s School...” Roads said finally, nervously taking a seat in the hammock across from her.
“Yeah... great school,” she said quietly.
Roads winced internally. Why did it go like this every time he introduced himself? Couldn’t he, just for once, have a comfortable conversation with someone new?
“It’s my alma mater, actually,” he said.
She laughed at that. “Good one.”
“What?”
“A pegasus, at a magic school. It’s a funny thought, you know?” she explained.
“No, I actually went to school there. I studied magic for years.”
Another awkward paused. Roads cringed inside. This was not going well. He glanced over to the earth pony on the hammock. The stallion hadn’t moved. His eyes were still locked on the paper. The two might as well have been alone.
“I didn’t even know they let--”
“--They let pegasi in, on occasion. I had special permissions from the Princess. ‘Extenuating circumstances.’ There’s legitimately enough material available that it is possible to graduate without actually performing any magic. Well, as long as you’re exempt from the exit exams,” Roads explained.
“Huh. I didn’t even know that was possible.”
“Well... it is,” he finished hesitantly.
The uncomfortable silence returned. Roads considered digging the whiskey out of his pack.
“So... uh, what does a pegasus like you actually, you know... do?” she asked finally.
“Uh, what?”
“With an education in magic, I mean. What kind of work do you do?”
Finally, something he could talk about.
“Well, it’s kind of tough to explain, actually, not many people are familiar with the field, but, ah, you know where magic comes from, right?” Roads asked.
She stared at him blankly. “Yeah, it’s just arcane energy that you can use to create movement at various levels of organization of matter, what of it?”
Roads fought back a smirk. “No, you didn’t answer my question. That’s what magic is, that’s not where it comes from.”
Her brow furrowed, then she seemed to realize something. “You’re talking about ley lines.”
“Precisely. Lines of arcane power that run through your body and feed off of your metabolism.”
“So... you work with anatomy?” she asked. “Like, unicorn physiology?”
“Not quite. I work with ley lines, but not the ones in ponies,” he explained.
She narrowed her eyes. “Oh. You’re one of those guys.”
Roads sighed. “No, not ‘one of those guys.’ I study natural ley lines, and I study them scientifically. I put as much rigor into my research as any other academic.”
“What’s there to even research? Evidence for natural lines even existing is scant at best, and even if they did exist, it’s not like they actually do anything. Everypony knows that,” she said, with accompanying eye roll.
“No, everypony thinks that. Or, thought. Anypony who’s been reading the newest publications knows the consensus has moved in support of the fact that natural lines exist. It’s how they work that’s got everypony confused,” he pointed out.
“That’s because they, you know, don’t.”
“Really?” Roads asked, leaning forward. “Come on, didn’t you ever wonder just what it was that made the Everfree tick?”
Chelsea crossed her forelegs. “I thought that was--”
She was cut off as another unicorn entered the room. “Chelsea, have you seen my--oh, who’s this?” he asked.
“Just somepony from the boat who wandered in. He says he went to Celestia’s School, too,” she explained.
“Really? Well, how’re you, then?” the unicorn offered his hoof.
Roads stood and shook it, eying the other man. He was handsome looking, in an odd sort of way, with square jaw and a crooked muzzle that looked as if it might have once been broken. He was also big. Much bigger than Roads, who was as short as he was thin. With his light, characteristically pegasian frame, he felt downright scrawny next to the dark blue unicorn.
“Roads,” he said, barely meeting the other stallion’s eye.
“Cobalt,” the unicorn said. “When did you--”
There was a horrible pause as Cobalt caught sight of Roads’ wings. He felt the stallion’s eyes move over his forehead.
“You’re a pegasus...” he said quietly.
You just now noticed? How did you miss the lack of horn? Or did you just think it got lost in my mane? Roads thought sarcastically, but instead he just said “Um.”
“You’re a pegasus and you went to the CSGU...” he continued.
“Yes, I did, and I can assure you that I--”
“So you’re a race traitor?” Cobalt finished, a deadly calm in his voice.
Roads’ jaw clenched. “Now really,” he said, desperately trying to keep his temper in check. “In this day and age? And headed to the capitol nonetheless...”
Cobalt’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t take kindly to race traitors. And I know for a fact they don’t put up with race traitors in Canterlot.”
“Really?” Roads challenged. “Because I lived in the capitol for six years and I can tell you they sure as hell put up with me.”
“Yeah? And why is that? Family connections?”
“Uh... Well, I haven’t exactly got any...”
Cobalt cocked an eyebrow. “What happened? Lost your parents? Orphaned?”
Roads gritted his teeth. “Disowned,” he said quietly.
“Well, well, a race traitor and a bastard.” He grabbed Roads by the collar, pushing him roughly against the wall. “You picked the wrong cabin to come nest in tonight, bird.”
Suddenly, a red hoof separated the two. Roads looked up to see the massive earth pony standing between them, towering over both of them.
“You, unicorn,” he said. “That’s enough. Ah’ve got a paper to read, and Ah don’t appreciate the noise.”
“Like you could even read, oaf?” Cobalt sneered.
The stallion’s eyes narrowed, and he took a menacing step towards Cobalt.
“Pardon?” he demanded.
“...nothing,” Cobalt coughed feebly.
Roads cocked an eyebrow. Even a unicorn like Cobalt wouldn’t dare tangle with an earth pony that big. Not in close quarters, anyway.
“And you,” the earth pony said, turning to glance down at Roads. “You’d best sleep somewhere else tonight. Ah don’t wanna spend this whole time breakin’ up fights.”
Roads nodded. He wasn’t one to bite the hoof that fed him. So, he took his pack and dragged himself out into the hall, humiliation and shame settling into his stomach. He moved into the stairwell, and set down his things. He cracked open the porthole and laid down, resting his head against his bag.
He heaved a heavy sigh. Another night alone. It was no different here than in his cabin in the woods. Sure, there were people all around him, but for all intents and purposes, he could have been by himself, out in the woods for all the good it did him. Roads simply wasn’t made to be anything other than just ‘alone.’ Always had been. Always would be.
Rolling over, he pulled the flask of whiskey out of his bag. He poured himself a small helping into a cup he had brought with him. Why not? It had been as bad a day as any other...
Twisting back over, he stared out the window, looking at the stars. At least, he thought through the grim haze of his abjection, at least it's a beautiful night. He held up his glass. Cheers to you, Luna. Kudos, wherever you are. He took a doleful swig of whiskey. Outside, the stars hung resplendent, dancing gleefully through the scopic cosmos.
They mocked him in their splendor.
The words “bastard” and “race traitor” ringing in his ears, he looked up into the night as long as he could, admiring the stars until he could stand it no longer. He shifted his gaze to the abyss between them. From the chasm of his mind words began to echo in his ears.
Why are you so useless?
It was his father's voice. Quiet, only a hiss. Roads took a sip of whiskey, emptying his cup.
You aren't a real stallion. You'll never be one.
Roads refilled his glass.
My only son, an embarrassment...
He took a swallow of whiskey. Half of the glass disappeared down his throat.
What kind of pathetic excuse for a pegasus doesn't like flying? What's wrong with you, boy?
Another swig. The glass was empty again. He refilled it.
You're the reason your mother is gone.
He drank the entire glass this time.
You make me sick.
Another glass, gone.
It wouldn't hurt a real stallion. Stop crying, boy.
He drank straight out of the flask now.
Love you? I could never love something like you.
He drank until the flask was empty.
You will always be alone.
The last voice was his own. Roads threw the flask through the open window. He looked spitefully up into the sky, then sank into a fitful state of drunken unconsciousness.
Far above him the stars shone brightly on, basking in the tranquility of another perfect night.
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C-c-c-c-c-c-combo breaker!!!!!! S-s-s-s-sweeeeeeeettt!!!! Ima tracking dis story!!!
You went on a word bender in the first paragraph..
Oh man you have a good story going here! Can't wait to read more of it
-Glassed
I like it.
Now to read more.
Your walls of text are just filler in between your beautiful dialogue. Seriously! You write voices so well! The closer I look the more I enjoy the characterizations
Bleh. I just went through this again for the first time in a while. I think when I'm done with the whole thing, I may completely rewrite this chapter.
EDIT: Did it.
Wait....was the red stallion....
?
Well, this is interesting. What happened to Equestria to make its people think this way?
I bucking hate racists.