Trouble is brewing in Equestria as corrupt politicians and terrorist extremists seek to kill the Keeper of the Sun.
When the news of a theft in the Trottingham Vaults reaches the ear of the Princess of Sunlight she is forced to send her protege to investigate and seek out the thieves: a radical group from a neighboring kingdom calling themselves the Star Killers. Can her young apprentice find the artifice before it's put to use? Or will her fear of the world beyond the palace walls bring her quest to a premature end?
Eventide. The world hung suspended in the dim between night and day. Two figures, standing like towering statues, looked out over the great, sweeping vista of their kingdom. Seconds ticked by in hushed thought as they scanned the world below, drinking in the valley that stretched out before them, lit by soft twilight. As the last star was lost in the reddening light the taller of the two regal siblings stepped forward. She breathed deeply, magickally reaching beyond the horizon and taking the sun in her grasp.
Golden light poured over the edge of the world as the blazing orb rose steadily into the morning sky. Moisture in the atmosphere caught the light of the great sphere and refracted it into an angry red, lighting the cloudy dawn with the colors of rust and clay. On cue, curtains of rain descended from the overcast sky, pattering lightly over polished marble and running in rivulets down tapered spires. Petrichor filled the moist air, instilling an ever-deeper calm in the Amazonian women that shepherded the celestial sphere.
“No matter how many times I see it I always think: What a boisterous thing, the dawn.”
The older princess spared her sister a bemused grin as she turned to usher them both back inside. The two princesses let the rain-staying bubble collapse as they left the balcony, closing the doors quickly so the crashing wave of previously restrained water did not splash into the room. Thunder rolled over the palace once the royal siblings were inside, rattling the older windows and sending a nervous twitch through one of the younger guardsmen stationed just without the older sister’s chambers to await his lieges’ reentry.
“Nothing to say?” the shorter princess prodded, smiling teasingly at her elder.
“Methinks you may have more in common with the dawn than you realize, Luna,” the salmon-haired woman murmured with a knowing grin.
Princess Luna’s smile dropped from her face, the meaning of her sister’s words ringing through. For a moment she sought a witty reply, but eventually thought better of it. She instead took her frustration out on the nearest guard.
“Find the royal pâtissier,” she ordered a relatively new recruit. “Instruct her to have a torte added to my sister’s afternoon meal. She’ll know the one.”
The young soldier saluted sharply and tore off down the hall in front of them, turning off at the first branch in the path. Luna looked her sister’s way, fighting back a vindictive grin at the leer she was given in response.
“Always the schemer,” the elder princess sighed.
“I learned from the best,” Luna mused, smiling more earnestly.
Her sister kept her bemused façade as long as she could before a warm smile cracked it and she focused instead on watching where she was going. Already at least two servants had nearly been barreled over by the gargantuan royal, but both they and she were quick enough to avoid a collision. With her full attention set on navigating the halls there were no more accidents, save for when the winded young guard cut them off to report that his task had been done.
“Thank you . . . ”
“F-Flash,” the guard panted, bracing himself against his knees.
Luna nodded. “A deserved name. Thank you Flash.”
The young soldier took a steadying breath and put his fist over his chest, straightening from his exhausted stance into a bow. “Think nothing of it, Milady.”
The smile flickered on Luna’s face, but she dipped her head in return before strolling past him. “A bit too forward though, methinks,” she muttered to herself.
“The title is less familiar than you may remember,” her sister informed upon catching up. “There are few noblewomen left in the world. It is not a title used often or lightly.”
“I am not a noblewoman, sister,” Luna scoffed, blocking the sound beyond them from prying ears. “I am a princess, and our staff should do well to remember this. My absence does not diminish my title.”
The elder princess readied a rebuttal, but let it fall away. Past though it might all be, the subject of bad blood between them, or between her sister and their kingdom, was a sore subject and one she had no wish of broaching presently. Instead the two walked in silence through the wide and winding corridors of their palace toward Luna’s bedchambers. Luna gradually slowed as they reached the foot of the stairs leading to her private chambers and hesitated with her hand half-raised to the doors.
“I really must learn to defer to your knowledge, sister,” she sighed, glancing sidelong at her elder. “Please forgive my temper.”
The white-robed woman smiled brightly and embraced her sister. “Some lessons are not so easily learned. You have nothing to apologize for, Luna.”
They separated, each rising to their full height and striking impressive figures against the ebony doors beside them. Luna gave a slight bow to her sister, who reciprocated quickly, then turned and unsealed the mammoth black doors with a light touch. They swung inward, allowing her access to the spiraling stairs within, then silently drifted back together and sealed themselves again with a quiet click and hum of magick.
Her sister did not stay to watch. Already she was marching her way back through the palace, expertly dodging the rushed and, in some cases, clumsy serving staff. She kept her back straight and chin up, standing head and shoulders—and chest and elbows—taller than most of the inhabitants of her kingdom. The tallest guards averted their gaze as she approached, not out fear or respect but to avoid awkward situations, and the deific Princess of Sunlight grinned while heads turned as she walked. After so long being uncomfortably massive compared to the layman she had grown accustomed to such gestures, but it was always entertaining to see who would break their poise to leave her her modesty.
The solar herald walked briskly down a wide staircase, nodding and speaking soft greetings to palace staff and visiting nobles, waving demurely to a crowd of tourists walking a guided path through the capitol. She turned at the base and made her way down several twisting hallways before arriving at what was without a doubt the largest set of double doors anywhere in the palace, and likely in the entire city. The princess paused and mumbled a spell, quietly announcing her arrival to a guard inside the room beyond the doors, and waited for him to get the gathered citizens and petitioners under control.
“Citizens!” a voice boomed beyond the doors. “Settle!”
The conversations within petered out as the man’s voice reverberated through the room.
“It is my honour to present, presiding over this, the twenty one thousand three hundred and ninety sixth Court of Dawn: Princess Regina Celestia of Equestria!”
The doors groaned thunderously as they began to swing outward. All eyes focused on the entrance to the Grand Hall, silence sweeping through the room as those present awaited the sight of their magnanimous ruler. The princess waited for the thick doors to part enough to pass, then gracefully slipped through and, with a measured pace, strode through the parted sea of her subjects toward her throne. The silence persisted as hundreds of heads slowly pivoted to track the diarch as she moved, most watching the titanic woman with a mixture of awe and more than a little fear. She stopped briefly, smiling and offering a summoned charm to a disheveled young woman cradling a baby, but otherwise made quick progress to the dais hosting her looming marble throne.
She ascended the steps with the same even pace. As she peaked the short flight of stairs a flash of light burst through the decorative windows lining the halls, and the gathered citizens flinched in expectation of the boom to follow.
“Hush.”
Tension hung in the air as seconds ticked by in anticipation. Slowly, the people began to realize that the crashing boom they were expecting was not to come. Instead the sounds of the storm became distant, as though the whole of the world beyond the hall had been pushed away and only its fading echoes could reach the isolated space. They relaxed themselves, smiling and offering quiet thanks to the towering matriarch, and the princess smiled and dipped her head to them before lowering herself into the simple throne.
“Let this Court of Dawn officially commence,” she announced, her soft voice carrying to every corner of the room. “Will the first by appointment please step forward?”
Sandhya slumped in her seat, letting her head loll over its back and blowing out a disappointed sigh. It was understandable that her host would be predisposed given the day of the month, or really any other day for that matter, but she was beginning to tire of sitting alone in the atrium with slowly evaporating tea and embarrassingly large quantities of pastries on multi-tiered racks. Her violet eyes rolled of their own accord as she recalled how quickly she had taken up the open appointment for her mentor’s time without considering the date, and her hand darted up to her head to massage her forehead.
“So stupid . . . ” she grumbled, lowering her hand.
Sandhya glanced around the room as she debated whether to simply leave and reschedule—again—and found her eyes drawn to a ladybug perched stone-still on a leaf in the tree that dominated the center of the room. She stared at the little insect, wondering what simple thought might be passing through its mind. Maybe it was asleep. Maybe it was eating. Maybe it was relieving itself. Sandhya smirked and stood from the table, cringing as the ornate legs of the chair squealed against the hard stone floor.
“I guess there’s only one way to know for sure,” she thought aloud, wandering closer to the tree. She paused a few steps away, careful not to set the bug flying away, and closed her eyes to find the proper wording for her spell. Her Crystal Eye drifted open without her notice as she thought, and her mind slipped into an unusually calm and organized state as it focused in on the ladybug. “Let me hear your song,” Sandhya cooed in a hushed, aetheric whisper.
For a moment the room was quiet and still. Sandhya stood watching the ladybug with the sparkling eye centered in her forehead, her ordinary eyes closed and waiting for her spell to take effect. After almost a minute her eyes opened and a frown creased her brow. She brushed her dark hair aside and looked more closely at the insect, focusing all three eyes on the task, and saw that it had neither moved nor given any indication that her magick had affected it at all. The young enchantress growled in frustration and retreated to her chair at the table, where she dropped unceremoniously onto her rear and angrily grabbed a scone from the nearest tray.
“Stupid . . . ” she muttered as she shoved the pastry into her mouth.
As she sat, chewing her frustration away, thunder rolled overhead and shook the many glass fixtures of the atrium. Sandhya flinched as the sky let loose the roaring boom, suddenly fairly concerned about the construction of the thin-walled entryway to the Royal Gardens. A fresh sheet of rain followed the thunder’s heels, crashing down onto the gently curved ceiling and washing away the streaks left by earlier rainfall. The calamitous drumming of fat raindrops pelting the glass barrier to the outside world filled the room, and Sandhya let out a groan and buried her face in her hands. There was only supposed to be one rain scheduled for the day.
Someone was going to hear about this.
Bored, tired, and fairly frustrated, Sandhya stood and marched her way from the atrium’s outer edge back toward the palace. She huffed as the ladybug passed her field of view and swiped angrily at the tree, missing by an embarrassing margin and continuing on her way all the more upset. With a grunted spell the door flew open, and Sandhya marched her way out of the room.
She stopped just beyond the threshold. Then she stepped backward into the room and looked to her right.
A marble statue of the Princess of Sunlight stood beside the door, smiling serenely, her arms partly extended as though reaching for an embrace. Sandhya looked the statue up and down, her eyes narrowing into slits as she examined the chiseled likeness of her teacher. She slowly circled around the statue, drinking in every detail with a harsh analytical eye, and stopped when she was once again looking at it from the front. She stared at its face for a few more seconds, glowering as she saw the crack in concentration, then waved a hand and dispelled the stony illusion.
“Three minutes, eight seconds,” the giant beneath the rock announced with grin as her camouflage fell away.
Sandhya glared up at the princess with her arms crossed, her foot tapping impatiently as she awaited some form of apology. The princess sighed and stooped to bring herself to eye level with her apprentice.
“I’m sorry for making you wait, Sandhya,” she said softly, her tone draining all the anger out of her indignant pupil. “Will you still have tea with me?”
Sandhya kept her bemused expression as long as she could before letting out her held breath and smiling lightly. “Of course.”
Celestia grinned and rose to her feet, steering the girl back into the room toward the table at the far end. Lightning flashed overhead as they walked, and Sandhya tensed in anticipation of the boom, but the princess cut the deafening crack short with a soft word. The pelting rain suddenly turned to a light, pattering drizzle, at least in sound, and the rolling thunder sounded as though it were miles away. Sandhya let out a breath of amazement at the power her teacher displayed and smiled up at her at the thought of someday learning such magick herself.
Celestia felt her eyes and flashed her a knowing smile. “In due time,” she hummed, pulling out the smaller of the two seats for her student.
Sandhya sat and pulled in her chair, waiting quietly as her elder made her way around the table to the sizeable seat across from her and sat herself down. Once the princess was seated Sandhya turned her attention to the table, opening her magical eye and starting several items floating through the air. The teapot lifted from its heated resting place and tipped steaming water into a sizeable cup set before the princess, a diffuser filled with sweet smelling herbs dropping in after. Plates swirled around the table, picking bits and pieces of various dessert items and arranging them neatly on the small platters, then settled in arcs around the two teacups. The teapot shifted to Sandhya’s own cup, drizzling hot water over a tightly packed ball of leaves bound around warm spices. Finally the napkins beside each saucer unrolled themselves and spilled their contents onto the table, where the silverware lifted off and nestled themselves in rows of descending size and varying shape before their own diners.
Sandhya let out her breath, examining her work with a note of pride, and closed her Eye. The teapot, still in the air above the table, dropped a few centimeters before another force caught it and ended Sandhya’s panic before it had fully begun. She looked up at Celestia, then nervously averted her eyes at seeing her mentor’s reassuring smile.
“Excellent control,” Celestia mused, setting the kettle back on its miniature stove. “Your dexterity is much improved since I last had a chance to observe.”
“Thank you,” Sandhya nodded. She looked down at her tea, waiting for the small bundle of leaves to blossom and finish spreading its flavor though her cup. “It’s been a while since the last time,” she said after a brief silence.
Celestia’s smile waned and she looked to her own cup. “It has.”
“I-I’m sorry, I know you’re busy,” Sandhya said quickly. “There’s a lot to do with two princesses in the kingdom again. I didn’t mean, just, I—“
“It’s alright,” Celestia chuckled, cutting her off. “Things are indeed busy since Luna’s return. Nearly the whole of Equestrian legal code has to be edited to account for it, and our neighbors worry about an imbalance of power in the political ring.” Sandhya scoffed before she could stop herself, then lowered her head as her elder turned an amused gaze to her. “What?”
“It’s just . . . who thinks they could ever have leverage against you?” Sandhya half-laughed. “You control the sun. It seems kind of silly for anyone to think there’s a balance of power between nations when your role is so vital to the world.”
Celestia mimicked her grin and laced her fingers in front of her, lowering her elbows to the table. “So it would seem. You forget, though, that there are creatures in the world that need no light to thrive.”
“And no heat?” Sandhya countered.
Celestia lolled her head left and right, then straightened up and lifted her tea. She blew across its surface, sending a plume of steam into the air, then sipped daintily at it before setting it back on her plate-sized saucer.
“What would happen to the people of Equestria if I were to hold the sun for ransom against another nation?” the princess asked suddenly, making Sandhya blink.
“Uh . . . I suppose they would . . . be in the dark.”
“Would their situation not be the same as those who I am withholding the day from?”
Sandhya blinked again. Truth be told she had never considered the possibility of such a thing. It seemed like the logical trump card if others decided to play hardball, but the young wizard had never actually thought of the consequences before. With any thought, though, the answer was plain to see.
“They would,” she affirmed.
Celestia nodded sagely. “The sun has no respect for the borders of nations or the politics of the world. She is as necessary to us as she is to all life; I could never—will never—abuse my connection to her for the sake of raising my people over any other.”
Sandhya felt a flutter in her stomach at hearing the conviction and power in Celestia’s voice, admiring the figure she struck against the stormy world beyond the glass behind her. She glanced at her tea, noting that it was ready, and sipped lightly at it before a thought crossed her mind.
“Wait, all life? Didn’t you just say there were creatures that didn’t need light to thrive?”
Celestia deflated slightly, running back through her words, then rested a cheek on her knuckles and looked down at her student bemusedly. “You know, you could still be a lawyer.”
“Mm, and what fun that would be,” Sandhya remarked, picking a muffin from one of her plates. She glanced up at the princess as she bit into it, pausing as she realized Celestia was still staring down at her with a blank face. “Uh . . . princess?”
Celestia blinked and shook herself, rising to her full height and taking another sip of her tea. She watched steam waft off of the bowl-sized cup, momentarily losing herself once again in her thoughts, then set it down and cleared her throat.
“You’re sure you don’t want to be a lawyer, Sandhya?” The girl across from the princess frowned. “It may not be quite as interesting as working with magick, but it’s highly organized and intellectually challenging. I think you might find the work enjoyable.”
Sandhya turned her head and narrowed her eyes, unsure of what the princess was trying to do. “Be that as it may magick is my life. I could never walk away from my studies, no matter what the reason. Learning magick from you has been the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I wouldn’t trade the opportunity for anything.”
The princess beamed at her, bringing a shade of red to the tan skin of her student’s face. “I expected as much.”
Sandhya fidgeted slightly. “Uh, did I pass?”
Celestia covered her mouth and fought back a laugh. “That wasn’t a test, Sandhya. I only wanted to see if you were still enjoying your position as my apprentice.”
“A-Absolutely!” Sandhya assured quickly. “I love it!”
Celestia lowered her hand and smiled earnestly at her student. “I’m glad for that. And I’m sorry I haven’t had as much free time for your lessons as of late.”
“Don’t be,” Sandhya laughed nervously. “I have your notes. And the Royal Archive. I couldn’t ask for more.”
The princess simply held her smile, watching her apprentice fidget and blush under her gaze. Silence passed between them for a moment before Sandhya finally coughed and snapped her teacher from her thoughts once again.
“Is that really all?” she asked with a nervous smile. “You seem like you’re distracted. More than usual, I mean.”
Celestia hummed thoughtfully, tempted to once again steer the conversation toward the prospect of law school, but let the thought pass. She laced her fingers on the table and cleared her throat.
“I . . . may not have been entirely honest with you when I agreed to meet you today,” she said, carefully avoiding her student’s eyes. “I don’t have as much free time as I may have alluded to.”
Sandhya’s shoulders drooped. “Oh,” she said quietly. “So you’ll be getting back to work soon?”
“Actually, I’m working now,” Celestia sighed, taking in the girl’s confused look. “I uh . . . have some business with you. Official business.”
Sandhya perked up, unsure what the princess could mean. “Oh?”
Celestia pursed her lips, choosing her words carefully. “Sandhya, you know that, as my personal student, you have some responsibilities to the kingdom.” Sandhya nodded, concern playing across her face. “Well, a situation has arisen in which I’m afraid I must call upon you to carry out those responsibilities. One in which I am unable to act freely and require a . . . substitute.”
Sandhya’s eyes widened. “A s-substitute?”
Celestia nodded. “Something, we are as yet unsure what, has fallen into the possession of a tribe of Griffonian radicals calling themselves the Star Killers.”
“That’s . . . ominous,” Sandhya noted.
“Indeed. I imagine their intent is apparent enough from their name?”
Sandhya scowled. “They’re insane then. How could anyone think they could possibly . . .” She shook her head. “It’s nuts.”
“The common sense of mort—most creatures is beyond me,” Celestia groaned, massaging her temple. “Regardless, whatever they now have might be just the thing they need to achieve such lofty goals. We do not know what it is exactly, but we do know that a powerful artifice, imbued with ancient magicks, was recently stolen from the vaults of Trottingham Keep. The vault’s manifest is being scoured to find the item that was taken, but we don’t have time to wait for the whole of the records to be searched. Given its storage location, we can assume it is dangerous enough to pose a serious threat.”
“How do you know the Star Killers have it?” Sandhya interrupted.
“One of their members was apprehended during the theft; he told us as much,” the princess explained. “Unfortunately it seems he was little more than an expendable recruit, sacrificed so that the true thieves could escape. We have extracted any and all information he could give, but it all amounts to little more than the group’s name and their philosophy. He has no idea what they were sent to retrieve nor how they were able to get it, only that it was magickal and necessary to their plans.”
She paused as Sandhya absorbed the information, slowly chewing the nutty pastry with a look of concentration. She swallowed loudly, not noticing the quirk of Celestia’s eyebrow, then turned her frown up to her teacher.
“I-I’m sorry, Princess, but, unless I’m missing something obvious, I don’t see how this relates to me,” she said cautiously.
The Princess of Sunlight regarded her apprentice, a sad smile spreading over her features. “I fear I may have failed you, Sandhya,” she murmured with a soft shake of her head. “We never did begin your lessons in sociality. There was always something a little more important to teach you.” She sighed as Sandhya’s frown deepened then straightened her back and assumed an official, authoritative tone. “Sandhya, you are the most adept and magickally sensitive person in the entirety of my Academy, and likely the entire Kingdom of Equestria. As the acting head of state, as well as the target of this radical group’s ire, it has been deemed too dangerous for me to pursue them myself, and I am required to seek an avatar to carry out the investigation into their activities and hunt them down in my stead. Given your credentials I can think of no other I would trust more with this respons— . . . this burden,” she finished, her regal tone of voice leaving her. “I am truly sorry, Sandhya, but I have doubts that anyone else but you could do this.”
The purple robed young woman gawked at her host, unable to find words. Celestia winced as she began to shake her head, slowly picking up speed and finding her voice.
“I-I-I can’t do something like thi—no,” she sputtered. “I couldn’t . . . I haven’t even left the palace in . . . since . . .”
Sandhya froze as a gentle hand touched her shoulder. She focused back on the room, looking up at the princess, and the soft smile that met her began to melt away her rising panic.
“You are, without a doubt, the most powerful magician I have ever met,” said Celestia softly, making Sandhya tense with surprise. “I had all but given up hope that I would ever see my sister again before you appeared in my school. I knew the instant you opened your Eye that you would do and become something great.” The princess shifted, taking Sandhya’s comparatively tiny hand in hers. “I would never ask this of you—I rightly cannot bestow such a burden on you, not with the debt I owe you already—but believe me when I say that I trust no one else with this task. Even among my inner circle there are those I cannot trust completely, and the fact that a small, disorganized group like the Star Killers managed to get ahold of something from Trottingham Keep tells me that this may be truer now than ever. I have to keep the peace, and to do that I have to remain here and maintain at least the illusion of normalcy.”
Sandhya continued to stare, her free hand curling into an anxious fist as she considered the princess’s words. She wasn’t sure whether to feel honored or terrified by what she’d been told, but the request laid heavy over the information and smothered her ability to think clearly. Her head shook slowly, the thought of venturing not only beyond the palace but outside the great walls around the city stabbing icy fear into her chest. The young wizard turned a pained look up to her mentor, and the princess’s half-smile dissolved into a look of knowing sadness. Sandhya could tell she had expected this outcome, and the thought that she had disappointed her teacher hurt her, but the thought of carrying out the task was almost more terrifying than even the look of defeat the princess’s face.
“If you can’t—if you really can’t—I suppose there is one other I could turn to,” the princess sighed, her downtrodden voice stinging Sandhya’s heart.
Sandhya reached with her free hand and took the princess’s in both of hers. “I . . .” She winced at the faint glimmer of hope in the princess’s eyes and cleared her throat. “Princess . . .”
The solar matriarch enfolded Sandhya’s hands in her own and smiled somberly at her. “I shouldn’t have sprung this on you, Sandhya. You didn’t need to know about it. I’m sorry.”
She moved to draw back her hand, but Sandhya held fast, surprising the princess. She looked up from the table, realizing Sandhya’s pained and conflicted face. The regal giant sighed and wrapped her other hand around her student’s, readying another apology.
“When would I leave?”
Regina Celestia choked on her words, her breath stopping in her throat. She blinked her eyes wide, staring at her teary eyes apprentice with surprise. Sandhya tried to steel herself, smiling nervously, but the only effect was highlighting how uncomfortable she truly was. The Princess of Sunlight felt strength leave her as she drank in the sight of her pitifully shaking student, wanting painfully to rescind her request and assure her that the responsibility could be passed to another, but she knew, as did Sandhya, that this was not the case. The princess smiled, sadly but sincerely, and bowed her head in thanks.
“Tomorrow,” she said quietly, feeling the hands in her grasp tense. “You would leave at first light.”
Sandhya took a ragged breath, trying to find comfort in her mentor’s touch. “Alone?”
The princess held her stoic pose, seemingly afraid to answer.
“No,” she said eventually, looking up apologetically. “You’d have to travel discreetly, no envoy of soldiers or royal carriages, but you won’t be completely by yourself.”
Sandhya, predictably, was not enthused at hearing this. “It wouldn’t be a big group, would it?”
“No,” the princess smirked. “Just three. You and two others.” She hesitated before continuing. “But I don’t imagine that will be enough. I can’t send a regiment of soldiers without alerting anyone that might be working against me from the inside, and the movements of a large group would draw too much attention, but I have no doubts you’ll find yourself in need of further help on your mission. Part of your task will be to seek out people that can help you—ordinary people that can travel without arousing suspicion—and enlist them to your cause. I trust in your judgment to find people of exceptional talent hidden among the laymen of Equestria that will provide you with the skills you need throughout your journey. You have my authorization to promise them any necessary reward upon the completion of the task and I will do my best to provide. Within reason, of course.”
Sandhya’s heart sank as her elder’s earlier comment about social lessons finally clicked. “M-Me? I have to find them?”
The princess fought to keep her reassuring smile. “Yes, Sandhya. You will be leading the mission.”
The young wizard nearly collapsed, her grip on the familiar, all-encompassing hands only just keeping her upright in her seat. She swallowed a hard lump in her throat as the thing she had tentatively agreed to do finally became clear. She was sorely tempted, almost desperate, to ask not to undertake the task, but the look of hope and gratitude in the princess’s eyes made the thought poisonous. She bit back her fear, breathing slowly and shakily, and eventually managed a small smile.
“Is it still not too late to be a lawyer?”
Princess Celestia chuckled and shook her head. “For now I’m afraid that ship has sailed, but it will be back. I have faith in your abilities, Sandhya, more so than I have trust for anyone in Canterlot right now. You will succeed. I know it.”
Sandhya took another slow breath and slipped her comparatively small hands out of her host’s. “I . . . believe that you believe that,” she said quietly, her gaze fixed on the bleached white tablecloth. She steadied herself, bunching up her robes in sweating hands. “I suppose I should pack.”
The princess sat quietly for a moment before smiling warmly. “Soon. I expected this to take longer, honestly,” she admitted awkwardly, “so I do have some time before my next appointment.” She waved her hand over the table, whispering a spell that set white vapor billowing from the teacups once again and returned some color to the foods and their sweet aroma to the room. “Shall we?”
Sandhya looked at her tea, realizing with a tilt of her head that the blossom within had disappeared—replaced with a small bag she recognized from the princess’s personal stock of imported teas. A tiny smile pushed its way through her anxiety, and she gratefully took the cup in hand and toasted her host.
The two drank and ate in near silence, the sounds of the storm and castle beyond the glass walls all but muted. In the quiet, between bites of pastry and sips of tea, each could swear they heard a tiny voice singing a beautiful, lilting serenade.
Moonset came too quickly. Sandhya felt her chest tighten as the cool darkness began to slip away from the world as the icy white sphere drifted into the horizon. She turned to her bed, looking over her meager pack of supplies with a faint air of disappointment. She was aware that such packs were essential to the survival of travelers and adventurers like herself—starting now—but all the illustrations she had seen and all the fanciful descriptions she had read of such things in her sparse few books meant only for entertainment had built up an expectation that hers did not meet.
It was tiny, to say the least. Sandhya had been methodical in creating her checklist of items and materials to pack, but they had only filled the bag nearly halfway. She had tried rearranging the bedroll, the small iron pot, the wooden box containing a pot of ink, several quills, and a few sheets of paper, the flint and steel, the mess kit, the bar of soap, the bundle of torches, the waterskin, and the tightly tied bag of dried food—several times in fact—but they always left a sizeable gap at the top of the pack. What few material possessions she had did little to take up the extra space, but she had removed most of them on the grounds of being unnecessary anyway. In the end all she had added to the pack were a few books, a wand of her own making, a small box of ingredients for certain spells, and a mirror enchanted to be nearly shatter-proof.
Sandhya took a final look out the window, just catching the last glimpse of the moon sliding down behind the edge of the world, then turned and hoisted the deceptively heavy travel pack onto her shoulders. She stepped forward as the weight hit her, careful not to topple over, then adjusted the straps until she could let her arms down without worrying it might slip off. Finally, Sandhya pulled open her robe and affixed some pouches to her belt, one of them sagging heavily with coins, and slipped her spellbook into the folds of her clothes.
The young woman turned and made her way to her door, hesitating with her hand outstretched to take the handle, then steeled herself and pulled it open, stepping out and nodding to the two guardsmen waiting to escort her through the palace before closing it quietly behind.
The pattering and thumps of bare feet and heavy boots on stone stirred a lone figure leaned against a wall, the lingering sleep slipping away as he shook himself and stood. He looked toward the approaching noise, stifling a yawn as he recognized the people walking his way. Two of them were soldiers like himself, dressed in the standard garb of a palace guard. Gold-colored plate mail covered their torsos. Open-faced helmets with short blue plumage crowned their heads. Simple leather trousers with intermittent patches of interlocking rings covered their legs. At their hips were short swords and over their backs were shields emblazoned with the insignia of the sun. Unless, of course, they had traded theirs in for the new standardized shields of the castle guard—one with a pattern that displayed a silver crescent moon cradled inside the brilliant golden sun.
Whatever their equipment, they did not interest him. What did was the young woman walking two paces behind, apparently struggling to find a comfortable position for the pack slung over her shoulders.
Her skin was a deep tan color, accented with red in her face for either embarrassment or exertion and few freckles. Her hair was a dark chocolate color, with two strange looking streaks of lavender and salmon down her left side. Her eyes, when they opened, sparkled a deep violet color, one far richer than the pale purple of her cloak. She was dressed simply, the cloak aside—a staunch robe of similar color all she seemed to wear underneath, and the lone guardsman could hear that she was not wearing any kind of shoes. His mouth twitched with a suppressed smile as he realized this was probably her attempt at emulating her mentor.
The princess never wore shoes either.
The escort marched to a halt in front of him and Sandhya caught up quickly, thanking them with heavy breaths and wiping sweat from her hairline. The two guards saluted and spun on their heels, marching back the way they came. The enchantress took several seconds to catch her breath before straightening up and realizing she was not alone in the hall. The red in her face deepened and she tensed up at the sight of the young guard staring at her.
The boy was taller than her, but not by much. His skin was lightly tanned, more by time in the sun than genetics, and his clothes allowed glances at his finely muscular body beneath. His short, dirty blonde hair spiked up and back, with a few stray locks hanging down over his face. His eyes, blue as the sky, shone with worry as he watched Sandhya recover from her trek through the palace, making her all the more embarrassed at having been winded by the fairly light pack.
“I can carry that if you need.”
Sandhya blinked, startled the realization that could speak. Her mouth moved silently for a few seconds before choked sounds started filtering out and she quickly shut it. She cleared her throat, pointedly avoiding the boy’s eyes, and collected her face into a semi-dignified expression.
“That won’t be necessary,” said the breathless young woman, adjusting the weight once again. “T-Thank you for the offer though,” she added in a mumble.
The guard ran his eyes over her once more, trying to decide whether she was shy or just a bitch. His decision making was interrupted by the door at the end of the hall behind him opening, admitting a looming regal being and one of . . . less impressive stature.
“So!” the shorter, pudgier woman piped, running through a list that trailed along the ground behind her, “as long as there aren’t any unscheduled festivals or celebrations held at the palace this stock should last seventy two days exactly. Unless you decide to have some extra Danishes with your afternoon tea, in which case you can take some from the emergency Danish stockpile, but then you’d have to substitute the missing ones from the regular Danish stockpile and those won’t stay fresh for nearly as long, so you should probably only take extra éclairs because I made a ton of extra éclairs because I know how much you like éclairs with tea; I don’t care if some of the other cooks think it’s weird, I like éclairs with tea too!”
“Thank you, Miss Pie,” the princess laughed, “I do quite enjoy those Western pastries.”
The slightly rotund woman beamed at her. “Well good thing too! I made up a lot of tortes yesterday too after you asked for that other one. I wanted to have all my bases covered when I wasn’t here to make them for you.”
Celestia’s smile wavered for an almost unnoticeable amount of time, a brief flicker of annoyance at her sister passing through her mind, but she responded with the same kindness as before. “Thank you. Those are my favorite.” The excitable pastry chef seemed like she’d carry on before the princess directed her attention to the two people loitering in the hall in front of them. “I believe you know my student, Sandhya Camaka?”
The woman turned her broad smile to the young wizard. “Of course! Everyone knows Evening Glow.” She frowned and cocked her head to one side. “No, Sunset Shimmer? Hmm . . . Dusk Shine? Twilight Sp—”
“The translation of the name is not as important as the name itself,” the princess cut in, sparing the two what could become a very lengthy conversation on context and dialect. “Sandhya, this is Miss Pinkamena Dianne Pie, the royal pâtissier.”
The portly woman extended a hand, her friendly smile piercing through Sandhya’s curtain of uncertainty and prompting her to hesitantly take it with her own.
“Nice to see you again, Sandhya,” she said cheerily. “And you can call me Pinkie. Pinkamena’s too many syllables when you’re in a hurry. And everyone’s in a hurry around here.”
Surprisingly, the flow of words ended there, and Sandhya attempted to return the smile and handshake. “Pleasure.”
Pinkie turned to the boy at her left, her eyes narrowing as she examined his face. “And you’re . . . Flash. Flash Salvai. You just got out of the academy, didn’t you?”
The young man stared at her in disbelief. “I-I’m sorry, I don’t remember our first meeting.”
The baker shifted her head back. “You have short-term memory loss? It’s okay, I can write notes for you—“
“No no, I don’t have memory problems,” he quickly assured her. “I don’t think,” he added worriedly. “Why?”
“’Cause this is the first time we’ve met,” Pinkie smirked. “You don’t remember me walking out here?”
Flash scowled and narrowed an eye. “If this is the first time we’ve met, how do you already know my name?”
“I know everyone’s names!” Pinkie exclaimed excitedly. “Or, everyone’s name that works here in the palace. I wish I knew everyone in Canterlot’s names but that’s eleven thousand three hundred and sixty two—“ she frowned, her eyes flicking toward the ceiling, “No . . . sixty five. The couple on Fifth and Mane had triplets yesterday.”
Flash and Sandhya shared a horrified look. She’s insane!
“Miss Pie,” said Celestia, halting the conversation, “will be joining the two of you on your mission. She is a renowned cook as well as a former student of—“
“Whoa! Whoa whoa, slow down,” Sandhya butt in, shocking the other two with her interrupting the princess. “The royal pastry chef? That’s who you’re sending with me?”
“Uh, I also have some concerns about that so far as qualification,” Flash agreed. “Y-Your majesty,” he added quickly.
Before the towering matriarch could speak, the red haired cook stepped forward and poked a finger into Flash’s shoulder. He looked down at her hand, then up at her face, his expression confused and slightly annoyed.
“What—“
A pulse of energy shot through the baker’s finger and out the young soldier’s back. Flash yelped and grit his teeth, jumping away from his attacker, then glared death at the pâtissier. His hand slipped around his back, his stance shifting, and suddenly a blade appeared in his fist. To Sandhya’s horror he lunged at the curly haired chef, dagger flashing and eyes fierce.
Pinkie stepped forward, catching Flash’s inner arm with a strike of her palm and stopping it dead, then twisted and slammed the other palm into his chest. The young guardsman wheezed as the air rushed out of his lungs, the force of the blow lifting him off his feet and hurling him back into the wall. Plaster and stone shattered as the phantom strike traveled through his body and smashed into the hard surface like a ghostly sledgehammer, Flash’s body bouncing off the cracked surface before slumping forward and collapsing on the floor. Pinkie dropped down and caught his head before it impacted the hard stone then laid it gently at her feet and stood. She turned to Sandhya, her eyes bright and smile wide.
Sandhya simple gawked in terror at the deceptively shaped powerhouse of a woman, her mind scrambling for words. “W-wha-I-How did—“
Pinkie clapped a hand on Sandhya’s shoulder, making her jump. “We’re going to have to have a talk about multiclassing while we’re on the road,” she said seriously. “Also we’re going to have to fix his ribs. You can do that, right?”
Sandhya blinked and looked down at the wheezing body on the floor. “I-I . . . yes, I can, yeah. Fix ribs, sure.”
Celestia discreetly pinched the bridge of her nose as the two women bent over their companion, each casting their own spells to repair the damage done to his body. So much for leaving at first light . . .
The sun rested high in the sky before the palace gates finally opened to admit a motley trio into the city beyond. A young man with a recently bandaged chest lead the way, followed by a bright, blue eyed woman in a chef’s hat that clashed with her otherwise colorful attire. They walked several steps through the great archway before realizing that they were alone, and turned back to their mutual companion, frowning and smiling expectantly at the sight of her fidgeting at the threshold.
Sandhya stared at the ground in front of her. The color and texture of the stones that made up the street were vastly different from those of the royal driveway. The polished white flags transitioned abruptly to rough, weathered cobblestones, packed with dirt and littered with stains. Her toes curled at the thought of stepping out onto the uneven walkway and her heart picked up its pace as her thoughts raced ahead to all the other types of roads she might have to walk on outside of the palace. Not every place had the smooth marble walkways, she knew, but somehow the prospect of walking over the different terrains that could be found anywhere other than the palace had never crossed her mind.
Flash sighed impatiently, bringing a deeper color to Sandhya’s face. She hesitantly reached out and placed the ball of her foot beyond the gate as though testing the waters of the city. She set her foot flat and took a calming breath as neither the rough texture nor the less-than-cleanliness of the road made her ill. With another halting move she stepped over the threshold with her other foot, then looked up at her companions with a nervous excitement.
The ginger baker smiled encouragingly, holding out an arm to invite her to catch up. Flash tried not to make a show of rolling his eyes and motioned with his head for Sandhya to join them. The enchantress made to follow, but paused. She glanced back over her shoulder at the palace—the comforting white walls and elaborate stonework, the glittering stained windows and gleaming, gold plated roofs, the finely trimmed green lawns and ever-attentive guardsmen posted throughout the outside and inside of the structure—and felt somehow as though she were betraying her sanctuary by leaving it behind. Her eye was caught by a glint in a window high above, and, for a moment, she thought she saw a familiar face staring down at her, but focusing on the window showed that the room was apparently dark and empty.
But the thought that her mentor was watching was enough. Courage filled her at the memory that there was almost nowhere she could go that the sun’s conductor could not see her with her magick telescope. No matter how far the girl traveled, Regina Celestia would watch over her. Sandhya felt the weight of her pack lessen and her chin left as she turned back to her companions. She stepped quickly, closing the distance between them and brushing past to lead their march through the capitol city.
She had not gone five steps when a firm hand closed on her shoulder. Sandhya squealed, nearly dropping her pack, and spun around to face an amused Pinkie and face-palming Flash.
“We’re going to the train station, right?” Though Sandhya could tell she knew the answer she nodded anyway. Pinkie smirked and jutted her thumb off to her left. “Then we want to go that way.”
Sandhya’s face flushed again and she lowered her head. “R-Right. Let’s, ahem, shall we . . .?”
Pinkie wrapped an arm around the girl’s shoulder and steered her down the adjoining street, Flash following, and occasionally shooting her a dirty look, close behind.
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.
The train ground to its first stop early the next morning. Doors opened down the car letting the passengers within, after collecting their things, meander toward the exit. Minutes later they were replaced by those boarding at the station in the small town. Sandhya, Pinkie and Flash waited patiently for the passenger exchange to finish and braced themselves as the train lurched and began again on its way.
Breakfast was a simple affair compared to their decadent meal the previous night. Oatmeal was eaten quietly, each diner absorbed in their own thoughts. Sandhya contemplated the fact that she was growing ever further from her lifelong home with a flutter of fear and excitement. Flash ruminated on his potentially grim task with a growing pit in his stomach. Pinkie conversed idly with herself in her mind, frowning as the conversation took a turn she did not enjoy.
After a stretch of silence following the small meal Flash drew his companions’ attention with a throaty cough. “We need to have a conversation about what we’re going to do if we actually find the—“ He looked at Sandhya, who in turn looked at the door. Her Crystal Eye blinked open for a moment, checking the integrity of her earlier soundproofing charm, then looked back at Flash and gave him a slight nod. “—the Star Killers.”
“That we do,” the baker mused somberly. “Sandhya, how many spells can you cast in a day?”
“Fifteen,” she said with a touch of pride. “Or, well, eleven if you don’t count cantrips,” she confessed, shrinking a little.
“Eleven’s not bad,” Pinkie nodded, bolstering the girl. “Flash?”
The soldier adjusted himself before answering. “One.”
“So that’s twenty four between the three of us,” the chef mused with a smirk. “I think that puts us at a decent advantage.”
“We can’t rely purely on magick though,” Flash chided. “Spells can be unreliable. I have a few weapons with me, and I can guess that you’ve got some in that bottomless bag of yours, but what about Sandhya?”
Sandhya blinked. “What about me?”
“I can’t help but notice there’s no sword-shaped bulge in your bag up there,” Flash intoned, pointing up at the travel pack. “And I don’t see much of anywhere you could hide a knife on you—“
“Oooh~ ” Pinkie piped tauntingly.
“Wha—th-that-shut up!” Flash sputtered. “I just mean I don’t know where—“ he came up short with a groan and palmed his face. “Okay, let’s try this: Do you have any weapons, Sandhya?” Sandhya, face flushed red and voice all but gone, shook her head. “Well there we go,” Flash grunted.
“Why would I need a weapon?” Sandhya asked nervously, “I’m not a fighter. I’m just here to find whatever they took.”
“Do you really think that’ll be the end of it?” Flash asked with a reproachful look, catching Sandhya off-guard. “If we find them we’ll have to kill them. They’re not just going to hand it over because, uh oh! the police are here, here you go.”
“Well we don’t necessarily have to kill them,” Pinkie corrected after noticing Sandhya’s look of horror. “We just have to neutralize them. More than anything we have to get the artifice out of their hands—everything else is just reactionary.”
Flash rolled his eyes with a groan. “Alright, so then how do we get it out of their hands? I don’t see any way that doesn’t end in a fight.”
“If I can see it I can call it,” Sandhya informed him. “Unless one of them knows the counterspell it will come to me. If that fails, we just need to know what it is and what it looks like and I can try to summon it.”
“Which meets the same problem, I assume,” Flash thought aloud.
Sandhya nodded. “All we need to do is to get them to expose it somehow. After that it’s a matter of how fast we can get away.”
“Unless they know the counterspell,” Flash groaned.
“Are they likely to know the counterspell?” Pinkie asked, trying to mediate between them.
“They won’t know to use it if they do,” Sandhya said with a confident grin.
“Why’s that?” Flash asked doubtfully.
Sandhya’s grin grew wider as she looked between her fellow passengers for a moment before closing her eyes. A vertical seam appeared in her forehead, then the skin split apart to reveal a third, sparkling eye, deep purple in color just as her others. Her roommates both flinched at the sight of the magickal Eye, Pinkie recovering quickly with interest while Flash remained disturbed.
“Wow! You really do have one!” Pinkie exclaimed excitedly. “I thought people were making it up! Not that I thought they were lying I just didn’t think they had their facts straight. I mean only Princess Celestia has one anymore, but you are her student, so it kind of follows that—“
“What the hell is that thing?” Flash finally managed to croak.
“A Crystal Eye,” Sandhya answered with a sneer as the Eye focused on him and made him cringe. “With it I can cast spells silently and motionlessly. It takes a considerable amount of concentration to use, but it almost triples the power of my spells.”
“How long can you use it for?” asked Pinkie.
Sandhya’s confidence faltered slightly, her two ordinary eyes opening. “Uh, three minutes about.”
“At a time?” the baker guessed.
“Erm . . . per day.”
“Well that’s useful,” Flash sighed, leaning his back against the wall.
“They don’t have to be consecutive,” Sandhya rebutted with a frown, the Eye snapping closed. “I can open and close it whenever I want. I can only maintain it for so long.”
“And thirty seconds of that daily maintenance was just spent explaining it,” Flash supposed.
Sandhya felt some heat in her face as she looked elsewhere and nodded.
“Does it let you cast more spells than you could normally?” Pinkie inquired.
“No,” Sandhya shook her head. “It just makes them simpler. . . and a little harder to cast.”
“And stronger,” Pinkie reminded her. “That’s good. Given that I think we should use your plan as our dominant strategy, but we do need to have backup plans. If the Star Killers are actually all skilled magicians we’ll probably be outmatched and possibly outclassed in that regard, so we need to have a contingency that doesn’t rely on magick to succeed.” She looked to Flash, who gave a reluctant nod. “If magick doesn’t work we’ll probably need to fight. If it comes to that we’ll most likely be outnumbered, but that doesn’t mean we won’t stand a chance. How long can you fly for, Flash?”
Flash seemed surprised by the question. “That’s kind of presumptuous, isn’t it?”
“Well you can fly, can’t you?” Pinkie asked with a bemused expression.
“As a matter of fact I can,” Flash said indignantly. “For about twenty minutes.” He glanced at Sandhya, expecting her to be surprised, but was slightly annoyed to realize she wasn’t. “What, both of you knew?”
“Well it’s kind of obvious,” Sandhya shrugged.
“Oh?” Flash returned, looking insulted. “And why’s that? My ears a little too tapered to be Cornish?”
“No—“
“Am I too thin? I look like I might float away?”
“You’re floating right now!”
Flash shut up and looked down. At some point in the conversation he had lifted off his seat and was hovering just a few inches above the cushion. He flushed red, turning his attention out the window, and dropped back into his chair without another word.
“How fast are you?” Pinkie continued.
Flash cocked an eyebrow. “You think Flash is my real name?”
“I think you don’t want me to say you’re real name,” Pinkie smirked, glancing at Sandhya.
Flash, once again, shut up.
“So you’re pretty fast,” the wizard assumed. “If I can’t call or summon the . . . whatever it is, you’ll have to try and swoop in and get it manually.”
“And failing that we’ll have to take it by force,” Flash asserted. He glanced at Pinkie, who nodded with a sigh, and felt a small smile on his face. “Leave that strategy to me. You two might be trained with magick but I’m the soldier here. I’ll come up with a plan before we get there.”
“At least tell us what it is beforehand,” Pinkie instructed, slightly annoyed.
Flash gave her a sarcastic salute. “Aye, Captain.”
The portly chef regarded him with mild distaste for a moment before turning to her benchmate. “Did the princess say anything about what it might be that we’re looking for?”
“She has no idea,” Sandhya sighed. “The straggler that was captured didn’t know anything of value. He was just a decoy.”
Sandhya nodded. “So I’ve read. She did say the manifest of the Vault was being looked over for the missing item. I imagine she’ll have a report for me before we arrive.”
Pinkie started to say something but was interrupted by a growing squeal outside the window and a pulling sensation as the train began to slow around them. Over several minutes the train ground to a smooth halt in the station of the town of Clydesdale and people got on and off—more on than off—before a new batch of supplies was loaded and secured in the cargo car. After a change of engineers the train squeaked and squealed its way forward and started once again across the countryside.
“You really don’t have any weapons?” Flash asked once the squeaking and muddled conversations of the car had died down.
“I didn’t think I would need any,” Sandhya scowled. “I still don’t. My magick—“
“Is useless if you can’t concentrate,” he interrupted. “You’ve never been in a fight before, have you? Never practiced casting under pressure?” Sandhya kept her scowl but closed her mouth, answering with a curt nod. “Then you probably won’t be of any use in an actual combat scenario. If we’re outnumbered we can be sure they’ll try to use that against us, and the heavy hitter magician is who they’ll focus on. We might not be able to protect you, so need to be able to protect yourself. Without magick,” he finished, cutting off her response.
Sandhya pursed her lips and looked to Pinkie, expecting some kind of rebuke. The baker simply stared back, begrudging agreement covering her face. The young wizard felt the frown diminish and turned her eyes to the floor. “I guess you’re right.”
Flash watched her for a moment or two before standing from his seat. He reached over his head into his backpack, feeling around blindly for few seconds, then withdrew his hand and sat down.
“Here,” he said quietly.
Sandhya looked up at his extended hand and blinked in surprise to see a sheathed dagger held in his fingers. She looked past it at his face, expecting a sneer to meet her, but his expression was serious.
“Flash—“
“Maybe you’ll need it, maybe you won’t,” he shrugged. “Just make sure you have it if you do.”
The enchantress stared at him for a moment before looking back at the dagger. The sheath and grip were elegantly designed and emblazoned with the royal insignia—the old version—and showed a few subtle signs of use. Sandhya guessed from its slight wear and older iconography that the weapon probably wasn’t Flash’s own, but that of an older relative. She took it carefully, surprised by the weight of the small weapon, and turned a cautious but grateful look up to the soldier.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“Just be careful with it,” Flash grunted, folding his arms. “It was my dad’s.”
The two regarded each other quietly, a faint smile spreading across both of their faces, but the moment was interrupted by a strangled squeak coming from their roommate. They looked at Pinkie, and frowned at the excited expression frozen on her face.
“Your first weapon!” she squealed happily, making Sandhya flinch as she hugged her. “Isn’t that exciting? This calls for a celebration!”
“Well it’s not really mine,” Sandhya started, but Pinkie put a finger over her mouth before she could say more.
“Yours or not you’re the one using now. That’s enough cause to celebrate, right?” She surprised both her companions by drawing a small cake out of her mystery bag, bringing a broad grin to each of their faces.
“Reason enough for me,” Flash smirked, taking the plate he was offered.
Sandhya hesitated before taking her own and smiled awkwardly as the cake was divided into three pieces and plopped onto each of the plates. “That seems like a lot, doesn’t it?”
“I’ll eat what you don’t,” Flash offered, his mouth already full.
“Nuh-uh!” Pinkie shot back, equally muffled by a mouthful of pastry. “I made it, it’s mine!”
Sandhya couldn’t help but feel a tingle of mirth at her frosting covered friends as they argued over who would get her uneaten cake, a suppressed snort turning into bubbling laughter as they became more animated. Eventually the two took notice of her, and the pause let them realize the silliness of their situation. Pinkie fell into a fit of giggling as Flash fought back a guffaw, and soon the room was filled with the sound of their laughter.
Throughout the day the train made few other stops, each passing calmly and quickly as passengers entered and exited the cars. Little else was said after the Incident of the Unfinished Cake; Sandhya, Pinkie, and Flash were all content to keep to themselves and their own distractions. Flash made notes and mumbled the odd word as he made his strategy for combat. Pinkie had taken to carving a little figure of an alligator with a knife and block of wood that her companions had both failed to notice her produce. Sandhya, after retrieving her bag and packing it behind her legs, had taken to reading one of the books she had packed on the history magickal items and devices in Equestria. The three of them ate of their own rations for lunch, hoping to save as many of Pinkie’s prepared pastries for the return trip as possible, found themselves quite hungry as evening and the day’s last stop approached.
“Should be . . . thirty minutes ‘til we reach Ponyville,” Pinkie thought aloud as she put up her cook station.
Flash let out a groan. “You know, I get that the horse is symbolic of strength and health and whatever—“
“Horses are also very important to the foundation, trade, and technology of Equestria,” Sandhya interjected with a smile.
“And whatever,” Flash repeated. “But is it really necessary to have little horse-puns in, like, everything?”
“Ponies aren’t horses,” Pinkie noted.
“Equines then, I don’t know,” Flash sighed, exasperated.
“I think it’s kind of cute,” Sandhya shrugged. “It makes me think of a little village full of ponies.” Flash turned a wilting look at her and Sandhya scowled. “Well it does.”
“I like Stalliongrad,” the chef commented with a snicker.
Flash quietly pinched the bridge of his nose. He decided to give up on the conversation, focusing instead on his blackened chicken and snap peas. The food, delicious as it was, went fast, and the small supper—cleaning and all—was finished before the familiar whine of locked wheels grating against the rails announced the train’s slow arrival in Ponyville. The party of spies sat patiently as thumping footsteps filled the car to announce the departure of the other passengers. Minutes passed while conversations were struck up just outside the train between friends and family as they reunited and various staff made their announcements about the train’s destination and future stops. Mostly empty carts were wheeled from cars ahead of their own and swapped for ones full with foodstuffs for the many passengers. The stewardess peeked around the wall into their car and awkwardly returned Pinkie’s smile and wave before disappearing again.
“You’d think she’d stop checking on us after every stop,” mumbled Sandhya once the server had gone.
“She could be a spy,” Flash mused, scratching his chin.
Pinkie giggled. “She probably just wants to be able to do her job properly. I doubt many people would ask not to be brought food on a three day train ride. I’ll bet she’s worried about us.”
“Worried about her paycheck more likely,” nodded the soldier. “She won’t get any tips if she can’t serve us meals.”
“Oh I’ll tip her,” Pinkie waved dismissively.
“Well don’t tell me that, tell her,” Flash scowled. "Why would I care if you tip her?"
Sandhya gave him a quizzical look. “Why are you so hostile all the time?”
Flash spared her a glance, then shrugged and looked out the window. “Just comes with the job I guess.”
“My brother’s in the guard and he’s never been such an ass,” Sandhya rebutted.
“Mm,” Flash hummed, leering at her. “Not to you.”
Sandhya’s face soured, questions forming in her head, but Flash surprised her with a sudden jolt. Sandhya and Pinkie frowned at him, tensing at the worry on his face. Flash’s eyes searched the air before him blindly before he snapped his head toward the door to their room, his companions following suit. The hall beyond the glass was empty, confusing the two women, but they tensed as heavy footfalls reached their ears. Their source plodded along the corridor of the car, thundering its way toward their room with an ominous slowness. Flash quietly moved a hand around his waist to where he no doubt had a hidden blade and waited, eyes fixed on the door.
A man stepped before the door’s window, his wide frame filling the pane and blocking all the light from the halls. He wore a long brown coat and leather shirt, his hair fell long and curly over his shoulders, and his dark skin deepened the shadow he cast over the room he had approached. His face was hard and dotted with scars and pockmarks, shaven save for long sideburns that joined seamlessly with his ratty mane. His eyes were dark, sunken and shaded, and his thick bushy brows were knit in a grim scowl. He reached a hand to the door and pulled, his frown deepening as it did not yield to his effort. He tugged again, rattling the frame and making Sandhya jump.
The man lifted his head, the shadows on his face lifting, and red, tired eyes looked blearily into the room. He squinted through the window, leaning closer, then reared back as he realized the room was occupied. The man glanced at the handle and released it, then smiled awkwardly and gave a curt wave—which Pinkie returned with gusto—before turning and shambling to the next room forward in the car. Sandhya let out her breath, her shoulders sagging, then flinched as Flash spun out of his seat and into hers.
“Soundproof that wall,” hissed the tense guard, pointing where he had previously sat.
Sandhya hesitated for a moment before repeating the spell she had used to block their sound through the door on their first day, then recast it over the door as an afterthought. Once it was done Flash returned to his seat and ran a hand over his face.
“What is a Griffonian doing here?” Sandhya whispered.
“Looking for us,” Pinkie grumbled, her usual bubbliness gone. “The princess was right, someone on the inside sent word ahead to the Star Killers.”
“If that’s true then he’s not looking for us,” Flash thought aloud, “he’s looking for you.”
Sandhya’s eyes bulged as he singled her out. “Me?”
“You’re in charge here,” Flash reminded her. “And you’re the princess’ own and only student. If they took you out it’d be a huge blow to her.”
“Or if they captured you they could use you as a weapon,” mused pinkie with a scowl. “Princess Celestia would surely meet with them if you were held hostage, even knowing what they’d do to her.”
Sandhya shook her head, stunned. “W . . . I—how do we know he’s even one of them?”
“I have a sense for that.” Flash rung his hands anxiously. “I’ve been checking the car every time people get on, he’s been the only one with an aura malevolent enough to make me think twice. No doubt, he’s an evil bastard.”
“But he looked exhausted,” Sandhya countered. “Maybe he’s just a tourist with a . . . less than savory past.”
“He was faking,” Pinkie growled. “I have a sense for that.”
Sandhya considered their counsel, brow furrowed and foot tapping. After a moment she realized they were both watching her anxiously. “What?”
“What should we do?” Pinkie asked.
“Wha—you’re asking me?”
“Like I said, you’re in charge of this thing,” Flash reminded her. “We take our orders from you. Whether we like it or not.”
Sandhya was too surprised to be upset by his grumbled addition. “I-I . . .” She looked between them both, her face flushing and thoughts becoming jumbled. “W-Well we don’t know what his objective is. We can’t really do anything without knowing why he’s here.”
“He’s probably a scout,” Flash shrugged. “Big as he is, Griffonians come much bigger. The tallest might even be eye-to-eye with Lady Luna.”
“Princess Luna,” Sandhya corrected distractedly. “If that’s true we may be able to follow him to the rest whenever he gets off the train.”
“If he doesn’t attack us first.” Flash glanced at the door. “You still confident in your magick to defend us?”
Sandhya suddenly became pale. “I . . . I didn’t think to prepare any spells for the day.”
Flash growled and rubbed his face then looked to Pinkie. “Please tell me you did.”
“I don’t need to,” Pinkie told him somewhat thankfully. “Like I said, I just believe they’ll work and they do, no preparations required. I guess your Eye doesn’t let you get away with that?” she asked Sandhya.
“No. It makes my spells stronger but I still need to be ready to cast them otherwise.”
“Perfect,” Flash groaned.
“It’s one man,” Pinkie grunted, glaring at him. “If he tries anything we’ll be ready. We’re not limited to our ability to use magick.”
“No, but it’s our strongest weapon. And she’s our strongest user,” Flash countered. He turned to Sandhya. “Start preparing your spells, I’m going to see what he’s up to.”
Sandhya grabbed him as he stood. “What are you doing? You can’t just go over there and stare at him if he’s as dangerous as you say!”
“I’m going to the bathroom anyway,” Flash growled, pulling his arm free. “I’ll just glance at him as I pass. I’ve got good eyes.” Sandhya pursed her lips and Flash folded his arms. “With your permission, of course, Captain.”
Sandhya blinked, shrinking under the challenging tone, then nodded meekly. “T-That sounds like a good plan. Do what you have to.”
Flash gave her a half-hearted salute before opening the door and slipping into the hall. He closed it before marching left toward the loo at the front of the car, glancing sideways into the room before theirs as he walked. He continued down to the first door in the car, slid the door open, stepped inside, then closed the door behind him. Sandhya leaned her head against the wall by the door, giving her a clear view of most of the hall through the window of the door. She waited nervously for Flash to exit the room at the end of the hall, her spellbook waiting unread in her hand. She grew more anxious at each passing minute, nodding deafly as Pinkie offered her some calming word or another. Finally, after what felt like an hour—but was closer to three minutes—the door at the end swung open and Flash reemerged into the hall.
He walked with a deliberate slowness, his eyes focused and pointed at the ground. He seemed troubled by something, a fact that worried Sandhya, but when he noticed her face watching him from the end of the hall his face cleared of its contemplative features and he stood straighter. His eyes darted sideways as he passed the room before theirs, his jaw tightening and head bobbing with a nearly imperceptible nod as he seemed to confirm something, then he sped his pace and slunk back into their room.
“He’s whispering something,” announced the discreet scout when he had sat. “It could be a spell.”
“Shoot,” Pinkie hissed, “a magician.”
“Was it just a word or did it look like he was talking?” Sandhya asked, worried.
“Talking.”
Sandhya’s face scrunched. “Then he’s probably contacting someone about us . . .” She chewed one of her nails for a moment, her eyes unfocused, then returned to the room. “We’re getting off at the next stop and changing trains. We need to get back to Canterlot.”
“What about the Star Killers?” Pinkie frowned.
“If they’re in Trottingham now they won’t be by the time we get there,” Sandhya sighed. “We’ll have to regroup, and whoever is aiding them needs to be weeded out. We can’t do anything to surprise them if someone is feeding them information about our movements.”
Flash opened his mouth to say something, then sat back and nodded with a surprised face. “That actually sounds like the best plan.”
“You left out the part where we nab that guy for questioning though,” Pinkie interjected.
Sandhya grimaced. “I don’t think that will be necessary. If the last operative they let get captured has taught us anything it’s that they don’t send people with important information into risky situations. I doubt he knows anything useful.”
“If he’s in contact with someone then he must know where they are right?” Pinkie reasoned.
“Unless they contacted him,” Sandhya nodded. “But that doesn’t mean he’ll know where they’re going to go once they’ve fled Trottingham.”
“It would be a safe bet that he doesn’t,” Flash agreed. “More often than not Griffonians will have it so only the leader of a unit will know any locations, maneuvers, or special tactics that will be used in a given situation, and he won’t divulge the information until it’s time to use it.”
“Meaning we’ll need to capture their leader to make any real progress in learning about them,” Sandhya concluded. “But, much as I hate to say it, we’re not here to learn—we’re here to retrieve what they stole.”
Pinkie raised her hands in acquiescence. “I follow you then.”
Sandhya ignored her faint blush and finally turned her attention to her book of spells, flipping through its many pages to the ones that seemed as though they would be useful for whatever lay ahead. “Flash, keep an eye out. I can’t be distracted from this.”
“Aye, Captain.”
Sandhya paused, the heat in her face growing as she realized the sincerity of his response, then buried her nose in the book. They really do look to me as their leader, don’t they? Should I really lead people older and more experienced than me? She shook her head and focused on the spell, following the intricate loops and swirls of her handwriting and absorbing the familiar energy from the weathered page. I have to focus. Whether I’m the leader or not, I have a job to do. They’re counting on me.
She continued to read, readying spells in her mind as the train thundered along the tracks and along the edge of a great, dark forest. Over a bridge and around a wide, sweeping turn the train traveled, coldly indifferent to the calls of the monstrous creatures that dwelled within the shadowy woods. The car was silent save for the bumps and thuds of gravel crushing under the heavy metal wheels of the trolley and Sandhya’s hushed whispering as she studied her book. Dusk cast a bloody light over the sky, and in minutes the world was dark. Flash, as he watched the door, ever vigilant, felt his eyes burn and his head grow heavy as night came, despite his nervous energy. Sandhya too felt exhaustion sweep over her, her tome becoming a burdensome weight in her hands. Pinkie blinked, again, and again as drowsiness filled her mind. In seconds Flash slumped against the wall, his head lolling sideways. Sandhya soon followed, her spellbook with its unfinished pages thumping to the floor. Pinkie saw them fall with worry and confusion, and then with panic as she realized what was happening.
“No,” she groaned weakly, reaching for her magick. “Clear . . . Clear the air . . .” But the air did not clear. The heavy, suffocating gas strangled her thoughts and kept her magick out of reach. Soon she too was leaned against the corner of bench and wall, fighting with all her strength to remain awake.
Wake up, she thought weakly, her fingers twitching. Wake up.
Warm sunlight rained down over the world, a stark and welcome contrast to the previous day’s gray, overcast sky. Bird happily twittered away on high branches, singing along to the cheerily soft melody hummed by the maiden below. The pretty young woman interrupted her tune with a quiet apology before ripping a thick bundle of weeds out of the earth, depositing them in a basket at her side. A white rabbit occasionally peeked its head over the side and snatched one of the fluffy flowers to snack on while the woman worked. A dirt coated hand wiped sweat from the woman’s brow, leaving a faint brown streak across her very lightly tanned skin, and she sat back on her heels to catch her breath and rejoin the birds in their merry singing. She whistled brightly, smiling as the birds picked up her tune and fluttered down around her.
“Hello,” she greeted in a breathy voice. “How are you doing today?” The birds chittered and hopped, and the woman’s smile grew as she listened to them. “Oh my, that sounds lovely! You’ll have to show me sometime.” The birds continued tweeting and hopping about, and the woman giggled quietly at one of their accounts. “Well I hope he learned his lesson.”
She listened to a few more tweets and twitters before the little birds bid her farewell and took off into the trees beyond the small garden, leaving the young gardener to her work. She sighed wistfully as they left before returning to weeding her vegetables, stopping only once to gently reprimand her rabbit for eating all the prickly weeds and spoiling his appetite before the job was finally done. The refilled basket, kept carefully out of the cotton white rabbits reach, was taken to a pile of compost before the bunny took the weeds’ place and was carried inside.
“Hello, darling—“
“Eep!”
The woman leaped away from the smiling face that greeted her just through the door. Her foot caught under her sundress and she toppled backwards, the basket flying from her hand in her panicked flail. In a blink hands were clasped around her own, stopping her fall dead. The woman remained tensed, expecting to hit the ground, for several moments before she realized she was standing once again. She faced her intruder, recognizing the elegant dress and expertly quaffed hair with a sigh of relief before panic for her rabbit clutched her.
“Angel!” she squeaked, spinning around.
To her surprise the basket, and rabbit, hovered lightly in the air behind her, lightly shimmering with the magickal force that held them aloft. Another heavy sigh left her as she took them out of the air and turned back to her friend, the older, smartly dressed woman flashing her an apologetic grin.
“Sorry, Fae,” she offered quietly. “Are you alright?”
Fae nodded, then frowned slightly. “N-not that I mind really but . . . why are you in my house?”
“Oh I just saw you were busy in your garden and thought I’d lend you a hand inside,” the woman shrugged, stepping back to let her host inside. “You really do spend far too much time tracking in dirt and too little sweeping it out.”
Fae shrank at the gentle criticisms as she stepped into her house, then straightened up as she looked around her front room. Where dirt and dust had previously been was scrubbed and polished ‘til it almost shined. The worn wood of her floor looked freshly painted and her furniture looked as though it had been shampooed. The ashes had been swept from her fireplace and her meager pile of firewood was neatly arranged beside it, and surprisingly looked a little larger than before. What stood out the most, though, was the smell. Before going out to work in her garden the room had been saturated with the familiar smell of animal waste and feed, with a light aroma of loamy earth from her trips to the garden and forest beyond. Now the room smelled entirely of lavender and jasmine, particularly around the couch at the back wall.
Fae took in the changes, turning slowly as she examined the room with a look of wonder. “Oh my,” she eventually whispered. “Rarity, how did you have time to do all this?”
Her friend smiled slyly and folded her arms. “Oh it was nothing,” she remarked, “A little magick, a little elbow grease . . . some called in favors,” she murmured with smirk.
If Fae heard her friend’s last comment she made no remark. “Wow. I-Is the whole house like this?”
“Everywhere but your bedroom,” Rarity nodded, glad to see Fae seemed to like the change. “I thought you might like it to keep its eh . . . homey feeling.”
Fae turned to her friend, her face betraying some embarrassment through her smile. “Th-this is too much, Rarity. I have to give you something for this.”
The dapper damsel scoffed and waved away the woman’s offer. “Oh perish the thought,” she laughed. “I just wanted to help.”
“Rarity, really, I can’t just accept all this work for nothing,” Fae insisted. “I have to do something for you.”
Rarity kept her amused face, looking for some break in her friend’s persistence, then let out a dramatic sigh. “Well, if you must,” she conceded, “I suppose there is one thing I could use your help with.”
Fae lit up like the day and edged closer. “Oh anything! I can’t thank you enough for this.”
Rarity blushed slightly and dismissed Fae’s praise. “You’re too kind, darling, really. But anyway, I could use your assistance for a little pet-project I’ve been working on, if you’d really like to help.” Fae nodded for her to continue. “You see, I’ve heard that there’s a certain type of spider that weaves its webs with golden silk, if you can believe that. I thought the idea was ridiculous, but would you believe that, according to a book I found in the library, it lives just inside the Everfree Forest?”
Fae’s hopeful smile dropped from her face. “T-The Everf-free . . .?”
“Can you believe it?” Rarity asked excitedly. “What luck, I thought, that I should live so nearby and have a best friend that can speak with animals! Just imagine the things I could do with golden silk. Think of the accents! Think of the necklaces!”
“R-Rarity I don’t mean to sound negative but . . .” Fae trailed off as her friend returned mentally to the room.
“Yes, darling?”
“Well, I mean, what makes you so sure she’ll give it to you?”
Rarity blinked once. Then again. “I’ll have you to ask her, won’t I? No animal can resist your charm.”
Fae fidgeted, turning her eyes to the floor. “Oh, well, um . . . I-I don’t know that she might think that’s reason enough to, uh—“
“Fae?”
Fae looked up, shrinking away from Rarity’s leer. “Y-Yes?”
“You keep saying she. By chance do you already know the spider I’m talking about?”
Fae shifted anxiously, her eyes darting around the room. “Uh . . . w-well I know of her. She’s not very well liked by the other animals.”
Rarity fought back the urge to pounce on her friend for not revealing she knew of such a nearby recourse of so precious a material and took a breath to calm herself. “Well . . . maybe we can change that,” she offered cheerfully. “You’re great with animals, I’m sure you can get her to change her tune, as it were.” Fae puckered her lips, nervously shrinking away from her friend and the task she had set before her. Rarity’s smile gradually faded, replaced with a look of disappointment. She lowered her head and started for the door. “Well, if you’re sure. I suppose I can buy gold colored silk when the traders come back through . . .”
The dressmaker glanced over her shoulder, her eyes wet and lower lip quivering. Fae felt a stab of guilt at turning her away. She looked around the room again and felt the sting become a dull throb. She had offered anything as thanks and now she was turning down the first offer. Fae was aware Rarity was fairly well off, more so than her at least, so payment would neither be wanted nor accepted for her deed. She was already house-training Rarity’s cat, so that offer was off the table. Really if there was anything the fashionista would conceivably need her help with, this was it. Her eyes settled again on Rarity, who quickly stowed a compact mirror and put on her best pout, and she quietly sighed in acquiescence.
“I suppose,” she began, making the tailor spin around with a hopeful grin, “if it means that much to you to have real gold silk—“
“I should like nothing more,” Rarity nodded quickly.
Fae sighed again. “I’ll get my boots then. You might want to change . . .”
Fae shook her head, slightly disoriented by the realization that her friend had stripped off her lavish dress when she wasn’t looking to reveal a tight-fitting, oddly colored—though admittedly quite attractive—blue one-piece suit. She extracted a pair of gloves from one of the pockets and pulled them up to her elbows, the superfluous laces along them matching those of her thigh high boots. Were she preparing for a fashion show Fae might have assumed her ready, but the outfit was far from practical for the purposes of trekking through the dense forest. Fae fought her urge to grimace at the outfit, knowing that doing so would immediately darken her friend’s mood. Instead she offered a meek smile before venturing up to her room to change her own clothes and fetch a few necessary supplies.
“Um, Rarity?” she called down.
“Yes?”
“Would you mind terribly if we rode Harry out to the nest?”
Fae could almost hear the sour look her friend made. “The bear?”
“Well, dire bear,” Fae mumbled, then called down, “Yes.”
“Er . . . it’s a bit hot to be swamped in all that raggedy fur, isn’t it?” Rarity mused.
Fae scrunched her face and set the socks she had chosen back in her drawer in favor a pair with more padding. “Right . . .”
A humid heat permeated the Forest despite the thick canopy of leaves that cast it into a near-endless twilight. The smell of damp earth and old, mossy wood clouded the air and made the long trek into the depths of the wood feel stuffy and gross. Water both from the previous day’s rain and the lingering dew in the shade of the trees dripped in fat drops to the Forest floor far below, more often landing on a head of frazzled and distressed indigo hair than not. Rarity had long since given up on trying to maintain her prized quaff and taken to trundling miserably through the uncomfortably wet wood on her guide’s heels—sometimes more literally than she meant.
“Sorry,” she grumbled after kicking the heel of Fae’s boot for an uncounted time.
“It’s alright,” Fae assured her with a smile. “You know I’m glad you got me to come out here. The Forest is so lovely after a rain,” she mused, breathing deep the damp air.
“Mm, lovely,” Rarity growled, wrenching her stained and tattered boot out of yet another mud puddle.
Fae flashed an apologetic grin over her shoulder. “Don’t worry, it shouldn’t be too much farther.”
“Fae, you’ve been saying that for hours,” Rarity groaned. “Are you sure you know the way?”
“W-Well,” Fae breathed more than said, “I’ve never actually been there myself, but Skyler said if we kept going this way we’d be sure to find the nest.”
“Skyler?” Fae pointed up to a branch above them where Rarity realized a small bird was watching them. The bird flitted ahead to another branch and turned around to watch them approach before doing so again, and Rarity let out an exhausted half-laugh as she realized that Fae had likely been letting the little bird lead them for most, if not all, of they’re journey. “Stunning,” she grunted, stepping over a slick, mossy log.
They resumed their silence after that exchange, the only sounds passing between them being the pants, groans, and grunts of their traversing the obstacles in their path en route to their destination. Rarity came to notice eventually that, at some point, their path had begun to take them steadily uphill, and the thought that they would have gravity on their side as they returned bolstered her spirits as she wiped hot sweat from her pallid face. Slowly, surely, the incline began to level out, and Skyler the lark hopped a little more often and twittered at Fae with increasing regularity. Rarity assumed they were drawing near the end of their trek—a suspicion that was confirmed by a rather abrupt shift in the colors of the trees around them.
“This is the edge of her territory,” Fae announced suddenly.
Rarity almost ran into her before realizing her friend had stopped. “Ah,” she panted, waving a hand. “I wouldn’t have known from the . . . the webs. Ugh, I’m too tired for sarcasm.”
Fae smirked in her direction before looking up at the obviously uncomfortable bird in the branch above. She whistled, the sound eerily similar to that of the lark’s own chirping, and the little bird peeped something back before taking off back into the forest—away, and very quickly Rarity noticed, from the spider’s domain.
“I feel like I should be worried about whatever she just said,” the designer thought aloud as she caught her breath.
“He,” Fae corrected, “and . . . well, probably.”
Rarity rolled her eyes and put a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “Whatever it was, don’t tell me. Let’s just go in, get the silk, and get out.”
Fae took a deep breath, more to calm herself than regain her strength, then nodded. She stepped cautiously past the webbed threshold, her pace even but slow and head up. Rarity took another breath, admiring Fae’s stature when she stood fully erect, then followed after, wincing as she felt the start of at least one blister on each foot. Note to self, henceforth function shall always come before form in footwear.
The two women walked slowly and quietly through the thickening blankets of stringy white that coated the trees and ground around them, their eyes darting from place to place at any hints of motion. The distant sounds of life in the Forest faded as they trekked further into the spider’s lair, the humidity and heat—very thankfully for Rarity—slipping away as well. Their footfalls became all but silent as the sticky white sheet beneath them grew thick and pillowy. The shade of the canopy turned to near darkness while the channel of web grew dense. Soon the world was little more than a tunnel, and the prospect of retreat was fast becoming an attractive one.
“Fae?” Rarity asked in a whisper.
“Yes?”
There was a pause.
“Rarity?”
Fae stopped and looked back, tensing as she saw her friend hunched up and trembling. She looked beyond the petite dressmaker and felt her muscles grow tighter at seeing what had made her so upset.
The way back through the tunnel was slowly filling with dozens, possibly hundreds, of spiders that were descending from the high ceiling of the cave of silk. The arachnids moved slowly and deliberately, slinking down in a wave behind the two travelers and blocking off their means of escape, their whispery voices filling Fae’s ears as they saw they’d been discovered. A look above herself told Fae that there were many more spiders than were presenting themselves to the duo and that the rolling army was closing in on them from overhead as well as behind. She glanced backward, toward the inner domain, and saw that the tunnel was clear. They were herding them.
She gently touched Rarity’s shoulder, making her seize and almost fall over. “We should keep going.”
Rarity was slightly taken aback by the authority in her voice, but, at noticing the spiders descending toward them, quickly forgot it and followed. Fae righted her back as she walked, adjusting herself to appear confident despite the growing pit of fear in her stomach. She shut out the droning breathy voices of the spiders, momentarily jealous of Rarity’s inability to hear their jeering, hissing, and otherwise unpleasant commentary. Further they walked into the nest and more Rarity shrunk into herself and wished to be anywhere else, until finally sunlight lanced into their eyes from around a bend. Fae and Rarity shielded their eyes from the golden light that streamed into the cavernous web structure as they approached it, sharp glimmers of light dancing across their faces in odd patterns the nearer they came. As finally they exited the tunnel and adjusted to the light of day, Rarity felt the breath sucked from her lungs in awe.
Between two gray spires extending from beneath the tower of web, hanging taught in the in the air, catching the afternoon light with a dazzling gleam and glitter, hung a massive, intricately woven web made entirely of heavy golden silk. A gust of warm summer air ran through the clearing in the webs, sending several of the smaller webs around the golden threads swaying and wobbling in the wind, but the thick, gold strands remained motionless. Rarity’s breath came back only for an instant before she let it out again in a gasp of amazement at the delicate looking strands of metal. She stepped closer, shielding her eyes against the glint on its surface, but a strong hand pulled her back. She looked up at Fae in surprise, but the other woman did not meet her gaze. Slowly Rarity followed her eyes to the top of the web and, once again, felt her breath catch in her throat.
Slowly, delicately, a spider nearly five feet across plucked its way down from the uppermost threads of the web. Its body was black, its legs long and spindly with thick, coarse brushes on the first and second segments of all but two of the stick-like appendages. Its abdomen was long but rotund and bore a striking starburst in its center. Its head was black, but each of its eyes glittered with flecks of gold, as did the long fangs that extended from its chelicerae. Rarity took an anxious step backward, positioning Fae between her and the giant arachnid, but the faint feeling of something brushing the back of her head made her snap back beside her friend, her scream only just contained.
The enormous spider stopped in the center of the web, its position making the starburst on its abdomen look like the real heart of the web from which the golden threads extended. There it stayed, its pedipalps twitching every so often as it apparently took stock of the intruders into its domain. Rarity gulped loudly and glanced at Fae for guidance, then did a double take as she realized that the younger woman’s lips were moving. She squinted at her friend, trying to see what she was saying, but the shapes her mouth made made no sense to her. She instead strained her ears to hear if she was casting some form of spell, but was met with total silence.
Movement made her jump. The spider had shifted a leg, its chelicerae twitching and bobbing as though they itched. Rarity watched the spider’s subtle movements for a few seconds before another motion made her flinch and look to her friend. Fae, to her surprise, had lowered herself in a curtsey, and turned to face Rarity as she stood.
“Rarity, this is Her Majesty Stella Aurea, queen of the star spiders and weaver of the Web of Aurum.”
Rarity blinked before turning to look up at the spider with a nervous smile. “Eh, ch-charmed,” she said with a curtsey of her own.
The spider regarded her silently before her mouth parts began to move again, and Rarity realized she must be talking to Fae. The pink-haired spider-speaker listened quietly as the regal arachnid spoke, waiting until she was clearly finished to say her own piece. The spider showed her far less patience, apparently interrupting Fae several times as she spoke. After a few moments of watching this, Rarity finally felt the courage to interject.
“What is she saying?” she whispered to Fae.
Fae flinched at the interruption, almost having forgotten her company. “O-oh! I’m sorry, I forgot—let me-or-I’ll let you hear her. Would you want that?”
“Oh,” Rarity blinked. “Er, yes. Please.”
Fae nodded, silently saying something to the spider, then turned fully to her friend. Rarity shifted slightly as she felt the focus of the area shift to her but stood tall as Fae folded her hands as though in prayer and gathered her magick about her.
“Hear as through my ears. Speak as in my voice. Know that the world is not silent.”
Magick pulsed through Rarity’s being, making her body tingle and head swim. She swayed slightly, almost falling, but managed to stay upright through force of will. Hissing, whispery echoes drifted to her ears as the spell took root within her and soon the faint voices became clear. Hundreds, if not thousands, of chattering, raspy, hissing voices assaulted her ears in the wake of the spell, and Rarity turned for the first time to see the forest of dangling arachnids that had closed in behind them. Chills ran up her spine as she heard them take notice of her realization and several of the voices began calling to her in mocking, angry tones. With a nearly deafening hiss the voices were silenced, and Rarity looked to the great matriarch of the nest.
“You can hear me now?” a loud, rasping voice asked.
“Q-Quite clearly. Er, Your Majesty.”
“Then I shall speak to you,” the spider growled, sending a shiver through the designer. “The fat one tells me you seek my web. Through experience I am inclined to believe there is a reason. No one seeks my web without some selfish desire of their own.”
Rarity narrowed her eyes at the insult to her friend. “I beg your pardon, Majesty, but you would be wise not to be so tactless in reference to my companion.”
Fae fidgeted anxiously, her eyes fixed on the ground. “Rarity, don’t worry about that.”
“I will worry about it,” she whispered back. “We did not come here to be insulted.”
“You came to insult me then?” the spider hissed, drawing a ruckus from the crowd behind the two women. “Do not suppose that I cannot understand your language simply because it is beyond my capacity to speak. I know what you have come here for, and you will be insulted for your stupidity!”
Rarity turned a dark glare up to the Weaver. “Madame—“
“Majesty!”
“. . . Stella, I imagine you have received others that sought your silk before us.”
If the spider could have glared Rarity imagined she would be. “Those who enter my domain always come seeking my beautiful silk,” she hissed, strumming an odd thread out of habit. “And always they make some benevolent claim as to its use. I have heard every excuse from every type of man and woman wishing to obtain my glorious silk for their selfish, petty desires. You shall not leave with it,” she rumbled. “If you cannot convince me you deserve it you shall not leave at all!”
Thousands of excited voices cheered the announcement, making Rarity’s ears ring and filling her with dread. She looked to Fae, but her friend remained silent and kept her focus on the ground. Whatever the spider had said before she began addressing Rarity had obviously upset her deeply and she apparently had nothing or knew nothing to say that could convince the angry queen to let them go. Rarity felt a sick ball of guilt settle in her gut as she looked at her friend. It was obvious her lack of enthusiasm to guide her to this place was well founded, and Rarity had paid little attention to the signs of worry and reluctance in her agreement. The tailor felt her jaw set and turned a stern look up to her captor.
“Your Highness, I would make a request of you.”
The giant spider’s abdomen throbbed and mandibles jittered. “You would be so bold?”
“I would,” Rarity nodded. “I ask that my friend be allowed to leave unharmed.”
Fae’s eyes bulged as she looked up at her friend. “Wha—Rarity!”
The queen’s chelicerae flexed as she absorbed the statement. “And what, pray tell, do you offer for her passage?”
Rarity took a breath before answering. “Myself.”
Fae gawked at her friend while the star spider let out a hissing, hollow sounding laugh. “Do you suppose this is a fair trade?” Stella chuckled. “The fat one will feed my children much more than you. Why should I even trade one for the other when I have both as it stands?”
Rarity was quiet for a moment, all eyes and ears focused on her. Slowly her eyes began to glitter and glow with magick, and the air around her flickered and wavered with heat. The next words she spoke let tongues of orange flame seep from her mouth and the breath that followed was filled with smoke.
“Gold has a surprisingly low melting point for a heavy metal. Did you know that?”
The nest filled again with angry hissing and shouts. Fae stared in horror at her friend as she folded her arms and smirked up at the mistress of the spiders. Stella Aurea twitched with anger and restraint as Rarity’s words rang in her ears. Eventually she let out a sharp yell, silencing the voices of her children and making both Rarity and Fae jump.
“Do you expect I will be intimidated by your threat?” the spider asked in a low growl.
“As an artist, I expect that you will do what’s necessary to protect your masterpiece.”
The queen fell silent, her mandibles idly twitching and flexing as she considered Rarity’s words. Silence reigned in the clearing. The many gathered spiders swayed quietly in the wind. Fae nervously glanced back and forth between her friend and the imposing, arachnoid matriarch. After nearly a minute the massive spider queen shifted her spindly legs and started to move down the lower half of the web. Rarity flinched as she scuttled down from her perch along the ground, then seized as one of the nimble legs latched onto her boot. The fashionista felt her muscles tighten more and more as Stella reached around her back and daintily clawed her way up her body, eventually coming to rest with her powerful, knifelike chelicerae undulating less than a foot from her face.
“You have missed your chance to act,” the monarch hissed, her mandibles twitching in what Rarity could only assume was a smile.
Rarity breathed slowly, forcing herself to calm, and looked beyond the quivering fangs at the glimmering golden silk with resignation. “Truth be told I could never bring myself to destroy something so beautiful,” admitted the seamstress with a sigh.
The spider hovered around her, her eight eyes boring into the designer’s face. Her mouth parts wobbled in thought, her pedipalps absently touching Rarity’s hair and brushing it out of her eyes. The spider twitched slightly as the deep blue, diamond-shaped crystal in the middle of the woman’s forehead was exposed from under her messy veil. She shifted slightly, examining the gem from different angles, then finally settled.
“You are Cornish,” she thought aloud.
“Y-Yes,” Rarity affirmed.
The spider seemed thoughtful. “You share blood with the Crystal Nomads?”
Rarity frowned slightly. “I-If I do this is the first I’ve heard of it.”
“Gems, crystals, precious stones—you feel a connection to them, do you not? You can sense them within the earth?” the queen asked somewhat harshly.
“Yes,” Rarity answered quickly, “I-I do. I incorporate them into my creations. I’m a jeweler, as well as a tailor, dressmaker—“
“I will let her go.”
Rarity and Fae both blinked. “Sorry?”
“You’re friend, the large one, she may go,” the spider repeated. A chorus of angry voices began to protest but a curt hiss shut them up. “She may go unmolested.”
A few whispery murmurs of discontent continued. The queen shifted, focusing her multi-eyes gaze on her kin, and the spiders quickly began to retreat up their anchors into the webs above. Fae watched them clear a path with a breath of amazement, but her feet remained rooted to the spot.
“W-What about Rarit—“
“My business is not with you!” the queen spat, making Fae flinch.
Fae pursed her lips and looked to Rarity, her expression scared. The dressmaker spared her a glance then motioned discreetly with her hand. Fae hesitated, shifting on her feet and looking from the tunnel of web to her friend and back.
“Begone lest I consume you myself!” the spider roared.
Fae squeaked and ducked into the sticky corridor, fleeing through the receding ranks of the forest of spiders. She bumbled through the darkness, knocking against webby walls and stumbling over unseen roots and blocks until finally she emerged into the dim forest beyond the thicket. She kept running, not stopping despite the frenzied cries of the few hand-sized spiders that had gotten stuck to her in her dash. Her passengers leapt onto passing trees as she ran and yelled curses at her as they began scuttling back to their home, grumbling at not being allowed to eat her as they went. Eventually Fae’s earlier hike caught up to her and she staggered to a halt, propping herself against a tree for support as she struggled to regain her breath. The hot, humid air of the Forest filled her lungs and made her cough. She stumbled and fell as her coughing fit sapped the remaining strength from her limbs, then, when it had passed, leaned her back to the tree and resumed her panting.
The animal keeper cracked an eye to examine her surroundings. She was well familiar with the outer edges of the forest, but its interior was not something she was wont to explore. True, she knew what direction to travel, but the way would be perilous after the sun had set and she had no idea what creatures could be lurking in the night. The darkening wood was foreboding, the sounds that echoed through it more so, and Fae felt a growing dread as she realized she had not followed the path she had taken to reach mad queen’s nest, making the road to her cottage even more dangerous. She pulled her legs close and looked around with increasing panic as the sounds of night creatures started to filter through the trees, growing louder and more hungry sounding as the moon rose above the canopy—
Something exploded in the distance, making Fae scream a breathy, quiet scream. The boom was followed by a rumble in the ground and several large animals charging through the Forest past the terrified woman. Fae peeked out of her fingers after several seconds of silence, looking in the direction of the earth-shattering blast. She could see a cloud of dust pierced by intermittent moonlight in the distance, and could not help but sigh with relief as she realized the explosion was in the opposite direction of the nest. Her reverie was short-lived, however, as she realized what was in that direction.
“Oh . . . oh dear,” she murmured, standing up. “Doesn’t the train pass through the Forest that wa—”
A yell interrupted her thought, making her flinch and whimper again. She checked over her shoulder, seeing that the sound had sent any and all creatures bounding in the direction she needed to travel to return either to her home or to the nest. She gulped, turning her attention back to the cloud, and, with a shiver, cautiously made her way toward the source of the noise.