Upcoming absence. Also, have an excerpt. · 7:21pm Jul 12th, 2014
Just as a heads-up to any followers who may keep track of such things with baited breath, as of the beginning of next week, I'll be away in this lovely part of the world.
Internet access, electricity, and running water won't be available, though that'll be more than compensated for by just about everything else about the place. This does, however, mean that any progress on my stories or responses on my part to assorted ongoing things will be non-existent.
I'll be back soon, but until then, have a (possible) planned excerpt from an upcoming The Devil's Details chapter to tide you over. If you have any thoughts on it, please divulge them.
They lay around the campfire, sparks spitting up into the darkening sky. Blackwards Bay yawned open before them, jagged mountains curling around it like the head and tail of a coiled predator. Between the mountains, where the twilight sky brushed across the horizon, black ocean waters glimmered.
Chevalier cleared his throat.
“There was a pegasus explorer a hundred and fifty years ago, Tumbleweed. And he was about as close to a real-life Daring Do as you can get. He crossed the Sea of Smoke and the Burning Mountains and bartered with the Queen of Dragonkind in her own hall. He ventured into the Greycairns, sounded out sites for new Diamond Dog underholds, and came home richer than the King of Zebrica. He set new records for the furthest ever ventured North. He’d seen it all, and just about done it all.”
The fire sparked and crackled. The sea pounded softly on the rocks far below. The cadet raised his gaze, looking towards the horizon.
“And one day, he decided that he’d do what nonpony had ever done before. He was going to circumnavigate the world for the first time in all of history. He’d cross the Black Ocean with a whole expeditionary squadron, and come home to tell the tale.”
“I’ve heard of this,” said Skewbald, looking up from where he’d been letting himself fall into a drowsy stupor. “It all ends with -”
“Yes, yes, shut up. Story in progress. Anyway.” Chevalier drew in a breath. “There was every preparation you can think of. Tumbleweed even hired an island from a corvid clan as an embarking point for the ships – this was back before the Incursion. Three great windjammers were built from scratch and stuffed to the ballistawales with every provision they could need, with sails that looked like clouds skimming across the sea. The Spirit of Adventure, Celestia’s Wing, and the Beauty of Baltimare. Veteran teams of earth pony sailors on each one, unicorn astronomers to plot their course and to keep them in touch with Equestria, pegasi flight teams to keep the winds in their favour and settle any storms. Expert volunteers from Asinia, Capra, even a couple of corvid outfliers.”
“So they set off from their hired island the minute they had everything in order. Celestia herself gave Tumbleweed her blessing, and the last anypony saw of them was Tumbleweed himself waving farewell from the top of a mast on the Spirit of Adventure.”
“A month passed, and Equestria kept in touch with the squadron. Steady progress, apart from a couple of ocean squalls. Nothing but open water, but they had enough food stocked to last a couple of years. They’d be fine.”
“Another month. Communications begin to slip, but that’s to be expected across a distance.”
“Integral decay,” muttered Skewbald. “When you send a magical message, then it’s going to run into wild magic in the air and inevitably degrade.”
“Yes, thank you, that happened. So by the third month, when the squadron’s unicorns fell silent for good, nobody was surprised. They were surely just sailing on. No cause for concern.”
Chevalier settled into silence. The ocean continued to whisper.
“And then?” Zephyr prompted.
“Two years later,” said Chevalier, “A scouting party of Zebrican pegasi were flying over the Cheval Sea when they noticed a ship passing by, coming from the empty Western Ocean.”
“They flew down to investigate, and found the Beauty of Baltimare completely empty. Battered and rough around the edges, like you might expect from a ship that’s been through a storm or two, but nothing else. No bloodstains. No signs of a struggle. Nothing apart from the personal effects aboard to suggest that there’d ever been a crew aboard.”
“Nothing apart from one thing. As the zebras were preparing to fly home to report the strange appearance of the ship, they heard somepony crying in the lookout’s nest. They flew up and found a mare, one of the earth pony sailors. Skinny with lack of food, though there was still a hold half-full of provisions. Delirious with thirst, even though there were water barrels on the deck below her. She tried to hide from the zebras, and only babbled the same thing over and over at them no matter what they said to her.”
“’I can’t stop them! I can’t stop them! Sounding out in every thought at every time, and I can’t stop them! I can’t stop them! I can’t stop them!’”
“They pacified her, though she never stopped babbling that. She didn’t stop when they delivered her and the Beauty of Baltimare home to Equestria. And she didn’t stop until she died in an asylum three years later. They didn’t find anything else aboard the ship. No diaries, no captain’s log, no records of any sort to suggest what had happened out there.”
“Nothing apart from one sentence scratched into the wood of an underdeck. Make it stop.”
Silence fell like a shroud. Chevalier contemplated the horizon, while Zephyr glanced with a shiver at Skewbald.
“Yes, a strange business, all things considered,” said Skewbald after a while. “Why tell it?”
“It came to mind,” admitted Chevalier. “And I suppose it’s possible at a stretch to interpret something upbeat from it. No matter where we are, we could be somewhere much worse. Right?”
“Next time,” said Zephyr, “I set the tone for the stories around the campfire.”
