//------------------------------//
// Chapter 5 
// Story: An Eastern Equestrian Hearth's Warming 
// by Elkia Deerling 
//------------------------------//


CHAPTER FIVE





        “Dammit!” Carbide hissed, as he stumbled over a hidden gap in the road. With a jolt, he felt the heavy metal cart bounce in the same hole. He shot a quick peek behind and growled. “I’d better not have dropped a nugget there.”





        Although Carbide Lamplight knew there were no trains going at this hour of night, he was still heading towards the train station. Surely he would be able to bribe some nighttime maintenance engineer and make him call in for another train. After all, money can make a pony do magical things… 





        Sweat beaded off his forehead as he trudged on through the snow. Carbide tried to go as fast as he could, but the snow-covered path, the ripping wind, and the enormous load slowed him down. “Damn this weather. Damn this land,” he hissed through gritted teeth, but no curse could beat mother nature. 





        He was in a hurry. Carbide Lamplight wanted to live his dream; to live the life he always wanted, and the life he deserved. He had snuck out of the village as inconspicuously as possible; no lights, no sounds. His house was already at the edge of town, and after gathering a few personal belongings—mostly photo’s—he had been off into the night. But beside that, the miner also wanted to hurry because he wasn’t sure when Rivet would be rescued. 





        To distract himself from the stress and inclement conditions, he tried to ease his mind by going over all the calculations. What time was it? Swinging out a copper pocket watch, Carbide looked at the favorable direction of the clock hands. Good. It will be some time before the village will wake up and all the poor little stallions go to work. How far was he from the train station? That he didn’t know for sure. The lands surrounding him looked all the same in the cold darkness, but Carbide had the feeling he was close. How long would Rivet be out cold? A long time. It was a powerful whack he had given him, and the knots he had used were close to unbreakable; proven a thousand times over in the depths of his mine. But then Carbide frowned, as a stray thought popped up in his mind: what if Rivet Punch wouldn’t be found and rescued?





        Of course he would, Carbide thought. His family would go and look for him. Although—he frowned—we were rather deep in the forest. They would probably not know where to look… Suddenly Carbide caught himself slowing down. He shook his head and snorted. Too bad, then. If you want something, you have to be prepared to make sacrifices. Just keep going, Richskaya!





        But if he really whisked away the death of Rivet Punch as mere collateral damage, then why did his image continue to dominate his thoughts? Why did his eyes feel like they were white-hot? Why was every step he took more hesitant than the last?





        “Dammit! Go away!” he yelled against the wind. 





        A few teardrops left his eyes. Carbide could blame the biting wind for it, but deep inside, he knew where those tears came from.





        “GO AWAY! YOU’RE DEAD! YOU LEFT ME NO CHOICE, YOU IDIOT!”





        He’s dead. He really is. 





        Nopony could survive such a violent blizzard; Carbide knew that. He hung his head, and sniffed a few times—but then raised it again with a jolt. He had to get going. He could always do something later. I… I… I’ll just send his family some gold. That thought eased his heart a little, and Carbide found a renewed strength inside himself. He plowed on through the weather, the moon hanging low above the western horizon, trapped by clouds.





        To his right, the forest followed him on his journey. Although a couple dozen yards away, Carbide could still see the pointy leaf-crowns rock in the wind. The freshly fallen snow waved all around, whipped up by the drafts, and a mist lingered beneath the tree trunks. To his left, he was accompanied by a river, completely frozen solid. Carbide would feel more at ease once he’d left the tree line of the forest far behind—fortunately, he soon would. Although Carbide Lamplight hadn’t travelled a lot in these lands, he had a lot of maps of the region in his home, all of them covered in scribbled notes and circles: places he would have to prospect later. But now he didn’t need to go prospecting—never again. 





        With a shock, Carbide Lamplight came to a halt as he saw something familiar right beside the path, lying silently hidden in the darkness. The frozen stream, which had trustfully ran right beside him, had ended in a large lake. The lake was shaped like an oval, and with pointy ends, like an unblinking eye. It wasn’t completely frozen, as the middle of the lake, where the bottom was deepest, was still open. The unfrozen hole was completely round, and made the picture of the eye complete: a frozen eye with a liquid pupil, silently staring at the infinite night sky. 





        Carbide Lamplight knew this spot. In a haze of memory, he saw Rivet and himself walking through the short grass, circling around the lake, occasionally ducking to grab some samples off the ground. On a free afternoon one distant summer, he and Rivet had gone far out of town to go prospecting, as Carbide had thought that the river and the surrounding lands should yield some rubies to him. All day they had been there, walking, sifting the river, digging in the ground. Carbide could remember how many questions Rivet had asked, and how many answers he had given. Rivet Punch would probably have learned more about mining that day than on any other day. Carbide couldn’t suppress a smile. If he could have remembered any of it. 





        He cursed once more at thinking about his late friend again. The emotions ran through his body like a river, filled with tears. Finally, he couldn’t stand it anymore.





        “I needed a rest anyway,” he muttered to himself, as he unlaced the straps of his harness, threw it to the ground, and slid down the path towards the river. An unseen rock thwarted his plan. Carbide tripped and fell nose-first into the snow. 





        “Dammit!”





        Spitting out a mouthful of biting cold snow, Carbide decided to make some light; he was sick and tired of working in the dark, and reckoned he was far enough away from the village to safely illuminate his path. First he tried to concentrate, and a pale, cold grey light started shining through his horn. But then he frowned, and extinguished it. Carbide took off his mining helmet and turned it around in his hooves. There was a small carbide headlight attached to it; a heirloom of a miner’s family. He flicked the lever of the water reservoir and turned the flint. A bright, cold flame like a spearhead came to life, and Carbide put the helmet back on his bald head. “Now let’s get a last view of that stupid lake, you sentimental bastard,” he muttered as he raised his head. But then his eyes widened, when instead of the lake, he looked straight at the figure of Rivet Punch, fully illuminated in the ghostly white light. 





        Carbide’s mouth fell open. Both ponies stood still like snowponies. For a second, Carbide looked at the figure of Rivet: he was ruffled, battered, scratched. The whiplashes of the ropes were painfully visible, and a stain of caked blood covered his leg. To Carbide, it looked like the stallion had risen from the dead, and as far as he knew, he had. 





        Rivet took a step forward, Carbide took one back. Despite his injuries, the blood-red stallion still looked strong, rooted to the ground with an iron will; murderous, almost, and filled with vengeance. His eyes flashed yellow in the pale light, and Carbide found himself unable to look away from them.





        Then Rivet looked to his right. “What now?” he whispered; but Carbide didn’t see anypony beside the stallion.





        With the eye contact broken, Carbide saw a chance to break away. He twirled around, and rushed over to his mine cart wagon, the light on his head bouncing spastically up and down.





        How’s this possible?! He is dead! I killed him!





        Filled with adrenaline, he rummaged through the gold and took out a freshly sharpened pickaxe. One thing he didn’t doubt: Rivet was not going to get his gold. Never.





        Carbide’s head flashed from the left to the right; the light beam jumped over the landscape. There was no need for that, though, because Rivet Punch appeared right in front of him, and slowly came closer. As he approached, Carbide saw his expression: eerie calmness, like they were sitting at the  bar, having an easy conversation. Silence reigned. Carbide couldn’t even hear the rushing winds anymore. There was only this moment. This was it. 





        “Go away!” Carbide yelled, his voice laden with more fear than he wanted to show. 





        Rivet marched on, as calm as a winter landscape. 





        Carbide raised his pickaxe, but the light on his head trembled even more. “Stop! You’re not getting the gold! You are dead! DEAD!”


        


        Only a few hoofsteps separated the two ponies. Rivet Punch stopped and drew in a deep breath. 





        Carbide said nothing, but didn’t look in the red stallion’s eyes.





        “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Rivet said in his deep, droning voice. 





        Carbide squeezed the handle of his pickaxe.





        “The lake, I mean. It’s like we never left.”





        Still the miner was silent, but held his fighting stance.





        Seeing no reaction, Rivet took to the direct approach; the one he liked best anyway. “Why did you do all this, Carby? There was no need for violence.”





        “You left me no choice!” Carbide answered. 





        Rivet shook his head in a fluent motion. “We only had a difference in opinion. There are a million other ways to solve those. We were friends. We still are.” 





        “NO!” Carbide yelled. “You wanted what I needed. I NEED this gold. You… you…”





        “No, Carby,” Rivet said, and did a step forward. “You need something gold can’t buy. You need friendship.” 





        But that one step was too close for comfort. Carbide’s shaking horn flashed, and the pickaxe launched itself at Rivet. 





        Rivet started, and swung his head to the side. Too late. The razor-sharp axe cut a deep groove in the side of his head. The pain made Rivet kneel to the ground, but out of reflex, he rolled away, leaving a trail of blood. The warm liquid drooped over his right eye, and then he was lost in the dark.





        Without thinking, Carbide squinted his eyes, and gathered enough concentration to prime a magical beam in his horn. A sharp glow emerged.





        From a distance, Rivet saw the two light beams flash from side to side: the carbide lamp and the miner’s horn.  





        “GO AWAY RIVSKY! I’LL KILL YOU!” 





        With a mental shock, Rivet realized Carbide was serious. If he didn’t do anything, the miner would kill him. The words of Silnyy drifted into his mind. Carbide Lamplight was a predator now; willing to kill to stay alive. But his purpose wasn’t to stay alive—his purpose was to defend his riches. His stolen goods. A fire lit inside Rivet Punch, and with it came some of the spirit and rage he’d experienced during his fight with the wolves; a fight for survival. Slowly the dark realization dawned to him: he wasn’t going to win this fight with talking or with peaceful negotiation. He had to become a predator himself. He had to fight for what was his. He had to fight for his life. He had to kill.





        Suddenly, the beams stood still, and caught the blood trail in their light. Carbide followed it. It went to the right, and further to the right. “THERE!”





        Carbide released. The beam shot like a spear through the darkness. Rivet wasn’t faster than light; he felt a burning in his hoof, and screamed.





        “I said GO! Don’t make me do this!” Carbide charged his horn once more.





        Rivet Punch stood dead-still. He gazed right into the light, like a deer in front of a vehicle, just before it’s run over; as dead as can be. Rivet didn’t breath, he didn’t even shake. He just stared into the beam, trying to find Carbide’s eyes. “Please…”





        Rivet couldn’t see how Carbide closed his eyes. He only saw the last magical beam flying towards him, aimed at his heart. Rivet had just enough time to yell, before it hit. “PLEASE!”





        The arrow of light hit home. Although not the target it was supposed to hit. Halfway to Rivet Punch, the beam hit something brown and solid, and ricocheted off in the air, where it fanned out like a reversed lightning bolt. 





        Both Rivet Punch and Carbide Lamplight were dazed by the flash. Both ponies rubbed their eyes, hoping to be the first to regain sight of the other.





        “NOW! GO!” a hard voice roared. 





        Rivet felt something heavy and soft touch his face, and then he opened his eyes. Opposite of him, Carbide Lamplight was rubbing his eyes like a madpony. 





        “Go, you idiot!” Silnyy called from his right.





        Determined but hesitant at the same time, fueled by a primeval instinct, Rivet Punch charged at the miner.





        Carbide lowered his hooves. He heard him coming. With great effort he tried to open his eyes, but saw only a watery haze. He charged a shot. “Where are you!”





        Carbide heard hoofsteps to his right. He turned around, and fired. 





        Missed.





        Another shot.





        A heap of snow transformed into a watery puddle.





        Third beam.





        A large boulder exploded, not far from the charging red stallion.





        Carbide gritted his teeth, took a listen, and fired off one more beam. 





        This time, he heard a yell, and a thud muffled by the snow. Not muffled enough.





        Another white-hot ray flew in Rivet’s direction, but he quickly rolled to the side, and the magic only blackened his snowy imprint.





        Carbide lowered his hooves and gazed directly at Rivet Punch, standing only a dozen hoofsteps away from him. “There you are!”





        This time, however, Carbide didn’t hesitate, and primed the magic in his horn, ready to deliver the killing blow. 





        Mist formed unnaturally quickly. Unnaturally high. It started as a wispy blanket, but in a split-second, it was up to their heads. A split second later, it covered them both and then they were lost. Carbide’s shine waned.





        “What?! HOW?!” Carbide yelled in frustration against the grey wall. The last thing he wanted to do now was to be a loose cannon again; he didn’t feel he had the energy for it. Instead, he primed his ears, turning them around in search for any noise—any scuttling of his prey.





        The crunching of snow underneath big, clumsy hooves soon reached his ear. Carbide turned both his ears in the same direction. Sweat dripped down his face, as he concentrated on the direction of the sound.





         Right… right… right again.





        Suddenly, the light of his own lamp stung him in his eyes. He closed them with a scream. His hard-hat blew off his head. His skull almost exploded; the shock travelled through his whole body like a freight train. His eyes flew open. The last thing Carbide Lamplight saw through them was the glittering gold, shining yellow and red in the fallen headlight.





        Behind the mine cart, Rivet lowered the giant gold chunk, covered in blood. It slipped from his grasp and fell down with a thud. Rivet’s mind was empty. He couldn’t believe what he’d just done. His strength seeped out of him through the wound on his head, and dizziness controlled his limbs. Thinking was hard. Staying conscious was hard. Rivet staggered over to the fallen helmet and winched when he put it on his head. The beam landed on Silnyy, right opposite him, but Rivet was too worn to jolt. 





        Silnyy still gave off clouds of smoke from the shot she had taken, although she didn’t even limp. “Well done, predator!” Silnyy said, although no actual praise decorated her voice.





        “Well done?!” Rivet cried out hoarsely. “Look what I’ve done!” 





        Carbide Lamplight lay motionless, his head bathing in a growing puddle of blood on an island in the mist. In his unseeing eyes, Rivet could only find fear, no evil.





        Silnyy stepped closer and shoved Rivet Punch away. “He got what he deserved!” she roared. “Don’t ask anything more about it. No second guessing. Second guessing is what almost got you killed. You did what had to be done. That rat got what he deserved!”





        “No he didn’t!” Rivet yelled back, getting on his hooves again. He crept over and kneeled down beside Carbide, a mixture of blood and tears raining down on the snow.





        Silnyy stepped beside him, but received a heavy hoof to the head.





        “Go away! You ruined everything!”





        A massive claw struck the stallion against the ear. Rivet felt as if his ear was ripped right off, and he screamed in agony. Quickly he lowered his head in his hooves, ready to receive another blow.





        “Don’t EVER hit me again!” Silnyy roared. “YOU are the one who is ruining everything now! You’re not done yet!”





        Rivet Punch realized with a shock what the bear meant. His head was now so close to Carbide that he could hear a soft breath. Alive?!





        “Finish him! Finish your kill!” 





        “Njet,” Rivet yelled back, his voice trembling with hope and concern.





        Silnyy grunted, tempted to strike the stallion again. “You don’t understand! You HAVE to do it!” 





        “Why?”





        “ARGH!” Silnyy turned around in frustration. “Stop asking questions!” 





        “I won’t kill my friend!”





        The bear sighed, and realized that she had to tell Rivet something. “If you don’t kill him, he will betray you again,” she said. “He will wake up, return to the village, and tell everypony about how you tried to murder him when he was transporting his gold to the bank of Canterlot.”





        Rivet turned to face the bear. “How do you know that?”





        “I saw it. Don’t ask anything more about it,” came the vague but familiar reply.





        “But he would never do that. Besides”—Rivet thought with a sudden sadness—“he doesn’t have any friends beside me. Nopony will believe him.”





        Silnyy shook her head. “You have already seen what a snake tongue this treacherous pony has; he will do it.” 





        “But it isn’t his gold.”





        “The other ponies don’t know that. He’ll claim that he finally got lucky with his mine, but that you became jealous. Think about it; what is more plausible? You finding a gold cave somewhere in the forest after a talking grizzly bear led you there of whom you saved her son, or an experienced miner who struck gold in his mine after working so hard and so long? Ha! The villagers will worship Richskaya as a hero!”





        With his hazy mind, Rivet did his best to think about that. 





        “If you do nothing, he WILL betray you!” Silnyy urged.





        She did have a point. The scenario was more than plausible, and Rivet broke down. He covered his bloody head with his hooves and sobbed quietly, resting his head against his friend’s warm belly; still warm with life. 





        Although Silnyy felt no sympathy for Carbide at all, she did feel the difficulty of Rivet’s task—one doesn’t simply kill a member of one’s own kind. The bear thought back to her first kill. A first kill is something sacred; even if you kill a hundred creatures after that one, the details of the first will forever be carved in your mind: the blood, the rage, the pain. For Silnyy however, it had been a matter of life or death; a matter of power or weakness; a matter of all or nothing. 





        Suddenly Rivet stopped crying. He realized what he had to do. It was inevitable. He turned his head to the right, but had to strain his neck, for he couldn’t see anything with his right eye anymore. “You do it,” his voice croaked.





        “I can’t,” Silnyy said, surprisingly soft.





        “Why?”





        At once another question, Silnyy’s irritation returned. “Because, once again, that is not my purpose.”





        “Would you stop speaking in riddles please?” Rivet wasn’t angry; his voice had lost all tone. 





        The bear frowned. “Ok. Here’s something loud and clear: tie a rock to that pony and throw him in the lake. That way you don’t have to kill him with your own hooves. And besides”—Silnyy grinned contently, although she didn’t feel joy—“no one will find his body and no one will miss him. As you said, he has no other friends besides you.”





        A nauseous feeling grew inside Rivet’s stomach. Just the thought of drowning his friend in the very lake they’d visited together made him sick. But he had to do it—he had no choice. Slowly the stallion nodded, although he didn’t approve. He got up, muscles trembling, picked up the limp pony, and tossed him on his back. 





        “Good. It isn’t far,” the bear said from his right. “When you’re done, I can help you pull the gold back to town, if there’s nopony else on the road.”





        But Rivet didn’t hear her with his severed ear. He turned around towards Carbide’s mine cart and stopped beside it.  Carefully, he let the miner slip off his back and onto the pile of gold on the cart. 





        Silnyy raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to get rid of all the evidence? But you could still use that gold, you idiot!”





        Ignoring the bear, Rivet Punch staggered to the horse harness and put it on. “I’m not going to get rid of anything,” he said, while he turned the cart around. “I’m taking him home.”





        Slowly the cart started moving through the snow. Rivet gritted his teeth. Even if he would die here on the road, he would still try to do this. He didn’t turn around; didn’t want to see anything of the bear anymore. Rivet kept going. He knew Silnyy was still behind him, but he kept his eyes on the road. 





        “FOOL!” Silnyy called after him. “If you do nothing, he WILL betray you!”





        Rivet swore he could hear the word ‘fool’ thrown after him in the darkness, but he paid no attention to it. It was the last he ever heard or saw from Silnyy the grizzly bear. Around him, the mist disappeared.