The trip to Sunney Towne was nightmarish.
It was, of course, made through deep mists. The Mist was so thick that Glittershell could not clearly see more than a few lengths, and so could not tell exactly how many thralls were in the squad of Skeletal Guards charged with carrying and guarding the captives.
The 'guarding' part of their job was of course fairly easy. Glittershell, crippled from the waist back, was in no condition to run anywhere; Snips, more than adequately trussed with ropes, could hardly free himself to fight or to flee. They were both helpless.
Then, there were the Skeletal Guards themselves.
It was not that they were more decayed than were Roneo's Work Crew, or Starlet's Girl Posse. They were not, though at first glance it seemed that they were. The reason they seemed to be in worse condition than they were was that, in their maintenance, Gladstone had clearly made no concesion to beauty in their preservation, and in consequence, the Skeletal Guards were very ugly, though quite functional.
Unimportant tissues -- including most of their hair, hide and underlying fat -- had been allowed to slough off, leaving mainly muscle, sinew and bone. Much more of that bone showed than was the case with the thralls of the other Wraiths, giving them almost the appearance of walking skeletons. They looked both brutal and horrific, but also efficient and deadly.
They still looked pretty gross, and smelled worse. When all was said and done, Snips and Glittershell were being carried by walking corpses. Well-coordinated corpses, but still skeletal horrors of half-exposed bone, with greenish-black rotting muscles and tendons that were still somehow strong, glistening with what must be the fluids of their own decay. Their stench was unsurprising.
Glittershell had been draped, belly-down and facing left, over the back of the second-biggest Skeletal Guard. This one -- unlike the others -- wore a hard leather helmet and softer leather jerkin, with sword and baton at his side, and some sort of military insigniae. Two other Guards had lifted her up onto his back.
While they had been doing this, one of them had handled her a bit carelessly -- not cruelly or insultingly, just ineptly, so that she slipped and almost fell out of his grasp. Glittershell gasped, and the helmeted Guard noticed, and said:
"Care ... wit ... her." His voice was rough and raspy; it gurgled and cut out unpredictably. But it sounded better than one would have expected, given his ruined throat, and there was a firm confidence in it. "Not ... wood ... girl!"
"Sorrhh ... argle," said the Guard who had early dropped her, in an apologetic tone.
After she was roped to the helmeted Guard's back, Glittershell craned her neck around and said -- very softly, she did not want Gladstone to overhear her -- to her bearer:
"Thanks."
The helmeted skull-face swung briefly around to look at her. "Durgle job," he said, also softly. "Dnnh-menssh."
The Guard sounded rough, but Glittershell thought that she detected in his ravaged voice a tone of ... politeness? Even ... kindness? It seemed madness to hope for such, from Gladstone's minions, but then she remembered Merry Bells. She had turned out to be friendly.
She knew that not all the Wraiths were bad -- Ruby, especially, was a hero. Maybe not all the thralls, even of a very bad Wraith, were themselves bad Ponies. They, after all, had little choce but to obey their Wraith masters.
Perhaps the helmeted Guard had been in life a decent Pony, and was still mainly good?
For the first time since her crippling, Glittershell felt a ray of hope.
It was, of course, but a feeble ray. Glittershell was still the crippled captive of an evil enemy, who had declared his intention to kill her, bind her ghost to her corpse, and then use her sexually at his wicked whims. This was far from a happy prospect.
But, when one has been struck down low, any helping hoof is welcome; so it was Glittershell's instinct to be cheered by the squad leader's courtesy toward her. And her instinct was sound. For the kindness the Skeletal Guard leader showed Glittershell demonstrated that, even in one enthralled by the vile Gladstone, some measure of equine decency might still remain.
Still, it was a nighmare journey, bourne through swirling mists on the backs of rotting skeletal horrors, destined for a dreadful fate in a village of damned ghosts.
They traveled down the plain, the hill Glittershell had just fought her way down to the right of their course, which put it behind her rump, as her fore end dangled down the left of the Guard leader's barrel. She could just about see the foot of the hill by lifting her head and twisting her neck around, but this made her feel dizzy, so she only did this twice.
While they were still on the plain, Gittershell heard galloping hooves, and the Skeletal Guards prepared themselves for action; the one bearing Glittershell drawing his sword with his mouth and standing ready for for a fight, and Gladstone momentarily looking nervous. But then they all relaxed, and the squad leader resheathed his sword.
The familiar figure of Roneo came out of the mist, and glanced at their party.
"I see thou hast made captive the mortals," he said to Gladstone.
"Aye," said Gladstone, smiling proudly. "The colt," he pointed his snout at Snips, "put up a bit of a fight; but the filly was an easy capture. And mares say stallions are the weaker sex." Gladstone's voice dripped with scorn.
Roneo looked at Glittershell. "She fought well enow against my Work Crew," he pointed out. "Knocked Backbreaker around, and kicked Sandwren's jaw right off her, so that I needs must reattach it when we return. She spoke up for herself to mine own face. She's a brave lass." He looked troubled.
"She may have given thy Work Crew trouble," sneered Gladstone. "Then, they are but workers. My thralls are warriors, in much better condition than your rabble."
"That's as may be," allowed Roneo. "We build and repair things of worth to our village, which puts wear and tear on my followers; thine spend most of their time laying about dozing in the mold. They have little to do but regrow their muscles."
Glittershell both heard and felt her bearer's low growl, and noticed him look at his sword-hilt. The eyes of all the other Skeletal Guards were flaring, and Gladstone's own face darkened. Are they all going to fight with each other? she wondered. I'd have a chance to get away then -- if I weren't tied up. And crippled.
"Hah!" laughed Gladstone scornfully. "Thou dost but seek to excuse thine own failure. Thy thralls are weaker than mine, and thou'rt weaker than me. Thou dost claim that this chit fronted thee and yet did escape: that but shows thine own wekness. When she found me, I easily o'ermastered her. She is, after all, but a helpless filly.
"She is more than --" began Roneo.
"What, did she fluster thee with soft seductive words?" interrupted Gladstone. "Bat her pretty eyes at thee? Mayhaps offer thee her maiden treasure, not kenning that 'twould mean her own undeath if thou didst avail thyself of the proffered delights?
Now, it was Roneo's eyes which flared in anger.
Suddenly, and unexpectedly even to herself, Glittershell spoke up.
"No!" she sad. "It wasn't like that! I'm not -- I'd never act that way, and I don't think Roneo would want me if I did! He loves Starlet, and I think he's true to her!"
And then she froze in fright, for every pair of undead eyes, whether Life Aspected or corpse witch-fires, was looking directly at her.
"O indeed," sneered Gladstone, "thou hast the truth of it. Roneo's heart -- or more rearward organ -- is wrapped around my sister Starlet's, as no doubt mine other sister has told thee." He moved toward Glittershell, his face twisted with malevolence. Though Gladstone was still in Life Aspect, Glittershell cringed before the frightfulness of his visage, pressing her cheek into the relative comfort of the animated rotting corpse that bore her.
Gladstone forcibly pulled her head away from that shelter.
"Thou hast spoken truth," the brown Wraith told her in a voice even colder than his hoof. "Now, have the common reward!"
Before Glittershell could work out what he meant by this, Gladstone clouted her twice -- one, two! -- without further warning.
Lights danced in Glittershell's head; the world spun crazily around her. She tasted blood in her mouth; this time, it was her own. There was a momentary numbness, then pain -- far from the worst she had ever known, but enough that she could not wholly choke back her sob. Blood and snot dribbled down from her abused muzzle.
"Dost thou now ken?" asked Gladstone. His voice trembled with a strange excitement. "Dost thou ken how the world doth wag? The weak tremble before the strong; the strong do use the weak as they will. That be the truth behind all claims of law and morals. Shall I beat thee further, that I may enlighten thee?"
Terrified, not wanting to be hurt any more, Glittershell shook her head in a mute 'no.' She could not form coherent words.
"Or mayhaps I shall beat thee for cause that thy tears do amuse me --" A look of unholy glee lighted Gldstone's face, as he raised his hoof to strike --
"Stop that," said Roneo.
Gladstone whirled around to face the white stallion. "Or what?" he sneered.
"Or I shall stop thee," answered Roneo.
"Hah!" laughed Gladstone. "Thou fool! Thou knowest I am stronger than thee. I have proved it on thine own self, the last time we came to blows!"
"That may be," said Roneo. "But if we fight, thou well might lose thy captives."
"Thou wouldst dare --?"
Roneo nodded, his gaze locked on Gladstone.
"Father would not approve ..."
"He would also not approve thy beating of the maiden," said Roneo.
"She's mine!" objected Gladstone.
"Thy captive. Not yet thy thrall."
"Father will --"
"He may," said Roneo. "Or may not. 'Tis his choice. Not thine."
"I've half a mind to beat thee," snarled Gladstone, taking a step toward Roneo. "I am still stronger than thee!"
"True," drawled Starlet, sashaying out of the mists to stand beside her Betrothed. "Thou art stronger than my dear Roneo. Thou art even stronger than mine own self." She leaned close to Roneo, almost touching him. "But thou art not stronger than us both." Starlet smiled mockingly at Gladstone. "And such be always and ever what thou shalt face, an thou dost challenge either one of us twain."
The two lovers now both locked their gazes on Gladstone, and under the force of that stare, it was Gladstone who looked away. "Fine!" he half-whined, half-growled. "Ye twain do outnumber me! Ye shall have it as ye like, ye tyrants!"
Roneo and Starlet relaxed.
Glittershell sighed in relief.
Instantly, Gladstone rounded on her.
"Thou art far from safe, mortal worm!" Gladstone advanced on Glittershell. "When we do reach Sunney Towne, my father shall award thee and thy swain to mine authority, and then shall I do with ye twain just as I do desire! And ..." he smirked, leaning in to stare at Glittershell from point-lank range, "thou in particular shall pay most dear for being the cause of this contention. This I promise thee!"
Glittershell trembled. There was nothing else she could do, when facing Gladstone like this, bound and helpless before his power. She was no coward; she had been facing danger -- largely for the fun of it, for half her life. But there was nothing at all fun about Gladstone.
He didn't just want to kill her, he wanted to make her suffer, and in the most horribly personal ways. He wanted to destroy her, body and soul. He hated her, even though they'd never even met before the last day. He was evil, to a degree which she had never before had the misfortune to meet in person.
Gladstone glared at her, then went to the head of his little column. "March!" he commanded. "Let us away to Sunney Towne, afore the Mist burns off!"
They moved out.
Glittershell knew that, unless she could somehow figure out how to get away -- bound and broken-backed as she was -- she would be Gladstone's slave until the end of her existence on Earth. And, even if she somehow manage to do that, all she would win would be life as a helpless cripple.
Unless, of course, Grey Hoof gave her to Roneo or Starlet, or took her into his own thrall herd. Then she'd still be an undead slave. Just a better-treated one.
And what of Snips? Glittershell hadn't heard so much as a peep from him since soon after they'd been reunited He simply lay draped like a sack of flour over the back of the biggest Guard, neither speaking nor seeming to be doing anything else.
He hadn't even reacted when Gladstone had beaten her, which was odd for Snips -- usually, either one of them would fight to protect the other. But, of course, there was nothing Snips could do to help her right now. Maybe he was just biding his time to act.
Or were things worse? Was he geased? Unconscious? Or ... but Glittershell didn't dare even think of that possibility. A world without Snips would be a world without hope.
She wished she could see his face, but Snips was draped with his rear end toward her. She didn't dare call out to him. Gladstone might notice, and punish her. Possibly punish both of them.
She didn't want to be the cause of his pain.
No. There was nothing for it but to wait, and endure, until ...
Until they reached Sunney Towne.