//------------------------------// // Chapter 28 // Story: Only One Speck of Dust // by TheMareWhoSaysNi //------------------------------// Opening the eyes was something simple, elementary. An action which demanded no particular effort, as natural as breathing or putting a hoof in front of another in order to walk. However, it seemed almost colossal to Pinkie Pie. As if her lids had been turned into stones stuck together with honey. Her head was vibrating such as the Great Bell when morning was announced. Her neck seemed to have been dug by a huge needle where her heart was pulsating at full tilt. Something went back up from her stomach to her throat, and for a moment she thought she was about to throw up. She needed a moment before her sticky eyes could chase away the blur surrounding every little thing, then another moment for her ears to be able to distinguish what was said around her. Two ponies she did not know were in her booth. One of them was fiddling with her spyglass and the other one seemed to be very interested by her cannon. Of course, she could see their heads first and their hooves in second, showing her she had been hung upside down somewhere for some technical reasons, yet it did not stop her from noticing clearly they were touching her stuff without permission. “How is this thing working?”, the first one asked, his head drove into the cannon’s hole. “They’d stopped manufacturing these thingamajigs before I was even born, I can’t help you.” “How pity. We could’ve hit the bull’s eye for sure by aiming at their little party. It would’ve made us feel as if we were participating.” This revelation gave Pinkie Pie the necessary jolt to wake her up completely. There was no way that any pony would use her cannon in order to hurt her friends, her soul family. For this, all they would need would be to find out how the weapon was actually working, what was not that difficult if they were not stupid. She would not let them do such a thing. Immediately, her mane lost its puff like each time she was feeling discouraged, or extremely sad or angry. And she was feeling these three emotions at that very moment. They did not know who they were dealing with. To truss her up by her hooves was a bad idea, and would not stop her in anything. Maybe she only looked like a defenseless idiot bouncing all around and singing with a high-pitched voice, but there was a lot more to see in her, and they probably did not even suspect it. “This is not… funny!” They both jumped when they noticed Pinkie Pie had woken up, and immediately, they went in her direction to try to control her. The one who had been examining their surroundings with her spyglass was her first victim. She drove her teeth inside his throat, so hard he could not help a suffering shriek, and very shortly after that, he collapsed on the floor, unconscious, blood dropping from its almost skinned wound. The second pony, shaking more than a leaf under the autumn breeze, tried to take his sword out of his sheath, while she was writhing in order to get rid of her ties, after she had spat out a cut of skin pulled off the first pony. Before he even had the chance to aim his weapon at her, Pinkie caught one of her knives with her teeth and drove it in the first part of him within her reach, which meant his left eye. Once again, he shrieked, a hoof on his face, knocked by the pain. She managed to untie herself, and a quick glance through her spyglass allowed her to see there still were many down her tower, watching just in case, plus others in front of the doors leading to the cabaret’s backstage. They were many, but she thought she was able to get rid of them not too hardly. Her anger level was at its max, and in order to defend those who mattered the most to her, she was willing to do anything, even the most extreme. One of the ponies who was down the tower jumped seeing something falling from up high. His leap apprised the others, and he and his fellows opened their eyes wide discovering the lifeless body of one of them, obviously dropped down dead. Their surprise was bigger when they saw Pinkie Pie jumping from the tower’s top, and falling on her hooves without the least of difficulty. They did not need to know she had hurt herself. In fact, her pain was not able to yell louder than her anger. They would not get off lightly, all of them. Maybe had they learned how to fight with stiff Fighting Masters, but she knew deadly techniques none of them could even imagine... And she had stolen the sword from the half-blind pony who kept on shrieking and wobbling inside the booth. He finally fell down and crushed against one of his fellows. “Slop that bitch!”, the leader of their small group yelled. He was the first one she ran through with her newly gained sword. His head flew among the other recruits who, galvanized, pounced on her with all their rage. That was what Pinkie Pie was looking for. To worsen the antagonisms. The more the others tried to be fierce; the less she refrained herself from being cruel. Her deep nature, soft and innocent, had to be freed from any kind of inhibition to allow this primitive instinct to reign supreme. Blinded by this fury inside, she spared no pony. Ignoring pain, she threw herself in the battle and chopped off and drilled everything within her reach. Throats, hooves, flanks… Pools of blood taking shape against the immaculate snow, she stamped into them with some kind of delight, never sick by what splashed on her face. Soon, a real carnage overlaid at her hooves, and to be honest, she was feeling proud of it. After this, when everything would be back to normal and she would have made sure that all those who mattered the most for her were safe and sound, she would turn back into the mare she was in reality. For now, she was nothing but a war machine launched at full capacity. There was no more pony left standing on all fours when she heard sound of hooves galloping through the snow. Pinkie Pie turned around, and noticed a young stallion, barely out of his teenage years, scurrying away at top speed. He could not stop looking behind his shoulders, his path distorted, and his eyes wide opened. As soon as he saw her pursuing him, he started to scream. “Have mercy! I’ll never do any pony no harm, I swear!” But, too busy trying to flee to look where he was going, his hooves got trapped into the roots of a tree, and he tipped over, headfirst in the snow. The young stallion clenched his teeth, lowered his head, ready to feel the blade getting in touch with his neck… and was surprised in the most pleasant way when he saw Pinkie Pie springing above him, and keeping on running without a stop. She was not going to punish this kid for his bad choices. At least, she was certain, he would no longer try to associate with a dangerous army of traitors… because all those committed in the Unavowed were guilty of royal treason toward the Princesses. It would be paid back, whether that would be by the enactment of the Sacred Law or by a trial in front of the Royal Court. Other ponies were watching the entrances, and they were Pinkie Pie’s main target. They saw her coming from afar, getting ready to welcome her as needed, their swords out. Like with the others, she gave no quarter. The sword she had stolen to one of her first victims was of an extraordinary precision, as if the blade had just been forged. When the edges drove into the skin, it felt as if cutting squares of melted butter. She could easily feel flesh ripping apart, organs bursting and bodies bleeding to death at her hooves. It gave her no pleasure in particular, just the sensation that her duty has been done. The field was open in a few minutes. Not at any time did she look back to notice what carnage her animal instinct had caused. It did not matter. What had to be done was now done. Undoubtedly, it was not over. Others would be waiting for her in the corridors, she could have bet her bottom bit on it. ------------------------------------------------------------ The ten years-old filly’s life always was very well organized. At daybreak, her mother woke her up and she had breakfast with a bowl of oat bran and milk, pancake and juice, and often the leftovers of what the eldest ponies had eaten a bit earlier. Leaving for school where she stayed for lunch with her friends. Then came the afternoon activities – drawing and dancing for Apple Bloom. Then again, she went home, did her homework and after dinner, read a little and went to bed. When she went back from school, most of the time, her older siblings were already gone for their training sessions. She barely was able to see these older ones she admired so much and from whom she got a great pride. To her friends she liked to tell family anecdotes, although most of the time, there only were narrations of things she had heard from her mother or uncles and aunts. Apple Bloom never said she was adopted. She generally forgot this fact, and when she remembered, it was hard for her to realize. After all, other foals of her school had a certain age gap with their eldest, enlisted in The Militia as well, that they could not see more. Tonight had been one of the two few occasions for her to be with her personal heroes. They often had conversations that she could not really understand, but it did not really matter for her as long as she could spend some time with them. They all gave her a little stroke on her head, had questions about school and friends, about her impatience to get her Cutie Mark. Rainbow Dash had even promised her to introduce her a new friend, who like her admired The Militia and said she wanted to integrate it. So when the party had been curtailed before it was time for her to go to bed by a pack of ponies with sharp swords and bad intentions, the filly had felt a new excitation increasing inside of her. One of her dreams, seeing her eldest ones in action, was about to come true. There was no way she would follow Spitfire and the others when, finally, things had started to move. Sneaking in between the mare pegasus’ hooves, Apple Bloom had hurried to join her sister Applejack and the others. Her little size allowed her to slip between the adults’ hooves with ease. What she saw was a bit scary for a foal of her age. Ponies were falling like apples during the bucking season, faces deformed by pain, blood pouring, when they did not have their eyes empty from expression. Too bad. If later, she would become like Applejack and Rainbow Dash, she would have to learn not to be scared in front of such a show. The sooner was the better. Caramel, her big sister’s coltfriend, was busy fighting with a stallion much taller who did not see Apple Bloom sneaking in between his hooves. “You’re hitting like a filly”, he said to him with arrogance, despite his black eye. She patted the boor at his knee, the latter started to look all around him who had just done such a thing. He opened his eyes wide discovering her at his hooves, a great smile on her chubby face. “Dya wanna see how a filly’s hittin’?” Without giving him time to answer, she kicked him between his hind legs, as hard as she could, before jumping on the back of a stunned Caramel, screaming a very enthusiastic “yee-haw”, as the pony she had just attacked was writhing in pain. Immediately, her big sister, busy fighting against three stallions at the same time, noticed her, and frowning, started to lecture her. “Apple Bloom, ya shald be wit Mommy and Spitfire.” Applejack looked where the members of her family were, and discovered with astonishment they were surrounded by ponies ready to fight to the finish with them. They were going to have to throw themselves into the battle, no choice. It was impossible for her to send the young filly back with them, as it had become as dangerous as staying with her. If something happened to her beloved little sister, she would hold a grudge against herself forever. It was her duty to protect her, yet she could not stop fighting for all that. She did not like the solution which came to her mind, and she knew she would never be at peace to know she had plunged her in such a hell, but for now, she could not see other solutions. She caught the Lasso she had kept under her dress all along between her teeth, and threw it in Apple Bloom’s direction, who grabbed it on the run. The filly knew how to use a rope, since she had helped her many times with the cattle. Plus, being with Caramel, she risked less than alone. “Stay wit Cara. As soon as a pony comes yar way, ya catch him wit dat. It never missed its target.” The eldest of the sisters could not add something else. An immense stallion had just pounced on her, his sword as large as a tree trunk aimed toward her face. Unhesitatingly, she directed her sword toward him, and buried it straight inside his heart. It was only the beginning and they all knew it. For now, they all had the necessary energy to confront their enemies, but soon, with tiredness and the alcohol swallowed, if The Militia did not quickly arrive as a backup, they would end up completely worn out. Rarity had selected a chair that did not seem too dirty, and had placed it on the stage. From here, everything could be taken in. it was perfect. A magazine between her hooves, she was reading the latest society gossips of the Court, lifting her eyes from time to time to have a glimpse at the center of the room where the action happened. A few times earlier, she had sworn being ready to throw herself into the battle again. Nothing was too good for Blueblood. However, when she had understood what this new attack involved, she had changed her mind. A dual against another pony was something. A tenacious fight in “sudden death” was something else. If she was ready to almost anything for the True King, she cared much more for her own life than for the Army’s victory. Of course, none had to know. The official reason was that without the Main Servant, the cause would lose one of its biggest support, and the sole support of her family was as useful as it seemed. The sound of hooves resounded, and when Rarity got her eyes off her magazine, she was surprised to see one of the attacked family’s member, a huge pegasus with a coat even whiter than hers and a mane like flames of a wood in fire, sitting by her side. At no moment she had envisioned to fight and her mini blades were not available. She had a wince, then stand up straight on her chair when she realized that he only wanted to watch the show as well. “Don’t you fight?” he asked her without taking his eyes off the room. “No, I’m only here to supervise. I don’t really want tonight to be my last night. Don’t you fight as well?” “It’s forbidden. If I come close to her sword, my head’s going to be chopped off. I don’t really want tonight to be my last night.” “Oh.” Rarity did not add anything else. It probably was the reason why he had come here instead of staying there assisting his spouse who had to fight in the same way than the others, trapped with the rest of the parents, at the back of the room. It was not because she had never met them until now that she did not know who they were. Like others here, she had learned her History lessons. It was not a family among others that Blueblood had decided to attack tonight. It was with their sweat and blood that a part of Equestria’s story had been written. In fact, she wished good luck to the poor soul who had just tried to lash out at Uncloudy Shelter. Probably a simpleton. Unfortunately, they were quite a number in the Army she led, for whom she had the greatest scorn. They were fighting for money, for the power to do as they were pleased without risking to be ran through for their crimes. The lowest level of the ponykind, in her own opinion. She was an idealist, who hated the world for it not to be as she would like it to be. She treasured obsolete worth – courage, self-sacrifice, magnanimity. Her life was a search which the purpose was dead, her ancestors had been heroes, she was nothing but a daddy’s filly. She was looking in vain in each faces for a spark of poetry, for enthusiasm in the speeches, ideals if not ideas, but the ponies were overriding, they were trotting in a rush, unkempt, eyes emptied by worries. Making her getting out of her disillusioned reflections, a wounded pony’s body landed almost on her laps. Without even looking from which faction he was, she made him fall down with a kick from her hooves. “What have I said? Don’t collapse on the Main Servant!” Beside her, she heard Knight Shelter producing a small teasing laughter. “You’re an interesting character, Miss Rarity.” Once again, the unicorn opened her eyes wide. He knew her name, yet, he had never seen her before. It was impossible. Her knowing who he was, it was nothing odd. She was not one of those dunce ponies fighting right now. But the opposite thing… It was more than disturbing. She opened her mouth… “Don’t ask me how. I know it, that’s all. Former upper-class family, obliged to go into trade because of some wrong strategical choices during the latest wars. Still a wealthy renown, but aristocratic title lost. And once again, wrong choices.” “How could you be so sure you are going to win?” “I never said this. I only told you this choice was not very wise. This Prince you call King has killed his own parents in their sleep. How can we think for one second to trust such a pony?” “But you…” “Yes, I turned against my own brother. I launched a war, only for lust of power. I killed many other ponies, remorseless and pitiless. Ponies who had no importance for me. Even so, I would never have killed Uncloudy with my own hooves. Never… I was waiting for someone else to do it for me, because I knew I would be unable to do this once in front of the fait accompli. There are some things that, when you do them, are pursuing you forever like a bad dream. Today, I cherish the fact that he’s still alive, although my freedom had been restricted. And you want to know why? Because thanks to him, I’ve met a pony for who I have more respect than anyone else all over Equestria, and for her, I’ve gave up on power, I’ve gave up on each pointless things I cared about in the past. She’s fighting right now, and I’m forbidden to help, or else I’ll lose her and she’ll lose me forever. And it kills me more than anything else. Do you really think that tonight, your Prince Blueblood is sick for sending you here, knowing that even without fighting, you could die?” Rarity did not answer, and lowered her eyes to the room, where the battle raged. At her hooves, many of the ponies from both clans were lying, deadly wounded or deceased. Members of The Militia, their family, were fighting with a rage she had never seen until then… A loyalty and a belligerence she thought had disappeared from the world. Maybe Knight Shelter was right, maybe she had only made wrong choices. No. How could it be this way? He was trying to confuse her mind, like the deceitful being she knew he was in reality. Blueblood had sworn a complete devotion to her, he had promised he would marry her, once he would have won his access to the throne. Of course he probably was worrying himself sick to imagine her in the middle of all this blood and this aggressive smell of death. He had told her. Right into her eyes. Eyes could not lie. But then, why was she feeling this weight on her heart, this freezing impression to be stuck inside a bad dream from which she could not escape?