//------------------------------// // Chapter 1 // Story: Death Rides a Pale Mare // by totallynotabrony //------------------------------// A full moon hung low in the night sky, its benevolent light washing over the landscape. It swept across the lightly forested hills, cutting across neighboring farmland to paint with its glow the small cluster of wooden buildings nestled in a slight valley. Most residents of the peaceful town had already sought their beds. With the next workday starting at sunrise, not many cared to linger awake. Few shadows dared to lurk on such a night and even the wind, aside from occasional rustles and murmurs, lay quiet. In one house however, a fire remained lit, casting restless flickers through an uncovered window. Two cloaked figures approached quietly, taking care to remain near building walls despite the lack of helpful darkness. With so much moonlight there was little they could do to remain hidden if some hapless night owl happened to glance outside, but risks had to be taken. They were out of time. The taller figure paused at the lighted window and gestured for the other to form up on the opposite side. At a silently given cue, the two of them cautiously peered inside. The room beyond was spare, with bare walls and worn furniture. A well-built hearthfire crackled and hissed, blazing hot even for the mild spring weather. The couch opposite was occupied by an earth pony mare, hoof listlessly skimming over the open paperback in her lap. Her gaze ignored the book, apparently riveted to the shifting flames. Every now and then she would fidget, a restless limb twitching of its own volition. The pony, enraptured by the hearthfire, did not seem to notice. “The twitcher’s still there,” Pale whispered. Together, she and Even backed away from the window, flattening against the outside wall of the house. They both took the opportunity to look around, ensuring they remained unseen. “She doesn’t seem to be in the final stage,” Even observed. “Thank Celestia we got here in time.” “We’ll have to do this as quietly as possible,” said Pale. “A dense town and a full moon don’t leave room for error.” Even nodded, her mouth tightening. Pale’s own expression didn’t change, though that was because she wore a semipermanant scowl. It wasn’t entirely Pale’s attitude, her face being due most of the credit. Her lips and brows just grew that way, lacking practice at other expressions. Pockmarks and blemishes on her ivory coat started on her long muzzle and continued down the rest of her body. Her eyes were bright green - less like grass and more like acid - with sparse white lashes. Even Odds, by contrast, was a pink unicorn, blonde, with a scatter of freckles on her nose. She could pass anonymously on a busy street, unlike Pale with her more conspicuous features and being a head taller besides. Another reason Pale preferred to work at night. Despite Pale’s limited expression, Even had gotten to know her well enough to discern subtle emotion. As the two of them remained crouched beneath the window, Pale shifted her hooves and loosened her shoulders. Even softly asked, “What are you planning?” “The back door had a simple latch. Get in, come up behind where the twitcher is sitting, and cut her throat.” Even considered it for a moment. “I would give that an eighty percent chance of success.” “That sounds about right,” said Pale. She paused and asked, “How would you do it?” “I’d put a spring-tailed viper in her woodbox. The next time she opens it, the snake would leap out and bite her. The town’s too small to have a hospital with antivenom. It would look like a tragic accident.” “How do you know she would be the next one to open the woodbox?” Pale asked. “She lives alone, and based on that axe by the back door, she cuts her own wood,” Even replied. “Not a perfect plan, I know, but the best I have off the cuff. I could come up with something foolproof with a little time.” “Which we don’t have,” said Pale. “Piper seemed sure about that.” From inside the house, they heard a cough. Both of them froze, ears up and alert. After a moment, there was the squeak of couch springs and the sound of hooves on the floor, heading towards the front of the house. “Surely she can’t have gotten to the final stage already?” said Even, anxious but remembering to whisper. “It could have been just a cough,” said Pale. “But we can’t take that chance.” The two of them started forward, edging alongside the house. They reached the corner just as the front door opened. Their target stepped outside and after shutting the door quickly began to walk away, intent on whatever mission compelled her from her home. “She still looks healthy,” breathed Even, reassured. Pale, however, had already started forward. “I-I don’t think this is a good idea, Pale! The probability of this working can’t be more than half! So many things could-” Even broke off, gritting her teeth as Pale continued to stalk towards the unsuspecting mare. Paled moved with a quick but silent gait, knees bent and head lowered. The interception already played through her mind. She would attempt a strike to the back of the neck, severing the spinal cord with her knife. Failing that, if the target detected her and turned around, she would likely be close enough to slice the major blood vessels in the front of the neck. As ponies make plans, nature laughs. Somehow detecting her extra shadow, the mare stopped and spun around with Pale still too far away to strike. Pale slowed and turned slightly to hide her reach for her knife. The target stepped forward aggressively. The unexpected advance put her nearly nose to nose with Pale as she demanded, “Who are you?” There was no room to swing the knife, and Pale’s height looking down on her blocked the twitcher’s vital areas. Forced to improvise, Pale jerked her hoof up and shoved the target back back, bringing out her knife as she did so. The target tripped backwards and fell, eyes going wide at the sight of the knife in the moonlight. She rolled and Pale pounced on her, but the mare pushed her hooves up, trying to throw Pale off. Pale managed to get a hoof into the mare’s mouth to muffle her before she should scream, and then swung the knife for her neck. One of the target’s flailing forelegs intercepted the first stab. The knife nicked an artery and high-pressure blood spurted over them both. Pale’s next strike went true, burying the blade in the mare’s neck. The target went slack, though blood continued to flow everywhere. Pale took a deep breath and let it out through her teeth as she scanned the streets around her. The struggle had been quiet, but was far too exposed. Even had already appeared alongside, unable to hide the worry on her face, but keeping it out of her movements. Pale grabbed the body by the neck and dragged it back towards the house from where it came as Even hastily kicked dirt over the blood trail. Pale shoved the door open with her shoulder and dragged the body into the living room, Even at her heels. “Burn it.” “O-okay,” said Even. She scanned the room and picked up a lantern with some fuel in it. “Put her in front of the fire.” Pale dropped the corpse before the hearth and turned to pace the house. Stepping through the only inner doorway took her into a bedroom littered with evidence of the twitcher’s increasingly disturbed behavior. What little furniture there was had been broken and any pictures from the walls had been knocked down and scattered across the floor. The twitcher had been busy here, perhaps frustrated by the lack of things to destroy in such a small town. There wasn’t much else to see, aside from a small purse of money on what remained of the dresser. Stepping over the debris, Pale pocketed the pouch and turned back to the living room. In Pale’s absence, Even had placed the lantern on the mantle over the fireplace and moved the couch closer to the hearth. She carefully studied the layout of the room for a moment and nodded to herself. Satisfied, she tipped the lantern to the floor with a crash that shattered the glass mantle and spilled fuel everywhere. Some of the oil splashed into the fire, and the flames immediately ignited the puddle, which had rapidly spread around the body. Confident that their work would not be discovered, the two of them went out the back door and hurried out of town. As the hills rose up to meet them, Pale glanced back. The house had quickly become fully consumed by fire, the inferno enough to wake other residents. As Even had noted, it was a small town; there was no fire department. The fire would burn itself out, and along with it the evidence. They slowed down to an efficient walk. Pale pulled out the purse she had taken and opened it, counting through and dividing the money. Even accepted her share of the golden bits. They walked in silence for a few minutes. Pale asked, “What would you have done differently?” “I would have waited until she came back from wherever she was going,” said Even. “I don’t think she was going to bloom.” “You heard the cough,” Pale countered. “Maybe that doesn’t necessarily mean the twitcher was about to bloom, but we couldn’t take the chance. ” “Of course,” said Even. Pale glanced at her. “You won’t always be my apprentice. I’m sure that when you go out on your own, you’ll be effective at combatting the Blight, and on your terms.” “Thanks.” “Do you want to take the lead next time?” Pale asked. Even stopped abruptly. “Really? Thats…” “Do you think you’re ready?” Pale asked. Even considered it for several seconds, and nodded. “Yes.” “I’ll talk to Piper,” Pale said. “I think he’ll agree.” The two of them resumed walking. The sun had come up by the time Pale and Even reached the mouth of a cave. It was hidden out of the way, deep in the mountains. In a cleft between two walls of rock, an iron door taller than Pale sealed the entrance. She stood back and let Even perform the complicated unlocking sequence. When it was open, the door swung quietly, belying its hulking mass. Pale did a final sweep behind her, taking a last look at the outside world before following Even inside and shutting the door. The cave entrance was rough and narrow, but lit with charm lights along the walls. Down the tunnel and around a bend, the cave opened into a larger chamber with several other passages branching away. Despite the chill early spring weather outside, the cave still managed to feel even more damp and cold. A greying unicorn stallion waited for them. Three black parasprites flitted in irregular circles around his head. His eyes were closed, but opened when they approached. He looked briefly at the dried blood all over Pale. “Welcome back.” He didn’t ask them how it had gone. He already knew. Even excused herself. Pale lowered her hood, letting her green and yellow mane free. It was too long for its own good and in sorry shape from being inside her cloak. “I didn’t notice your parasprites around, Piper,” Pale said. “You moved quickly enough that I was unable to get them into position in time. I was able to learn much from the aftermath, however. Nopony suspects intervention.” Piper closed his eyes. “The neighbors have only just now discovered the carbonized body.” He winced. “They’re more than happy to pause their grief to swat at parasprites, though.” The Piebald Piper took his name from an unnatural ability to command parasprites, which he used to see through their eyes. It was he who discovered symptomatic twitchers across Equestria and arranged their demise. “Even’s gotten comfortable,” said Pale. “She’s ready.” Piper did not immediately disagree. He eventually decided, “That depends on the next task.” Pale nodded and moved to a different subject. “Where are the others?” Piper closed his eyes again. “The Jolly Mule has an arrangement in Canterlot. A party, it seems. The Wandering Shadow and the Patient Whisper are on their way to Manehattan.” “The Lying Mirror is in her quarters, then?” Pale asked. Piper nodded. “She is, though I doubt she will be pleased with your work.” He gestured to Pale’s bloodstained cloak. “That’s true,” Pale conceded. She nodded to Piper and headed down one of the labyrinthine passageways that branched from the main chamber. The air grew warmer as she went. The source was a high-ceilinged chamber, decorated with working tools and metal ingots of various sizes and materials. Inside, though the open door, a dragon conversed heatedly with a pegasus, both of them apparently trying to sway the other in some debate. Both looked at Pale as she appeared in the doorway. “C’mere and settle this for us,” said the dragon. His scales were red, although how much of that was iron shavings and rust was hard to say. He was on the smaller side for a dragon, otherwise he would never have fit in the cave, but still much larger than a pony. He was called The Falling Hammer, and though underground in more ways than one, he was a master blacksmith. “Yeah Pale, I want to see what you think,” added the Stained Shard. His usual easy attitude seemed to have been flustered by the argument. His wings twitched, the feathers blotched with the colors of a multitude of chemicals. Pale entered the chamber at their bidding. Both of them glanced at the bloodstains she wore, but didn’t comment. Hammer began. “I think a weapon that injects poison is pointless. It would have to be a very quick poison to kill faster than the blade itself.” “And I have such a substance,” Shard retorted. “Just because it exists doesn’t mean anyone needs the added complication,” countered Hammer. “I’m just providing options,” said Shard. “More options are always good.” Hammer glowered at him before turning to Pale. “Do you want a poison knife?” “I’m fine with regular steel,” said Pale. “But I’m just one pony. Perhaps Mirror could use something like that. Or Even, maybe.” “How is she, by the way?” Shard asked. Pale gestured to herself. “Even’s smart enough to stay clean.” That seemed to amuse both Hammer and Shard. Hammer turned back to his forge. “I’ll ask if anyone else is interested.” “Let me know,” said Shard. He and Pale left the room, parting company in the passageway. The rest of the cave continued further back, deeper into solid rock, eventually trailing off into uninhabited portions. Pale had never bothered to venture too far into the depths. There was nothing there. Pale headed for her quarters. Even in a roomy cave, it amounted to little more than a small grotto with a door. The size didn’t bother Pale. It held what she needed. Entering her room, Pale finally stripped off the bloody cloak. The fabric was brown and lightweight, serving more to hide her features and weapons than for warmth. It was loose enough to give her a full range of movement. She hung it up, though it would likely be retired after this. It wouldn’t be the first one. Turning to the rest of her gear, she unstrapped the blade sheathes from her forelegs, took off the lockpicks and infiltration equipment belted around her midsection, and unwound the straps that held the razor blades to the leading edges of her wings. Stripped, she took stock of herself. The blood had seeped through the cloak and would require scrubbing out of the divots in her hide. The cloak had mussed her wings, but considering they were gossamer and full of holes, it was hard to tell. Pale didn’t know who her father was, but her mother had been a changeling. Apparently an important one, judging by Pale’s inherited physique. She stepped into the shower built into the corner of her quarters, jaw tightening in anticipation of the cold water. Chills aside, the blood came off easily, and she switched to washing her mane, hooves carefully brushing it away from the rough scar on her forehead. She had other scars on her body too, but she’d earned those. Pale got out of the shower when she was shivering and dried off. She strapped her knives back on and donned a clean cloak. She sat down on her bed. She’d been up all night and it was now midmorning. Her stomach growled, but rest sounded most appealing. The Pale Mare lay down, and was asleep almost immediately.