//------------------------------// // Chapter 3 // Story: Death Rides a Pale Mare // by totallynotabrony //------------------------------// There was a small cake on the table in the main chamber of the cave. It was nothing fancy, by Even’s request. She stood next to it, looking nervous behind a smile. On the other side of the table were the Pale Mare, the Piebald Piper, the Wandering Shadow, the Patient Whisper, the Falling Hammer, the Stained Shard, the Jolly Mule, the Lying Mirror, and Tietack. The whole guild had managed to get together in one place for the event. Piper cleared his throat. “It’s a special occasion today. We have a new member joining us. Ms. Even Odds has proven herself and comes with the highest recommendation.” He looked at Pale. Pale swallowed. “I want to recognize Even’s intellect. She’s been my protégé for a while, but clearly I haven’t rubbed off on her.” Jolly made a small noise. He was the only one who seemed to recognize the joke. Pale quickly continued. “Since we determined Even was ready, she’s been taking the lead on missions. In five cases now, she’s come up with solid ideas that resulted in five dead twitchers. She’s cool under pressure and her plans always work.” There was a light smatter of applause. Piper said, “We’re glad to have her. And now that she’s a member, she needs a name. I’ll open up the floor to suggestion.” “I have an idea,” said Pale. “The first time she took the lead, we were in Ponyville. Not only did we get in and out without being spotted, neutralize the target, and avoid completely the Nightmare Moon incident-” “Princess Luna, now,” corrected Mirror. “Right,” said Pale. She went on. “Everything in the plan went perfectly. But one thing we didn’t count on was the coin that was used as bait. It spun across the floor, but didn’t fall on either side, staying completely upright on its edge. I suggest we name her the Spinning Coin.” “Oh?” said Piper. He looked at the others. Nods, all of them. “Very well.” He turned back to their new member. “Let me welcome the Spinning Coin!” More applause this time. Pale smiled. The Spinning Coin blushed. She said, “Thank you all.” The party didn’t last, just long enough to cut the cake and bestow individual congratulations. Pale hung around for a few words with Coin, as she had decided to mentally truncate the name. Jolly’s baking was top notch as usual, and despite the rather plain cake, Coin ate it delicately, balancing the plate and fork with her magic. Pale held the plate with a hoof, taking bites. “It’s not what I expected to do with my life,” said Coin. “But here I am. It’s good to have a place, a group. And...big picture, it’s good to be doing this.” “Someday, maybe we can beat the Blight,” said Pale. “Every little bit helps, and I know you’ll do great things.” “Thanks. I know this is important.” Coin tilted her head. “You’ve got a little…” Pale flicked her tongue out to get the errant frosting off her muzzle. “Thanks.” Attempting to steer the conversation back, she said, “If we beat the Blight, the world can go back to normal.” Coin frowned. “Was it ever? I thought the Blight has been around for generations.” “Well, at least we can stop living like this,” said Pale. “It’s not a bad cave, as caves go. It’s roomy, there are parts we still haven’t explored yet. But you used to live in a house. I’ve never had a house.” Coin paused. Pale looked at her for a moment. “I can already see your brain working.” “You know me too well.” Coin smiled. “Maybe we can talk Piper into setting up a safehouse somewhere else. Just a place to stop through for supplies or support. Maybe it could help us extend our reach.” “Interesting,” said Pale. They were both finished with the cake. Coin took Pale’s plate. “I know you have somewhere to be. I wouldn’t want to keep you.” Pale nodded. “Thanks.” As she headed for the front door, she realized it was the first time she was going out alone in a long time. There was more that she would have to do herself. There would be no second pair of eyes, no extra consideration. More risk. But then, that was how Pale had always done it before. She could handle herself, and she’d taught Coin how to do the same. Pale arrived at a small country house just as the sun was setting. The tip from Piper was as good as ever, and the target was waiting inside, his nose in a newspaper. The approach was carefully timed. The stallion’s wife and young son had gone into the nearby town to see a movie. That would give Pale time to survey the house, eliminate the twitcher, and dispose of the body before the family returned. Dusk had passed, and the night grew darker as Pale slowly circled the house, noting entry points and observing the interior of the house she could see through the windows. The living room where the stallion continued to sit was well furnished as a family space. It looked like he was using his favorite recliner. A few kid’s toys were on the floor. A faint buzz passed Pale’s ear. A parasprite landed on her nose. Pale crossed her eyes, noting the small dark smudge on its body. This would be Piper’s surveillance. The parasprite lifted off again, hovering beside her and looking into the window. Pale had decided on a course of action and turned to head for the back door. Just then, however, she thought she heard something from the front of the house. Hooves on gravel? “I’m sure the theater will be open some other day.” “Okay, mom.” The front door opened and the absent wife and child returned. Pale frowned. This made things much more difficult. The best course of action would probably be to wait for another day, until the next time the family was separated. The colt appeared to be recovering from a black eye. He seemed to shelter behind his mother as the two of them came into the living room. The stallion got up as they entered. He started for them, but his hoof brushed across a wrinkle in the carpet, putting a stumble in his step. He stumbled right onto a rubber ball, perhaps one of the colt’s toys. It went shooting out from under his hoof and the stumble turned into a full-on fall. The stallion hit the floor with a crash. He coughed, and then began to hack as if a lung was fighting its way out. Watching from the window, Pale’s lip curled at the scene unfolding in front of her, but she couldn’t look away. None of the ponies in the house knew it, but they had just been marked for death. The stallion’s coughing fit went on for perhaps ten seconds as the mare worriedly came over to see if he was all right. He wheezed as the coughing tapered off, his face ashen. “I’m…I’m okay.” The colt hesitantly came over, surreptitiously pushing the ball out of the way behind the couch. His father got up, swaying. “I suddenly don’t feel so well. I think I should go to bed.” Pale backed away from the window, putting distance between herself and the house. Only a few times before had she ever seen a stress-induced early bloom. It seemed to be some sort of last-resort mechanism of the Blight. If a twitcher felt intense fear or panic, as if their life was about to be cut short from some outside cause, it could trigger a bloom prematurely. The bloom served to spread the disease. An early bloom wasn’t as infectious, but Pale was certain that the stallion had unknowingly infected his family. She stopped in the darkness a few dozen yards’ distance from the house and looked back at the lighted window, jaw tightening. Now there wasn’t one twitcher, there were three. If she’d been faster, she might have killed him before he got the chance. Pale shook her head. No, it wasn’t her fault. Two pieces of bad luck, the family’s early return and the father tripping, were to blame. Still, she wondered what Coin might say if she were here. Could she have put together a successful plan despite the setbacks? There was nothing that could be salvaged now, and Pale wasn’t looking forward to what lay ahead. She settled down on the ground, resting but ears tipped forward and alert. Minutes passed. The light in the window was abruptly turned off. They were going to bed. Pale continued to wait. Occasionally she heard the parasprite buzz somewhere nearby. Piper had surely seen what happened, and would know what had to happen. Moreover, he would agree. Pale waited, counting off two hours on her watch before getting up. She’d spent the time mentally reviewing the inside of the house and deciding her course of action. The back door was unlocked, and Pale inched it open. The hinges didn’t squeak, and she slowly closed it behind her. The darkened living room lay ahead. The Blight was highly infectious, but didn’t last long outside a body. Pale still took care to avoid the center of the living room. She found the master bedroom and quietly opened the door. The two adult ponies lay on the bed. If left alone, the stallion would likely die in his sleep, as twitchers usually did shortly after blooming. But there was no reason to chance it. Pale prepared two knives at once as she approached the bed. There was no telling how infectious a post-bloom twitcher was. A brand new twitcher wouldn’t show symptoms for weeks. With that in mind, Pale decided to keep her distance approached the mare’s side of the bed on silent hooves. Pale leaned across the mare’s sleeping form, using her long reach to aim for the stallion’s throat. She cut it simultaneously with the mare’s. Already weak, the stallion simply expired without fuss. The mare’s eyes opened wide even as her blood drained away. Her lips gasped. She appeared to be trying to speak, to ask who Pale was and what she’d done, but the breath wouldn’t come. When both were dead, Pale wiped off her knives and quietly left the bedroom. She turned in the hallway and opened the next door. There was a sign with a name painted on it in colorful letters, which she purposely ignored. The colt’s bed was much smaller and he was bundled up to his chin. Pale closed her eyes for a moment, long enough to take a deep breath. She stepped forward, bringing the knife down in a strike straight through his eye socket and deep into the brain. No pain. Pale let out a breath and turned away, swallowing and blinking. She didn’t wish Coin had come with her on this one after all. There was still work to be done. Pale checked the usual places - wallets, purses, dresser drawers, piggy banks - and came away with perhaps one hundred bits. Next would be disposal. Isolated as the house was, there would be time to set the scene. The summer weather was too warm for a fireplace mishap to be plausible, but there were other ways. Looking around, Pale saw the house was equipped with a gas stove. She found a candle and lit it, placing it on the dresser in the colt’s room as if he needed a night light. While in the room, she avoided looking anywhere near the bed. A few of the colorful hoof-paintings on the wall held her attention instead, though they would have looked brighter in the daylight. After loosening the gas fitting on the stove until it hissed, Pale left the house. She waited down the road. It took nearly an hour of patience, but the night was suddenly broken by a flash and the whoosh of displaced air as the gas ignited. It was a low-grade explosion, but enough to start a fire, especially with the gas pipe still streaming. Pale approached, just long enough to ensure the quality of her work, before turning away to make the return journey to the cave. It was a long way back, and Pale had only her thoughts for company. One thought was at the forefront, one she had never forgotten. The Blight had to be stopped.