Chapter Three: Hard Decisions
Boom…
What?
Boom…
Why is there a loud noise?
“Time to head to the train. Whale, stop dropping that.”
Boom…
“That’s it.”
“No, don’t! I’m sorry! I’m sor—” whoever is talking doesn’t get to finish, as they start laughing.
My head shoots up. Time for the train. That means that I need to decide now. I climb out of the pile I created to sleep on. Should I clean it up?
“Hurry, there’s about five minutes left. We might not make it.” Guess not, then.
I shuffle for the door, as soon as I reach the stairs I break into a full gallop. I maneuver around a group of ponies, carrying everything they own, and try to pick up the pace. Not even two minutes later I arrive at the train station, but the train isn’t even here.
And practically half the town is standing, crowded at the station. I stand with the crowd and listen to foals screaming, colts and fillies crying, and parents trying to calm them. I hear couples talking about how much they like each other, and a few couples arguing about who will look “coolest” when they strike down Tirek.
Three minutes go by. The screams have become silent, the cries muffled, and the couples silent. The air has weight to it. It is crushing, threatening any who dares break it. Until suddenly a whistle. A recognizable whistle, one that belongs to a train.
I try to watch as it pulls into the bay of loading, but the heads of many stallions and mares easily taller than I block my view. The pony next to me, with a light red coat and maroon eyes, looks nervous. She sees me as well, and I couldn’t help but feel her eyes are scrutinizing my every detail.
“You must think me a coward,” she says.
“No, it didn’t come to my—”
“Don’t lie. It’s written in your eyes. I am, though. Or… maybe just a sad case.” She looks distraught.
“Well, you look nervous, but that is it,” I tell her with a smile. She is a little bigger than a filly, and just about my size. “So, what’s your name?”
“It’s Sunny Dance… and yours?”
I give a friendly smile, “It is Night Zone. If I may ask: why, are you so nervous?”
Her eyes begin to look hollowed, like somepony just took something from her. “I was supposed to see my dad one more time—a surprise—but he left town a few weeks ago. I was supposed to leave to visit him.” She paused, swallowing. “But it looks like it will be cancelled.”
The group begins to slowly shuffle for loading into the train. “Seems I am going after all,” I say as I get swept more into the crowd. Sunny Dance being swept with me as well. “I would only assume that it is cancelled. I am sorry to hear that. What about your mother? Can’t you see her?”
That hollowness not only grew, but it looks like it drained the life out of her. “She… she died… a long… long time ago. When I was still a foal,” she mutters, I can barely pick her out from the rest of the sounds coming from around me.
A feeling of dread washes over me; I just reminded her that her mother was dead. Way to go Night. I groan. The closer we get to the train the tighter the crowd gets. “Sorry—” I exhale a little, “—to hear… that.”
It is getting too tight to breathe. How can any of the others not feel that? I reach over, as best I can, and take Sunny’s hoof. When I feel them connect I drag her out of the crowd, as best and quickly as I can.
“Can’t breathe either?” she asks. I nod my reply to save my lungs. “It’s fine. I did a head-count, she continues. “We’ll have to wait for the next train anyway.” The questioning look I give her must have told her I didn’t know what she is talking about (which I didn’t, so it is good that it gives that impression). “It would be hard to move all of Ponyville’s residents in a single train. So, it’s only natural to assume that there would be a second train or even a third train to get everypony.”
I continue to stare at her, in what I hope is awe. She looks back with a casual expression. “What happened to your father then? Why did he leave?” I ask.
She seems to have become much more lively since we left the crowd. “Oh! He works around. And after my mom died, he wasn’t allowed to keep me, since it would be too dangerous. So I was put with a family, who could look after me,” she informs with a frown.
“When was the last time you saw him?”
Her eyes drop to the ground. “It was about five, or six months ago. We went to the park, watched a puppet show, and had lunch… I even got a balloon animal from Pinkie Pie.”
“Which animal was that?” The way she looks at me, tells me that she really isn’t used to such trivial questioning.
Her eyes lit up barely. “It was a snake…” She sounds like she wants to say more, but I won’t pressure her. I’ve hurt her enough. “It was kinda like an Anaconda, but not. I… well, I rather liked it.”
“So, Summy, what—”
“Not Summy. Sunny. I know you must be bad with names. Your mane says it all, but at least get mine right.” She practically glares at me. “Sunny, Sunny, Sunny, Sunny, annnnd Sunny! Do you remember it now?”
I give her a redundant nod (redundancy is the first step on the path to being a redundant pony), placing my hoof on my chin. “Sunny—” I look to her and see her give me the tiniest of smiles. “—what types of food do you like?”
Her smile vanishes in less than a second. “You just say food because you’re hungry.” She looks up to the sky, fixated on something in the clouds. I begin to ask her if she sees anything, but she looks back to me. “We can go get something to eat. Or go pack some things for you to do.”
“Ya—”
“But, I’m going to stay here. You seem nice and all, but you are still a stranger.” I begin to say something to that, but she continues before I have the chance (who would have guessed my luck at being interrupted so often?). “I feel like you might trip over something and hurt me.”
“Why does everypony keep saying that?” I groan, letting out a sigh.
Her smile returns. “I doubt everypony says that, but I say it because it looks like you have fallen down multiple times within the last few days.” She then pokes at her chin, and that tiny smile becomes much more mischievous.
Not finding the right words to say I turn around. I can see that where we moved to is far more out of the way than I thought. “Look… sorry. I didn’t mean to give you the wrong impression—”
“You didn’t give me the wrong impression. It’s only based on the skills that I have slowly been honing throughout the years. I heard my father has… it… too…” she trails off. I couldn’t help but notice the touch of sadness in her voice.
Whoever her father is he must hold a special place for her. “If you want… my offer still stands,” I say over my shoulder.
“No… I think… I think I am just going to go lie down and wait for the train. Besides my stuff might be stolen if I’m not there to watch it.” I sigh at her reply, I was hoping she would say yes… well I am hoping she will now change her mind.
I watch her, from over my shoulder, as her white mane flows behind her as she is rounding the building we were standing next to. The slight orange highlights that color the, otherwise white mane was an additive to the entire look she carried with herself.
Where do I know of that has supplies, and nopony lives in… anymore? I can only think of two. I know the first one is destroyed (I was in it when it happened). The second is a head-scratcher.
“To the tall tower-esque building it is,” I think aloud. I trot casually in a general direction, hoping that it is the right direction. The ground is wet, and my hooves feel cold with continues walking. Clearly, whoever placed the clouds failed to cover every spot.
The train station remained dry, but it seems that the rest of Ponyville became wet. I turn a corner and water washes over me from above. The water, when I check above, turns out to be from a renegade cloud.
“I should go give whoever the weather manager is a piece of my mind and let them know it is not okay to let the cloud run rampant, dropping water wherever it pleases,” I huff. If I am honest: it isn’t the cloud or the water I am upset about, but the fact that I still haven’t decided what to do.
While mumbling to myself, I continue trotting in a direction. “And while I am at it, maybe I could break one of thei—”
The air in my lungs burst out when I walk face first into something hard. I hear a creaking and something swings open. My hooves catch something on the ground, causing me to clumsily sprawl over the ground onto hard, cold stone. My eyes squeeze shut on impact.
“Ouch,” I moan. I wave my hoof over the floor. “Hmm… it is not wet?” I open my eyes to see a room lit by torch light and disconcerting stone taking up all of my vision, except for a small spot covered in oddly-painted wood steps.
I scramble to my hooves. “I… made it? How? I was trotting around absorbed in thought,” I ask, my beliefs about the world teetering on destruction. “No matter,” I quickly dismiss any notions that could jeopardise my beliefs (which would be very little. I have very little beliefs).
“‘I live day by day, hour by hour. Life is about living in the present and not focusing on the hardships that lay ahead’.” I quote. It is a quote from a character in my favorite book. The book, having been out for only a few years, wasn’t all that popular; but it contains the heart and soul of the pony who wrote it. Sadly, they didn’t give their name, only a writer’s persona named Stripes.
A cold wind blows in from the opened door. I shiver. It is getting colder. I go to the wall and reach for the cloak, but it isn’t there. “Odd. Maybe somepony took it.” I trot over to the stairs. Jumping every other step I quickly climb to the halfway point, or the first other door.
I find that it is already opened. I step inside and find that it is lit. A torch cradled in a holder placed in the center of the room provides enough light to keep the entire room lite enough to see. On the wall hangs a little bag. It looks exactly like…
I check my body to find that my bag is missing. I look closer, and move closer, to the bag. The more I look at it the more it looks like my bag. I reach for it. As I pull it down the grey strap breaks. The amber red bag falls to the floor.
“It is mine,” I mutter. The red that matches my eyes. The repulsive grey to give a little heel to the nice red, and a there is slight rip on the top from where I fell on it. I open it up, unclasping the simple clasp, and swinging it open. As I browse the contents to see if anything is stolen, I don’t find anything out of place.
The rope, book, bottle, and a few other things are all in there. The only thing that seems to be missing is some strawberries I had in a container, but the container is still here. What is strange is there is some sort of goo lining the tupperware now.
I pull the bag on. It is time to go back. I have no idea when the train leaves, but I should get back while I can. I get out the door of the room, and stop. I turn to the higher stairs. Might as well check out the town from above one more time.
I jump the steps one more time. It doesn’t take long to reach the top, and like before the door is wide-open. This time, however, there is no light. I reach over to a holder not far from the door taking its torch in my magic, I levitate it to my mouth. “Whuebeh ‘ade ease ‘hings ‘ade ‘um illy heaby,” I attempt to say with a mouth full.
I carefully step into the room. Something is just making my coat crawl all over. I step up to the bars. With the torch light, and more-lack-of sunlight, I can see that some of the bar has been filed through.
A bad sensation washes through my stomach, and my hoof feels itchy. I look above me, only to have my vision fill with black. Then I see two white somethings. They look exactly like…
--- --- ---
“...up.” Something is calling out to me. Am I dying?
It calls again. “You need to get up.” This time it registers.
My eyes burst open. “What happened!?” I blurt.
A hoof rests on my shoulder. “It’s okay. You were attacked. Somepony left this.” The hoof waves to a book that is laid out on the floor. “There’s a message that… I’m sure wasn’t there before.”
I look at the book, and… “It is my book! That is my book. It should be clean!” The hoof moves to my mouth and rests itself gently over, taking care not to block the airflow; I breathe out around and past the hoof. As it uncovers my mouth, bringing a state of calmness, I read the message.
To the, lovely mare this might be addressed to:
I regret to inform you thusly, that you were in the wrong place, at the right time. I really enjoyed those strawberries—nice, ripe, and red.
Yours, Stripe.
I turn to the pony in the room and see that it is Sunny. “Wait, you came after me?”
“No, I followed you,” she declares with a shake of her head. At my pleading eyes she explains. “I saw you yesterday at the town meeting, and you had a saddlebag on. But when you came to the train station you didn’t; so I feared somepony might jump you if you were to go alone.”
“So, you let somepony jump me, just to test out a theory?!” I yell, tears starting to well-up in my eyes, I could already feel some coming out. She knew this could happen? What if I was killed? It would be her fault?
“Look!” she yells back. My attention breaking free to focus on her again. “I did what I needed to do. You are bigger than me, and I bet you are stronger than me as well. I had to let them jump you, because how else could I see who did it?”
My ears perk-up. “So… did you see who did it?” I ask anxiously.
She shrinks down a little. “Sadly, I did not. They had a cloak and hood on. So I couldn’t tell anything about them… except…” she trails off.
“Except, what?”
She gulps, as she shrinks down even more. “Except that they are a bipedal, and bigger than either of us.”
I blink slowly a few times. “Oh. Is that all? Well, I guess that only leaves a couple quadrillion ponies, and other creatures as the culprit,” I snark. “I guess we should head back. What’s done is done.”
I stand up and look down to her. She is pressed against the floor. “What are you doing?”
She stays like that for a few more seconds, she shudders before jumping to her hooves. “Sorry, I’m just not used to such a pleasant anger,” she confesses. I see that same hollowness in her eyes again.
“Hey, what happened to that torch I had? It is kind of dark in here.”
She cocks her head, placing one forehoof on the stairs. “Torch? There were no torches in here when I came in.” I open my mouth to say something but decide that it would be better left unsaid. I wave for her to follow. “Right, so… you can use your horn to make light… right?” She asks.
I freeze in place, something smacks into my rump. “My horn could make light?”
“Well… yeah. It’s used to conduct magic, and if it were broken you would lose a percentage of your energy output based on the percent lost.”
I turn to her as best I can. “No wings. No horn. You’re an Earth pony. How do you know so much about horns?”
She motions for me to keep moving. “I don’t actually. I know about magic, and many of the magical properties. For example: did you know that the reason a Pegasus can walk on the clouds is because a small magical current runs through their wings to the rest of their body allowing them to walk on the clouds and interact with them of course.”
I continue climbing down the stairs. “But what about when a Pegasus loses their wings?”
“If that is the case then the same thing still applies. Since the wing is still there, it just won’t be visible. It will be within the body instead of on the outside. You can’t get rid of the entire wing, only the part to fly with,” she answers. She then goes on to slightly contradict herself. “The only way to rid of the entire wing is to destroy the entire body, or just a good portion of the barrel.”
I think for a moment. “What about a Unicorn’s horn then? What makes us have the power to cast magic?”
“That one is easy. A Unicorn uses a catalyst, their horn, to form energy into spells. Spells can take a wide range of energy: kinetic with telekinetic being the most prominent. Kinetic energy is used for things like lasers, shields, and things like that. Telekinetic is used for things like levitation, teleportation, and celestial or solar.”
Telekinetic, kinetic… solar, lasers. She is just giving me information, and it is unadulterated. “Do you think you could explain those things further?”
“Certainly,” she answers without a moment’s beat. “What would you like me to explain more of?”
We reach the bottom of the stairs, and we start heading for the door. “How about the… um, the horn?”
“Yeah, I can do that,” she answers after a moment. “The catalyst, or the horn as I should call it for you, is what is used for the spells. When a Unicorn conducts one of the energy types into the horn, they can give it an order. The order will tell the catalyst what type of spell, going back to the specific type of energy given, it is going to be. Afterwards, or more of during that process of the horn (since you don’t remember the word catalyst) will begin to process all of what it is given. If, say, you try to cast an erect spell—er, sorry, a levitation spell, then you would pour telekinetic energy into the horn along with the type of spell, a lift spell. The horn will then start to divert the energy into power, and the power becomes the spell. But if the horn is broken, instead of being able to give full power, it can only give the amount it has left. Say, twenty percent of the horn remains, then it would be twenty percent power; which in turn is more strain on the Unicorn casting the spell.”
She stops to breath but quickly starts back up, while we are outside walking down the roads. “Think of it like a faucet. The faucet can send out water based on how much you turn the knob, or pull up the handle. When it is only twenty percent turned, it can only give twenty percent of its total capacity. But as it goes up or down, it changes to match it.”
“Ohhh,” I let slip as I finally understand.
“It really isn’t complicated. Would you like to know anything a else?” she asks with a little too much eagerness than I would have ever hoped for.
“Yes,” I say through gritted teeth.
“I’m so glad to hear that!” she exclaims, rubbing her forehooves together. “What first?”
“Whatever you want,” I whimper slightly.
“Alright! The basic celestia spell, or solar spell. Or even light spell… it could even be known as a flash spell, but that doesn’t have the right ring to it…” she trails off.
“Why did you stop?” I ask out of concern and turn around to her. She looks upset. “What is it?”
“We are back at the train station,” she says simply.
“How about you tell me more on the train?”
She smiles with one of the purest, happiest smiles I have seen her give me yet. “I would like that.”
A pony trots up to us, “Ah, good. I thought that you vould nat show.”
“And who might you be?” Sunny asks.
The pony rolls his eyes and motions for us to follow. We share glances before both shrugging. We follow him up to the wood platform, the train is already in and waiting. “You are de last to come,” he says.
“We just get on?” I ask. He nods, a slight look of frustration, or perhaps vexation, spread across his muzzle. He waves towards the train one final time before stomping away. “Well… do you have your things?” I ask, turning to Sunny.
“Yes, I even have a few books for the train ride just in case I am able to tell you everything there is to know about magic.”
I laugh a little in a sheepish manner. “Great,” I say, with a hint of sarcasm. “Let’s get going then.”
She walks over to the stairs leading down, jumps down them, and reaches under grabbing something. When she comes up she is holding a saddlebag in her mouth. She sets the double-sided bag onto her back and secures it in place.
We step onto the train, only to find a few others on. We search for a place to sit, which is an incredibly easy task. We find a mostly empty compartment-cabin that has only one other inhabitant, who is thankfully sleeping. Sunny takes off her bag, and sets it in the space under the seats.
Before I have the chance to sit down myself, she turns to me. “Now where was I? Oh yes, the solar spell,” she says, practically beaming with joy. I grin as sheepishly as I can.
--- --- ---
“We will be arriving at Canterlot within the next five minutes. Please make sure you have all of your belongings as you depart from the train. Thank you,” a work-pony informs. She tips her hat before moving on to a different compartment-cabin.
I turn to Sunny, smiling sarcastically, slightly relieved inside. “Sorry, but it looks like you will need to explain your theory on why wing size affects more than just possible flight speed but also the base agility the pony has at a later time.”
“Yeah, I guess I will,” she says, somewhat bummed out. “On the bright side I get to see Canterlot for the first time.”
“Yeah! I wonder what it will be like,” I chime. I see the hesitation plastered across her face. “Come on,” I grab her hoof and lead her to the door; only slowing to give her enough time to grab her bag. We arrive at the piston-controlled door, and with a slight groan the pistons start to open the door. I become blinded by the light. I look out, greeted by beauty.
“Let’s go!” we say in unison.