//------------------------------// // To Escape // Story: Trickles 2 - Memory Sound // by Glen Gorewood //------------------------------// Nightmare Night, Golden Oaks library, Ponyville A terrified Zecora rapidly pounds on the door to the library made of a living tree, her mind still filled with the horror of what she has witnessed. The fear of what could still be in store for her, the words of the old tale warning her of her fate if something isn’t done. Her heart pounds as she beats upon the door frantically, those screams still echoing in her mind and ears, the horror of the what happened to that poor changeling fresh in her mind. The memory of those horrible things all too clear. Memory, the one thing she has held so dear for so long. Yet for the first, and hopefully last time in her life, she must do something she swore to her teacher she would never do. She must force herself to deny it. As her hoof moves back for another pound against the great golden wood door, it opens. Light pours from the entrance, enveloping her friend, her only hope at this hour with the terror she has escaped knowing she must return to her home if she were to craft a potion to deter them; bathed in a brilliant halo against the darkness of this night. The unicorn before her is a pale lavender, with dark purple hair with magenta stripes in them trimmed into a rather goth cut. Her cutie mark is a dark pink star surrounded by five other stars, her pale purple eyes eyes widen as she takes in the zebra shaman’s state. Disheveled hair and blood shot terrified eyes are out of place on the normally serene and wise shaman, the poor mare looks like she made a mad rush through the Everfree. “Oh my gosh, Zecora? What happened to you? Why are you...” Twilight Sparkle does not manage to finish her sentence as Zecora rushes into the library, causing her to spin on one hoof. The zebra pauses just long enough to shove the door closed, before running over to the bookshelves and beginning to frantically search each one. Mumbling under her breath, “Forget the Memory, impede the terror that be.” Over and over she repeats this, almost like a chant or prayer. As Twilight recovers her balance, she walks over to the panicked Zecora, her hooves making a distinct clip clop against the floor. Just as she reaches her friend, who is delving through the spell section of the library, the shaman shrieks in relief before grabbing a rather old and unusually thick tome in her mouth before dashing past the unicorn and to the reading table. Twilight shakes her head, turning around she follows her friend who has now set herself down and is flipping rapidly through the old spell tome. Peering over her shoulder Twilight’s eyes widen as she sees which book her friend is searching through. One of the older volumes, it’s a rare tome on mind healing and memory, mostly for curing ailments like anxiety or depression or effects of magical entities. However one section in the book is near unreadable, due to it being written in an odd form of runes. This is the section Zecora is flipping through, her hooves like lightning and her eyes those of a mare barely retaining her hold on sanity. Finally, the shaman stops searching through the tome. The page she is on has an illustration that seems to show a pony like creature’s head cut in half, with labels within on sections of the brain. Similar to newer anatomical charts, there is an icon similar to an arrow pointing at what looks like a crude depiction wall within one brain section. What an odd thing to have in an ancient tome meant to cure maladies and the effects of magical creatures. Twilight’s focus is broken by a single sentence from the disheveled shaman. “Twilight, I need a paper and pen now, or this night will bring terror on this town.” Zecora’s words hold great urgency, as if a moments delay will cause some horrible event to unfold. That and her rhyming is off, which is something that only happens in times of great duress or worse. “Alright Zecora, But will you please tell me what is going on?”, Twilight says as she levitates a pen, inkwell, and paper over to the zebra mare. The zebra shaman grabs the pen before it is even set on the table, pulling the paper before her as she begins to frantically write something down upon it. Her eyes glance at the page in the tome, then to the paper, her hooves working at a breakneck pace despite being capable of using magic to do so. “Zecora?” Twilight’s voice implies worry that echoes in her face as her friend merely snorts in reply and continues to write. The shaman’s hooves move like lightning, her eyes moving from her handiwork to the old tome. As Twilight watches, it’s dawns upon her that her friend is translating and transcribing the page into equestrian. The indecipherable parts of the tome must have been written in some sort of code or runic language kept secret for millennia, unknown to anypony or anyone she had known. Anypony except it would seem, her shaman friend who is now frantically transcribing something from this tome that is so important she refuses to answer the Twilight’s questions. Even if Twilight Sparkle wasn’t a genius, she would have realized that her friend isn’t just terrified. She is desperate, and transcribing this tome page like her life depends on it. Something beyond her comprehension has happened that has driven her friend to this state. The unknown that generally intrigues the unicorn, in this case fills her with trepidation. Minutes seem like hours, until finally the frantic scratching of the pen stops and Zecora grabs the page in one hoof before turning around to face Twilight. Her eyes seem more than just bloodshot, there is a haunted look within them akin to an animal that knows it is being hunted. A primordial fear ripples through Twilight Sparkle, something horrible has happened to her friend, she just knows it. Whatever it is, whatever caused Zecora to end up like this, it’s not gone. Taking the page in her magic, Twilight gasps , her eyes beholding the transcribed page and not believing what is written upon it. Gazing at her friend she asks, “Zecora, you can’t possibly think I would ever cast this spell? It’s horrible, nopony should ever have this cast upon them, what would drive you to think I would even consider it?” The zebra shaman looks at her friend pleadingly, desperation in her voice as she tries and fails in her fear to craft a proper rhyme. “Twilight you must both see and not see, the terror that has befallen me. I cannot tell you what is the cause, but do not wait or give pause. That spell is the last hope for me, you must cast it and quickly.” The element of magic shakes her head, her mind battling with her own morals and the desperate plea of her friend. “Zecora, I can’t. Mind magic and spells like this, if I had known this was in that tome I would have moved it somewhere else in the library. Spells like this can only be used in dire emergencies and..” Before she can finish she is interrupted as Zecora gets up and moves up to the unicorn so that her eyes stare directly into Twilight’s. The smell of sweat, forest, and something very unusual and sickly sweet tinged with copper wafts off the zebra mare as she bores her eyes into the Twilight’s own. In a slow and steady voice, filled with urgency she says. “Twilight, this is an emergency. Cast the spell or you will see, the beings that caused this terror for me.” Twilight gulps, her eyes moving from Zecora’s eyes that seem to be broadcasting her need into the unicorn’s very soul to the spell upon the page. Her wise friend, always there when she needs help and who has overcome many obstacles, is now begging her for aid. And she can sense that the urgency is well founded as her eyes read all that has been transcribed. The transcription explains the spell is only to be used in cases where creatures that “search by memory” have targeted somepony. Not much more is explained concerning whatever they are, but the other warnings across the page make her realize exactly how dire the situation is. Such creatures it seems, can only be stopped by this spell, there is no other way. Looking back into Zecora’s eyes, the zebra having backed up a bit, Twilight asks; “Are you sure about this Zecora?” The zebra shaman replies, her voice solemn, “Certain as I shall ever be, cast the spell and set me free.” With a deep breath, Twilight focuses her magic and crafts the spell matrix needed in her mind. As her aura builds up in a magenta light around her horn, she looks at her terrified friend whose left ear as swiveled towards the door. As she lets loose her magic, the spell enveloping Zecora like a mystical blanket, she swears she hears a sound like tricking water mixed with a frustrated shriek from just beyond the library door. Then all is quiet in the library as her magic fades from around Zecora, who falls to the ground as exhaustion from whatever occurred that night catches up with her. The last words Twilight hears before the zebra passes into the land of dreams are barely audible even in the silence that permeates the ancient oak tree. “Thank you..” Grabbing a spare blanket, the unicorn covers her friend so the mare does not catch a chill. Moving towards the ancient tome that still rests on the table, she wonders about exactly what kind of being could have scared Zecora so. Her mind drifts to another creature she cares for, one who she views as both a brother and a son. In a soft voice so she does not wake the sleeping shaman on her library floor Twilight whispers. “I hope Spike and the CMC are alright..” - 6 days after Nightmare Night, Golden Oaks Library The zebra shaman stands upon a short step stool, her hooves gently shifting the alignment of the books on the shelves till they are perfectly straight. Blue green eyes narrow as she makes one final check to ensure everything on the shelf is as her friend Twilight Sparkle likes it. Her friend is quite meticulous as to now her books are set up, normally this job would fall to her assistant Spike, but he hasn’t been seen since Nightmare Night. The entire town has been in a state of silent fear since then, and foals are no longer allowed out last dark. For Spike was not the only one to go missing, the Cutie Mark Crusaders also disappeared that same night. From what little has been found out, Applebloom, Scootaloo, and Sweetie Bell met up with Spike to go trick or treating on Nightmare Night. Many in town initially thought them not showing up the next day was a prank, even their families. After all, the three fillies and Spike were known for getting into mischief. The idea they would try to be ghost hunters and get caught up in their adventure wasn’t impossible by any means. However when they failed to show up by the end of the day after Nightmare Night, word was sent to the local guard outpost. A search party was sent out, and it was what they found that triggered the fear that now enveloped the town. An abandoned cart, half dissolved, that was known to belong to a local mare who would never leave it behind. There was no sign of the mare, and magical scans revealed she had seemingly disappeared in that very spot within the Everfree forest. Further scans revealed a faint trail the CMC and Spike had taken into and through the woods, one that disappeared within a grove of trees by an odd archway made of branches that had grown over an impossibly clear pool of water. Zecora had requested the guard check on her own home, and bring her some supplies. For some reason she is and was terrified to enter the Everfree forest and return to her home. Based on what the guards told her of the state of her hut, her fear was not unfounded, even if she couldn’t recall what she was afraid of. The guards had found her home to be in disarray, though they were able to salvage most of her belonging that were now stored in a spare room of the library; her hut would require massive repairs. Apparently the floor, walls, ceiling, and door were all partially dissolved. The guards described it as looking like somepony had let loose an overpowered uncontrolled melt spell inside her home. The crown would pay for the repairs, and she would be allowed home after the forest was deemed safe again. But until then Zecora was to stay at the library with her friend Twilight Sparkle, which she was grateful for. Not only due to her fear of the Everfree, but because the unicorn really needed support right now. The news that Spike had gone missing had hit her hard, and Twilight and her friends had tried to search for him and the CMC for three days nonstop to no avail. She had only stopped after her mentor, Princess Celestia, had shown up to personally make her stop. The poor mare had cried onto the Princess’s shoulder like a despondent child, and Celestia had held her as a mother would to calm her sorrow and fear. Ever since then, about two days ago, Zecora had taken over Spike’s duties. Staying by Twilight’s side as she researched, intent on finding any explanation for what had taken her assistant and the CMC. The zebra mare wishes she could help, but she has no memories of Nightmare Night at all. The doctor who had checked on her said it was likely due to trauma, since the guards had picked up her magical signature next to that of the half melted wagon. Given the state of her home, they had decided that the shaman was the only survivor of some horrible attack; and that any attempts to unlock the memories would only lead to more harm. She had promised to inform them if she remembered anything, which had satisfied the guard. As she got off the step stool, a sound caused her to freeze. The drip drop of water echoed through the library into her ears, and Zecora swiveled them to pin point the source of the sound. Walking towards it, she entered the kitchen and is relieved to find that the sound was due to the faucet not being turned off completely. Using her hoof, for her magic had been unavailable to her since that night due to trauma, she turned the faucet off cutting off the dripping droplets and bringing about a welcome silence. Glancing around the kitchen proper, she saw the teapot filled with water ready to be boiled. Her own special blend of calming herbal teas sat in a tea sieve ready to be brewed, somehow they had survived whatever had damaged her home. Turning on the stovetop, she let the water boil as she got the teacups ready. She chose a set of porcelain ones with weaving branches emblazoned in gold inlays. Setting the special herbal blend of tea within them, the sieves set on top so as to maximize flavor, she stood back and waited as her mind drifts in thought. Zecora had always been taught that memory was very important, and a shaman must be able to recall all they know at any time. Her loss of all memory of Nightmare Night, and the inability to use her magic, greatly disturbed her. She had had little time to dwell on how this could have happened until now, and though trauma was possible it was also highly unlikely. Zebra Shamans were trained from a young age to endure almost anything, especially mental trauma. After all when one was taught ancient knowledge and could if needed call on spirits to aid them, mental and spiritual fortitude was a requirement not an option. So the idea that she had merely forgotten something, no an entire night due to trauma, did not sit right with her. Something else was going on, and somehow she knew it was connected to the disappearances of the CMC and Spike. The sound of the teapot hissing indicated the water was boiled and ready, snapping Zecora from her train of thought. As she walks over to the teapot, lifting it up gently with mitts so as not to burn herself, she can’t help but wonder what caused her to forget that night. As she pours the tea water into the cups, her focus shifts to Twilight Sparkle. Placing the kettle back, she gently lifts the tray holding the teacups in her mouth and makes her way out of the kitchen towards the reading section of the library. There as expected, is her unicorn friend, books and notes strewn everywhere but on the side table intended for tea and foodstuffs. Gently placing the tray down, Zecora walks over to her friend, deftly avoiding stepping on anything on the floor. Peering over her shoulder, she notes that the research path seems to have shifted again. This morning it was spells and side effects, now it is mythical creatures and monsters. Twilight sits engrossed in reading about an entity that pretends to be plant-life before taking its prey by surprise. Zecora chuckles, alerting Twilight to her presence. The unicorn mare turns to Zecora, an unamused expression on her face amplified by the exhaustion lines under her eyes. “What is so funny?” The zebra shaman shakes her head, responding in a knowing voice that no longer rhymes. After all, losing her link to her magic meant that the binding of speaking in rhyme no longer held. “I am sorry my friend, but the creature you are reading up on is not native to Equestria. It roams the lands of Ruminia, and would not be able to enter Equestria for the landscape bars it’s passage.” Twilight blinks her eyes before face-hoofing at her exhaustion fueled foolishness. The unicorn has not gotten used to her zebra friend no longer speaking in rhyme, however regardless of vocal speech pattern the shaman is still wise. At some level, Twilight wishes she had known of the disappearances before she had cast that spell on Nightmare Night. It would have saved her time chasing dead ends. The thought of the word dead sends shivers up her spine, as she thinks of the implications of what would have happened if she had not done as Zecora asked. She had noticed the zebra’s new fear of certain sounds made by liquids, specifically anything that sounded like a dripping water spout or trickling stream. Something about it was important, but she didn’t know what exactly, perhaps that should be her next line of research. A black and white striped foreleg moves into her line of sight, waving back and forth, which snaps her out of her internal thoughts. As she comes to she hears a voice calling, out to her. “Twilight, Twilight? I believe you need some tea my friend, you have been looking for answers in books for two days straight now.” Zecora’s voice is tinged with worry, not the terrified kind from six days ago, but genuine worry for her friend. Twilight turns her head, stretching as she gets up from her sitting position, her limbs hurting from staying still too long. Glancing at the tea tray, she has an idea. Zecora seems to know a lot about magical entities and knowledge that even she isn’t aware of. Even if she can’t risk making Zecora remember that night, she can ask her for help. Besides, her shaman friend is the only survivor of whatever attacked all those in the Everfree six days ago. Her only possible of hope of finding Spike and the CMC lies within Zecora. At the very least, the knowledge the shaman holds can narrow down the possibilities. With a tired smile she looks at her zebra friend, whose blue green eyes stare back at her. Twilight walks towards the tray, picking up a cup in her magic before asking her question. “Zecora, you know a lot about beings and entities from outside Equestria right?” Picking up her own teacup and taking a sip the zebra nods, “Indeed, as well as much knowledge and lore about Equestria itself that is long forgotten. Why do you ask Twilight?” After enjoying a sip of the special zebrican herbal blend, a light mix of savanna grass and spices with some sort of floral aftertaste, Twilight responds. “Well I was wondering if you could help me narrow down my research, and help me find out who or what harmed that pony and took Spike and the CMC; as well as attacked you. I could really use the help Zecora.” Zecora looks thoughtful for a moment, her mind pondering over her own worries about her lost memories of that night. The reason why was linked to this somehow, and if anyone could help her find her own answers it was Twilight Sparkle. “Very well, I will help you Twilight. I too wonder what occurred that night, and what is the cause for my loss of magic and rhyme. My knowledge is at your disposal.” Both mares settle down to drink their tea, an unwritten agreement made between them. An agreement that is tilted and imbalanced, for one has the knowledge to find out what they already know but desired forgotten. The other knows why the other mare has forgotten, and at some level fears what will happen if that truth is revealed. Neither mare understands the results of their actions. Neither is aware as deep in the Everfree by a great silver stone, a pond of unusual water begins to ripple and stir. A shape not unlike a hoof is formed for a few seconds upon its surface before collapsing to droplets of liquid, sensing the threads that allow it to remain strengthening once again. A single terrible sound can be heard emanating from the pool, a chiming of trickling silver like a running stream.