XXXIII
The Necromancer Is In
XXXIII
The Necromancer Is In
We boarded the ship out of Trotsylvania the next morning as scheduled, and without any sort of incident. I’ll spare you a record of our dialogue during the voyage because for the one time in my adolescence, the realization that I was a self-absorbed fraud instead of a genuinely selfless hero had left me taking up the role of the kind of mopey teenage stallion I’m sure you must recall my complaining about in earlier chapters.
You don’t want to read that. Nopony wants to read that. It’s disgusting.
The voyage went on that way for the better part of a week before the stereotypical bandana’d pegasus mare in the crow’s nest of the vessel shouted “land ho!”
I went up on deck to stand next to Blizzard, who stared out at the depressingly gray landscape. It was a cloudy, rainy day on the south-eastern coast of Equestria, and the dense gray ceiling of the world left the air humid and heavy. The warmth, however, was a wonderful change from the better part of a month of eternal winter.
Blizzard fanned herself with a wing, actively panting. “Is it always this hot in Equestria?”
I had to parse the question for more than a few seconds before I realized just what it was implying. “You’ve never left the Diamond Kingdoms? Ever?”
She shook her head. “Father’s banished, remember? He’ll be executed if he tries to come here. Who else was going to take me?”
“Fair enough.” I shrugged. “No, the northern side of Equestria is colder. Nothing like River Rock, except maybe in the dead of winter, but certainly not this hot.”
Angel spun in a circle beside her. “If I may, Master Coil, Miss Blizzard, what exactly is the plan from here? Will we be traveling by hoof, or hiring yet another means of transport?”
I shrugged. “I would prefer to avoid another long trip of camping in the woods like we did with Gale, if we can. Blizzard, can we afford to hire a carriage?”
For that question, Blizzard sighed. “Umm… about that, Morty…”
I quirked a brow. “Now you’re worrying me.”
“Well… I kind of gave away a lot of coin to those orphans in Trotyslvania, and…”
My hoof met my brow. “Tell me you didn’t spend all the money.”
“…but then I would be lying to you.”
I tilted back my head and brought it down on the railing of the ship.
Graargh clutched my right foreleg tight. “Morty, don’t do! Don’t hurt you!” His Equiish was steadily improving. I rewarded the easily recognizable sentences with a scratch behind his ears.
“Honestly, Blizzard…”
“I didn’t mean to. They just all looked so hungry, and I wasn’t actually looking in the bag when I was pulling the coins out, and—” She sighed. “I’m not very good at being out on my own, am I?”
“It’s fine.” I took a short breath and released it as an exasperated sigh. “I’m a wizard. I can make that kind of money in no time.”
That first glimpse at Platinum’s Landing holds a special place in my heart even to this day. Unlike River Rock or Trotsylvania or Lübuck, it felt no need to be a sturdy, reasonable city. Instead, the site of Queen Platinum’s arrival on the Equestrian continent was marked by what looked like a foal’s treehouse taken to its absolute logical extreme.
The city, you see, sits on the mouth of the Maressissippi River, which is so shallow and so wide an area that it can scarcely be called the mouth of a river before one’s tongue or quill rebels against the mind controlling it and instead expresses a blunter word like ‘bayou’ or ‘bog’ or ‘mosquito-ridden cesspool of scum and degradation’. In order to avoid sinking into the swamp like a metaphorical stack of stone castles, the entire city was set up on the ends of tree trunks thrust into the mud and muck below, only occasionally finding sturdier support on the tops of the rare few stones and ‘islands’ that jutted out of the murky, crocodile-infested waters.
In order to accommodate this profound lack of an architectural foundation, the city’s streets were made of wooden slats stretched between buildings, and the buildings themselves sat atop one another in frankly impressive piles—impressive in the fact that despite their very visible swaying, the whole town hadn’t fallen over yet. Somewhere, though, I could almost hear a big bad wolf practicing breathing exercises.
As our chartered ship pulled into dock, my little party and I gathered by where the gangplank would shortly be lowered. As we watched, two pegasi armored in matching steel bands walked down to the end of the dock toward us. One carried a board and a scroll under a wing. Both wore swords.
“Cirran legionaries,” Blizzard whispered. “Aunt Typhoon’s soldiers. Do you think they want me?”
I turned toward her with a raised brow. “You’re being paranoid, Blizzard. You haven’t even done anything wrong. Come on.” As a pair of the ship’s sailors lowered the gangplank down to the dock, I started a jaunty stroll down toward something loosely resembling dry land.
“Halt!” one of the legionaries called to me, holding up a wing.
“Alright,” I offered in return. “Can we help you?”
“This ship came from the Compact Lands, did it not?”
I cocked my head. “Sorry, the what lands?”
“That’s what pegasi call the Diamond Kingdoms, Morty.” Blizzard stepped down next to me, squeezing onto the dock in the small space the two pegasi had oh-so-graciously given us. “Named after the Tri-Pony—”
“Historical name. Understood, got it.” Blizzard gave me a small glare for my blunt interruption. “Yes, stallions, we came from Trotsylvania.”
The one with the scroll and the plank retrieved both items, balancing them on the inside of his wing so that he could clearly read them. “We’re tasked with ensuring none of Cyclone’s traitor-legion come into Equestria in violation of their banishment. To that end, we need to see some manner of identification.”
I opened my mouth to explain why I didn’t have any identification, stopped, and then raised a hoof to gently point at my companions. “Sir, you don’t need to see our identification.”
“I’m afraid I must insist. We must verify—”
“Look up from that scroll for two seconds,” I muttered, reaching up my hoof and pulling the offending distraction down onto the dock ‘floor’. Both pegasi tensed at the motion, but neither drew a weapon. “She’s… what, twenty, Blizzard? Nineteen? I’m younger, and Graargh here is even younger than me. Now, I understand this level of arithmetic might be taxing to the brains of two legion grunts, but, try to follow along—”
“Morty,” Blizzard scolded. “Stop antagonizing them!”
I ignored her. “Cyclone’s rebellion was twenty years ago. Got that number? Twenty. Now, I’m eighteen. Eighteen. At the ripe old age of negative two, I think we’ll all agree that, clearly, I secretly masterminded the entire treasonous affair. Blizzard, having just been born, was an excellent right hoof in my plot to seize the Diamond Throne.”
One of the pegasi tensed. The other calmly picked up his scroll before glaring at me. “‘Morty’, was it? We’re going to have to ask that you come with us, under charges of obstruction of legion business and—”
I rolled my eyes, and then lit up my horn before either soldier had a chance to act. Their eyes shrunk to tiny focused pinpricks as my spell took hold, and I spoke up. “You don’t need to see our identification. You’ll forget about the incredibly handsome stallion and his companions, and you’ll let them go about their business if you encounter them again. You feel strangely resolved to take up a remedial study of arithmetic. You will otherwise have an excellent day.”
The legionary with the scroll mumbled back to me. “I don’t need to see your identification. What handsome stallion? I am bad at math. Move along.”
“Why thank you.” I took a few steps down the docks, and then turned around. “Oh, also, gentlestallions: could I borrow that board you have with you? And a bit of ink?”
A few minutes later, walking into the mass of scruffy, shady looking swamp-dwellers of Platinum’s Landing proper, Blizzard grabbed me by my shoulder with a wing. “What did you do to those guardsponies?”
“Basic mind control by brute force,” I answered. “And in my defense, I tried to reason with them.”
“You called them stupid to their faces,” she observed bitterly.
I shrugged. “That doesn’t make the logic any less sound, does it? We literally could not have been who they were looking for, and I didn’t want any trouble over the fact that none of us have anything remotely resembling proof of identity. For Celestia’s sake, we don’t even know what Graargh’s species is!”
“I am a bear!” Graargh chimed in.
“Yes, we know… Oh, excellent grammar by the way, Graargh.” The little cub smiled, and I returned my attention to Blizzard. “The spell isn’t permanent, it won’t have any adverse effects, and I even had the decency to both improve their moods and give them a mild life benefit. I don’t see what there is to be angry about.”
“You can’t just—”
“Let me stop you there. The word you’re looking for is ‘shouldn’t’, since the fact that I literally just did is perfect evidence that I can in fact override the free will of other ponies, at least if they aren’t particularly strong-willed. And as the student of the pre-eminent evil wizard of our lifetimes, I’m inclined to say that in a debate about magical ethics, we can just skip ahead to the part where I’m proven right. I’m really not in the mood. Now, can I trouble you for a favor?”
Blizzard frowned. “You know, I kind of liked it better when you were quieter, on the way up to see Clover?”
“You mean when I was plotting an assassination? Yes, that’s certainly more ethically pleasant, I agree. Now, write something down for me.”
Necromancy Services
Talk to your lost loved ones, three gold bits for five minutes.
Only three seances a day! First come, first served!
Rules:
- No Resurrections; I don’t make zombies, and you wouldn’t want one if I did. I only offer seances. Please don’t ask.
- The bedroom and the grave do not mix.
- I am not responsible for the immortal judgement of your loved one’s souls. If you are offended somepony is in Tartarus, petition Celestia and or Luna; I am not getting involved.
I sat next to the sign Blizzard had written for me on one of the wooden pathways that served as a street in Platinum’s Landing, under the shade of a mangrove that stuck up through the road and kept me from falling down into swampy waters below. For an hour, or perhaps even two, ponies stopped to read my sign and to slowly gather, waiting for somepony willing to take up my offer, and treating it almost like a street show, throwing much smaller offerings into a bucket I’d placed beside me. Angel hovered beside my head, an obvious testament to my claim of being a mage, and he casually dodged back and forth as curious foals attempted to poke his gem-laden rings. Blizzard and Graargh waited nearby, watching me and the crowd I was slowly gathering.
After I had finished my first seance—refilling from magic I had stored in Angel after getting through the process—a shout came from up the road. “Wait, mage, wait! Are you still casting?” The mare in question slid to a stop next to me, and then held a hoof to her chest, wheezing to catch her breath. “I…”
“I’m not going to sell off my seances while you’re catching your breath. Take a minute.”
“Thank… you…” The mare was… well, barely a mare. She was younger than myself, an earth pony filly with a barrel on her flank and hair that was slicked back from her own sweat in the persistent heat. “I need your help.” She dropped three gold bits into my show bucket, clinking in the pile of smaller change I had accumulated. “Please.”
“Well, you don’t need to beg if you’re paying.” I cocked my head. “What can a wizard do for a mare like you?”
“It’s my mother—”
“I need a name, maybe a little description, and I can pull her right up.”
“What if she isn’t dead?”
The question struck me as strange, but before I had a chance to inquire further, somepony in my audience shouted out. “If she ain’t dead, why’re ya’ wasting the wizard’s time?”
The mare wilted a bit. “Well…”
“Give her a chance to explain.” I nodded to the mare once I’d secured silence. “Firstly, what’s your name?”
“Hare,” the mare answered. “...just Hare, yeah.”
I cocked a brow. “Well, Hare, what happened to your mother?”
“Well, a few days ago, mother heard there was a kelpie living in the swamp with a magic bridle.”
I swallowed heavily, but resisted the urge to comment on her mother’s intelligence. “Go on.”
“And I guess they say that if you steal a bridle from a kelpie, it has to grant you a wish.”
“Not remotely true, but I’m familiar with the stories.” The comment brought a frown to Hare’s face, leaving her ears hanging slack and her gaze on the street at my hooves, and earned me a disapproving shake of the head from Blizzard. “I assume she went missing in the swamps, then?”
Hare nodded. “I’m grown enough to take care of myself, but… well, Ma said she’d be back in a day, and—”
I put a calming hoof on her shoulder. “Don’t worry, Hare. I’ll find her, one way or another. Now, can you do me a favor and describe your mother? What did her friends call her? What did she look like?”
Hare nodded. “Her name was— er, is Destiny. But everypony usually calls her ‘Desperate’.”
“Desperate. Got it. And for appearance?”
“She was about your height, sir, on account of being an earth pony.” It took me a moment to realize she was calling me ‘tall’, and not confusing me for another earth pony. “Sort of a gray color. Usually she wore her mane tied in a braid on her, uh…” Hare glanced down at her hooves, and then raised her left. “On this side.”
“I see.” I closed my eyes and reached out with my horn. “I can’t promise you you’ll like the answer, Hare, but it will be the truth.”
There, just beyond the world at present, I found the Summer Lands. The scent of grassy fields slipped into my mind without ever passing my nose. A welcome warmth of sunshine bypassed my coat completely.
And, to my incredible relief, I found nopony.
“Oi, what’s taking so long?” a voice in my crowd called out.
I slid my legs out, catching myself as the third spell of the day left me feeling drained and worn. “She’s not there.” The glow on my horn warbled, but I held the same spell, unwilling to lose another casting to another flare up. “I ought to check…” The infernal chill and the inexplicable vertigo of Tartarus passed quickly; I never felt the need to take my time with that half of the search. “Not there either…”
A voice in the crowd raised a hoof, then spoke without being called on. “What do you mean, Mr. Wizard?”
“Well, nopony likes to admit it, but just because somepony isn’t in the Summer Lands doesn’t necessarily mean they aren’t dead. You have to check Tartarus too. Remember the rules.”
Hare slapped me in the shoulder—surprisingly forcefully for a young mare, but less so for an earth pony of any age. “My Ma isn’t—”
“No, you’re right, she is not in Tartarus. But for the record, I don’t appreciate being hit. I don’t have any control over where ponies go when they die.” I briefly bit my cheek, realizing the fact that I had just lied. “Celestia and Luna are the ponies to talk to if you’re worried about that. But right now, that’s…” I shook my head to clear a feeling of dizziness. “That’s not even relevant, Hare, because your mother is almost certainly still alive.”
“Ma’s alive?! I knew it! Where is she?”
I sighed. “Well, that I don’t know.”
Hare’s shoulders slumped and she hung her head.
“...but I can find out.” I swallowed, realizing I was about to get myself into another ‘heroic’ situation. Some sort part of my gut warned that I was going to wind up hurting Hare. “I’m going to need your help though,” I told her, pushing past my doubts if only for the desperate trust I saw in the way Hare looked up at me. I waved over Blizzard and Graargh. “Everypony, these are my associates. The exceptionally beautiful mare is Blizzard, and the bear cub is…” I did my best to imitate Celestia’s perfect roar.
Judging by his sour expression, Graargh was not impressed. It certainly didn’t help when the audience unleashed a bout of laughter.
“I’m afraid that’s all the spells I’m casting today, everypony. If you ever need the services of the world’s greatest necromancer again, ask for Archmage Coil the Immortal in Everfree City.”
My metaphorical title set very literal whispers venting through the crowd as I picked up my bucket of loose change. “Immortal?” “Is he a god, like Celestia?” “Is he actually a kid, or does he just look that way?” I chuckled at the superstitions as Graargh and Blizzard walked forward, joining Angel, Hare and I beneath the mangrove leaves.
“Morty, why did you do that?” Blizzard asked once she was in earshot, wearing a mild frown.
“Do what?” I asked. “Earn us the money we need to get to Everfree? Help ponies talk to their loved ones?”
“Why did you tell them all my name? Or point me out?”
I blinked twice, trying to parse the question. “Umm… why not? Nopony’s going to recognize you, Blizzard; it’s not as if any of these ponies would even know—”
“That’s not the point,” Blizzard snapped, before hanging her head. “Look, nevermind. We should just get the money back to an inn or somewhere and then we can go looking for Hare’s mother.”
“We?” I asked. “I was just going to go with Angel and Hare. A kelpie is a dangerous spirit.”
“Graargh not afraid!” Graargh spoke up. Then, with somewhat decreased intensity, he shook his head. “I… am not afraid.”
Hare smiled. “He’s so cute!”
That earned the mare a glare from Graargh. “I not cute! I am bear!”
“Those aren’t mutually exclusive terms, Graargh,” Angel helpfully added.
I coughed twice into my hoof, and then waited for the bickering to end. “Look, everypony… We can all go. That’s really not a problem. However, a kelpie is a type of spirit, meaning it can only be harmed by magic. Unfortunately, since Gale isn’t with us anymore, we don’t have a magic sword, and frankly Blizzard, you said yourself that your magic isn’t honed for combat. So while I don’t mind you tagging along, I do have to insist ahead of time that if we get into a fight, you all leave it to me. Do you all agree to let me handle the heroi…”
Hare cocked her head, Graargh’s beady black eyes widened, and Blizzard opened her mouth, inevitably to worry about me. So, naturally, I picked up before she had a chance.
“...that is, do we all agree to leave the wizard business to me?”
In answer, my companions offered worried nods and hesitant affirmations.
Hare’s route out of Platinum’s Landing led us down the boardwalks and plank pathways to a stretch of ground which I had to consider the main road through the swamp simply because it was less marshy than any of the surrounding land.
“Got to watch out for snakes down here,” Hare warned. “Usually they’re easy to spot, swimming on top of the water. Make sure you know something’s really a log before you touch it, though. Those are the big ones, the pony eaters.”
“You have any hydra problems in land this wet?”
“Used to,” Hare answered. “Back when I was a little foal. Then Commander Typhoon sent us a bunch of soldiers and they mostly drained the swamp. These days the only big things are smart enough to hide or blend in enough to be missed flying overhead.”
“Delightful,” muttered Angel. “Not only is the place utterly filthy, but some of the muck is secretly monsters? Master Coil, I do hope we shan’t be staying longer than absolutely necessary.”
I glanced down at the rolled-up cuffs of my jacket, and tugged up the right sleeve to make sure I didn’t stain the precious garment. “Angel, you can fly. You aren’t even touching any of it.”
“Hhmph. City slickers,” Hare grumbled. “A bit of muck never hurt anypony.”
“Hare right,” Graargh answered, and to my horror, he paused to drink directly out of the murky water. “Much plants in water. Tastes very good.”
Even Hare made a disgusted face at that comment.
“Graargh, you probably… absolutely should not be drinking that,” Blizzard advised.
As we talked about nothing in particular, the ‘road’ through the swamp wound and twisted and rose and fell, sometimes dipping into fetlock-deep water and at other times rising up on pleasantly dry rocky ridges.
Some few minutes after Graargh’s fearless experiment in swamp hydration, I heard a tap in the distance and my head swiveled to my right. The water was still… and then it rippled in a tiny circle, emphasized by a sort of ‘plop’. Not long after, a third raindrop fell. And then the drizzling began.
Blizzard covered her head with her wings, shuddering. “What… Morty, what’s happening?! Is this the kelpie? Is this magic?”
Hare turned to the pegasus with a slack jaw. “It’s just rain, Miss Blizzard. Ain’t you ever been in the rain before?”
“Rain…” Blizzard slowly moved her wings away from her head and stared up into the sparse canopy of cottonwood and birch set against the gray sky. “This is rain…”
“She’s from River Rock,” I explained quietly to Hare, before walking over to Blizzard’s side. “You like it?”
“It’s… strange. It’s so cold.”
I placed a foreleg on her shoulder, careful not to touch her coat with the muddier part of my hoof. “Compared to River Rock’s snow?”
“The snow stays on the outside of your coat. It’s light and powdery; the wind is what gets under your feathers. The rain… raindrops, right?”
I nodded slowly.
“The raindrops are heavy. They get right through my coat.”
“This isn’t very heavy rain,” I told her. “At least, not compared to what we used to get up in the Union around summertime. I don’t know what it’s like in Everfree, but you might need to get used to it. Come on. I’d like to find this kelpie we’re looking for before the rain gets any worse.” I took two steps away from Blizzard, and then paused. With a bit of telekinesis, I pulled the jacket off my back and offered it to her.
“Morty—”
“I don’t want it to get cut or stained if there’s a fight. That’s all. I’ll need it back later.” I tweaked up one side of my lips in a cocky grin, and Blizzard smiled back.
My hooves splashed on into the unmapped wilds, and my friends followed close behind.