//------------------------------// // Chapter 3 // Story: Guardians Of The Helms // by Baconkatz //------------------------------// “Golden Coat?” A soft and gentle voice asked, Golden Coat looked up, a wisp of purple flame caught his eye as he lifted his head, his mother Bronze Ram was their her tall purple flames licking at the top of the tent, yet leaving no scald marks. Everything had to be flame resistant in the Valkyrie’s tribes, even though their manes were normally cold and passive. In other words, the flames were that of an illusion almost, but when emotions flared the flames themselves became what they appeared to be, fire. “Mother,” Golden Coat said, dropping the pencil he had in his mouth gently, if he broke it on accident he’d have to take a day's travel to the main market, he didn't have that kind of time on him. He was working on a map of all of this unnamed land, two of those kingdoms would be harder to map than the others, but he believed it would be well worth it. Bronze Ram looked at his map, her mane flickered with a splash of darker purple, “Your Father would like to speak to you,” she said, a wave of dry heat washed over Golden Coat, he knew his mother was not very close to his father anymore, they were officially unmated after all. A wave of dry heat was typically displayed when somepony felt an immense splash of anger, sarcasm or hopelessness. Sometimes if two ponies were sensitive enough, whole conversations could be held between two Valkyries. And only Valkyries, not even the highly sensitive Hunters could detect the undertones in their words. It was almost a silly concept for Golden Coat to have considered in the first place, he was a navigator. He wasn't a linguistic pony, barely knew the common tongue enough to talk to ponies of his own kind. But regardless, it looked like he had to speak to his father. About what? He wouldn't know. Golden Coat stood up, sand swirling around his hooves as the cushion breathed in air to plump itself up again. He walked up to his mother, soft grey etchings on her horns, he touched his horns to hers, their equivalent of a hug, Valkyries weren't very touchy. “Go now,” Bronze Ram said, “Your Father does not like waiting, you should know that by now.” She huffed, her clear second set of eyelids blinking, Golden Coat brushed past her, feeling the heat of her mane on his coat, yet he knew he would not be burned. Valkyries were fireproof as well, their coats had an oily feel to it that made them fire retardant. He closed his eyes before he stepped out of the tent, his eyes seeing the bright pink of his flesh as the sun burst to life in his vision, giving himself a moment to adjust he opened his eyes slowly. The sand under his hooves was so sun bleached it was like walking on soft unstable clouds. He looked around the tents before finding one closest to the oasis, he walked towards it, naturally making wavering motions with his body as he adjusted to the sand shifting under him. He could see the warm red glow of his father's mane casting shadows, and then a lighter softer chuckle than his father's heavier laughter. He almost groaned at the sound, and he prayed it wasn't who he thought it was. “It's almost as perfect as me,” Nope, Golden Coat was spot on it appeared. The mare he could hear talking was Corona, they didn't really get along that well. Corona came from a different tribe at a young age, her parents were prisoners of war that the Dunes Tribe liberated and allowed to stay. But she was such a self centered prick it made Golden Coats blood boil. He tried his absolute best to get along with his father's assistant, but good goddess above if she made another snarky remark about his map, he would ram her so hard she wouldn't be able to talk. Golden Coat took a nice deep calming breath before walking around the tent to see Corona carefully scribing designs on a sundial, and his father, Sundial, appeared to be working on another attempt to tell the time. Golden Coat didn't quiet see what was so important about his father's work, sundials were accurate enough, there was no need to tell the time at night when you could just watch the moon. Golden Coat wished he could say that it was his father's obsession with this project that made his mother mark him as unmated. But in all reality, it was her fault that the mated bond couldn't stay strong enough, she loved and mated too young, but since she was the cheifs daughter no one said a word about it. They had a lot to say once she was the cheif. Golden Coat shook his head, that was not what he was here to think about. He was here because his father wanted to speak to him. He cleared his throat, but of course Corona reared her hideously pretty muzzle first, the telltale sign she was from another tribe was the fire markings along her body. It was enough to make him gag. She wasn't the blood of the sun, not to him anyway. All species had a blood to the Valkyries, Kirins were the blood of war, Earth Gypsies had blood of Heavens rejected, Frost’s were the blood of ice. Dustie's were blood of sugar and spice, Hunters the blood of primality, and Hippocampis the blood of deep brine. But right now, Golden Coat couldn't even think of a good insult to throw at her, at least one he could use around his father. She smiled at him and stood up, her horns must've been hidden under her mane. “Hey Goldy,” Corona purred placing her smaller sculpting took down, “How are you doing? Oh never mind that, how is that little map of yours? You didn't give up on it did you?” She asked as if it was a completely normal conversation. A Colt of his word, Golden Coat took a few steps forward, his mane flared and rammed his head into hers. With a sickening crack she fell backwards, it appeared he missed her horns, good riddance. Sadly, the sound of horns on skull was enough to get Sundial to look up. “Gold!” Sundial exclaimed going over to check on Corona, he spoke to her gently for a minute or two, eventually she got to her feet wobbly, hopefully with a concussion, and left for her own tent, no doubt to tell the tail of how Golden Coat son of the chief attacked her unprovoked. Sundial sighed and looked at Golden Coat, “You need to stop that,” he said to his son, pushing his reading glasses up his muzzle, the wire frame pushing his fur away. Golden Coat didn't respond to that, “You wanted to see me?” He said, hostility coating his voice, his father knew fully well how much he disliked that brooding center of attention tribeless painted clown. Sundial looked from his son to the tent, he sighed and took his glasses off, laying them down on the prototype. “I think it's time.” He said, “We need to call a Chieftain meeting.” Golden Coat nearly choked on air, “A Chieftain meeting? Father are you crazy?” He asked, “One of those haven't happened in nearly a hundred years! And that was about the Tainted! What do you have that could possibly change the winds that much?” He asked with obvious disbelief. Sundial looked back to his tent, his eyes glazing over for a moment with that look of unintelligible fear and fondness. That simply managed to unnerve Golden Coat, the way he looked at that tent was as if he was possessed. “Trust me,” Sundial said looking to his son, “I can't tell you yet, but you will know soon my son.” He said touching their foreheads together, “Right now I need you to tell your mother to call upon the Chieftain Code. And I need you to back a bag, we’re going to the Dead Sun.” Golden Coats blood ran cold, he had heard of the Dead Sun only in stories. The Dead sun was a stretch of the dessert that the sun had never touched, the light just left the sky bare and dark, the stars hid themselves away to leave an empty black void above their heads. They said that the sand is as black as the coals that lit the fires, and that shards of glass made it glow like the stars had fallen from the heathens and kissed the soft sand of the earth. The bodies of dead and decaying winged creatures littered the land, thinking the heaven kissed sand was the sky on which they flew towards. For his father, the son of a bastard and a dancer, to not only demand a chieftain meeting, but to say it was to be held in the Dead Sun? That was as close as you could get to asking for death he could get. But Golden Coat said nothing, shutting his mouth. He walked away from the tent and towards Bronze ram, he didn't need to look at his father anymore. But of course, he had to glance back, he saw a flash of red, turned again and continued walking.