//------------------------------// // Chapter 24 // Story: The Tome of Faust // by DungeonMiner //------------------------------// Another month passed, and Spring had come into its own. The land was green and beautiful, with wildflowers blooming in every field. Mouse had never seen the world in such greens, and the whole country of Equestria was full of life. Farmers were sowing their fields, and pegasi were following after them, water the fresh dirt with rain clouds, while unicorns slowly calculated the path of the sun, and the coming warmth of the season. Together, they would double the output of any Earthonian field, and quadruple both Unicornian and Pegasopolan field. It really made Mouse believe that Equestria could work. This whole thing,  the thing that Clover the Clever sacrificed herself for, could work. He quickly pushed that thought away, and focused again on the task ahead of him. They had a relatively straightforward task. Take on a small pack of timberwolves that had pushed northward to the outskirts of Canterlot. Storm was with him, walking beside him his weapons ready and his armor gleaming, while telling him everything he could about the targets. “Timberwolves are creatures of living wood, that thirst for the flesh of the living. While the majority of their bodies are logs and branches, their limbs are made of green vine. This is where you have to strike.” Mouse nodded, listening. “This shouldn't be a problem for you,  you have the accuracy to hit the targets, but do your best to do keep your distance,  their fangs are covered in a toxic sap that will nurture an infection, as well as poison you.” And he just kept going.  Ever since the chimera job, Storm had began talking more and more. He was always there to adjust Mouse’s strikes in training, or covered his back at every opportunity.  It was becoming slightly annoying, if he were being honest. Still, the help was nice, and Mouse really did like his new cloak. Ghost’s plan was moving forward as well. With every new job, he was gaining more and more trust. He was gaining more and more access to the Company building, and with Storm conveniently keeping Polar and Copper off his back, it left many doors, both physical and metaphorical, open. Still, Cedar had never been alone and easily accessible. “This will make a good camp,” Storm said suddenly, breaking Mouse from his thoughts. It was already dusk, the red-golds of the setting sun splashing across the sky, the time had passed them by faster than he realized. Realizing that he had let the past few hours pass him by, he took a moment to look around. Storm pointed down at a small copse of pine trees that sat beside a small, crystal clear lake. The grass beside the trees and lake was fresh, green and springy. The ground would be soft, easy to sleep on, the trees would offer shelter from the wind, and the lake would be plenty of water to make their wine last. “Go ahead and begin to set up camp, I’ll get the fire started.” Storm ordered. Mouse obeyed without an audible complaint, and got to work setting up the tent. As he began to unroll the canvas cloths that made the tents, Mouse kept his focus around him, watching the horizon for any sign of something that could possibly come after them. It was more habit than worry, but it was one that Storm had taught him everyday he had been mentoring him. Before long, the two quickly set up, and were ready to spend the night. A simple stew was being cooked, with a few chunks of potato thrown in for good measure, while both ponies nibbled on some grass. “Do you want first or second watch?” Storm asked. “First,” Mouse said. “I still don’t know why you like it,” Storm muttered back, before he nodded. “Alright, you know when to wake me.” Mouse nodded. They ate, relaxed, and Strom went to sleep. Mouse stayed up, watching the horizon as the darkness encroached around him, getting ever deeper with every passing moment. Night was upon him in an instant, and the moon was rising. His watch passed by without incident, and before long, he was ready to change shifts. Not a minute later, he was asleep, and falling into darkness. “Mouse, Mouse, wake up!” Storm called. Rousing from his sleep, Mouse untangled himself from his bedroll, and stepped out of the tent. The crisp, spring morning met him, and the faint smell of oats coaxed him from his slumber. Yet, he saw no sign of Storm. He looked around, and still couldn’t find him. “Storm? Storm? Where are you?” Mouse called. And then he felt steel through his chest. He looked down, and saw his own crescent-bladed knife through his chest. “So how does it feel assassin?” Storm asked, appearing behind him. “How does it feel to be betrayed so easily?” “S-Storm?” Mouse stuttered, trying to speak as he felt the daggers eat the magic out of his body. “W-why?” he asked, blood filling his mouth. “Because it’s what you were going to do to us. Don’t even pretend that you weren’t going to stab me in the back! This is what you wanted, and it has come back on you in full force. This is what you brought on yourself!” Mouse fell, staring up at the sky, trying to see through the blood. “This is the end for you. This is the end, Mouse.” Mouse stared up at the knife and the sky, his eyes beginning to glaze over as Storm laughed. “Why?” Clover the Clever asked. “Why? You were supposed to be a hero, and instead you turn you back on you destiny? Why?” Mouse tried to answer, but only gurgled as blood pooled in his mouth. “You’ve doomed us all.” And then he started awake. “Are you alright, Mouse?” Storm asked from outside. It was still dark outside, and the night air was chilly, clinging to his blankets, Mouse sat up, before he finally answered. “Yeah, yeah...just...just a dream.” “Are you sure you don’t want to go to the temple? Pray to Luna, ask for an interpretation?” Storm asked, poking his head inside. Mouse nodded. “I’m sure.” Storm stared at him. “They been plaguing you for the past week, this isn’t normal.” “I-I know…” he said. “Not...not right now, we have a job, right?” Storm gave him another look, before he pulled back outside to his watch. Mouse lay back down, and stared up at the tent. He pushed the dreams from his mind again, and asked Luna for protection from his nightmares. He didn’t have time to think about them. He didn’t want to think about them, and the only thing that had been more invasive, more intrusive, and more persistent had been the nagging image of Clover the Clever dying in front of him, proposing that he would be a great hero of Equestria. And yet here he was… Turning on his side, and pulling his blanket over him, he stared at the tent wall until he finally fell asleep. Mouse yawned. He just barely had enough sleep last night, and was still groggy as he carried the tent on his back. Storm had taken the vanguard as usual, leading the pair forward down, closer and closer to what he suspected was the den of the beasts. Mouse still wasn’t sure that they would live this far out and still cause problems, but Storm insisted that they would. “Especially in Spring,” he explained. “With all the sun, rain, and warmth that comes flooding in with Spring, the timberwolves become more active.” Active enough to travel miles of rolling hills in a day? Mouse certainly didn’t believe it, but then again, that’s probably what made it true. Equestria as a whole had proved him wrong enough, might as well add another line on the list. Storm suddenly crouched, and motioned with his hoof to drop the tent. Mouse did so as quietly as possible. Together, they stood there, frozen just behind a large bush which was cover enough to hide whatever Storm had seen from Mouse’s eyes. As they sat crouched, Storm slowly drew his own sword. “What is it? What do you see?” Mouse asked. “Timberwovles,” Storm whispered. “I was right.” Mouse slid up beside him, and peeked over the underbrush, before his eyes saw the monsters. They looked like puppets at first glance. Crude marionettes that danced like wolves. They stayed low to the ground, their knot-like noses sniffing the air as their sap-covered fangs dripped into the grass. There was something else about, something that added a strange wrongness about them. They moved too fast. Not lightning fast, not blindingly fast, but just fast enough that it could be noticed. It was terribly unsettling. Mouse watched, fascinated, as the timberwolves moved. Storm sighed. “I hate timberwolf season,” he muttered, before he pointed Mouse toward one of the monsters, the largest of them. “That’s the alpha,” he explained quickly. “Take it out, and the others will break.” “Are you sure?” Mouse asked. “This isn’t the first time,” Storm whispered back, “now, follow me.” He suddenly rushed forward, giving his greatest battle cry as he brought his longsword down in a terrible chop onto the alpha’s head. Mouse followed just behind, bringing his blade to bear against the joints, as he had been taught. They rushed around the alpha, with Storm staying at its back, just behind the nape of the neck, while Mouse dashed between its legs, slicing away with his shortsword. Vines snapped, and sap poured from the open wounds, even as the other wolves ran up to defend their leader. “Mouse! Get the others!” Storm yelled. He dived for the first one that was running up to him. With an expert slash, he sliced the running wolf’s unguarded neck, and was going to make an attack on the next before being forced back by the attacking canine plants. Mouse turned all his attention on the pack, turning to all his training to hold the eighteen wolves off long enough for Storm to end the alpha. He danced in the mess of vine, leaf, and wood, his short sword chopping through oak, pine, and maple as he tried to beat the timberwolves back. Vines snapped like veins, and sap poured like blood as their fangs clapped together like blocks of wood. Behind him, Storm was moving, slashing down into the monster’s flank, legs, and neck, trying to bring it down. Life-sap poured from the alpha like a waterfall, but still it stood, growling and snapping at anything within reach. Snapping, the timberwolf tried to get at the pegasus that hovered behind his head, growling at snarling uselessly up at Storm. Storm raised his longsword, and drove it down into the timberwolf’s back, cutting deep, before the alpha roared, and turned to face Mouse. The alpha lurched forward, and Storm noticed a second too late. “Mouse!” The smaller pony turned, staring up at the alpha as it's massive maw opened wide to bite down on him. The massive wooden fangs glistened with its toxic saliva, and began to close down on Mouse like a bear trap. And then, as though the world had slowed, Mouse watched as Storm spun around the beast’s head, and throw his armored body into the monster’s jaw. The timberwolf’s bit slammed down on the pegasus, smashing into his armor with the force of a warhammer. Storm grunted, before he drove his longsword into the alpha’s eye. It roared in pain, before Storm wrenched away out of the beast’s fangs, and drove his sword down into the alpha’s neck, all the way to the hilt. Then with a twist, the head separated from its body. The pack looked on in shock, unable to believe what they just saw. Or maybe Mouse couldn’t believe what he just saw. Either way, the pack ran a moment later, scattering and yapping back south, toward the Dark Wood. Storm forced himself up, leaning on his sword as his wings pushed himself slightly into the air. “Are you alright, Mouse?” “Am I alright?” he asked. “What about you? You stuffed yourself into its mouth!” “It’s alright,” Storm said, standing up, revealing a massive blood stain on his armor. “He didn’t get through my breastplate.” “Like Tartarus he didn’t!” Mouse yelled. Storm waved him off. “I’ll be fine.” And then he fell over and landed in the sap-covered grass. “Sweet Luna!” Mouse cried, before he rushed to Storm’s side, picking him up and rolling him onto his smaller back. Storm vomited over his side. Ghost knew what was happening. The poison was working quickly. He needed to move quickly if he was going to save Storm’s life. But then...why would he? Storm slowly woke up. He lay on a bedroll under the tent, sweat covering his brow and hooves shaking. “Mouse? Mouse?” Storm called. He appeared in the tent opening. “Storm?” “Mouse...Mouse I need to know…” “Know? Know what?” Mouse asked. “Will I make it? I need to know if I can still carry—” he choked. “—this burden.” “Burden?” Mouse asked for a second, before he shook his head. “No, Storm, I’ve been taken care of you. As long as we get back to town by tomorrow you’ll be fine.” “Mouse, Mouse listen…This is important, you need to know this if I don’t make it.” “You’ll make it Storm, you’ll make it.” “No!” Storm yelled, using all his strength. “You need to hear this.” Mouse went quiet. “If I don’t make it, you need to carry this legacy, and I only hope I did well enough that you can forgive what a horrible teacher I was,” he said, before he looked up at the ceiling of the tent. Mouse listened. “Ten years ago, I was nothing. I was wasting the prime of my life living in a tavern playing cards for days on end. I was worthless. Then one day, a knight entered the tavern, and after one of the card players insulted him, he destroyed everyone that tried to fight him, leaving only him, myself, and the tavern owner. “He was like a whirlwind of death, and the moment the fight was over, he was back to being a noble. I was impressed, to say the least, and so I asked him if he needed a squire. He said no at first, but when he noticed the fact that I didn’t have a cutie mark, he let me follow him. He had me polish his armor for a year and a half before he let me pick up a blade. “He began to teach me everything. The styles of combat for swords, axes, spears, and even the use of a body as a weapon as taught by pegasi, unicorns, and earth ponies. He molded me into a warrior, one whose mind was as sharp as his balde. He made me what I am, and then he died. “How it happened isn’t important right now, but I found my destiny working under him. I found out who I was as his student, and the last thing he told me to do, was pass along this legacy of a teacher and mentor, to help those like me, who lacked their mark, and who do not know their destiny. I need you to do the same for me, Mouse.” Mouse blinked. “Please Mouse, I need you to do this for me, if I don’t make it, I need you to carry this legacy on. Promise me you will.” Mouse blinked again. “Uh...sure, I’ll do it.” “Do you promise?” Storm asked, staring up at him from his bedroll. “I promise,” he answered. Storm nodded.  “Thank you. I’m sorry, Mouse. I’m sorry I wasn’t a good teacher like Steel. I’m sorry.” Mouse said nothing. Storm rolled over, muttering his apologies over and over again as his lucidity passed. Ghost shook his head. It took a lot of focus to tell that story, what with all the pain he was in. In was a surprise he made it to the end without succumbing to the pain killers that Mouse had gave him. Still, it was a wasted effort all the same. Mouse carried Storm all the back to Canterlot, even as he lay on the cart he had bought from a farmer just the other day before Storm told his story. It was the only way he’d make the two day’s journey back in time. Pulling up to the Dark Wood Company building, Mouse immediately called for an apothecary, crying that he needed help, and he needed it now. A whole team of ponies came down, all carrying Storm and his stuff up into the building. They rushed about Mouse, leaving him to watch as Storm was taken away, leaving him alone with the cart. Cedar finally wandered out. “Mouse? What happened?” Mouse opened his mouth. “Actually, just come to my office. Tell me there.” “Yes, sir,” Mouse said. And Ghost smiled as Cedar disappeared back into the building. He had been right, a wounded Storm was the perfect opportunity. Up the stairs, following after the massive earth pony, Mouse quickly made his way to the office. Cedar opened a tome before he sat at his desk, quill in hoof, and ready to write. “Well sir, we found the timberwolves and killed the alpha,” Mouse explained. “However during the fight, Storm was wounded. “I see,” Cedar muttered, writing the words as he heard them, blind to the fact that Mouse was getting closer. And then, in a single, painless motion, Ghost’s long, curved, dagger cleanly passed through Cedar’s heart. Ghost watched as Cedar’s head dropped to the desk with a thud. Ghost shook his head. “I kept it quick,” Ghost said, “because you tried.” Sheathing his dagger, Ghost slipped up to what was Cedar’s window and dropped out of the building. As he left, he thought that this would haunt him for a few days, and then it would pass. He was wrong. Cedar walked with him for the rest of his life.