"Last Chance" Stopover Arc
The eight mares approached what they now recognized as five stallions down the road, at walking pace, as coolly as was manageable; they stopped at about 10 paces.
Ama, with her imposing manner and impeccable manners, had been volun-told by Loress to be their spokesmare.
“Good morning, travelers,” Ama smiled more genuinely than the rest might’ve achieved because it was so. “Have you just come out of the desert?”
The other mares were far leerier about this; their eyes darted about in the thinning woods.
The stallions stood mute.
Ama wasn’t much for making up niceties but she didn’t have to; her kindness wasn’t false, “If you are thirsty we would be glad to share with you our water.”
Loress, besides being Essenta’s righthoof mare, was their unofficial quartermaster (often the same job anyway); she was displeased with Ama offering any of their supplies to a hoofful of strangers, but it was better than getting in a scrap if they were desperate for food or water.
Ama cocked her head, “Do you speak Continental Standard? A bheil thu a 'tuigsinn?”
Orni almost guffawed, “Ama, I doubt they know Knollspeak. And you know it?”
Ama wasn’t flustered, “A small amount… Many ponies in the east at least understand Knollspeak but I would doubt they would understand my own language. Other than Continental Standard and Mazantongue Knollspeak is the only language I know.”
It became clear to the mares Ama wasn’t fooling around; she was giving these five the benefit of the doubt they might’ve been travelers, weary and in a strange place.
Ama turned to Zyra, “Zyra… please attempt to address them.”
But Zyra’s extensive—though rarely used—gift of tongues wouldn’t be needed that day.
One of the figures spoke, “We appreciate the offer, Ama Waterfall, but we’ve neither come out of the desert nor wish to relieve your group of any of your supplies.”
Ah, fuckin’ shit!
Most of the mares were fairly displeased, realizing they’d come across more ponies that knew who they were.
Delia was a bit confused but judging by the reactions of the girls she was ready to share their pathos.
Ama, the coolest head among the company, grinned cordially, “Oh, very well, then… Now… who are you and what is it you want?!”
The other seven mares flinched as if they’d been goosed and they were quite positive the five stallions had jumped a little. Ama had jumped ship quickly on her pleasant demeanor; the benefit was gone, and the doubt was given its due.
The stallions didn’t answer immediately. Ama stared them down.
“Who are you and what is it you want? Please do tell…” her voice came quieter but lacked none of its authority, a decided edge to it.
Essenta fretted inwardly; she knew Ama was the kind of mare to not throw the first blow, but the air was tense between their groups. It was only a matter of time before—
One of the stallions put up a hoof; the girls flinched, with Zyra ready to fry somepony, but soon realized the stallion’s hoof was raised in friendship.
The girls all gave a sigh of relief; things didn’t seem as if they’d blow up just then.
Ama, already about as relaxed as possible with the given situation, dropped her ferocity and put up her hoof as well, “I see… I am Ama Waterfall… and I suppose you know the rest of us.”
With only his muzzle showing, the stallion gave a little smile, “Indeed… other than the new one.”
He pointed to Delia; the former maid grew nervous.
He dropped his hoof, “But that’s none of our business. You’ve all had quite a week, we’ve come to understand.”
Ama played his game, simpering, “It was a damned nightmare—though that is not your concern either—and we are glad to be shy of it. Now… you know us, and you must know of our journey. Would you grace us with your identities?”
The stallion shook his head, “Afraid not, Miss… Our names—who and what we are—aren’t important. Call me ‘Wind’ if you’re to call me anything.”
Essenta grew tired of the “games” and stepped forward; Ama smiled and stepped back to allow the princess her piece, “I’m Princess Essenta Dale. I see you likely mean us no harm, but you have a reason for blocking the road leading to the desert. Please tell us what you want.”
Loress and the rest of the girls were vaguely impressed by the princess; she spoke without aggression but with sureness.
Wind nodded, “Very well… bring him out.”
One of the other stallions lit up his horn—it hadn’t been clear any of them were unicorns until then—and faced the edge of the woods. The horn’s glow intensified, and something could be heard dragging through the leaf-litter. From the woods a burlap sack was roughly yanked through a shrub. The sack and its contents hit the ground hard, in front of the stallions. From within the sack a whimper could be heard; it squirmed, rolling to one side.
Somepony was inside.
The mares were equally alarmed; this could mean anything.
Essenta was on high alert but gulping, managed, “What’s the meaning of this?”
Wind was nonplussed, considering the wriggling sack, “Today ends the journey of this pony.”
The girls felt their hearts rise up into their throats. Murder?!
Wind chided them, “Be at peace, little company; we mean you no harm, but I cannot say the same for this fellow.”
The girls watched as a couple of the stallions took up position around the sack, apparently guarding it.
Wind’s horn again lit up and he began to tear open the sack, “I may as well tell you now! We’re friends of Noach. Noach the healer, Noach the bartender, Noach the mage… Master Noach…”
Essenta saw her vision invert, realizing the old stallion they’d gotten to know had sold them out; the others, minus Delia, shared the sensation.
“And based on what Noach told us, two of you—the little mage and the Mazan—will know exactly who this is,” Wind rolled the pony from the burlap.
A filthy unicorn with a recently-broken horn tumbled across the ground, coming to rest a short distance from Wind. His ashy coat was muddied, his fiery mane was dulled with untold days of dirt and dust, his erstwhile sharp eyes had blunted. Barely conscious, he stirred. His legs were broken, and it was obvious he was in remarkable pain, quivering. But it was his face that best told the tale. Looking at him it was clear to anypony he’d given up on life.
Ama gasped and Zyra’s eyes widened, as opposed to the shocked cries from the rest of the mares.
Delia’s face showed clarity in its horror, “Aodh Radulf…!”
Wind couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice, “Wow... It’s shocking anypony would recognize this stallion… but you’re from that city you’ve all left behind, aren’t you?”
Delia nodded dumbly, “Yes… There’s nopony in this part of the world that doesn’t know who he is… but what he looks like… there are few…”
“You worked for Melchior, didn’t you?” Wind eyed Delia.
She again nodded, “When he was feeling his liquor… he… occasionally reminisced about their times together… There’s no mistaking him…”
The former maid looked ill and Wind acknowledged this, “You have my sympathy, Miss…”
Five of the mares had no idea who Radulf even was; their surprise of seeing somepony in his condition had shocked them into a torpor.
Wind aimed a swift kick at Radulf, eliciting a yelp, “For those of you that don’t know, this is Aodh Radulf. There’s a whole Hell-of-a-lot I could say about him but only a few things would concern all of you. This is the former leader of the ‘Fire Breathers’; I say ‘former’ because we killed the rest of them to the last stallion!”
The girls felt their lungs halt mid-breath. “Fire Breathers”?
Wind pointed at Radulf and then at the princess; he declared, “This is the stallion your father allied with, Princess Essenta Dale! This is the stallion that went along with your father, King Ansgar Dale, with his guild and 30 stallions of the Dale and rained Hellfire and death down on the western towns in the country of Joeh!”
Essenta felt as though she’d been punched in the throat, looking down at Radulf; she felt faint.
Wind wasn’t done, “And this stallion—all for the sake of some treasure he didn’t even obtain—and his guild—destroyed the town of Oswald and murdered all its residents… They put up a barrier and burned them alive! They murdered them all… all but two… and one of them is standing among you! They took their time killing Zyra’s family.”
The company fell away from Zyra; the little mage wasn’t showing much beyond a dumbfounded expression.
Wind had more to say, “And much more recently, at the behest of King Ansgar Dale, he sent three assassins to kill six of you… and bring the princess home!”
Delia’s jaw dropped; this was… insane! She looked over to the other mares. They all looked stone-faced at that… but it was mingled with a hurt understanding… a finality.
Notable was Essenta: her face slowly began to betray a great agony but as with the rest… she’d known this in her heart to begin with.
Knowing he’d said a lot, causing pain he didn’t wish to inflict, Wind very much regretted the way in which he’d conveyed his statements.
Wind had to calm himself; he took a slow breath, “We’ve been searching for years to find this demon. Noach is of our assemblage; he told us of meeting all of you. He told us everything we needed to know to locate Radulf. We found his little corner of the world, but he ran before we finished killing the rest of the guild off. Following wasn’t difficult; we allowed him to make it back to this city… the city in which he was born just for the ease of cornering him when he was at his very weakest. Here he sits before you, broken, and here he’s going to die. We actually caught him the day before the Mayoral Ball, but… we’ve been waiting.”
Horrified beyond measure, six of the mares were at a tremendous loss. All this was a lot to take in. Zyra still stood, hearing but not acknowledging the situation that so sickened the rest of them. Only one of the company had her wits.
Ama steeled herself, her eyes wet upon reflection of the things she’d seen alongside Noach in Zyra’s memories; she wasn’t sure what to think about Noach at this point but somehow trusted he didn’t betray them, “So… Wind… You have caused us great upset. Please tell us… Please tell me! Why is it that you have brought Aodh Radulf before us?”
Nopony could see but Wind’s face softened a modicum at Ama’s tears; he said, “We’ve been waiting for the lot of you. Radulf has wronged more ponies than can be counted… but truly none more so—living, that is—than your little mage. As the one whose duty it would normally be to take Radulf’s life has declined, it’s his authority—and his privilege—to pass it onto another.”
What? The explanation stirred the girls from their stupor.
Wind pointed to the very middle of the group of mares and declared for all to hear, “Zyra Argon! Radulf’s life is yours!”
As if waking from a daydream, Zyra’s eyes snapped. Her mind, recognized by Dechaa to be almost blank, began churning; it appeared to swirl, blackness trickling in, staining all it touched.
The others struggled to register what Wind had just stated; he couldn’t have said what they’d heard! But slowly it came clearer.
Loress’s eyes quivered as she slowly turned to face Wind, “His life… belongs to Zyra?”
Wind looked impassible, “It does.”
Those two short words sunk the meaning of it all deeply into the mares’ collective consciousnesses.
Moving as a ghost, Zyra slowly moved forward five paces, much to the incredulity of the company; the five stallions backed off and to the side. Zyra stood halfway between the company and the prone Radulf; she looked as if she had no idea what she should do.
The six that really knew Zyra remembered that horrible night in the woods, all those many weeks back, just a few days away from Renata. They remembered what happened to Zyra after that; she’d fragmented.
Loress very slowly moved towards Zyra, unsure if her words reached, “Now, Zyra… think about—”
Ama quickly placed herself between her friends and Zyra, leaving the little mage to her back, “Do not interfere.”
The company took a gasp of horrified surprise.
“You can’t wish for this,” Loress cried, nearly stumbling in her disbelief. “Ama… listen to me!”
Ama’s eyes were stony, “You will not stand in the way of Zyra’s decision. I will fight all that wish to alter the path she chooses for herself. And you will have to kill me to change this. I have seen the things that led us here… and I will eagerly fight to the death to honor her retribution, if she so takes it.”
Nopony completely doubted a word of this but it was no easier to accept. Dechaa, Wilka, Orni, and Delia were done; they trusted Ama to be true to her word. None of them would move to stop this, despite their revulsion and dread.
Essenta stood helplessly between Loress and the mares that had given in; she knew what she wanted to do but felt powerless to do anything.
Finally, after weeks of being able to put the thought aside, they knew Essenta’s father had ordered them dead and Essenta captured. It filled them with a bleakness none of them could relate. But even with that on their minds the only thing—the only pony—that mattered at that moment was their little mage… their friend.
Loress wasn’t the only mare to realize that if Zyra did this… they might lose her for good.
The Terran implored, approaching as close as she dared, and began to weep in earnest, “Please, Ama… don’t do this. Don’t stand back and let this happen. And don’t think I can’t stop you.”
Ama gazed down to Loress; she knew in her heart what consequences might befall, “If you knew the gravity of the power Zyra wields, you would know that no force in this world could easily alter her verdict. But, still, I will let none interfere. If you are prepared to kill me, or die yourself, advance one step; one of us will surrender our life.”
Loress saw the light—or lack of it—in Ama’s eyes… and she was cowed; she wouldn’t encumber this. She stepped back.
But Essenta was willing to try… or at least do something; she bolted towards Zyra, driven by desperation, “Zyra, NO!”
Loress caught her at the “line in the sand” Ama had noted, “No, Essenta!”
In her heart of hearts Loress wasn’t sure if Ama wouldn’t kill Essenta; this was miles beyond her reckoning…
“Loress!” the princess bawled. “Let me go! We can’t let her do this! This can’t happen! Zyra! Zyra! Don’t do it, Zyra! Don’t give in! Don’t go back there! You can’t—!”
She was silenced by a glow of Dechaa’s horn. Dechaa looked sick but had found her resolve; none would interfere.
If Zyra chose to give into her hatred… it was out of their hooves.
A long moment passed in near silence, the birds quiet; the wind had ceased to fold the grass and bend the trees.
Zyra slowly paced up to face Radulf; all eyes were on her, save one pair. Radulf looked to the ground—out of fear or resignation or exhaustion, nopony knew—but tensed as Zyra’s shadow crossed him.
At last he looked up and even that looked painful for him; under his muted mane, his sunken eyes shown dully within his fatigued face. He looked little like the fearsome unicorn that had once delightedly torn the world apart. Looking into, yet past, Zyra’s muted, steely eyes it was another moment before he spoke; his words reached only Zyra.
“I’m beaten, little mage… show us all the power of that cursed gem and finish me off,” Radulf bowed his head, resigned to die.
Zyra stared at the sky a moment… and then at Radulf.
Essenta was whimpering as Loress continued to hold her back. The princess squeezed her eyes shut; recalling the stallion Zyra had cooked alive all those weeks back, she couldn’t stand to see this again. Loress herself was almost sick, eyes streaming. Ama steadily remained where she was, willing to accept Zyra’s actions, however horrifying they might be. Wilka and Orni clung to each other, too afraid to do anything else. Delia was staggered that the first day of her new journey was befallen by such a thing and looked on in muted revulsion.
Dechaa could almost see the rage pouring from Zyra’s soul; it was so intense she felt physical pain in her heart. Her eyesight began to fail as a ringing made itself heard in her ears. Louder and louder it grew, until that too was painful. Dechaa experienced the inky black storm of hatred, threatening to consume all her senses.
And then, as if the skies suddenly and miraculously cleared, the storm was over. All that remained was a hollowness.
Dechaa, along with the rest of the girls, watched in astonishment as Zyra simply turned away from Radulf; she began walking down the path they were set upon, past the five stallions, the desert not far off. Radulf again looked up; the expression on his face was difficult to place… “Disbelief” and nothing else, was perhaps the best word for it.
Looking to one another, staggered, Wilka and Orni went after her first. Orni put a shaky hoof on Zyra’s shoulder as she caught up.
The Knollwing’s voice came unsteadily too, “Zyra…?”
Zyra’s eyes remained forward; they were damp, “I don’t want to talk right now, girls… Let’s just go.”
That was all Zyra had to say on the matter. Essenta looked to the other girls and they gazed back. Ama went after Zyra without a word, now pulling the wagon. Then Dechaa went. Loress felt stuck a few seconds, but she quickly went too. Still flabbergasted at the whole situation, Delia began to trot away.
This left Essenta with the stallions, standing guard over Radulf. They didn’t really need to anymore; Radulf was blank now, as if he’d already checked out of this life.
Wind broke the tangible silence, “You should just go, Princess. I apologize for pulling you and your friends into this… but justice must occur. Our leader wished to give the mage a chance at something nopony ever likely had more right to… but your mage is a wiser pony than most. For that I am truly sorry. Noach will not be pleased with him. Your friend though… she’ll need her friends now as much as she ever has; please take care of her. It might surprise you to know how many ponies wish for her happiness… or maybe it wouldn’t.”
Essenta looked after her little group and saw them surrounding Zyra as they paddled away; they kept a protective yet reverent distance from the mage.
She continued to stare as Wind spoke again, “Rest assured, Noach told nopony anything that would endanger you, your friends, or your home. And we wish you no ill will. Do not hold it against him. Nor will we pursue the matter regarding your father’s actions in Joeh. Radulf though… this has been a long time coming… Go. Leave us to finish what we set out to do. It isn’t anything you need to see. Again, for the pain caused today… please forgive us. May the rest of your journey, wherever it may take you and whatever becomes of it, be an agreeable one.”
Essenta wanted to say something, but her words failed her. Casting one last look at Radulf, she found she felt nothing towards him. Briefly thinking of her own father, so very far away… she realized she felt much the same way about him.
And so, she ran after her friends.
It was a while before the girls were out of sight.
A twig snapped in the woods next to the five stallions and their captive on the road; five sets of eyes swiveled to see… Radulf just sat there.
Wind lowered his hood and faced the noise, “Sir… they’re gone. It’s time.”
Another stallion, an Earth pony, moaned as he limped from the woods and lowered his own hood; Drausus shook out his mane, “Yes.”
“Sir! You’re finally back to your usual self, I see!” Frost exclaimed.
The others were surprised to see him in this state as well.
Drausus grumbled, stumping along, “Yeah…”
The ordinarily handsome Drausus was in rough shape, as if he’d run headfirst into a brick wall, “You laid it on pretty thick back there, Wind! You boys only beat the confession out of him this morning that King Dale sicced the ‘Fire Breathers’ on his own daughter… Not that anypony didn’t figure it already.”
The rest of the hooded stallions revealed themselves as Drausus’s following.
“I’m sorry about the noise, Sir Drausus… We meant to let you sleep,” Wind the “lead” stallion apologized.
“It’s alright… All this lying around is getting old and I wouldn’t miss seeing this refuse die,” Drausus responded. “But I wasn’t going to chance the company recognizing me.”
“How’s your face today?” Lightning winced, thinking about how miserable that had been.
“On the mend,” Drausus grumbled; then he chuckled. “The lot of you should’ve seen yourselves when the Mazan barked at you; you jumped like foals getting green onion suppositories.”
The other five shuffled their hooves but would take the grief; Ama Waterfall was nopony to cross, knowing all they did, and they were afraid. But they buffed it off.
Typhoon muttered, “If you’d just told that Clovis fellow what we were up to, Sir, this could’ve been done a week ago… And your getting so badly hurt could’ve been avoided.”
Drausus replied, “Don’t be so upset… The fewer ponies that knew what was going on, the better off we were. I’m sure he’d have gladly sent them along if he’d known more, though.”
“But he didn’t…” Frost replied for Typhoon.
Drausus responded, “It was the right call… Involving him further might’ve entailed bringing him in to off Melchior. I don’t think he’d have been prepared for that, the way things were.”
The rest concurred.
Typhoon wondered, “How was it again you knew this Clovis?”
Drausus shifted his weight, uncomfortable with standing, “I once met him when he was about 7-years-old, when we had a plow repaired. He and his friends were just colts when their town fell to the “Fire Breathers”; theirs was the second town razed in Joeh. Noach and a few connections told me he’d survived. Orphans all, they did what they had to in order to live. It’s not a normal colt that can lead a bunch of 8-year-olds safely across 2,000 miles; and what a tale it is.”
Thunder mused, “You Joeh folk were pretty tightly knit, weren’t you?”
Drausus looked hurt, not by Thunder’s words but just hurt, “It was our way, Thunder.”
“I’m sorry, Sir… I wasn’t thinking,” Thunder came back, noting his leader’s grief.
Typhoon didn’t mean to be personal and neither did the rest; he knew it was difficult for Drausus to discuss Joeh, “Sir… I pray you take solace knowing so many that suffered back then have made happy lives for themselves all over the land. I just wish… uh…”
Drausus gave a sad smile, “Go on.”
Emboldened, Typhoon finished, “I just wish there was more we could do to help ponies… In the end, us dealing out justice… vengeance, or whatever to those that bring chaos to the land won’t bring anypony murdered back or ease the hardships others endured.”
The Earth pony nodded slowly, “I too wish that very much… but this is what we chose to do.”
Lightning grumbled, “Clovis’s little stunt’s put us behind schedule on that.”
Drausus again shifted weight; he was sore, “Please don’t blame him for using the princess and her friends to his opportunity when he needed a job done; it’s how he’s stayed alive… he’s an opportunist. They had no idea what was going on and that’s all fine in the end. And as was said, the mayor was a ‘bonus’.”
It appeared Drausus had been awake for some time, listening to their bickering.
“Just what is it Melchior wanted, you think?” Thunder stared at the spot where the company had disappeared from sight.
Drausus shook his head, “Something he needed help with… As with most things it matters little in the end, considering how it all wound up.”
Whatever Melchior had been trying to do may never wind up coming to light, but it wouldn’t bother anypony that didn’t know one way or the other; he was dead and new hooves would guide the city.
Wind allowed himself a chuckle, “I don’t know what’s stranger: a 15-year-old colt running the city’s commerce or the same 18-year-old unofficially running the city.”
Drausus mused, “Who knows… But running the city? That all depends on who the new mayor turns out to be… and what sort of leader that Pallo becomes.”
But the six stallions were done shitting around; there was a more important matter to address. The politics of “Last Chance” City didn’t matter all that much to them but if there was something they didn’t like… they could always come back and deal harshly with the problem, as they had and would continue to do in so very many places.
But as with most cities it was more than its reputation would suggest. There were many ponies of all ages and races that scratched out simple lives, unrecognized by the rest of the world, as opposed to ponies like Melchior and the ex-mayor. They were just ponies, no more and no less.
It wasn’t like the city was up for a complete purging anytime soon.
But considering the task at hoof, that had just fallen back to them, it was difficult to say if Zyra’s actions had surprised any of them.
Wind shook his head wonderingly, “What that unicorn filly just did… that took grit.”
Drausus groaned, stretching some, “Yes, indeed. And you’re most right in saying Noach will resent me for this… I thought it was the right thing to do but… shit, it’s just as likely I was wrong. Zyra is fortunate; the princess has definitely surrounded herself with some very special friends… And my friends… I can’t thank you enough for helping me with this task. The emperor would see us all die for these little exploits; do remember we’re all meant to be on peregrination.”
Wind had to stifle a laugh, “There’s nothing ‘little’ about this, Sir. We know what this means to you… what it means to so many… You’ve done more for us… for our ponies… than we could ever pay back. And even if we die, I doubt like Hell the emperor would have a chance of killing you.”
“Something came close, though,” Drausus hoofed his friend’s shoulder, unable to stifle his broken grin with its several gaps. “But I’m not a decent regenerator for nothing. Thank you for seeing me through the week, though. I’d have still died without your help. You are all as loyal as a stallion could ever hope for and I’m blessed to have you. Now…”
Drausus approached Radulf, the grin vanishing, “Aodh Radulf… ‘Lord’… ‘Commander’… All that ends now. Do you recognize me? You should… I’ve not aged a day in the eyes of most ponies. When you burned your way through Joeh, you’ll recall—near the end of it all, in a town called Morrell—turning over a young stallion and his family to the mercy of King Ansgar Dale… because he begged you to spare their town’s food supply… You remember what King Dale did to his wife and filly, I’m sure.”
Radulf, nearly catatonic since Zyra had left him, dawned blank recognition, “Yes… I remember you… and what Ansgar did…”
But there was little emotion to Radulf anymore; he was a shell.
Drausus looked upon him coldly, “That young mare… with what you did… Hell, with what you’ve done recently, going after them… that took strength, walking away. It’s a strength beyond anything I could ever foster. I’ve sworn off killing Ansgar Dale, for Princess Essenta and the sake of her ponies, if nothing else. But I have no such reservations about you. I should take my time, killing you… but I’ve grown tired of this. It’ll be quick… quicker than you deserve.”
Drausus’s comrades backed away to give him space. Before them, he called upon the power for which he’d sold his very soul. It was difficult for the knight; he’d just managed to turn back to normal again that very morning.
It was enough to get Radulf to void his bowels, seeing an Earth pony transform into a dragon. Otherwise, he was too overwhelmed to do much; he just stared death in the face, crippled, with disbelief in his eyes and a fetid load in his raggedy tunic.
Drausus unleashed fire from within himself, reducing the murdering unicorn to ash.