//------------------------------//
// 144 - A Year in the Life 
// Story: An Extended Holiday 
// by Commander_Pensword 
//------------------------------//

Extended Holiday
Ch 144: A Year in the Life
Act 23




Vital Spark waved nervously as he passed through the village’s dusty streets. True, he had been granted his freedom, but now he had to worry about proper interaction, and that scared the fur right off him.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” he asked for what had to be the third time.

Zecora rolled her eyes. “I told you, no speaking in Equish, unless you absolutely have to. The point of this exercise is to help you learn how to interact with and comprehend our language. It’s your first practical examination. Now let’s go interact.” She gave him a solid shove with her head, and he stumbled forward. “Go on,” she insisted in her native tongue. “We’re going to pick up some herbs from the cultivator, remember?”

Vital Spark gulped.

“And yes, you’re the one who’s going to ask for the ingredients.

If Vital Spark were a dog, he definitely would have whimpered.

The cultivator’s hut was located near a great baobab tree and his garden was lush and green, despite the crippling heat that scorched down from above. He dug into the earth with a sharp metal spade to help aerate the soil, but soon raised his neck to fling the dirt over his body accidentally in reaction to the guests’ sudden arrival.

“Oh, Zecora, you–you startled me.” The stallion chuckled nervously. Much like his fellows, he bore the same rigid mane. This one differentiated himself by the rough hide smock he wore over his front and down his barrel.

“Um … h-hello,” Vital Spark rasped out nervously.

“And you brought the colt with you. Excellent! How are his language studies coming along?”

“Reasonably well, Kidole Kijani,” Zecora allowed. “We’re testing the extent of his mastery by having him interact with some of the village. You’re our first stop.”

“How delightful!” Kidole grinned as he approached the young Unicorn. “And how may I be of service to you today?”

Vital Spark puzzled through that for a time, then finally nodded as he looked none too confidently on the cultivator. “Um, may I have some … devil’s maw?”

“Devil’s maw?” the Zebra tapped his chin for a time, and then his eyes widened. “Oh, you mean devil’s claw,” he said. “Very close. You put the emphasis in the wrong place for your bray. Let me get that for you.” He strode confidently to a patch of long green leaves studded by the occasional purple blossom. It only took him a second to stab his spade into the earth and flick it expertly. A great tuberous root shot up out of the ground perfectly. Kidole instantly dropped the spade and snatched the great leaves of the plant in his mouth, before carrying it over and laying it down in front of the pair. “Was there anything else you needed?”

Vital Spark looked uncertainly between the horticulturist and his teacher. Zecora shot him a reproving look, and he sighed. “And buchu for her grand–.” He stopped momentarily, frowned, tapped his chin for a few moments, then tried again. “For her … father?”

Zecora gave a subtle nod of approval and Kidole sighed. “Of course,” he said. Then he turned to Zecora and shook his head. “I wish he wouldn’t push himself so hard. One of these days, those joints of his are going to burst on him, if he’s not careful.”

“Knowing him, he would just find another way to carry on, regardless,” Zecora said with a rueful smile.”

Suddenly, the root was floating in the air, along with the green sprig with five white petals that had been cut from a bushel on the ground. “He is … strong,” Vital Spark said firmly. “Will be good.”

“His speech is still limited,” Kidole noted clinically, “but his heart’s in the right place. He’s learning fast.”

“I have good teachers,” Vital Spark replied, much to both Zebras’ surprise. He smiled proudly as he drew the herbs towards him for closer inspection. Then his brow furrowed. “More buchu?” he asked.

“More?” Kidole asked, surprised.

“For Mkuta,” Vital explained. He looked to Zecora. “Won’t he need some, too?”

Zecora shook her head. “I told you only Zwahilli,” she chided.

“But Mkuta–.”

“Can come for his own or send for it, if he needs it. We only have so much that we can spare, Vital Spark. And the plant can only have so much taken from it, without dying out of shock, just like if you were to lose a leg.” She strode up to him and looked him squarely in the eye. “We take only what we need. Understand?” she asked in Zwahilli.

Vital Spark gulped and nodded.

“Good.” She turned back to Kidole. “Thank you so much for your help.”

Kidole bowed. “It was my pleasure. He learns well.”

“It helps that I’m not teaching a little child.”

Kidole chuckled. “Perhaps. Until next we meet, Zecora. May the spirits continue to smile upon you.”

“And on you,” Zecora said by way of farewell. And then they were off again with a curt jerk of the head from the mare.





Vital Spark sighed as he lay sprawled out on his back, staring up into the night sky. A whole universe of stars sparkled and danced, emphasized by the occasional flash of a passing shooting star.

“Sway, sway as the music plays. Dance to the movement of the stars,” he sang softly. “Hidden beauty lies in simple things, a loved one’s face or a child’s dream. Round and round the old boughs sway as they dance to the movement of the stars, dance to the music of the stars.” He hummed gently to himself as he basked in the moon’s silvery light and closed his eyes, while the crystalline hum of his horn provided a curious counterpoint to his melody.

The sudden scraping of rock on dirt grated in the Unicorn’s ears, and he cut off, quickly jumping to his hooves as he crouched defensively. “Who’s there?” he demanded as the light from his horn ignited again. “Show yourself.”

“Is that a way to treat a friend?” Mkuta’s smile was gentle, albeit somewhat reproving as he approached the rise where Vital Spark perched. “You know, you’re not supposed to leave the village unescorted.”

Vital Spark sighed. “I know. I just … I had to get away for a while, you know? I need time to just think.”

Mkuta trotted over and planted himself beside the colt, before peering up into the sky above. “What about?”

Vital sputtered. “Where do I begin? I’m stuck in a country that supposedly isn’t my own, with no memory of who I was before, in a place where hardly anyone speaks my language. Everyone in the village stares at me like one look from me could kill, and Zecora!” He groaned. “Don’t even get me started on her. She’s bossy, pushy, a royal pain in my flank whenever I make the littlest mistake. There are days I swear she has it out for me, and I still don’t know what I even did wrong. It’s maddening!”

Mkuta chuckled. “That is often the way with young mares. I can’t say much for the villagers, but I can say Zecora has quite the burden on her shoulders. She is the only heir to the chiefdom. She wants to be worthy to take up the mantle and serve the tribe, but one thing prevents her from doing so, and it frustrates her to no end.”

“What?” Vital asked in Zwahilli.

“She has yet to receive her calling. And without that, she will never truly be considered of age.”

“Her calling?”

“I believe we discussed it at some length when we first met, if you’ll recall. The spirits mark us, when we are ready. It is a symbol of passage. Zecora has yet to receive that mark, a fact you were only too happy to point out to her, when you first met.”

Vital promptly facehoofed and groaned. “No wonder she hates me.”

“Hate is a strong word, Vital Spark.”

“She’s too harsh. You can see it in everything she does. People who know her treat her well enough, but I’ve seen some of the diviners run in absolute terror, when they see her coming. I wouldn’t be surprised, if they saw a portent of that harshness going too far.”

Vital Spark promptly received a smack to the back of the head.

“Ow! What was that for? he yelled.

“For letting a bad experience color your own perceptions,” Mkuta said simply.

“That hurt,” Vital complained.

“Yes, the past can hurt. But the way I see it, you can either run from it or learn from it.”

“You know, I could swear I’ve heard that somewhere before,” Vital Spark said as his horn glowed, catching the staff mid-swing. He tapped his chin curiously.

After a bit of yanking, Mkuta finally got the staff back. “What’s more important is whether you understand the lesson,” he said pointedly.

“So, try to be more patient and understanding with Zecora by acknowledging she has problems of her own?”

“That is probably the best way to go about things.”

“You do realize I’m going to have to call her on it, if she gets too far out of hand, right?”

“Isn’t the term out of hoof?”

Vital Spark shrugged. “It feels more natural to say it that way. I’m not sure why.”

“I see.” Mkuta looked up at the sky again for a time, then sighed. “Well, I’d best get back to the village. You will be coming back soon, won’t you?”

“Yeah. I just want to stay out a while longer. Stargazing is just more peaceful for me, you know?”

“And it makes it easier to sing without judgemental ears?”

Vital Spark blushed. “That, too….”

Mkuta smiled knowingly. “In that case, sing away, my young friend. I’ll leave you to it.” And with that, he strolled casually into the night, leaving Vital Spark to himself again. In a few more minutes, the young Unicorn’s voice carried softly on the air again.

Up on a higher ledge, Zecora stared down in silence, watching her charge as she pondered over the exchange.





The chieftain’s personal chambers were simple. A series of various tools for his trade lay in racks, shelves, and jars, awaiting his touch. His eyes weren’t so bloodshot as they had been the night after the conclave, and his formal headdress streamed down his back as he peered seriously at the Unicorn before him.

“I’m sure you, doubtless, have questions.”

“Quite a few of them, yes,” Vital Spark said pointedly as he ate from the bowl of fruit. “And, admittedly, one of them is, is there some place where I could get ahold of some meat?”

“Excuse me?”

“Meat. Do you know where I can get some?” Vital repeated. “I was looking at my reflection the other day, and I realized something different about me, compared to the rest of the tribe.” He reached up and pulled his lip back to reveal the two canines jutting down from the rest of his teeth. “Since I have these, that makes me a meat-eater, too, right?

Mwalimu gaped at the Unicorn. “That’s not supposed to be possible.”

“And yet, here we are,” Vital replied. “I’d been wondering why I haven’t been making any more progress in my recovery. My guess is this is the reason. Until I get some meat in my system, my body’s probably going to be stuck in the same place, and possibly get worse. I just think the symptoms have been masked by the effects from when I collapsed in the desert.”

“This … may complicate things.”

“Not really. If you could just point me towards a fresh river, I could fish out what I need.”

“And if there are no fish for you to consume?”

“Then I’ll just have to find another source.”

“And if we can’t find one?”

“I think we both know what will happen, if we don’t, Chief Mwalimu.”

“Then we don’t have much choice, do we? We’ll have to let you leave on outings to get the sustenance you need.”

“You … don’t find it revolting?”

“Dietary needs are dietary needs, Vital Spark. Do we begrudge a dragon for its choice to eat gems, or a lion its prey? No.” He shook his head. “Nature must take its course. We merely act when we must to defend ourselves. And last I checked, you weren’t about to put us on the menu. Were you?”

Vital Spark recoiled. “No!”

“Then there’s nothing to worry about. I’ll arrange for some outings to help find what you need, alongside your instruction. My daughter knows all the best places to search.”

“With all due respect, Chief, is there anybody else I might go with, instead? Zecora and I don’t exactly get along very well.”

“She’s the most qualified. She knows every rock, tree, stream, and grass blade. If anyone will guide you to what you need safely and efficiently, it’s her.”

“... You’re going to make me go with her, aren’t you?”

“Yes. Yes, I am.” He looked gravely at the Unicorn. “The two of you have more in common than you know.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Merely that you’ll be staying with us for longer than expected, and Mkuta will need to leave with certain other messengers in the coming days. They will return, but in the meantime, you will need a place to stay. Since you haven’t mastered our language yet, my home is the most logical choice. Arrangements are being made as we speak.”

“Don’t I have a say in this?

“Not in particular. As you said yourself, your body is in no condition for extended travel, and it needs proper sustenance. Like it or not, the most logical choice is for you to remain with me and Zecora, until Mkuta returns. It’s not up for discussion.”

Vital’s face darkened. “And am I to be put under house arrest again?” he asked bitterly.

Mwalimu winced. “It was necessary.”

“With all due respect, Mwalimu, I think we both know that’s a pile of manure,” Vital said flatly. “I wasn’t a threat, I hardly knew a word of the language, and I sure as Hel aren’t a spy. Did you honestly think I couldn’t read between the lines?”

“And if someone from another culture you trusted came into your home, laughed with you, supped with you, stayed with you, and then stole the most precious secrets and items in your possession right from under your nose, how do you think you would react, when the next of his kind came through?” Mwalimu countered.

“Are you saying this happened?”

“I don’t know. You tell me.” He narrowed his gaze. “Read between the lines.”

Vital winced. “Okay, I’ll admit I deserved that one. But can you really blame me for feeling so hostile, when all I seem to find is hostility? Well, okay, maybe not hostility so much as … a guardedness. But still, the point stands. And besides that, I thought you were going to help me get back in contact with ‘my kind.’ Why the sudden change?”

“We received some very specific instructions pertaining to certain events that are to come to pass in the near future. You figure large in those events.”

“And that’s all you’re going to tell me?”

“For now, yes. There will be more to be said and discussed in the coming days, but I must counsel with the other great chiefs, before I can say more.” He sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“So am I.” Vital shook his head. “You realize you’re making it sound like I’m to be your prisoner, right? Even if you give me freedom around the village, I’ll only be allowed to go so far, for the sake of my health. Do you have any idea how frustrating that is, knowing that I have no idea where I could go to try to find out more about who I am, and that I could die, if I were to try to leave? All you’ve done is give me a bigger cage. Do you really expect me not to feel at least some resentment for that?”

Mwalimu sighed and shook his head as his shoulders slumped. “No. No, I do not. But, unfortunately, that’s where we stand. If you’re not willing to trust me, then trust Mkuta and be patient. The future that lies ahead is a chaotic one for you and for us. We are seeking a way to navigate through it. If you are patient, then it will benefit both you and us.”

“That bad of a vision?”

“I can say no more on the matter than I already have.”

Vital sputtered in frustration. “Fine. I’ll try to wait for now, but I make no promises as to my behavior and mood.”

Mwalimu smiled weakly then. “Neither does Zecora.”





“Close, but not quite,” Zecora said as she sat cross-legged atop a large rock by the burbling stream. “You were a little too harsh with that bray. It turned your sentence into something … less than flattering.”

Vital Spark groaned and collapsed back onto the ground as the sound of the water’s flow washed over him. His horn hummed as he levitated a steaming stick with a glistening fish draped by a thin layer of silver scales toward his mouth. It was a simple matter to shuck the outer layer and dispose of it in the water. As for the rest, he dunked it liberally in a makeshift sauce formed from the pounded baobab fruits, a hint of herb, and a sprinkling of salt, before taking a big bite.

“You sure you no want this?” he asked, proffering some to her.

“It’s pronounced don’t, Vital Spark. Don’t start getting sloppy on me now.”

“Sloppy?” Vital Spark objected.

“Bad habits are very hard to break, once formed,” Zecora said by way of explanation. “That is one of the reasons I hold you to such a high standard in the first place.”

Vital Spark gasped. “An explanation? From the great and powerful Zecora?” He looked quickly, almost fearfully up into the skies.

“What are you doing?” Zecora finally asked in Zwahilli.

“I thought a bolt of lightning might strike me down.” He grinned impishly at her.

“Would you like me to ask the spirits to arrange it?” Zecora answered coolly.

“Won’t be much different than the mare in my dreams.” Vital shrugged. “So, be my guest.”

“Dreams?” Zecora asked curiously.

“They’ve been going on for a while now. Nothing too concrete, just … a jumble of faces and images, really. Some of them are fights, others are like nightmares, and … one or two of them are really happy.” A flush rose in his cheeks. “I don’t know how much is real and how much is dream, but it’s better than the emptiness.”

“Emptiness?”

“What else do you call being without any of your past memories? And it’s not like many of my new ones have been the most pleasant.”

“You’re being taken care of, aren’t you?”

“Yes, by a mare who constantly looks down on me, threatens me, and punched me in the face for asking a question. That’s what I call real loving care.” Vital Spark rolled his eyes heavenward as he took another bite. And I can’t even hope to begin to make friends, until I learn the language, a feat that will take months at a bare minimum, even with patience from the rest of the Zebras here. Mkuta is gone, and your father has essentially put me under village arrest, with the exception of when I’m allowed to come out here to hunt for meat to eat. Oh, and let’s not forget the unknown reason for why I’m being kept here in the first place, which has to do with some mysterious future that, again, I know nothing about and can’t be bothered to have anything explained to, lest it impact said future negatively. At least, I assume that’s the case, considering how, yet again, everyone is walking on eggshells around me!”

Zecora was silent for a time as she stared at the Unicorn. The evening sun burned red on the horizon, dying the lands scarlet as it passed over the savannah. Neither of the pair spoke for a long time as Vital attacked his fish, leaving Zecora to her thoughts. As the stars began to emerge, she finally rose onto her hooves. “Are you serious about wanting to speak our language fluidly?”

“Do I need to repeat my previous rant?” Vital Spark retorted as he flung the fish bones into the water.

“I may know a way,” she allowed. “It’s cheating, but as you said, we’re on a time table.”

“Gasp! Zecora breaking the rules?”

“That punch will only give you so many free passes,” Zecora warned. “Do you want to try or not? I won’t ask again.”

“Will I still speak Equish?”

Zecora shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Will it get me out of the village?”

“Yes.”

“In that case, I’m in.”

Zecora smiled. “Good. Meet me by the bonfire tomorrow night. Bring enough food and water to last us a day. If anyone tries to stop us, leave the talking to me.”

“You know, this is very unlike you, Zecora. Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” Vital asked.

Zecora smirked. “How about we simply say there is more to me than meets the eye, and leave it at that?” She chuckled then as she rose to her hooves. “Are you ready to go back?”

Vital sighed heavily as he looked up at the stars. “I suppose so.”





Vital Spark sighed in relief as he plopped himself down under the shade of the massive baobab tree. The heat waves on the savannah floor had begun to amass as the early morning sun climbed towards noon, leaving the plains wavering beyond the shelter the tree’s massive canopy offered. Its trunk spanned as large as the great central hut back at the village, if not wider, and its limbs clawed at the sky, like a free climber at work.

“So, this is what you wanted to show me?” he asked the Zebra as she stepped into the shade with her medicine bag beating against her hip, and her staff in hoof.

“Yes,” she nodded. “This place is … special. I discovered it a few years ago, when wandering. It’s been my secret place ever since,” she explained. “Can you feel it, the energy thrumming in here?”

Vital shook his head. “Not really. I only learned the basics of how to keep my magic in control. Whatever other skills I may have learned before, I don’t think they’re there anymore. And I think that includes sensing other magic.”

“I’m not even sure it’s simply magic, at least by your peoples’ definition of it,” Zecora admitted. “It’s more like a thrumming, possibly like a rapid heartbeat. This place is very much filled with life. It’s … calming.”

Vital looked up into the leafy canopy and watched the boughs sway in a gentle breeze. The leaves seemed almost to whisper as patches of sunlight broke through at varying points to reflect off the emerald facets of the leaves’ thick skins. Then he looked back to the shamaness again. Her face was a mixture of peace, sadness, joy, and a hint of longing. “You used to come here often, didn’t you?” he asked.

“When I could,” she admitted. “With the way things have been lately, chances to come here have been slim to none.”

“Not to pry, but … would that have been before or after your mother, well … you know…?”

“She died. You can say it,” Zecora sighed. “And that didn’t help, but I guess you haven’t been clued in yet. Things aren’t exactly stable right now.”

“Are we referring to you, your father, the status of the tribes as a whole, or a combination thereof?” Vital asked as Zecora began to make her way towards the tree’s trunk.

“Did my father tell you about our nearest neighbors?” Zecora asked.

“No.”

“The closest nation to Zebrica is the Stampede Grounds,” Zecora explained, “which is where the Minotaurs live. Generally, they don’t bother us, because we have similar beliefs, and they’re usually at war with the Gryphons, who live on the opposite end of their territory. However, the Gryphons have apparently pulled back all but their border guards, and the Minotaurs have recently named a new lead bull for all of the tribes. The elders fear that if something goes wrong, it could lead to a war.”

“Um, quick question. What’s a Minotaur, and what’s a Gryphon?”

“You know what a bull is?” Zecora clarified.

“I … think so. Big, bulky, sort of shaggy, with long curving horns, right?”

“Imagine that on two legs, with a bad attitude,” Zecora said. “That’s a Minotaur.”

“And Gryphons?”

“Basically, a lion mixed with an eagle,” Zecora said. “At least, that’s what the elders say. I’ve never actually seen one, myself.”

“And the lion is a creature with hair like a bushel of wildgrass and sharp fangs and claws, right?”

Zecora nodded.

“Can they … look like other birds?”

“Sometimes.” Zecora shrugged. “The elders said the eagle lion mix was more common, though.”

“And you used to fight with these creatures?”

“No. They don’t come out this far, generally.” Zecora shrugged as they finally arrived at the foot of the tree. “The Minotaurs usually fight them. Sometimes, they attack the Equestrians.”

“My people?”

She nodded. “The Gryphons have tried to take Equestria a few times, but they’ve never succeeded.”

“Then why keep trying?”

“How should I know?” Zecora shrugged. “Now come on. It’s just over here,” she said, running her hoof along the rough bark of the trunk.

“Um, what, exactly?”

A brief hum sounded, not unlike the familiar chime of magic as a dim flash of green raced along the outlines of the roots and bark. The tree groaned and creaked as the roots began to withdraw from before them and the trunk gradually split itself open layer by layer, until a great arching entry covered in lush new branches and shoots awaited them. The water that had seeped out of the trunk left the newly formed bark smelling moist and fresh as Zecora trotted confidently through. Vital Spark followed closely behind. 

The farther in the pair traveled, the more the walls seemed almost to writhe, until the familiar golden light of water reflected from a pool danced along the edges and over their fur coats, dying Vital’s normally white fur a striped golden, while Zecora gained a third color to contrast her usual black and white. The gentle lapping of water against a shore gradually became louder, until the two finally emerged into a great hollowed-out central unit. Sunlight filtered down to dance along a sparkling pond that glowed an iridescent green as a series of long roots branched out in all directions to create an artificial bottom for the pool. Sprouts and seedlings swayed back and forth in an errant breeze. A single great blossom sprouted in the heart of the pond. Its petals radiated with sunlight and the seed at its center pulsed a dark rich evergreen. Its surface shone like a fine cut emerald. A veritable cornucopia of tiny buds sprouted and then blossomed along the green carpet and the walls of the organically grown chamber, filling the room with a kaleidoscope of color.

“What … is this place?” Vital Spark marveled.

“Honestly, I’m not sure. There’s never been anything like it in any of the stories or writings we have,” Zecora admitted.

“And nobody else knows about it?”

“Not until today,” Zecora admitted.

“And … this is where I can learn faster?”

“Can you feel anything?” she asked. “Just stop and try for a moment.”

“Um … okay,” Vital said uncertainly. He crouched down in the middle of the flowers and contorted his legs into that familiar fold that only the Zebras and most flexible of Ponies seemed capable of replicating. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The sweet, almost fruity fragrance of the flowers filled him with sense of peace as his muscles gradually relaxed. “Other than calm, not much yet,” he said.

“You’re thinking too hard,” Zecora huffed. “Let it go, and just feel.”

“At the risk of sounding like a dunce, feel what, exactly? Are we talking physically, spiritually, emotionally…?”

“That's your problem. You’re still overthinking. Don’t categorize it, and don’t try to analyze it. Just sit back and let it come to you.”

“... You’re going to get mad at me, if I ask what you mean by ‘it,’ aren’t you?” Vital asked, then took another calming breath.

“What I meant isn’t important, because, again, that means you’re still putting too much thought into it,” Zecora said.

“This … may take a while,” Vital Spark warned.

It took nearly two full hours, before the Unicorn finally reached the point where his mind entered that curious state between the realms of waking and sleeping. Images, voices, and music flickered on the edges of his mind, alongside an almost childlike laughter.

‘You wish mastery,’ a girl’s tinny voice tittered.

‘Should we give it to him?’ another asked.

‘He’s different from the others, isn’t he?’ another said curiously.

‘He feeds on mana, just like the others. Who’s to say he won’t take more than he’s given?’

‘Who’s to say he will?’ An older, silkier voice echoed. ‘I think he’s worth the risk, don’t you?’

‘It … could be fun,’ one of the earlier voices acquiesced.

‘Besides, he feels nice,’ another said. ‘I like playing with those ones.’

‘Fine,’ a deep contralto responded sleepily. ‘If enough of the rest of you want to help, I’ll lend a hand.’

‘No breaking this one, though, Ivy.’

‘Would I do that?’ a sultry voice asked.

‘Ivy!’ The chastising yell reverberated in Vital’s head, and he nearly lost his concentration.

‘Fine. Spoilsports.’

‘Open wide,’ came the singsong chorus.

The sensation of dry air rushed down Vital’s throat. Something moist and sweet touched his tongue and he gulped to swallow the salivary reaction. Then he felt something tickle against his ears and he nickered in annoyance. His ears flicked as he scrunched his face in discomfort. And just like that, the connection, or whatever it was, was broken. Vital Spark opened his eyes in some surprise to see a large tendril with a white bud curved at its end. A hint of moisture dribbled down to rest against the vine as it withdrew, and Vital’s eyes widened as he noticed two other flowers retract. These ones were wide open, with their stamen extended. They seemed almost to ring as they shook, clacking against one another, before they retracted, and Vital Spark found himself screaming.

“What the buck?”

“Calm down,” Zecora said. “You’re not hurt.”

“Where else were they going to poke me?” He shuddered. “I … really don’t want to find out.”

“You’re being irrational.”

“I’m being freaked out! There’s a difference!”

“Not really.”

With some effort, Vital Spark finally managed to get himself back under control. “It’s a difference to me,” he said petulantly.

“You almost sounded convincing that time,” Zecora chuckled.

“And you sound as cruel as ever,” Vital retorted. “The least you could do is explain, instead of calling me crazy.”

“You heard them didn’t you?”

“Heard what?”

“The spirits who live here.”

“I don’t know what I heard, okay?” Vital pouted.

Zecora did her best not to smile at him. “But you did hear something.”

Vital Spark snorted angrily. “Zecora!” he whined. Then he groaned and flopped down onto his barrel, dropping his chin into the earth. “I give up.”

“Is it normal for Equestrians to give up, after taking big leaps?”

“Is it normal for Zebras to take pleasure in torturing lost souls?”

“Is it normal for Unicorns to be so dense?”

“Hey!”

“You prefer simple?” Zecora teased.

“No, I think I prefer wet.” Suddenly, a deluge dropped from above, soaking the Zebra as Vital Spark released the arc of water he’d sent up from the pond, then smirked. “Serves you right.”

Suddenly and immediately, Vital Spark found himself looking at her upside down as four vines simultaneously snaked around a leg and pulled him off the ground.

“Hey, what’re you–? Whoa!” he cried as the tendrils sent him flying into the water, causing his mane to drape down over his face. He sputtered in frustration as he pulled the now flat locks aside to glare at the Zebra.

“It’s your own fault.”

Vital stuck his tongue out at her.

“I’m surprised you haven’t clued in yet.”

“Clued in to what?” he asked as he rose to his hooves and shook himself to try to expel as much water out of his fur, mane, and tail as possible.

“I’m not telling you, if you don’t know,” she said.

Vital let out a cry of disgust. “Why do you have to be so positively infuriating?”

“Why do you have to be so dense?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it has to do with my teacher’s style,” Vital glowered.

“I’m not a bad teacher,” Zecora said with utmost confidence.

“How about completely insensitive, then?” he asked as he sloshed out of the water and back onto the grass.

“Get out.” The tone was tepid. There was no venom, no ice, and yet the anger it portrayed seemed daunting to a degree Vital wasn’t familiar with. “This is my place. I didn’t need to bring you here. I didn’t need to ask the spirits to help you. Leave now. Don’t ever come back here!”

“Fine!” Vital roared back, then galloped out of the chamber as fast as his hooves would carry him, snatching the bags with his supplies in his magic as he raced past her. “Maybe you can meditate over the fact that not all Ponies are the same as you!”

The light in the chamber seemed almost to flicker for a moment as the seed pod at the heart of the pond throbbed, dulled, then gradually resumed its radiance at a dimmer setting.





Vital Spark stomped angrily into the village later that evening. Most of the Zebras had enough sense to steer clear of the Unicorn. Those who didn’t usually kept their inquiry to one simple question: “Where is Zecora?”

Vital Spark would respond tersely and then press on. He was in no mood to deal with any other Zebras at the moment. If they suspected him of wrongdoing, so much the better. Maybe they’d finally let him leave. These and other thoughts continued to pass through his head in a whirlwind as he finally reached the chieftain’s hut and made his way towards the small annex that had been set aside for him.

“That’s a rather dark aura you’re carrying,” Mwalimu noted idly from the shadows.

“I’m not in the mood, Mwalimu,” Vital Spark growled as he levitated his packs by the reed mat. “I’ve had a long day, and I’d like to sleep it off, before I bite someone’s head off.”

“And Zecora?”

Vital snorted. “Also taking alone time.”

“Ah, that kind of day, is it?”

“With all due respect, Mwalimu, your daughter has no clue how to teach me properly. She expects me to understand every little thing she teaches, and when I don’t get it, instead of helping me to understand or leading me closer to the answer, she just dangles the fact I don’t know right in front of my face!” he fumed.

“I see.” Mwalimu turned casually to return to his work by a table as he pulled a candle made from beeswax onto the table and lit it with some flint. “Well, she must be doing something right, if you’re speaking this fluidly,” he said simply as he rolled out a piece of papyrus and began to run a piece of charcoal over it. “I’d almost say that little rant waxed eloquent.”

“Of course I’m speaking fluidly. I’m talking in Equish.”

“No, actually, you’re not,” Mwalimu said clinically as he continued to draw along the paper. “You’re speaking Zwahilli. Very efficiently, I might add. It seems your comprehension has also improved. My compliments. Though the father in me also wishes to point out that you’re acting like a little foal over whatever it is that happened between the two of you,” he added. “And if you’re this worked up, I shudder to think how badly Zecora is reacting.” He chuckled ruefully. “You know, in a way, it’s actually good to have someone like you around to challenge her way of thinking. Perhaps you’ll help each other to grow, after all.”

“I’m sorry, not to ruin your fatherly moment here, but … did you just say I’m speaking Zwahilli?”

“I’m fairly certain that’s what I said, yes.”

Vital Spark groaned and ran his hoof down his face, until it stretched, then snapped back into place as his hoof dropped off. “Damn it, Zecora,” he swore.

“I take it you just discovered the root of whatever caused your argument.”

“Let’s just go with pride and leave it at that.”

Mwalimu nodded sagely, then rose and turned to face the Unicorn. “A word of advice, Vital Spark,” he said. “Pride, anger, arrogance, rage. These kinds of emotions are sources of great power, not just to those who harbor them, but also to the more unsavory spirits of the world. Be wary of them and learn to block them from swaying your heart. That will be your first obstacle on your way to achieving balance, and possibly to unlocking the memories you lost.” Then he turned back to his desk again, casting his shadow to block the area where the Unicorn would sleep. “Rest well, young colt. Tomorrow is another day. Be ready for it.”





With his new gift of speech, Vital Spark was swift to get to know the other villagers and swifter to ask questions. One day he would be visiting with the cultivators at the fields to ask about their techniques, the next he would be dashing among the diviners to learn what he could about the practice. The Zebras were exceptionally polite, and several would laugh at his foalish exuberance for knowledge and growth. However, while the Unicorn may have continued to smile, a sense of unease pervaded the confines of the settlement, and that only served to heighten the sense of guilt as Vital Spark pondered his dilemma with Zecora.

Finally, he made his way into the familiar tent city, meandering along its paths, until he found a tent marked by several skulls, feathers, and intricate symbols. The Unicorn stomped a few times on the dusty ground, hoping that the sound would carry to the tent’s occupant.

“Do you need something?” The sentence was asked, surprisingly, in flawless Equestrian, which, now that Vital Spark had become aware of the gift he had received, had gradually become easier for him to discern between Zebrican.

“Um, well … I have a bit of a problem, and … I was wondering if I might be able to ask for some advice,” Vital said bashfully in Zwahilli.

“Come in and take a seat.”

“Thank you,” Vital sighed. He passed carefully into the tent. Its circular walls and cone-like structure gave it the sense of spaciousness that left a more inviting atmosphere. A pair of large pelts lay on the floor, one sleek and black as night, the other a bright gold with a flowing pillowy set of hairs. A series of metal chimes shaped like crosses, quartered circles, and various other symbols tinkled gently as they struck one another with clear bell-like tones. A collection of small wooden masks hung facing towards the west with grim expressions. A small fire burned in the center, where a tripod held a kettle over the coals, while the smoke ascended through a hole in the top of the structure. Vital Spark was careful to avoid getting too close to the fire, but made sure to sit close enough not to be rude to his host.

“Let us get through proper introductions before we proceed. My name is Mustafa,” the Zebra said with a slight inclination of his head. “And there is no need to ask your name, Vital Spark.” He chuckled. “The whole village knows you by now. So, my young friend, what is the nature of this problem of yours?” He’d hung his headdress on a hook that was suspended from a rope attached to the tent’s roof, so Vital could see the aged diviner’s shaved mane, leaving only tiny bristles poking above his normal fur length. Two identical scars traced his jawline on either side of his head, and the fur under his eyes had been colored with several stripes of red and green dye.

“I … kind of freaked out with Zecora, and we both said some things we shouldn’t have. I think I want to apologize, but at the same time, I’m still so upset over what happened, and … I guess I feel sort of ashamed, too.” He averted his gaze and rubbed his foreleg nervously. “We … didn’t part on the best terms.”

“Ah, yes,” Mustafa laughed. “That girl. So much pressure at such a young age. It causes her to lash out at those around her. It has made her unpopular with some.” He chuckled to himself. “Table! Table, get over here!” he called suddenly. After a few long moments where Vital questioned the diviner’s sanity, a large tortoise began to crawl in slowly from one of the tent folds. Its shell had been painted with many long flowing swirling designs of all kinds of colors. The reptile seemed to smile smugly at Mustafa as it made its way over at a calm, gentle pace. “Come on, Table. If you do not hurry, the water will be steam, and then where will I be?” 

The tortoise merely snapped its beak at him a few times.

“You have a pet named Table?” Vital asked.

“At my age, it is far easier to have a table that comes to you, rather then one you must go to,” Mustafa chuckled. As the tortoise finally came within a hoof’s reach, the aged Zebra produced a few clay bowls, which he placed some crushed herbs into, then poured out the water into each one. The tortoise was completely unphased by the heat and simply laid contentedly between them. “He is slow, but reliable, and he will tell my story long after the Mother calls me back.”

“The Mother?” Vital enquired as he raised his bowl and blew over the water’s surface.

“The Great Mother, mother to Zebras, mother to the great ones themselves, Mother Gaia. Take your pick,” Mustafa said. “It is from her womb that life comes, and it is to her bosom we go, when life must come to an end.”

“Gaia….” Vital Spark frowned. “I’ve heard that name … somewhere….”

“I’m not surprised.” Mustafa laughed. “It was Gaia who took Zebras in, when the First Mother, the one Equestrians call Faust, left us, for the spark of magic did not take with us. Gaia found us and took us into her embrace. It was she who birthed the Great Ones, the Titans who taught us about the world, about how to commune with the spirits of nature, and thus develop a magic of our own. Though many Zebras forget her in this time, we owe her everything.”

“That’s … a pretty big debt.”

“Most races have their own debt,” Mustafa chuckled. “The Gryphons have their Winds, the Minotaurs have their Giants. I’ve heard even the Dragons have one who took them in, after they were too hot-blooded.”

“I see.” Vital sighed then as he took a tiny sip from the cup. “Am I … supposed to taste something different from water?” he asked.

“It was supposed to be tea, but most would wait a while, before drinking, to let the flavor sink in,” Mustafa laughed.

“Tea. Interesting.” He lowered the bowl back onto the tortoise’s back. “Does it taste any good?”

“Usually, if given proper time. Now tell me everything,” Mustafa said. “Leave no detail out, unless vitaly necessary.”

“Pun not intended?”

“Of course.”

Vital outlined the situation as best he could, being careful to remove all reference or trace of the special place Zecora had shown him. It was the least he could do for her. Revealing that special spot would have just made him a jerk. “And that’s when I left and ran back to the village. I didn’t even know I was speaking Zebrican, till I talked to Mwalimu, and he told me.”

“So, it seems she took her joke a little far,” Mustafa nodded, taking a drink of tea. “And you let your temper get the better of you.”

“Yeah, that about sums it up,” Vital sighed dejectedly as he took a sip of the tea. The herbs left it with an aromatic quality that hinted at citrus and earthiness, but the flavor left him scrunching his face slightly.

“And what is your first inclination in this matter?”

“I want to apologize, to set things right.” Vital sighed as the warmth from the tea flooded back up his throat. “I just don’t know how.”

“It isn’t some guarded secret, my friend. You apologize.”

“Yeah, but this is Zecora. Every time I try talking to her, I feel … well, I feel like there’s a wall. And for a few seconds, I broke through that wall, but then I got tossed out, after I made a mistake, and now the wall’s even stronger.” He sighed and looked dejectedly into his bowl of tea. “I don’t know if she’d even be willing to listen.”

“My friend, in my many years, I have learned there is no battle in which both sides do not walk away injured. I am certain she feels as badly as you do right now. I admit she may not be willing to listen immediately, but if her friendship truly means anything to you, then you will find the time.”

“Do you … really think we could be? Friends, I mean.”

“I think, if you are willing to try,” Mustafa smiled, “then you will find the means.”

“So, I just need to keep trying?”

Mustafa nodded. “Are you willing to do so?”

“I don’t know,” Vital answered honestly, “but … at least one shot can’t hurt any more than what I’ve been dealing with, right?”

“Keep that outlook. It will serve you well.” Mustafa laughed. “And just an interesting secret between the two of us, I know for a fact that Zecora is partial to the candied berries the mare three stalls down makes.”

Vital Spark smiled. “Thank you so much for your help.” He chuckled as he wiped away at tears that had started to form. “You know, it’s funny. I just felt like I had to come out here, you know?” 

“The spirits are wise. They often know how to nudge us in just the right direction.” He smiled in return.

“May I … visit here again some time? Something about your company is … familiar to me.”

“You are welcome through my door anytime,” Mustafa smiled.

Vital rose and walked over to the older Zebra, then gave him a short embrace. “Thank you, Mustafa.”

“Go in peace, my friend, and may the spirits guide you to mending your situation.”

“Amen,” Vital agreed. He paused briefly, tapped his chin. “Amen. Hmm. I don’t think I’ve heard that around here before….” He shrugged, then made his way out the tent flap, leaving Mustafa to finish his tea with his table.

“Oh, my friend, if only you knew the importance of things to come,” the diviner laughed to himself. “I only wish I could be around to see it all.”





Days turned to weeks, and weeks into months as Vital Spark was slowly initiated into the ways of the spirits. The council of chieftains had come and gone, leaving Vital Spark in the dark, once again, as he pushed on in his training. All he knew for certain was that the time was fast approaching for a representative to come to the village, and when this representative arrived, he would have to leave the place that had, for all intents and purposes, become his home. He sighed as he sat on the ground next to his teacher. The river burbled along its way, casting a relieving sense of peace as the pair concentrated on their respective trances.

Every once in a while, a flicker of some other structure would flit past his mind’s eye, this one spewing water out of a Pony’s mouth to land inside a large stone basin. He could almost hear children’s laughter, excited voices calling his name. And finally, that strange mare with the blue fur and the piercing eyes. They haunted him everywhere he went, even when he tried to push them aside.

“You are troubled,” Zecora’s placid tone carried through the air.

“I’m leaving soon. Mkuta, Mwalimu, Mustafa, … you. It’s … strange. I wanted to leave this place, after a little while of staying, but now that the time is actually coming to do so, I don’t want to go. All of you, this place. It’s … well, if I’m really being honest, it’s home now.”

“And the spirits? What do they say?”

Vital sighed. “I think you know that only too well.”

“I know, but I’m asking you.”

Vital opened his eyes to see that familiar curve at the edge of her lips that hinted at the teasing smirk beaming within. “A final test, eh?”

“What do they say?” the smile became slightly more prominent.

Vital’s own lips twitched as they pulled into a smile to match the Zebra’s. “That you want to play.”

“The usual game?”

“It’s always the same,” she affirmed.

“First to stumble the rhyme gets wet this time.” Vital grinned unsettlingly at her.

“Are you truly inane or simply insane?” Zecora twirled her staff and entered into a crouched stance. “My skills are unsurpassed in this game.”

Vital circled the Zebra, like a shark its prey. “So, we’re fudging the rhymes to draw this one out.” He levitated a series of large rocks and spun them slowly around his body in a gentle orbit. “I’ll show you what true mastery’s all about!”

Zecora leapt easily out of the way as the stones began to fire on either side of her. They’d learned a long time ago to keep their sparring non-lethal, but it was fun to keep each other on their toes as they danced back and forth.

“Mastery is no easy feat. By the time we’re done, I’ll have you beat,” Zecora crowed as she slammed one of the stones with her staff. The wood bent briefly, and then the rock went flying back towards the Unicorn. He quickly raised another rock to counter the force and protect his face.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, now that’s just not fair. Face shots aren’t allowed anywhere,” he chided, shaking his head back and forth.

“Apologies for the misfired shot. I don’t exactly hit rocks a lot.”

Their battle was a rhyme-off for the ages, evolving from single couplets to full-on stanzas of prose firing back and forth with clipped rhythm and pace. However, at long last, Zecora pulled out with a slim victory, managing to get in close to tickle her foe, leaving him doubled over in laughter as the two rolled together, until they both fell into the ford of the river.

“How do you always manage to come out on top of things, Zecora?” Vital asked as the two revelled in the cool water washing over their warm, dusty fur.

“Magic,” Zecora replied cheekily.

“Just for that, I might just choose to eat all these candied berries myself,” Vital said as he hefted a pouch from his pack suggestively in his magic.

In a matter of seconds, Zecora was there, popping the berries out of the bag and into her mouth. A few pale blue specks danced around her hooves from the power she’d unleashed to augment her speed. “You were saying?”

“Now that’s just not fair,” Vital Spark chided as he walked up to her. A good ten or so berries levitated out of the pouch to orbit around his head. “At least save enough for me.”

“You’ll have plenty more, where you’re going. Or have you forgotten that you’ll be visiting the jungle already?”

“That’ll be one of the last stops, though,” Vital pointed out. “And I’ll be focusing on learning how to grow the crops, not on eating them.” He shook his coat to spatter the ground with leftover droplets.

“And you can’t do a little of both?” Zecora asked. “The jungle is far more lush than the savannah, you know.”

“Fair point,” Vital Spark conceded.

“Naturally. As you said. I always come out on top.”

Vital Spark laughed. “And the day you don’t, I’ll be there to bail you out. How does that sound?”

Zecora tapped her chin thoughtfully as she looked out over the sparkling waters. “I suppose you could at least give a good distraction.”

“Your words, so cruel,” Vital cried dramatically. “They cut me to the quick. Perhaps ‘tis better that I drown my sorrows now, than nurse so deep a wound.”

That earned the Unicorn a sharp knock on the head. “Don’t go turning into a pompous windbag on me. There’s enough of those to deal with at the trading posts as is.”

Vital smirked. “Just honing my craft, Zecora,” he assured her.

“Oh? And what craft is that?”

“I thought it was the role of all brothers to annoy their sisters to no end.”

That gave Zecora pause. “Brother?”

“Well, what else do you call it? We fight and make up on a semi-daily basis, you’re constantly teaching me new tricks and keeping me out of danger, and I’m always the one to call you out when you’re being overbearing and not willing to admit it. I’d say that sits rather firmly in the little brother territory, wouldn’t you?”

“I … never thought about it that way before.”

“It only just hit me a few minutes ago, truth be told. Is it … okay? Looking at you that way, I mean.”

Zecora stared silently at the river as she contemplated the question. Finally, she spoke. “I … never had a brother before. I never really had anybody before, well, aside from Father. Everyone else was always so … distant. I always feel like they’re judging me, watching every little thing I do.”

“Probably because they are, in case you have a potential meltdown that only I seem capable of triggering,” Vital said with a wicked grin.

Zecora promptly shoved Vital Spark into the river again. “You’re certainly annoying enough,” she growled.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Vital said as he strode out of the stream, then shook his fur and mane again. “Which means I can do this.” His horn ignited, locking Zecora in place as he approached, then wrapped his forelegs around her neck in a hug, before letting go. “Sorry for freezing you like that, but I really wanted to hug you, before I go, and I knew you’d try to run with my fur all wet.”

“You big jerk,” Zecora said halfheartedly.

“With an even bigger heart,” Vital added as he levitated the bag of berries. “Care for another?”

Zecora chuckled helplessly. “What am I going to do with you, Vital Spark?”

“Why, I thought that was obvious. Love me, of course.”





“You promise you’ll come back to us again?” Zecora asked as they gathered at the village’s edge, where a mare in a shimmering white shift with green feathers woven into braids formed from her mane 

“And miss the chance to knock you down a few pegs? Never,” Vital said with a wink.

“Last I checked, I held the current title,” Zecora said haughtily.

“All the more reason for me to return and take it from you, then, isn’t it?” Vital said as he grinned impishly. His face had been decorated in tribal paint, a symbol of his progress in the village and his shamanistic training. “If something does go wrong, though, you’d better send for me.”

“Afraid I can’t handle myself?”

“More for what you’ll do to anyone that crosses you,” Vital chuckled.

“You’ve done well in your short time with us, Vital Spark,” Mwalimu congratulated. “There is still more yet to see and do, but I am confident you have the makings of a fine shaman.” He pulled out a necklace from his satchel, made from carefully carved and polished pieces of black wood shaped like teeth. Each had been embedded with a small heart-shaped ruby. “Take this as a token of our support and our love. Whenever you feel discouraged, look upon it, and think of us.” He smiled as he placed it around the Unicorn’s neck. “We’ll see you soon enough. Until then, be safe. Zecora would never forgive me, if something were to happen to you.”

“And I’d never forgive her, if she laid a single hoof on any of you,” Vital teased as tears stood in his eyes. He double-checked the security of his satchel and the water skin against his side, then bowed respectfully to Mwalimu. “Until we meet again, Chief.”

“Spirits go with you, child,” Mwalimu returned softly.

“I’ll try not to drive them away.”

Mwalimu chuckled. “You do that.”

“Is Mustafa coming?”

Mwalimu frowned and shook his head. “I’m afraid not. It’s getting harder to rouse him from his bed. I wouldn’t be surprised if the earth called him home in the next few moons.”

“Oh, I … I see.”

Mwalimu laid a hoof on the stallion’s shoulder. “He sends his blessing, though, and insists that you show those warriors among the fighters what a little wisdom has to offer, when tempering brute force.”

Vital chuckled. “That’s Mustafa, all right.” He looked between the old chieftain and his daughter, anxiety written plainly on his face. “You’ll take care of him, won’t you?”

“You have our word.”

The Unicorn nodded. “Thank you.”

“Be careful, Vital Spark. And listen closely to what Mbegu ya Hekima has to say.”

“Just Hekima,” the mare insisted. “It’s far too wordy the other way around.”

Vital smiled gently at the mare’s kindly demeanor. Perhaps they would be able to get along well, after all.

The journey was hot and dusty, as was to be expected in the savannah. After all the time spent training under the hot Zebrican sun, Vital Spark had come to appreciate and respect the silence that the Zebras maintained so often. It wasn’t that they weren’t willing to talk, so much as the heat required them to keep their exchanges to the shortest and most meaningful sentences, save when a proper water source was near. A wry smile pulled at his lips, and he couldn’t help but wonder if he had been so reserved in his past life or if this would be considered a marked improvement.

By night, the pair would set up their camp and meditate, giving silent thanks for another successful day’s travel without obstruction or difficulty. In time, they came to a river, where a small boat crafted from fine cedar wood lay bobbing in the shallows.

“We’ll use this to travel to the coast. From there, we will follow the caravan route down to the jungle,” the mare instructed.

Vital Spark nodded. “I can’t help but wonder something, though. I get that a lot of the herbs and roots you use grow in the jungle, but if you really do teach about growing all kinds of plants, herbs, etc., then wouldn’t you need two villages, one for the tropical and one for the arid?”

“An excellent question. I appreciate a mind that thinks ahead.” She smiled as they entered the boat and she cast them off into the current. “You are correct. There are two separate villages that we’ve established. We switch the students between them as they learn how to tend and cultivate the herbs, fruit trees, vegetables, etc. that are necessary in both environments. We then export these goods, after proper distribution among the tribes. Many of your Equestrian nobles and troops enjoy the unique crops that Zebrica alone can offer, among other resources we trade on occasion.”

“Such as?”

“Those gems embedded into your necklace, for a start,” she said as she tapped one of the teeth. “They’re called fire rubies, a rarity in Equestria, but they’re quite common here. Those are very young gems, not worth much to most of your kind, but for a Unicorn to gain a fully ripened one, it would make an exceptionally powerful focus.”

“A … focus.” Vital furrowed his brow in concentration. “That’s … the core piece of a weapon or armor enchanted to channel and store mystical energy.”

“So, you do have knowledge of your kind’s arts, after all.”

Vital rubbed his head and groaned as he flipped up some water from the river to splash his face. “I guess the theory, at least. It hurts to try to think about it, though.”

“Then it is likely best not to think about it. If the memory is sealed, it’s sealed for a reason. Better to let nature take its course.”

“So, you said we’d be stopping by a trading post?” Vital asked, quickly changing the subject. He sighed in relief as the tension eased in his skull.

“Near the inlet to the sea,” the mare agreed. “Nobles and other richer Ponies from your nation come to barter for our goods, and occasionally for … I believe the word is vacation.”

“So, for pleasure?”

“Some. Others have less honorable motives.” Hekima reached into the floor of the boat and pulled out a long pole, which she stabbed into the water to keep the craft on course. “Be careful, if you encounter them, Vital Spark. Equestrians can be very devious, when they wish to be. Make sure to watch what you say.”

Vital Spark swallowed heavily, then nodded his understanding. “I’ll try. But … what do I say, if they want to talk to me? I can’t just ignore them.”

Hekima shrugged. “It is your choice what you can and cannot do. All I can do is offer my advice. You have heard it. Now you must decide how to act upon it.”

And with that, the silence returned once again as the two travelers were lost in their own thoughts.





The land gradually became more lush as they drew closer to the sea. Eucalyptus and fig trees filled the air with their fragrance, while great palms stretched up into the sky to sway in the sea breeze blowing over the mainland. Great prickly-leaved bushels of bushes clambered over fallen rocks, while a forest of reeds and long silky green fronds sprung up on either side.

“This is incredible,” Vital marveled.

Hekima couldn’t help but smile at the colt’s enthusiasm. “If you think this is something, wait until we reach the trading post.”

In due course, they passed around the bend to behold the sun glittering off the water, so that the great delta was surrounded by gold. Boats great and small bustled around a series of docks and bridges, ferrying cargo and various Ponies and Zebras. The air was alive with the sounds of bickering traders and flapping wings. A series of sturdy wooden cabins rose out of the earth as workponies and Zebras passed interminably through the roughly worn tracks that passed as streets. Off in the distance, a series of brightly colored structures stuck up out of the landscape, like a sore thumb, each flying a strange banner showing two figures circling around something. It was too difficult to make out from that distance.

Hekima poled them over to a thicker patch of reeds and pushed them through to a shallow bank, where they disembarked. “Welcome to the western trading post, the hub of all trade between Equestria and Zebrica.”

The two moved easily among the hustle and bustle, until they reached the outskirts of the post, where a series of tents had been set up to house the many pots and earthenware jars that held herbs, spices, and various other crops. A peek into one tent revealed a series of polished stones waiting to be appraised and exchanged. However, one loud throat clearing from Hekima quickly pulled Vital Spark back out and on task.

Eventually, they arrived at the far point, where a cluster of hearty Zebra stallions were unloading their packs of goods, while the mares made their way to the river with their water skins to refill for their eventual return journey. A tall Zebra with a dead eye and a nasty glare peered meticulously over the goods, then nodded to a pair of younger stallions, who promptly picked up the merchandise and sorted it into the tents. Their bearing made it only too clear that they were warriors.

“Kisasi,” Hekima greeted warmly. “What are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to be training the newest warriors back in Vita.”

“A change of plans, my friend,” he replied. “What brings you out this way?”

“This colt here,” she said, waving over to Vital Spark. “The council of chiefs insists he receive a thorough education. We’ve just come from the Moyo Wa Roho. He’s expected to arrive at Vita in a few months from now.”

“If that is what the council wants, then I will honor their wishes,” he replied, turning his attention to Vital Spark. “Though, they did not give me much to work with, it seems.”

Vital Spark gulped and chuckled nervously. “Um, hello,” he said somewhat weakly.

“I can tell our time is going to be quite lengthy.”

Vital Spark gulped again.

“Easy, Kisasi. It’s not time for him to learn to fight just yet.” She smiled playfully. “How long, until the return caravan departs?”

“At worst, two days. At best, tomorrow.”

“And the shipment of potions, compost, and sugar?”

“Should be ready to go within the hour.”

“You always did know how to run a tight outfit.” She smiled then. “What do you say to letting one of your young warriors get some real life experience?” she asked, looking meaningfully towards the Unicorn. “Vital Spark seems rather taken with the post. Do you think any of the colts are up to guiding him around?”

“I suppose there is one that comes to mind,” he replied, rubbing his chin. “Waangalifu, front and center!”

One of the pots nearly shattered as a stout and heavily muscled Zebra fumbled with it. Were it not for Vital Spark’s quick action with his magic, the contents would have been wasted, along with the pottery. Waangalifu smiled sheepishly, then quickly made his way over to his commander, while Vital Spark levitated the pot to join its fellows in a stack outside one of the tents.

“You called, Sir?” Waangalifu asked. A sharp-headed spear lay strapped along his back atop a shield made from heavily tanned hide.

“You are to give this colt a tour of the post,” Kisasi ordered, gesturing towards Vital. “Show him the ins and outs, without needless delay. Understood?” 

“Yes, Sir,” Kisasi nodded eagerly, then turned to the Unicorn with a flat expression. “You, with me,” he said curtly.

“Um … yeah, sure,” Vital said timidly as he followed behind. Surprisingly enough, this Zebra’s mane had grown to the point where it draped slightly over his forehead. A brief bout of dizziness left the Pony seeing a bright red coat on the stallion, instead of the usual black and white. He stopped a moment and shook his head to clear it.

“Are you coming, or are you just going to stand there all day?”

“C-coming!” Vital stuttered and quickly picked up his pace to catch up with the young warrior.

“How long do you wager, until one of them gets into trouble?” Hekima asked.

Kisasi smirked. “Fifteen minutes.”





Vital Spark gaped at they passed by the many stalls filled to the brim with produce and treats. The fresh scent of a cooking fire left the Pony’s stomach rumbling with need. He chuckled nervously at the sound. “Sorry about that. I haven’t had much to eat today.”

“I suppose that makes sense, given your travel rations,” Waangalifu noted. “Was there anything in particular you were in the mood for?”

“Well, there is one thing I always wanted to try, but I don’t think we’ll find all the ingredients here.”

“And why is that?”

Vital smiled sheepishly. “It’s a little hard to find meat in a place filled with herbivores.”

“Meat?”

“My body needs meat as much as it does grains, fruits, or vegetables.” He shrugged. “I don’t know why, but it does. It actually tastes really good, if you crush some fruits together into a pulp, then add some sugar and water to the mixture and let it boil down. Then you just dip the meat into it. So far, I’ve namely used fish, but I would assume other forms of meat would taste just as good with it. It’s especially tasty, if you soak the meat in it, so it can absorb the flavor, then cook it over a fire for a crisp outer crust.

Waangalifu shuddered.

“Oh, would you relax? I know Zebras believe in the balance of life and the importance of preserving it. My life would be in peril, if I didn’t eat meat. That doesn’t mean I’m going to turn around and start slaughtering every creature I see for a meal. What do you take me for, some kind of monster?”

“Well, I’m afraid we don’t get much in the way of fish down here, except the kind some of the richer visitors use as bait, and they usually fish for themselves, before arriving on shore.”

“Bait for what?”

“Sport,” Waangalifu said flatly.

“I’m … afraid I don’t understand.”

“They hire guides to help them hunt after the larger creatures that dwell here on the savannah and in the jungles. The meat proves for an apt lure, so they can draw in their future ‘trophies.’”

“So, they kill just for the sake of killing?”

“Unfortunately.”

“That’s horrible!”

“Yes, I know. But there are those who are willing to do anything for a chance to leave these shores and never return. We don’t speak with those.”

“... Those?”

“Exiles, the banished, the forsaken. Take your pick.” He glared at the Unicorn. “If you really need the meat, then we’ll see what kind of deal can be struck, but only to get what you need, nothing more.”

Vital gulped and nodded. “I understand.”

“Good. This way,” the Zebra said curtly as he led the Unicorn through the crowds.

The wharfs weren’t much to look at, mostly a long set of log rafts tied together to extend out into the ocean from the shallows to reach the larger boats that sat bobbing in the water. A single fishing net twitched and bulged on the port side, holding the bounty that the two companions sought. The vessel itself was vast in its construction, painted a pale blue with bright white railings and a white bottom that glowed under the sun. The occasional glyph would spark in the light, betraying the magical nature of the seam and belly of the vessel. Its sails were tied neatly into place as the various sea salts passed back and forth along the deck, burly Pegasi and Earth Ponies, each working heartily as they cleaned the deck and maintained the rest of the ship’s parts.

“Whoa. This thing is huge,” Vital marveled as he stared up at the deck.

“Yes, and a place where we are not generally appreciated, unless helping to port supplies,” Waangalifu warned. “We should find whoever is in charge as quickly as possible, before–.”

“If you don’t mind, could you please stop standing in the middle of the docks gaping about and get back to work?” a nasally condescending voice spoke up. “This isn’t the place to be sitting around talking all day. Honestly, where is your foreman?”

The pair turned in some surprise to see a Unicorn with a dark blue coat bedecked with a white-and-gold vest accented by hints of green. His silvery mane shone glossily in the sun as he stared at the two with beady yellow eyes. Those eyes soon widened, however, as they took note of one of the supposed worker’s horn and necklace.

“Um, sorry,” Vital Spark began in Equish. “We didn’t mean to get in your way. I was just wondering if I could have a word with whoever is in charge of that fishing net over there,” he said, pointing to the net in question. “I need to get ahold of a few fish, and I was wondering if we might be able to trade for them.” He smiled somewhat nervously at the flashy stallion, while Waangalifu glared angrily at the figure behind the noble.

“Well just hurry up and finish your business,” the noble sneered.

“Might you be able to direct us to the proper authority? I only just arrived here from the mountains, and it’s my first time, you see.”

“You can probably find them in the Blue Shellfish.” The noble rolled his eyes.

“The what now?”

“The tavern.” He rolled his eyes again. “What, have you been living under a rock for most of your life?”

“Actually, I … kind of don’t know. I woke up in a cave, and some Zebras were kind enough to nurse me back to health. Only thing they couldn’t cure was my memory loss.”

“Head down that road. You’ll find a large sign hanging from the building. It’s written in Equish and Zebrican, so even if you can’t read it, your … associate should be more than capable.”

“Thank you.” Vital smiled at him, then walked back down the pier. “Come on, Waangalifu. Let’s give the Pony some space,” he said in Zwahili. When they’d gotten out of earshot, he muttered to his companion. “Jerk.”

“You were warned about that, weren’t you?”

Vital sighed. “Yeah. I just didn’t think it would be that bad.”

“Compared to the usual, that was cordial.”

“Is that so?” Vital narrowed his gaze. “In that case, I suppose we may have to speak in a language they’ll understand.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Whatever you see in there, whatever I do, just know that’s not really me,” Vital Spark said simply.

“For some reason, I feel both excited and terrified.”

Vital grinned, baring his sharpened canines to the world. “Good. That’s how it should be.”





The Blue Shellfish was a simple structure with a grand arching wooden sign carved with great painted white letters over the dark varnished background. The wooden boards had been painted a pale blue, and bits of mother of pearl had been carefully glued to the base of the establishment, rising from the porch to reach about halfway up the wall. Bits of net and dried seaweed hung artistically at varying points to add to the impression of the sea. A pair of swinging doors creaked noticeably as Vital Spark entered, followed shortly by his companion.

“Good afternoon,” he said loftily as he strode over towards the bar. “Which of you gentleponies happens to own that ship moored in the harbor? I’ve a busy day ahead of me, and I don’t have time for idle chit chat.”

A Unicorn in a light green shirt decorated with tassels and old medals clenched a pipe between his teeth, puffing on it occasionally as he sized the Pony up. “Who wants to know?” he growled out. “I got a ship to get ready to return to Equestria. I ain’t got time talking to lost foals.” An old worn white cap sat on his head. Its bill sat smartly propped up by his horn to reveal the flowing brown mane beneath it.

“The squirming net at the side of your vessel says otherwise, Captain,” Vital said disdainfully. “I’m looking to purchase some of your bait, and I’m willing to pay in gems. If you’re going to treat every potential customer so rudely, however, then I’ll take my business elsewhere. My porter here is more than adept enough to locate other means to attract my prey.”

“So, … you’re a hunter, eh?” the captain muttered. “Way you’re dressed, I thought you’d be some youngin’ protesting the trade.” He snorted. “I suppose I could see my way to give you some of our bait, but it’ll cost you extra. Most of that haul is already reserved by the rest of the hunting party here.” He tapped a hoof on the table as he looked pensively toward the bar. “A pound of fish will cost you ten rubies.”

“Ten? Please. I could buy that much in Equestria for a tenth that price.”

“You really must be out of sorts, colt. The world’s going to Tartarus. I lost two friends to raiders, and there are whispers of Gryphons flexing their damn flying machines. The coastlines are dangerous. And one other thing: we’re in Zebrica. There’s not much demand for fish, unless you’re some Night Unicorn or something.”

“Not much use for it, either, if you can’t preserve it to take with you,” Vital countered. “Twenty pounds of salt should be more than a fair trade for oh, say, twenty fish?”

“You have that much?” the captain asked. “Did they come from your tears, little lost colt?” he asked snidely.

“Oh, no. I harvest them from the virgins I capture for my dark rituals,” Vital said as he rolled his eyes heavily through his sarcasm. “Unlike you, simpleton, I actually know how to put my magic to a more practical use. Make the deal, and I can have your salt to you by sundown.”

“If you bring the salt, you’ll get your twenty fish,” the captain replied as a small twitch of a smile pulled at the edges of his muzzle. “But show up past sundown and it’ll be five fish for the lot.”

“You have yourself a deal, captain.” Vital Spark looked haughtily at the other patrons. “Come along, Waangalifu,” he said. The Zebra bowed his head obsequiously. Vital paused midway towards the doors, however, and turned once again. “And I’d better not encounter any random muggers along the way, Captain. Otherwise, I’ll be adding insurance fees to my delivery, and the cost will be quite hefty, indeed.”

“I would never do something like that, colt. Not to somepony so very much out of his league.”

“Would you care to have a wager, Captain?” Vital asked. “To make it more interesting. It seems only fair, since you plan to cut my proceeds down to a mere quarter, should I fail.”

“What is it?” the captain asked with a snide smirk.

“A place with the rest of your fine party at this evening’s dinner. Surely, it shouldn’t inconvenience a stallion of such means to have one more guest. I’m certain the stallions would only be too happy to exchange the stories of our exploits with one another.” He casually tossed his mane in the air, allowing the sun to glint off the fire rubies embedded in his necklace.

The stallion paused and a small twitch of a lip was his only tell as he slowly nodded his head. “I think I can have something arranged. A most interesting prospect, Mister….”

“Spark. Vital Spark,” the Pony responded.

“I look forward to seeing you again, Mister Spark,” the captain sneered.

“And I all of you. M’lords, m’ladies,” he said as he nodded courteously to each of the tables. “Until tonight.” With that, he left, followed soon after by his guard.

“And just how were you planning on getting that much salt in so little time?” Waangalifu demanded. “You realize Hekima will have both our hides for this.”

“It was the fastest way to get what I need for the journey,” Vital said with a shrug. “All I need are a couple of large sacks. The rest, you can leave to me.”

“How?”

“I wasn’t bluffing, when I mentioned a practical application for my magic.” Vital’s eyes twinkled merrily. “The sea has more than fish for its bounties.”





The dinner that evening was a spread of rich greens with tomatoes, peppers, sugar snap peas, croutons, and three daisies artfully laid on top for presentation. A citrus vinaigrette complimented the sweetness of the vegetables with the tartness of the fruit. Afterwards, wine was served with a second course of bean salad tossed with corn, apples, oats, and a sweet syrup made from honey. Fresh bread steamed as it was cracked open and slathered liberally with butter.

“And so it was that I managed to double my kill with a single strike,” Vital Spark said, finishing his dramatic tale. A round of applause echoed from the great pavillion that had been set up in the center of the encampment as the Pony raised a slice of bread in his horn’s magic and took a bite.

“Incredible, one of the mares exclaimed. A long beaded black dress shimmered in the torchlight as she mulled over her wine. “I’m curious, is that how you got your necklace there? I always thought most Zebras were untrusting.”

“It was a gift from one of the chiefs living near the great mountain. Surely, you’ve seen it in your hunts. The thing is too large to miss.” Vital Spark shrugged. “The necklace grants me a certain amount of influence and trust among the other tribes, so I wear it during my stays here.”

“And do you have a home in Equestria?”

Vital Spark shrugged. “I go where I am needed. I have a certain amount of rapport with some higher ranked families, but I prefer to leave the politics to those who are bred for it and teach their young what they need to hunt on their own someday.”

“A teacher, a huntsman, and a local hero. Now that is impressive,” the lady said. “There wouldn’t be any chance that you could maybe give us a tour of this mountain, would there?”

“Regrettably, no, Lady Carmine. The Zebras hold it sacred. Only their shamans may set foot on it, and even then, only rarely.”

“A pity,” Carmine mused to herself. “To visit an unspoiled place like that must be a rich experience, indeed.”

“It is said that they praise the mountain for their prosperity, or so I have heard,” Vital said with a shrug. “I never bothered to ask.”

“I see. And where are you bound for next?”

“I’ll be following the next caravan to the jungle. I’m getting tired of the game on the savannah.” He shrugged. “The jungle provides more of a challenge.”

“Then I wish you well in your endeavors.” She rose from her chair, after dabbing her face with a napkin. “If you’ll excuse me, I believe it’s about time to retire. We have an early morning tomorrow, after all.”

Vital Spark smiled, following her example. “I should go as well. Waangalifu is doubtless worried about his pay by now, after porting those supplies.” He offered a brief salute to the captain. “It was a pleasure doing business with you, Sir Helmut. Good night, m’lords, m’ladies.” The Unicorn allowed himself a brief smirk at the sense of ill intent glaring into his back. For some reason, outdoing the noble had given him a unique sense of pleasure. For the briefest moment, the image of a black bird with swirling blue eyes and a mischievous smirk on its beak flashed through his mind’s eye. The face seemed … familiar to him. He frowned as he walked out into the twilight. He would definitely need to meditate on this.





The journey to the twin villages proved a simple endeavor. There were no creatures or assailants to fear, and an escort had been provided by a group of Kisasi’s troops. Vital Spark made good use of his rations and the fish, which he preserved using some extra salt he’d extracted from the ocean, before they left. Once they arrived at the settlements, it was a simple matter to supplement his need for protein with various bean crops interspersed with the fish. When that wasn’t enough, one of the warriors would escort him to a river in the jungle, where Vital Spark used his magic to harvest, once again. These fish had much sharper teeth, but they were lean and flavorful, with thicker bones to avoid the possibility of swallowing by accident.

For the next few months, the Unicorn found himself put to the test on any number of occasions. Remarkably, there were some herbs that he actually did recognize. However, more often than not, he required extra instruction to memorize the plants and what combinations to utilize them in. This led to all number of possible outcomes, including powders to induce paralysis, serums to induce truth and sleep, concoctions to bring on fearful hallucinations. They also taught him the cures for each of these offensive applications and the means to produce a variety of healing salves, fever and pain reducers, and many more. It seemed the combined resources of the villages had enough roots, leaves, buds, and stems to heal just about any ailment, save for aging.

However, fascinating though the Unicorn found this branch of his education, the time inevitably came for his departure and the final leg of his pilgrimage. Naturally, it was a portion he was not looking forward to. With a fond farewell to Hekima, the colt turned to follow his escort to the northeast, where the third and most violent of the training grounds awaited. Were it not for the lucky inclusion of Waangalifu among his guides, the young Unicorn may have died of anxiety.

The journey was long, and the warriors didn’t leave much time to sleep. The first week of travel was exceptionally rough on the Unicorn, especially given how long his mane had grown over the course of his time at the jungle. It finally reached the point where he asked one of the warriors if he could borrow his spear for a moment. In a matter of seconds, the Pony had reduced his mane to a rough and exceptionally short golden mohawk. He bore the snickers surprisingly well, all things considered, though he still shot the occasional dirty glance when he caught them in the act.

Vital looked longingly at the sacred mountain as they passed it, but said nothing as they continued on. He knew he had to receive training. He didn’t know why, but he did, and that was enough for now. The promise he’d made to Zecora to return drove him forward. In due course, a new landmass reared up on the horizon. For a time, Vital Spark thought it might be the sea, but as they drew closer, the dark line rose taller, becoming more and more distinct, until Vital watched with wide eyes as the imposing edifice’s shadow stretched long across the land at sunset.

“What is that?” he breathed in awe.

“That is the Ukata Mkubwa, the great divider between our lands and the stampede grounds of the Minotaurs to the north. That natural formation has divided our peoples for millennia, keeping us safe from them and vice versa. Occasionally, some small party of shamans is allowed passage, should their trek be justified, but those who seek to force their way through must face a brutal climb or a wall that regenerates almost constantly,” Waangalifu explained. “It is said that the very land itself erupted into the face we see today as a response to the constant fighting.”

“And what was the fighting about?”

“Two things: control and pride. Both sides wanted control of the spring that laid at the top of the sacred mountain, to set themselves apart as the chosen of the Earth Mother, and to claim the lifegiving powers the waters provided. The land was bathed in blood from both sides. It … wasn’t a proud moment in our history. Finally, one day, the spirits and the earth itself said enough. The earthquake that arose shook our continent and our peoples to their very cores, resulting in the birth of the Ukata Mkubwa. From that moment on, both nations left to lick their wounds and tend to their respective needs. It was a hard few years for both sides as we worked to rebuild. By sheer luck, we Zebras were allowed stewardship over the spring, but it was a hollow victory. We take the duty seriously, and over the years, a delegation was formed with the guardians of the spring’s outlet on the other side of the wall. We now share a measure of peace, but it’s a fragile one.”

“So that’s why you placed the training village so close to the wall, so you have a first response, in case of a successful invasion.”

“And why the bulk of our food and supplies are located far to the southwest. In the event that we should fail, the Minotaurs will have to travel across hundreds and thousands of miles without food or water, unless they bring it over themselves.”

“Clever,” Vital Spark said.

“The spirits arranged our land’s climate that way for a reason.” Waangalifu shrugged.

“So, uh … if you don’t mind my asking,” Vital said somewhat nervously, “what should I expect, when we get to the village?”

Waangalifu smirked. “I wouldn’t dream of ruining the fun for you.”

Vital gulped. He knew that expression only too well. Zecora wore it often, when she had something up her sleeve. And for some reason, that something never boded well for him in the end.





The village was more like a series of waypoints, each tied in a post along the breadth of the wall, essentially an incredibly interconnected compound. The portion where Vital Spark and his escort were traveling to was a larger cluster of buildings, complete with fortifications built out of carefully restructured stone protrusions to create a barricade of stakes that acted as a first line of defense. A great tower stood farthest back from the wall, with a large metal brazier filled to the brim with dry wood just waiting to ignite, along with what appeared to be a bucket of crystals that glinted in the sun’s rays. The shouts of a well-organized troop running through weapons exercise rang across the air and through Vital’s skull, while another group raced past in perfect formation. The repetitive thud of the hooves prompted another black face to appear in the Unicorn’s mind, only this time, it was a hornless Pony with a glowering expression that quickly lightened into a playful smile.

“So, this is the one of whom the messengers speak.” The voice was light, but held a hard edge underneath. It came from a largely built Zebra who approached alongside an escort of wary warriors bearing the rungu crossed over a spear atop a shield. His mane was shaved down to almost nothing, much like Mustafa’s. His dark eyes seemed to measure Vital in within a few seconds. He wore a vest of hardened leather armor, with a bow and quiver hanging across his back. On his left side hung a two-foot-long stick that held a plate of polished bone at the end. A crude sickle blade hung on his right. “I thought you’d be taller.”

“I am what I am,” Vital said simply as he looked to the Zebra.

“I am Bayek,” he offered, “and this is my kingdom.” He waved a leg towards the village. “This is where we train those who will defend the homeland for the next generation. It is also where we hunt our hides and tan leather. You’ll get used to the smell.”

Vital Spark nodded. “So, where do we go from here, um … should I call you Sir, Bayek, Your Highness…?”

“You’ll just call me Bayek,” he said. “I am sure you’ll come to hate me over the next while.”

“Considering what Waangalifu didn’t tell me, I’m guessing that might be true. I’ll try not to hold it against you forever.”

“Well then, why don’t you get to the yard? You can join the younglings on their morning exercises. They just started their thirty laps.”

Vital Spark smiled. “You know, I don’t know why, but that actually sounds like fun.”

“Well then, you should find the next few weeks very entertaining,” the Zebra grinned.

Vital froze mid-step and quickly turned around. “Oh, one last thing, Bayek.”

Bayek raised a curious brow. “Yes?”

Vital raised his gums to expose his sharper canines. “Would it be possible for your hunters to bring some meat home with their hides, at least until I’m prepared enough to hunt for myself? My body can’t function properly without it as part of my diet.”

Unlike most of the Zebras, Bayek reacted with a wide grin. “I think I am going to find you very interesting, Vital Spark.”

For some reason, Vital Spark couldn’t resist the urge to smile, too. “Now why do I get the feeling that could be a bad thing?”





Vital Spark proved surprisingly adept at pole-arms, quickly picking up the knack for how each of the weapons worked. He soon outstripped his classmates in that regard. The bow and other weapons were another story, however. The moment even a hint of magic was seen, Bayek or an appointed leader would be on him, shouting him down or finding some other means to break the Unicorn’s concentration, usually with methods that left heavy bruises.

In time, the Unicorn was taught how to craft arrows by hoof, to treat and set a new bow string, to utilize shields in combat, and certain basic rudiments of strategy and teamwork. However, the best and worst part of his day always came when Bayek would pull him away for close and hoof-to-hoof combat. It just happened to that time of the day as the Zebra chieftain once again caught the Unicorn’s rear leg with the crook of his club and, in one motion, pulled his hooves out from under him, re-introducing him to the ground. It had become an almost constant acquaintance over the last while that bordered on a love-hate relationship.

Vital spat out the dirt that had coated his mouth and narrowed his gaze as he rose to his hooves again. “You know, that’s really starting to get old,” he said as he settled into a combat stance for the twentieth time that day.

“Start learning to keep an eye on all your legs and it will become younger.” Bayek smiled, holding the club and waiting for the colt to be ready again.

Vital Spark glowered at the Zebra for a time, then stopped suddenly as an idea occurred to him. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, crouched low to the earth, then nodded as a dim blue glow shone beneath his hooves. 

Bayek reached out and tapped his horn with the bone plate.

Vital smirked as he dove under the Zebra and spun his body on his forehooves to strike at Bayek’s legs. Bayek jumped, doing a flip right over the Unicorn, before knocking his back legs out. Rather than let that inconvenience him, Vital Spark used the chance to launch himself back up onto his rear hooves and begin a series of backflips, before landing in the ring several feet away from the seasoned warrior. He closed his eyes again and raised a hoof, motioning in an action as old as time for Bayek to strike.

“You’re learning,” Bayek laughed.

“It’s a start,” Vital smirked. “I don’t know exactly where this will take me, but if you give me a couple more weeks to tweak things, I might actually stand a better chance against you.”

“You must have had training, before you came to us,” Bayek stated.

Vital shrugged. “I wouldn’t know, but I guess it’s possible.”

“Well then, shall we dance again?” Bayek asked, lifting his club.

“Let’s.”





Vital stood before a clear firing range. A series of thick segmented trunk pieces had been propped up against boulders at various distances. Off to the side, a table covered in the strangest looking blades the Unicorn had ever seen sat waiting for one of the warriors in training to approach. Its front had two blades, one curved and the other beneath it a straight dagger-like protrusion for extra grip and cut. Another prong jutted backwards from the point at the top, making a sort of sloped triangle that glinted in the hot sun. Bayek paced back and forth, peering intently at each of the gathered warriors. Finally, he stopped walking, turned, and addressed them directly.

“You’ve been studying the club and the sickle blade,” he started. “Both are good weapons for hoof to hoof combat; however, a battle is not always won in the range of your foreleg. Today, we begin training with the hunga munga, a versatile weapon that can defend you in close quarters, but may also serve efficiently as a mid-ranged throwing weapon.” He picked up the first blade from the table. “The use of this weapon is not something simple. In learning it, you will be trained in control.” He tossed the first blade, which cleaved a target over ten meters away. “Precision.” He grabbed another and tossed, this time impaling a farther target. “And most importantly, patience.” He threw one more and buried the spiked top inside one of the farthest targets. “As you know, metal is precious. Therefore, only the most proficient of you at the end of this training course will be allowed to possess a blade.”

Vital Spark raised his hoof.

“Yes, Vital Spark?”

“If you don’t mind, Bayek, after I spend enough time familiarizing myself with the weapon physically, could I try handling it with my magic as well?”

Bayek picked up one last blade, turned, and threw it at one of the mid-ranged targets. “When you can make that shot with your hooves, then you may use magic,” he said.

“And will we be learning to use them at close range as well or do we require mastery over throwing them first?”

“You already have basic knowledge of wielding a blade in combat, so we’ll only work on throwing for now,” he replied.

The next two hours were spent focusing on learning the weight and heft of the blade and how to release it without cutting their own skins. Each hunga munga had a slightly different make in its tines’ shapes and arrangements, but the end result was still the same, affording multiple opportunities to strike their targets, even if it wasn’t with the portion of the blade they had intended to strike. Truly, it was a very effective ranged weapon. Vital Spark just had one problem; he really couldn’t aim properly. On more than one occasion, he either overshot or dug his blade into the dirt. When he did manage to strike his target, the blade usually struck at an angle where it nicked or grazed the wood, rather than embedding properly.

“You need to hit the target, not simply try to hit the target,” Bayek said for what felt like the hundredth time.

“How do you do something without trying first? Isn’t that the whole point of action in the first place?” Vital said, exasperated.

“The journey must be done up here,” Bayek tapped Vital’s skull lightly under the horn, “before it can be done out there.”

“Bows and arrows are a lot easier,” Vital grumbled to himself. Then, after that moment of self pity, he took a deep breath, cleared his mind, and tried again. He visualized what he wanted. He focused his will into the depth of the throw, the point of release, and suddenly, an idea struck him. He reared up onto his hind legs, pulled the weapon close to his chest, then flicked out as fast as his leg would allow. The hunga munga whistled as it flew towards its target, then landed with a solid thock. “Huh. That actually worked,” Vital marveled.

“Not bad for a beginner,” Bayek laughed. “Keep working at it.”

“I still have to work on getting that forward throw down,” Vital agreed. “But I suppose it’s progress, at least.”

“A step forward is still ground taken, my friend.”

“I thought I was supposed to be a cadet,” Vital said with a playful smirk.





Vital growled as his rear hooves scraped against the ground. The great convex shield he held up with a foreleg was taking quite the beating, and the leg in question felt practically numb from the strength of the blows. The long spear he had been training to use with his fellows sat nestled on his back, but his opponent gave him no chance to draw it, let alone wield it, and the bulkiness of the shield made it almost impossible to wield both weapons at once.

“How the hay am I supposed to do this?” he swore.

“You’d best figure that out, colt,” his opponent huffed as he continued to rain down blows on the Unicorn. “Minotaurs hit a lot harder than this. One well placed blow from one of their warhammers would probably break your shield entirely. You’d be lucky to have your foreleg escape intact.” The older Zebra shouted a warcry and resumed his barrage. “Don’t just guard. Fight! This isn’t some friendly spar. You are battling for your very survival!”

A stinging pain lanced along Vital’s flanks, followed by a dull burning as hot blood welled and began to pour. The old warrior’s spear dripped with the ruby droplets it had just drawn. His face was bedecked in a series of red lines and yellow diamonds. The Unicorn felt his breathing start to hitch as his muscles began to lock. His foreleg ached terribly. It was only a matter of time before the warrior broke through his guard again. Where would the spear land this time, his tendons, his neck, his heart? 

“Fool!” the soldier roared as he crashed into Vital Spark’s shield full force, causing the Unicorn to tumble into the ground. When Vital’s vision cleared again, he already felt the tip of his opponent’s spear at his throat. Vital couldn’t keep his eyes off the shaft as he struggled to somehow see through his muzzle to better perceive the nature of the metal tip that even now pushed so gently against the soft flesh on his neck. “Look at me, Unicorn,” the warrior ordered.

Vital Spark didn’t respond.

“I said look at me.”

Vital flinched as he felt the pressure increase. He looked up slowly to meet the paradoxically cold yet burning gaze of his captor. “When you enter the heat of battle, you have two opponents you must face. The first is your physical combatant. However, he is less pressing. The greatest opponent you will ever face is your fear, your sense of self preservation. They numb the mind, destroy thought and reason, leaving you to either freeze and die or flee and still die.” That piercing glare lingered on Vital for a few moments longer, then rose to level at every warrior in training that had spectated the match. “Conquer your fear or you will be conquered.” He pulled his spear away from Vital’s neck and backed away. “Now get up and try again,” the stallion ordered. “Trust your training, calm your mind, and find the way through. If you cannot defeat me, fight me to a standstill. If you cannot fight me to a standstill, then weaken me to the greatest extent of your ability. If you are not prepared to die, then you are not meant to walk this path.” He lowered himself into a combat stance. “Now show me what you can do.”

The Unicorn found himself on the ground again within a minute.

“This one still has a ways to go,” the warrior said as he motioned over to a pair of spectators. “You two, help him out of the ring. Take him to the healer to get patched up.” Then he looked down at the Unicorn. “Don’t think that this is the end, Vital Spark. You and I will spar again as many times as it takes, until you learn your lesson.” Then he looked up at one of the cadets and his expression darkened. “And what are you smiling at, Wabeki?” he demanded. “Come join me in the ring. Let us see if you fare any better.”

Vital Spark nodded weakly in acknowledgement to his teacher’s harsh words, not trusting himself to speak as he wrestled to calm his heart rate and reduce the shaking his adrenaline forced his body into. Somehow, he had a feeling it was going to get a lot more painful from here on out.

He wasn’t disappointed.

On the plus side, he would have plenty of company in the healer’s care over the coming days.





The healer’s hut was one of the largest buildings in the vicinity, located near the great tower, most likely to follow the same logic of keeping away from potential enemy lines. It was more like a great stone building really, with enough space to house many patients at once. Considering they were a military installation, it made sense to have such a structure handy, and was very likely buildings of a similar nature had been made in the other waypoints as well. The healer was a stocky-looking Zebra with a lame leg and a missing ear. A younger mare walked with him to help with the more difficult tasks, while two others attended to the many supplies in various earthenware jugs or worked with patients that would arrive with fresh wounds from practice.

“Now, we healers are here to assist as best we can,” the deformed Zebra began, “but there will be times in battle where we will be otherwise occupied. It will be up to you to administer aid to your compatriots, until such time as you can bring them to us. This will include dressing wounds, splinting broken bones, and foraging for wild herbs, among other necessities. Msaidizi will walk you through the basics of splinting and dressing today, including how to reduce blood flow from a wound. We will focus on herbology tomorrow,” he said sternly. Then he looked intently at the Unicorn with the golden mane. “Vital Spark.”

“Y-yes, Master Mponyaji?” Vital Spark asked.

“You have already received some education in various healing herbs and their applications for medicine. As such, you are to be excused from tomorrow’s exercises for a different form of education on Bayek’s orders. Do you understand?”

Vital Spark nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

“Excellent. You’ll report to the library tomorrow at this time. Now then, since I happen to have you anyways, come over here. You can be our casualty for the day.”

Vital Spark promptly gulped.





The library wasn’t really all that much to look at. It seemed more like a study than anything else, with a series of cubby holes filled with papyrus scrolls and a few scraps of cloth embroidered with pictograms. Unlike the other dwellings, there was no sign of the dripping water jugs to take some of the edge off the heat, which left Vital Spark feeling very much overheated. He licked his lips heavily, then cleared his throat to grab the lore keeper’s attention.

“Lady Ujuzi?” he asked hesitantly. “I was told I’m supposed to report to you today.”

The mare in question whipped her head around, her mane swiping like a broad fan as she turned to gaze on Vital Spark with wide eyes made even larger by two carefully carved crystals that augmented the appearance on her muzzle. 

“What? What was that?” she asked as she dismounted and approached the Unicorn. A single band hooked around her neck, emphasized by a dark blue sapphire. An emerald encrusted band lay around her foreleg and her tail had been tied by a piece of carefully carved jade. She blinked owlishly as she looked Vital Spark over. “Who are you?”

“Vital Spark, ma’am. I was told you had something to teach me today?”

“Oh. Oh, yes! Yes, of course, the spark of life. Come in. Come in. I’ve been expecting you for such a long time.”

“You … have?”

“Goodness, yes. Why, I do believe I’ve been waiting for you to come, since I was just a little foal.” She tapped her chin ponderingly as she reached over to drape a shimmering gauzy shawl over her back. “But we’re not here to talk about the past, we’re here to talk about your future.” She walked over to one of the shelves and tapped her hoof against the stone. In a matter of moments, a scroll plummeted down neatly in the pad of her hoof. “Bayek wants me to instruct you in the language of the Minotaurs. Tell me, are you at all familiar with it?”

Vital Spark shook his head mutely.

“Well then, I suppose it’s best to start from the beginning. You are familiar with the unique form of yelping that we utilize. It is a cry somewhat similar to the tones you might hear from our distant cousins, the Donkeys of Equestria.” She laid down the scroll on the floor and unrolled it to reveal the figures of a quadrupedal cow, followed soon after by the images portraying the anatomy of the male and female Minotaur respectively. “Minotaurs, on the other hand, speak more from their bodies. The slightest twitch can be a challenge or an insult, if taken in the wrong light. Snorts and the occasional lowing are utilized to vocalize certain concerns, but a more primal interaction is preferrable. One might say that their entire culture is based around this primal behavior that is found in all creatures of the world: the need to demonstrate dominance, the ability to communicate one’s displeasure with a glance, the overriding compulsion to find a mate and claim her for your own. It is with this mindset that one is capable of perceiving the subtleties of their language and society.”

“So, you’re saying that I need to….”

“Get in touch with your instincts and let them go, yes.”

“And … how, exactly, am I supposed to do that?”

“Well, Vital Spark, answer me this. Have you ever been in a rut before?”

Vital Spark blushed. “No, I can’t say that I have.”

The mare pulled out a small daintily curved bottle from one of the lower cubbies and pulled out the stopper, before handing it to him. “Take a few whiffs of this,” she ordered. “Just a few, mind you.”

“Um … okay,” Vital Spark said as he took a shallow inhalation. The scent proved … surprisingly sweet. In a matter of moments, his heart rate began to pick up and a dim flush shone beneath the fur on his cheeks. His next breath was a deep one, and a low nicker escaped his lips as he let out a throaty sigh. His nostrils flared eagerly as his upper lip flapped up to waft as much of the scent into the passages as possible. He whickered, then chuckled drunkenly as he leaned in closer to take another drag. Two swift hooves quickly seized the bottle, however, and stoppered it, before stowing it away.

“Hey!” Vital Spark growled as he pawed the floor angrily with a hoof. He tossed his head and snorted, then sputtered.

“What you feel now is a taste of the Minotaur ideal for their warriors,” Ujuzi explained calmly. “Instinct directs almost everything in their lives. It is how their warriors maintain their connection to the earth, drawing nearer to its more wrathful tendencies to bolster their own. They are a passionate people, easily roused to anger. To show weakness is to invite scorn. To show haughtiness is to court with a duel to the death. You must learn to stand with confidence, while controlling your baser desires. If you do not, then only by defeating many in honorable combat will you ever manage to win respect among them.”

Vital Spark sputtered again as his tail lashed behind him. “That was cruel.”

“Ah, just three words, and a lovely glare.” Ujuzi smiled. “You’re getting it already.”





Vital Spark looked worriedly at the withering garden for the compound. Once verdant green leaves wilted in the hot sun, and the rooted vegetables weren’t doing much better.

“At this rate, we’ll need to send for supplies,” he noted. “I can live with meat, but everyone else….”

“So, you’ve figured it out,” a familiar voice spoke from behind.

Vital Spark jumped in surprise, rungu at the ready. A shield lay comfortably on his back, crossed by two spears, while his hunga munga sat on either side of the leather belt he had made with the assistance of a skilled tanner. Then he let out a sigh of relief as he looked on his mentor. “Bayek. You startled me.”

“Glad to see some of what I taught you stuck,” the Zebra grinned. “And here we thought you weren’t going to get it.”

“Learning to speak Minotaur helped,” Vital shrugged. “And then there was the whole being ready to die for my cause thing. But what exactly did you mean earlier, when you said I’d figured it out?”

“The degradation,” Bayek said as the smile left his face. “It’s been happening for a while, but it’s starting to get serious.”

“How far does it reach?”

“Who knows anymore?” Bayek sighed. “For all I know, by the time we’ve finished this conversation, we could have lost more fields.”

“Surely the jungles, at least, should be fine, right?”

“Some of the outlying settlements report they’re fine at the moment, but others have seen degradation there, too.”

“But why is it happening? I thought Zebrica was supposed to be the most fertile and rich country on this landmass.”

“That's what the shamans are trying to find out,” Bayek told him.

“And behind the wall?”

“The shamans are going to be meeting with one of the sacred cows to discuss the issue soon,” Bayek shrugged.

“Will there be an escort, or would they take that as an insult?”

“They’d take it as an insult, even if there wasn’t an escort,” Bayek chuckled. “Fortunately the longhorns are much less … extreme, compared to the rest.”

“I always wondered. How do we communicate with them, anyways? Smoke signals?”

“Drums,” Bayek answered.

“I take it that particular lesson will be coming soon?”

“That's not my place. You’ll have to talk to one of the shamans to find out about that.”

“You’d have thought they would have taught me, while I was in the village. Then again, I suppose there were other things I had to learn first.” He sighed. “Do you think they’re okay? Back at the mountain, I mean.”

“They’re probably better off than we are,” Bayek said. “They have many more options open to them.”

“Dare I ask, or is that another one of those things that I’d have to talk to them about?”

“The mountains offer more options in terms of foraging and using fertile soil. They’ll make do. Trust me.”

“I do, but I still worry.” Vital sighed. “Then again, I suppose there would be something wrong with me, if I didn’t.” He frowned as a dim blue glow emanated from his hooves, then died again. “The land is definitely unwell. If nothing is done, I’m afraid this savannah may just become another waste.”

“I have to trust the shamans will find a way to stop this,” Bayek said as he looked off toward the great escarpment that divided Zebrica from the Stampede Grounds. “My job is to keep my eye on the horizon. The Gryphons have been sending ships to their kingdom across the ocean for months now. The Minotaurs are beginning to feel restless.”

“So, a conflict really is coming.” Vital Spark frowned. “I don’t know if I’m ready to really kill, Bayek.”

“No one knows; not until the enemy lies dead at their feet.” Bayek chuckled. “All we can do is prepare, and I worry that may not be enough.”

“Stinks, not knowing, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, it most certainly does,” Bayek laughed again, “but I suppose it would spoil the fun to know too soon.”

“Sparring is fun, Bayek. But war?” Vital shook his head and sighed.

“You have your ways, and I have mine,” Bayek said. “Conflict is an inevitable part of life. It is how you choose to face it when it comes that defines you. I prefer to greet it head on.”

“Even if you lose someone?”

“You lose more by holding back,” Bayek returned. “Better to try and fail than to do nothing and succeed.”

“But … isn’t success a good thing?”

“To succeed at doing nothing would be the same thing as claiming you were a great artist, because you watched another paint or that you were a great farmer, because your neighbor pulled in a large crop,” Bayek explained. “If we have no part in the work, we can have no part in the success.”

“Like the little red hen.”

“I am unfamiliar with that one.”

“It … just popped into my head. I suppose that’s a good thing.” Vital shrugged. “If I … remember it correctly (man, that’s strange to say, after all this time), the hen was a mother to many chicks, and wanted to do a certain amount of work on the farm. Each chore linked to the next: gathering seeds, planting them, watering them, tending the crop, harvesting, grinding to flour, and finally baking a loaf of bread. Throughout the story, she asks if any of the other residents will help her and her children. A dog, a pig, a horse. None of them want to. So, in the end, when she finally asks who will help her eat the freshly baked bread, they all volunteer, but she denies them, because they didn’t help in any step that led to the bread being baked in the first place.”

“That was a very wise hen,” Bayek chuckled.

“I suppose she was,” Vital agreed as he watched the heat rise in waves off the escarpment. “I guess I should try to be wise, too.” He pulled his rungu out of its resting place and smiled at the warrior. “Care for another spar?”

Bayek grinned as he pulled out his hunga munga. “I thought you said you were going to be wise.”





The returning pilgrimage was a silent one as Vital Spark trekked over the wilting long grass and cracked, parched earth accompanied by an equally silent escort of four warriors from the compound. The discipline and focus, alongside the lessons he had gained in the language of the Minotaurs, had left him less outspoken around strangers and acquaintances than he once was. That, and the scarcity of their supplies meant they had to make every drop of water and grain of salt count. The fact that the winter showers had not come left them all concerned for their well being as they passed over the vast reaches, drawing ever closer to the mountain and the Moyo Wa Roho. A cold anxiety squeezed tighter and tighter in the Unicorn’s chest as they drew nearer to their ultimate location, but he knew better than to let that anxiety affect their pace.

Finally, the great village came into sight, and as it had been nearly a year ago, a forest of tents circled the structures. However, unlike before, the sounds of laughter and busy murmurings in the pathways were absent. No artisans were at work. No diviners cast their lots to read the will of the spirits. No guards stood at post along the settlement’s edge.

“This is … eerie,” Vital Spark finally said.

“Let’s get to the chief,” one of the guards suggested. “He’ll be able to explain what’s going on.”

The year had not been kind to Mwalimu. The elder had become gaunt, his face drawn with weary lines. His head rested on a makeshift pillow made from bundled hides as the heat beat relentlessly against the walls of the hut. A broad basin filled with water lay by his side for him to drink as he needed, while the guards hovered protectively over the stallion. He smiled weakly at the Unicorn’s approach.

“Vital Spark,” he croaked, then cleared his throat and took a drink. “It is good to see you back again.” He looked meaningfully over the weapons on the Pony’s back and the leather guards along his legs. “And I see you come prepared for a fight.”

“They were gifts, Mwalimu,” Vital intoned respectfully as he inclined his head.

“And I see you cut your mane.”

“It was getting in the way. Is Zecora here?”

“She’s been meditating, trying to locate the source of the drought through the spiritual planes.”

“And has she met with success?”

“None have. The spirits are silent, and a great sense of unease carries over the land. Something is wrong, but we have yet to identify the cause.”

“Is that why the delegation from the Minotaurs is coming, to see if they might be able to perceive the core of the problem?”

“Ah, you learned of that, did you?”

“Bayek told me about it.”

Mwalimu sighed. “It’s the first time they’ve come to meet us directly in over two centuries. We’re all a little nervous.”

“Bayek told me this tribe is different from their fellows, though. Was that wrong?”

“They aren’t so swift to anger, if that’s what you mean, but they are still prone to it. Both sides agreed it would be best for us to pool our collective abilities to divine the source of the problem.”

“And they’re the ones who told us about the new lead bull?”

Mwalimu sighed. “Zecora?”

Vital nodded. “She told me, while we were training.”

“Yes, they have kept us abreast of the situation. We’re hoping to avert any useless hostilities and foster peace through these efforts.” His face darkened and he shook his head. “It’s not good, Vital Spark. Not good at all.”

“How bad are we talking?”

“If we don’t find a solution, then I fear we’re facing war. And it can’t have come at a worse time for any of us. The cows do what they can to keep the males in check, but if the head bull orders, the herd will follow.”

“But that’s suicide!”

“To them, it would be a crusade, and well worth the risk, should they succeed. Worse still, the council of chiefs has received word from Equestria. The Gryphons have declared war. As an ally to the kingdom, we will be called upon to provide aid. Frankly, we don’t know if we’ll be able to meet our obligations and still survive.”

“Then don’t,” Vital insisted. “Tell them what’s happening here. They’re sure to understand.”

“You don’t know them like we do, Vital Spark.” Mwalimu shook his head mournfully. “We’re already subclass to many of your kind.”

“A fact of which I am very much aware,” Vital Spark cut in. “Which is all the more reason you shouldn’t support them.”

“If that is the case, then you should know the consequences of what happens when we don’t honor that agreement. Not only will our own integrity as a people be stained, but it will give those nobles a reason to come with barbed swords to match their forked tongues, once the conflict is ended. Their hearts are set on gold, jewels, power, worldly treasures. We could fight back, yes, but both sides would suffer terribly, and I fear they might have found a means to exploit our arts, after what Star Swirl the Bearded carried back to Equestria with him from his time in our village.”

“They can’t do anything without permission from the princesses, though, right? Why not warn them of the situation and ask for their understanding?”

“And who could we send? Do you actually think your people would stand for such a message reaching their rulers with the riches they could plunder here, if we should break faith?” He shook his head. “No. We have no choice. We will provide the aid, as we agreed when first we accepted them as allies. Such is the ruling of the council, and such is the nature of the response we sent. Besides, while their representatives may squabble, the princesses are good and kind. To leave them to face their fight alone would only serve to disgrace us.”

“And here?”

“With the materials that remain, we should be able to maintain enough to feed ourselves, at least for a time. The faster we can find the source of the problem, the faster we can return our land to normal.”

“When can we expect the delegation?”

“Within the month.”

“Can we manage, until then?”

“The routes will have to work overtime, but yes, with the bulk stores we’ve preserved at the cultivator villages, we should have enough to get us by.”

“That’s good to hear, though I wish we didn’t have to use such means. Did Zecora give any indication where she was going to be meditating today?”

“Only that you would know the place.”

“I see.” Vital Spark smiled. “With your permission, I would like to go and see her. It’s been too long.”

Mwalimu returned the smile. “Of course. But promise to rest, before you leave. Training or not, you’re still more susceptible to the heat than we. Drink some water and get something to eat, before you go.”

Vital Spark chuckled. “Yes, ‘Father.’”

Mwalimu smirked. “Don’t get too pert with me, boy. I can still teach you a good lesson or two, if I’m of the mind.”

“I’m sure you can. Zecora learned from the best, after all.”

The chieftain smiled warmly. “And don’t you forget it.”





Vital Spark frowned as he waited for the great tree to open itself. The bark pulled back, but far slower than it had when last he and Zecora had been there. The vines had constricted and withered against the walls of the cave. The detritus of their shed leaves left a loud crunch each time his hooves stepped on the hardened earth. The rippling light that had been so vibrant along the passage was no more. This was no longer a place of wonder and life. This was a tomb.

He walked slowly into the broad mouth that led into the hidden chamber at the tree’s heart and stopped as a choked gasp escaped his throat. He had expected to see the death. What he hadn’t anticipated was the throbbing pain that almost seemed to scream from the ground beneath. Tears welled up and streamed down his cheeks as he struggled to sever his connection. Finally, he managed to insulate his spirit and turned his attention to the heart of the cave. His face fell at the sight.

The verdant green tendrils that had lined the basin of the great pool were little more than glorified twigs waiting to snap. The moisture had been leached out of them. Beneath, the ground cracked as the clay was baked by the blistering sunlight. At the very heart of the chamber, the pristine living jewel flickered faintly at the end of a withered stalk, its edges dark as Zecora rested her hooves against it. Only the barest hints of light remained in what had once been a thing of wonder. Whole gourds, skins, and pottery lay stacked against a far wall in a great tower that sprawled against the ground.

“Zecora, just how long have you been coming here?” he muttered.

“Three weeks,” the mare replied calmly as she opened her eyes to reveal those luminous orbs, “with a few small trips between to restock supplies.”

“I see your hearing is sharp as ever,” Vital Spark noted dryly.

“I’ve had to watch you for a long time. It’s become second nature.” She sighed as she dismounted from the gem. “Hello, Vital Spark. It’s good to see you again. I just wish it were under better circumstances.”

Vital Spark approached and nuzzled Zecora’s neck. “As do I.” When they separated, he looked over the great tree’s bark. Piles of dead vines had formed along the sides of the hidden cave. “I know this place is precious to you. What happened here?”

“That is what I am trying to figure out,” Zecora said. “This is the closest I can draw to the spirits anywhere in the land. But all I feel–.”

“–Is pain,” Vital Spark surmised.

“Yes. I can’t break through it. There was a kind spirit here, very old. The others called her mother. I can’t hear her anymore, and it’s almost as if the others aren’t willing to speak at all. They’re all focused on something, but I can’t understand what.”

“Perhaps we can try breaking through it together, then.”

Zecora shook her head. “This is far beyond your level of training, Vital Spark. While I appreciate the offer, it won’t do us any good.”

“Then what can I do to help?”

Zecora smiled sadly. “Be you, of course.”

“What’s that supposed to even mean?” Vital Spark asked, the exasperation clearly evident in his tone.

“Just that I want you to be your annoying, whining, impertinent self,” she said with a sad smile.

“The one who always gave you a buck in the rump, you mean?”

“As I recall, it was always you on the ground.”

Vital Spark shrugged. “Times change. I can show you, after we get back to the village.”

“I’m not going back, Vital Spark. Not yet.”

“Nonsense,” Vital objected.

“I mean it, Vital,” Zecora said. “My place is here. Until I can determine the cause, this is the best place to stay.”

“Zecora, I may not be the most experienced shaman, but you literally have practically every shaman in Zebrica waiting at the Moyo Wa Roho. If you can’t break through alone, surely the conclave can do it together. Why haven’t you told them?”

Zecora frowned at that for a moment. “I … actually don’t know. I should have thought of that idea first. I would have. Why … why didn’t I?” She reached up to rub her head as her bangles shook and jangled.

A slight prickling sensation brushed against the back of Vital Spark’s mane as he took note of the Zebra’s behavior. He knew Zecora well. She would never have made such a mistake. “Zecora, just how connected to this place are you?”

“You know that better than anyone else, Vital Spark.”

“Then I think it’s time you left it.”

“Vital Spark, I told you–.”

“Now, Zecora,” Vital said as he stared her down with that same serious gaze Bayek had used on him for so many months.

“I’m not–.”

“Zecora, I’ve gotten a lot stronger, a lot faster, and a lot less willing to put up with your objections. This place is having an influence over you and the way you’re thinking. Either you will come with me now or I will show you first hoof just what I’ve learned over this last year.”

Zecora crouched as her eyes narrowed dangerously. “Try me.”

The Zebra was promptly raised off the ground and left hanging in Vital Spark’s magical aura as he levitated a rope out of his satchel and hogtied her and her muzzle with all the efficiency of a seasoned hunter. “You can’t use your powers, if you can’t communicate with the earth; you can’t use your inner power, if you are bound beyond the ability to invoke it; and you can’t bite me or squirm off my back, if I tie you down. We are leaving, Zecora. No more arguments. We don’t have the time. I’ll explain, when we get back to the village.”

Zecora squirmed and glared at him the entire way back.





“So, let me get this straight. You bound my daughter, effectively gagged her, and then carried her back here against her will.”

“That about sums it up, Chief.”

“Why?” he sighed as he shook his head despairingly.

“She’s under the influence of another power.” Vital shrugged as he looked casually at the spears that were pointing his way. “I brought her here for her sake. Besides that, she’d been out there trying to make contact with the spirits for far too long by herself. And to top it all off, with the delegation on its way, it would be best for her to remain here at the village to help prepare. Since she wasn’t of a mind to leave, I felt it was my duty to make her.”

“And rile the whole village up in the process,” Mwalimu sighed.

“It seems I’ve always had a talent for that among the tribes.” Vital Spark shrugged.

“You’ve been training with young Bayek, I see,” he said urbanely.

“He helped me get over some of my timidity.”

“Clearly.”

“I can make her a gift as an apology, if you’d like. It may take some time, but I’m pretty sure I can think of something appropriate.”

“And you’re not at all concerned about the guards with their spears around your throat?”

“I’m in the right, and I was taught the importance of maintaining my calm in battle. It carries over to this.” He shrugged. “I’m worried, but I’m also calculating how to get out of this situation, should worse come to worst, just like they are. We both don’t want to fight, but we’ll be ready for it, anyways. And between you and me, Mwalimu, she’s had this coming for a very long time. I’m just the one who finally took the time to do it.”

“You do realize I’m in a rather unpleasant situation, no matter which ruling I give.”

“You do realize my reasoning is sound, though.”

“That doesn’t exactly make it any easier.”

“She’ll pout for a week or so, but she’ll get over it.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

“Then I’ll just have to figure out how to make it so she can.” Vital Spark shrugged.

Mwalimu sighed. “Very well, Vital Spark. I don’t appreciate your methods, but I understand the motivations behind them. But next time, please, do us all a favor and come to me first. I can always order her home.”

Vital chuckled as the spears retracted. “Yeah, let’s see just how well that’ll work in the next few weeks.”





Vital Spark sighed as he strode along the once-brimming river, now little more than a trickling stream. “Guess it was too much to hope for that it wouldn’t have touched here yet,” he sighed. “Sing me a song of a lad that is gone. Say, could that lad be I...?” he sang softly as he peered forlornly into the stream bed, not even able to see his reflection anymore. The land had changed. He had changed. Had it really been for the better? Would he even approve of himself, if he had his memories? He sighed again as he plodded along the stream, until a flash of green caught his eye, nearly blinding him. He blinked a few times, then tried to levitate the stone with his magic, only to feel, for lack of a better term, a slipping sensation as his magic slid off it.

Vital frowned and tried again. Yet again, he was rebuffed. “What in the world…?” he muttered as he stooped down and scooped up the stone with a hoof. It was crystalline in nature, refracting and casting the light endlessly through its blue-green facets. He peered closer, and as he did so, he noticed a hole about the size of his eye. He peered into it curiously, then turned back to the mountain. “What the…?” He lowered the stone, shook his head, rubbed his eyes, then raised the stone again. “A hip?” Before his eye, the mountain had changed from a grand ascending edifice into a curve not unlike the rumps of certain mares his eyes had been drawn to during his pilgrimage. “What is this thing?” he wondered.

Intrigued, the Unicorn placed the stone in his saddlebag and turned back toward the village. The mystery would have to wait. They had a delegation to plan for.





The wind blew hot and dusty as the sun shone down over a cloudy pillar far in the distance. Vital Spark peered nervously as the pillar gradually grew closer. He could practically feel the thunder of heavy hooves striking the earth.

“I know the matter is urgent, but is this really necessary?” the Unicorn asked. “They seem to be moving at an unusually fast pace for a meeting like this.”

“The lands to the north are somewhat harsher than our savannah. If they’re facing similar conditions to our own, it’s quite possible that it is a matter of life or death,” Mwalimu said. “Let’s not let our nerves get the best of us, before we even have the chance to meet.”

“I still don’t like it,” Vital Spark said.

“You, the colt that always looked for the best in things, expressing doubt? How remarkable,” Mwalimu wondered.

“I’m just saying we should be careful.”

“Our families have been exchanging communication for years, Vital Spark,” Zecora said coolly from her father’s side. “They’re not about to throw that kind of relationship away for nothing.”

“Not even for their lead bull?” Vital countered.

Zecora glared icily at him.

“Still mad about the hogtying, I see,” Vital sighed.

Zecora didn’t deign him with a response.

“I’m telling you, this feels wrong,” Vital Spark insisted. “No sensible creature would be moving at that breakneck of a pace at this time of day. It’s just not logical.”

“Minotaurs aren’t a logical people,” Zecora argued.

“Right, they’re instinctual,” Vital said. “They rely on their emotions more than anything else. There are only two emotions I can think of that are powerful enough to drive a creature to move at that pace in these conditions, possibly three. Self-preservation, love, and mindless rage.”

“Two of which are perfectly logical,” Zecora pointed out.

“At the risk of losing the cow they’re escorting with limited supplies from the Ukata Mkubwa?”

“Their cows aren’t frail creatures, Vital Spark.”

“Children,” Mwalimu said dryly, “am I going to have to send you to your rooms?”

“Do you really think anyone would dare to try keeping her there?” Vital countered.

“Vital Spark, if you don’t mind that tongue of yours, you’re more than welcome to join the water harvesters to prepare the meal for our guests,” Mwalimu said.

Zecora smirked.

“I’m still uneasy about this,” Vital Spark said.

“What could possibly go wrong?” Zecora asked with a snide smile.

A sudden chill ran down Vital’s back. He didn’t know why, but now he was absolutely certain something terrible was about to happen.

…

He wasn’t disappointed, though he wished to the spirits he had been.

The first sign of the Longhorns’ ill intent manifested at the guardians. The great totems pulsed and flickered weakly as the dust cloud approached. In a matter of seconds, the pillars crashed to the ground and Mwalimu gasped and stumbled backwards, as if he had been struck by a heavy blow. His breathing came in short spurts. “Evacuate the village.”

“Father, what are you–?”

“I said evacuate, immediately!” he barked. “I felt their rage, when the totems fell. They’re on the warpath. Vital Spark, gather the mares and stallions, as many warriors and able-bodied shamans that wish to fight. We’ll need every Zebra. Zecora, gather the remainder of the village and get them out of here. You know the routes, and you know the precautions. Follow them, and get those smoke signals off as fast as you can. If this is any indicator, then the worst has come.” He turned to look grimly at the young Unicorn. “Grab your weapons, your armor, and your shield, Vital Spark. As of this moment, we’re going to war.”





The rapid pounding of rawhide drums thundered into the air as the diviners and shamans unfit for battle streamed slowly and orderly from the village. Tents were abandoned in favor of the essentials. Food and water were distributed as much and evenly as possible among the parties, leaving little to nothing for the brave warriors that were to stay behind.

“All right,” Mwalimu said as he looked over their ranks, “you’ve all been under at least a certain amount of combat training with the assistance of our brothers and sisters who came here from the border. However, this combat is not your basic self defense. We are dealing with a war machine that cannot and will not stop under any circumstances, until they are all dead.” 

Several of the shamans cringed.

Mwalimu continued his address. “Now, I know that for many of us, it goes against our very natures to consider such actions, but we have little choice. If it is at all possible, we will seek to subdue them, but no matter what method we choose, there will be blood spilt. There will be pain. And, in all likelihood, some of us will die. I leave it in the hooves of Ngao and Upanga to teach you what they can of how best to deal with these foes.” He bowed his head respectfully to the two warriors standing in their full battle regalia. War paint stained their black and white fur a multitude of colors as they stared the gathering down.

“Minotaurs are bulky creatures,” the slimmer of the two began. “They strike with savage ferocity. Their reach is long, and their strength is enough to crush you to a pulp. Your greatest ally will be agility. If they really are on a rampage, they won’t think straight. That means we can wear them down.”

The stockier one spoke up next. “You’ll have to pick them off one by one. Best way to thin them out is to cut their hamstrings. It will render them practically immobile. However, getting in to land such a strike will be difficult. Minotaur hide is exceptionally thick, and they’ll be carrying weapons that prove just as effective a shield as they do an armament.”

“We only have a limited supply of weapons, so don’t go wasting them by trying to land a lucky throw,” the slim one continued. “As Upanga said, their hide is difficult to penetrate normally. It will take several passes. The spears will need to act as a means to draw their ire, not a projectile. With the power of the land in disarray, we will need to rely on our wits and other gifts, if we are to have any hope of surviving this encounter.”

Upanga narrowed his gaze. “Don’t be fooled by our numbers. Minotaurs are built to endure blow after blow. We are not. If worse comes to worst, you target their throats and their arteries, and you get out as quickly as you can. Even if you strike a lethal blow, a Minotaur can and will continue to fight, until the last breath.”

“As such, we will divide our forces into two main fronts. Half will engage the enemy directly, harrying them from the sides to draw them into a vulnerable position, while the other half will strike them from a distance on the rooftops with sling, with stone, with arrow, whatever you can manage,” Ngao said. “I will lead the main attack force. The rest of you will follow Upanga’s instructions. Take your weapons. Gather your munitions. The enemy will soon be here. When I give the signal, let them have it.”





All was quiet as the Minotaurs charged into the heart of the Moyo Wa Roho. A single white cow practically glowed at their center, surrounded by twenty-four warriors, all bearing battle axes, war hammers, brass knuckles, and all manner of arms. Heavy spiked pauldrons and thick leather belts proved the farthest extent of the armor the creatures wore. Their manes were all cut into low, short mohawks and their eyes practically glowed with outrage at the state of the village.

“They’re gone,” a tall, broad-shouldered blue bull snorted and pawed angrily at the earth as he tossed his head. A gilded battle axe sat between his hands, while a great stone warhammer lay against his back. Faint flecks of dried blood colored the wood and rock a speckled black. He spat angrily. “Cowards.”

“Rushing to action gets us nowhere,” the cow said indignantly. “We still don’t know what happened. This violence is not what he would have wanted.”

“And are we to simply sit idly by, when the cries of his blood have joined the cries of the land? I will not rest, until my father’s killers are brought to justice and the blight is cleansed from the land. When we finish here, we will join Disiungitur and the rest of the herd.”

“Careful, Bradom Steelsinger. You may be the chieftain’s son, but you are not the leader yet,” the cow said. “It will be for the elders to decide whether we join him or not. That bull claims to speak for the sleeping gods, but his words are perversions of their teachings. You know this. Do not allow your grief to cloud your judgement.” She turned to glare at the other warriors. “That goes for all of you.”

“And are we to simply let their poisonous actions stand?”

“We are here to right the wrong that has been done. That can only be accomplished at the spring itself. You know that as well as I. Without the water of life, everything in this land will die. The balance must be restored.”

“Fine,” Bradom snorted, “but after we reduce this accursed village to rubble.”

“Now!” Ngao’s cry rang loud and clear across the air as the rooftops were suddenly flooded with Zebras. The rain of stones began almost immediately.

Bradom bellowed his rage as one struck him squarely on the forehead. “For the herd and my father!” He charged forward, lowering his head to strike at the walls of the huts. There was a terrible clattering of wood as the carefully bundled sticks and clay burst apart. The Zebras atop the roof cried out in surprise and dismay as they fell.

“For the spirits and our land!” Ngao cried again as the Zebas poured out and surrounded the bulls. Rungu flew, daggers were drawn, and the great dance of the warriors turned toreadors commenced. The bulls were clever, being careful not to allow themselves to become separated. Individually, they would have been more manageable, but in the confines of the village, they proved a more formidable force.

Vital Spark proved a valuable asset as he used his magic to levitate weapons back to their owners and strike at exposed flanks, prompting the warriors to turn and leave an opening for the Zebras there to strike, before retreating to a safer distance. Stones and projecties bound to miss were quickly adjusted in their path to make up the difference and find a viable target. Slowly, the war party began to fall as the shamans lashed out with their arts to smash the bulls on their skulls. Their eyes rolled back in their heads, and they fell prone to the ground.

The cow looked on the battle and sighed heavily. She turned away as one minotaur cleaved a Zebra in two mid-leap. The blood sprayed heavily across the parched earth and the warrior’s fur. “Why must they always be so quick to fight?”

“Because it is the way of colts and steers to assume the worst, and because you all stampeded into our territory with malicious intent. I assume there is an explanation for this?” Mwalimu’s voice carried calmly up to the cow, and the cow looked down with some surprise at the tiny elderly Zebra that had somehow managed to penetrate through their blockade without being seen or heard.

The cow snorted and nodded gently, being careful not to draw too much attention. “You see the war hammer on Bradom’s back?” she asked, motioning curtly toward the battle-crazed young bull. “That belonged to his father, the former chief of our tribe. He was struck down by one of your number, when we were attacked on our way to the village. When one is struck down dishonorably–.”

“It is your duty to bring justice to the villain responsible,” Mwalimu reasoned.

“And we are not to stop, until we fulfill that charge,” she agreed.

“No one left from the village during that time. We were all too busy preparing for your arrival, and supplies were too scarce to risk such a journey into the savannah.” Mwalimu winced as five Zebras were sent flying through the air by a powerful hammer swing. “We would have noticed if someone had stolen from our stock.”

The cow hissed as one of the bulls’ tendons was neatly cut by a well-thrown hunga munga. “So, you don’t believe the attackers came from your tribe.”

“It is highly unlikely.”

“Then this battle is pointless?”

“An act of self defense, more than anything.”

“I see,” she said as she watched the fighters dance between the Minotaurs’ legs. “By the way, how did you manage to sneak in here, anyways?”

Mwalimu chuckled. “It’s an old family secret passed from chieftain to chieftain.”

“Unhand my father, you filthy sow!”

That sudden, ear splitting shout served three purposes. First, it called the entire battle to an utter halt. Secondly, it drew the attention of every bull directly to the center of their living wall, where not one, but two intruders now stood next to their sacred cow. Thirdly, it gave said bulls the time to prepare to charge the intruders en masse.

“Zecora, no!” Mwalimu cried, but it was too late. The mare rose to deliver a powerful blow to the cow’s jaw, her hoof ablaze with radiant blue light. The cow tumbled backwards, then slowly fell to the earth as her eyes rolled back into her head. “Oh, you stupid, foolish, brave little girl,” the elder croaked as a ruddy red glow began to ripple over each of the bulls, one at a time. “Did you never think that they could use it, too?”

The wrath of the longhorns was as the crashing of the waves against the shore. The two fought as best they could, but even reduced to twelve, the bulls were formidable and their fury knew no bounds. It was only a matter of time, until they landed a critical hit. The Zebras abandoned their plans and flowed like a swarm of ants to protect their leader and his heir. However, the situation looked grim as Zecora fought to keep the Minotaurs’ fists away from her father. It was only a matter of time, until the warrior with the twin weapons struck a mighty blow to Zecora’s withers, followed by an overhand strike to her back. She slammed heavily into the ground as Bradom Steelsinger prepared to strike the killing blow.

“Zecora!” Vital Spark cried.

The wind began to pick up suddenly, and a faint chant seemed to echo in the air around them. Bradom Steelsinger’s blow never landed as the Minotaur screamed. Intense blue flames erupted from the ground, shooting over twenty feet into the air and spreading to the sides with unnatural order and swiftness. The Minotaurs backpedaled as they watched the warrior burn to ash before their eyes.

“It was always about fire,” a familiar voice spoke behind Vital Spark. When he turned his head, he found the wizened form of Mustafa sitting on Table’s back. The old Zebra looked frail and tired, but his eyes were alight. Even beneath the shadow of his headdress, Vital could see them flaring. He would never forget the sight for as long as he lived as tongues of fire shot from the old Zebra’s sockets. “Fire was his gift to give mortals comfort. It was the light to give them drive. It was the item he stole that made him infamous, and it was what forged the chains that ultimately bound him.” Mustafa slowly and weakly pushed himself off the turtle’s back. He turned and rubbed it’s beak gently. “Tell my story, friend,” he said, and Vital could swear the ancient animal was crying as it watched.

Then Mustafa turned those burning eyes on Vital Spark and handed him his walking stick. “It seems I won’t be able to give you advice in the times ahead, my friend. For that, I apologize. But please, take this. It has guided me well for many years. May it serve you as it served me.”

“Mustafa, what…?” For the briefest of moments, Vital Spark saw another equine in the flames. His deep blue eyes were darkened with intent, his tan fur coat decorated with scars, and a great blue-and-gold coat hung from his shoulders, flapping in the updraft of the flames. Then the vision was gone. Vital Spark stumbled briefly, clutching to the staff almost instinctively for support as its end somehow found the ground, despite having been parallel only moments earlier. “Mustafa, what are you doing?”

“I am old, my friend.” Vital could swear he heard a second voice speak with Mustafa, someone younger, stronger. “So, so old. I have lived many days and done much to be proud of, and much to be ashamed of, but the time has come for my story to end and another to begin.” His eyes shot to Zecora, before looking back to the Unicorn. “Listen, Vital Spark. This is the sign of times to come. Beware. For when the frost has passed and the spring flows again, Ukata Mkubwa will burn. The fire is even at their doorstep.” He smiled sadly at the Equestrian. “Try not for the victory. Survival must be first. Look for a blackbird on the horizon, for it’s coming will be a sign of hope to our people in the hardship to come. Do you understand? The black cat must cross your path.”

“Mustafa….”

“Goodbye, my friend.” Mustafa looked at him sadly as his flames became somewhat subdued. “I wish you luck in the times ahead.” And with that last farewell, the ancient Zebra clapped him on the shoulder, before turning to the wall of flames. He moved towards it, hobbling along slowly and carefully. As he got closer to the wall, chuckling began to filter through the air, much to the confusion of the Minotaurs. That chuckle soon escalated to raucous cackling laughter as the Zebra pushed forward. And then he entered the wall of flames. His headdress and robe stopped as though they’d hit a wall, but the Zebra himself simply vanished. One moment he was there, the next he was gone. The wall of flames shook and twisted, until the image of a large head unlike anything the Zebras had ever seen appeared within. Yet, somehow, the round hornless head covered in smooth skin looked … familiar to Vital Spark. The head roared at the Minotaurs, a loud unearthly wail filled with rage and anguish and loss. And then the flames exploded in a blast of heat and smoke as a wave of force sent the minotaurs flying back twenty feet. Many landed with the air completely knocked out of their lungs, the only evidence of what happened being a smoking robe and headdress a short ways away from the injured Zebras.

“Mustafa,” Vital Spark choked as the reality set in that the one who had once been mentor and friend was no more. Then he felt a sudden smack to his head as the staff fell out from under his grip and he shook his head to clear it. “Right,” he said as he dashed the tears from his eyes. His magic engulfed the headdress and other remnants, before stuffing them into a saddle bag. Zecora and Mwalimu both were unconscious next to the great cow. “Mkuta, Ngao, Upanga, help me carry them,” he ordered. “We need to leave now.”

“But–,” Ngao began.

“Now!” Vital Spark snapped as his horn flared, striking the ground with a beam of light. A few moments later, a jagged pillar of ice exploded out of the ground, raining soil and pebbles over them. “We’re retreating to the mountain. Did anybody else want to object?”

The Zebras chose not to argue with the Unicorn who’d just found out he could create deadly ice sculptures with his magic. He took enough time to stare at the Bulls as they began to come around. “If any of you so much as blinks in our direction, I’ll make sure you regret it,” he growled. And then he led the others silently away.





The journey toward the mountain was a harsh one with their limited supplies, but at the very least, Vital Spark was able to make it easier by using his magic to conjure ice cubes for the Zebras when the heat became too much. In due course, the sun began to set, and the equines made camp at the mountain’s base.

Vital Spark was swift to reach Mwalimu and Zecora’s side, once the others had settled in and the wounded had been tended. “How bad is it?” he asked of the few healers that had remained behind.

“The chief is well enough off. A few bruises, a broken bone or two, but nothing that time won’t be able to mend. Zecora, on the other hoof….”

“Tell me,” Vital said bluntly. “We don’t have time for games, stalling, or any of the other delay tactics. Give it to me straight and be quick about it.”

The young healer sighed. “Her back is broken, Vital Spark. She … she’ll likely never walk again.”

Vital Spark’s jaw clenched as he took a deep, steadying breath. “I … see.” He struggled to keep the bile from spilling out his mouth. The one responsible for this travesty had already been consumed in Mustafa’s flames. But that didn’t change the facts. He strode closer and brushed a hoof gently up her mane. “And her spirit?”

“It sleeps. She won’t wake, until she is ready.”

“And if she never is?”

“You already know that answer, Vital Spark.”

Vital sighed as he conjured a block of ice and wrapped it in a towel, before running it over the prone Zebras’ brows. He felt the sting of tears, but he forced them back. This wasn’t the time for grief, much though he wished to give vent to his emotions. “How long, until the chief rouses?”

“It’s difficult to say. I should think within the next day or so, though.”

Vital Spark levitated the cloth back to the healer. “Good. I’m going to check on the others. Tell me as soon as his condition changes.”

The healer stumbled to his hooves. “Vital Spark, wait.”

The Unicorn turned with a raised brow. “Yes?”

“Why here? Why the mountain? This isn’t the way to the forest.”

“No, it isn’t,” Vital Spark agreed. “But it is the way to the source of all this mess.”

“You can’t be thinking what I think you are,” the healer balked.

“The land has been crying here for the last year. And in all this time, did it never occur to all of you to actually go check the source for yourselves?”

“It’s forbidden!”

“It’s what’s necessary!” Vital roared back. Ice crackled at his hooves, then slowly dissipated into mist as the savannah’s heat melted it away. “A shaman is to watch and maintain the balance between the spirits and the land. That’s what Zecora taught me. We’re the ones who are supposed to act, when something like this happens. If the problem is on sacred ground, then we go to sacred ground. That is our duty. Or do you want to be responsible for the death of every person on this continent? Every stallion, every mare, every colt, every bull and cow?” A cold mist danced around Vital’s frame as he leveled the Zebra with an intense glare. “You all can stay here, if you wish, but I will fulfill my duty, even if it means sacrilege.” He turned from the rough cloth of the tent’s enclosure to the blazing sun outside. “It’s what Zecora would have wanted.”





Vital Spark peered over the gathered Zebras as their fires flickered along the mountain’s base. It was … strange being in the role of a leader, but suddenly, he found himself playing it, with all the worries, cares, and threats that came along with that mantle. He sighed at the thought, then straightened his shoulders and began his address.

“Today, an event that was meant to be a time of resolution and unity turned to one of discord and destruction. Our home was attacked, our trust broken, and we lost many who were precious to us. We don’t know the cause of this attack, but we do know the reason for the visit. It was Chief Mwalimu’s hope that, through cooperation, we would ascertain the source of our troubles and that of the land. After what just happened today, that is no longer possible.” Vital Spark shook his head. “And as an additional result of the skirmish, the chief is still unconscious, and Zecora–.” He paused to brace himself again. “Zecora fought valiantly to protect her father, and she paid for that loyalty. Her back is broken. If she ever wakes, she will never be able to walk again.”

A low murmur spread through the gathering as Zebras gasped or whispered amongst themselves over this most startling news.

“With every step I took to return to our home, the place where you were kind enough to take me in, clothe me, train me, I felt the cries of the land grow worse and worse. Zecora taught me to heed those voices, and you all taught me how to temper those impulses with my own judgement. Right now, every impulse is telling me that the source of the land’s pain, and thus our own, lies here on the sacred mountain. I believe those impulses, and I believe you all have felt similar proddings and cries in your own way.

“It is my intent to investigate these cries directly. This may be deemed as sacrilege to some, but with the chief unconscious and his daughter potentially lost to us, there is no one to give permission to ascend. Every one of us must act on his or her conscience. Our land is dying. Our very livelihoods are in crisis. To me, the choice is clear. We must ascend the mountain and seek out the troubles that lie there, if there be any.”

“And what if you’re wrong?” one of the gathering asked.

“Then I’ll take responsibility for my actions. It’s that simple,” Vital Spark said. “Every other method that can be tried has been. Had it not, then I doubt you would have consented to have the Minotaurs come, even if we were on better terms with the Longhorns than the other tribes. If we’re going to save this land, then it seems to me that we have no other choice. If you all wish to avoid the risk, then I understand that. I was always an outsider. It won’t matter to banish me after, since I was never a true Zebra in the first place. I can live with that, if it means saving the people I care about.

“Tomorrow, I’m going up that mountain. Any of you that wish to come with me may. The rest can stay here or leave as you wish, though you may want to wait, until the wounded are better rested. I’m afraid that’s all I have to say on the matter. Thank you.”

With that said and done, Vital Spark left to the edge of camp and walked up the mountain trail a ways. He peered back over the horizon toward their village. No dust clouds rose. No angry bellows followed. For whatever reason, the Longhorns had chosen to remain where they were. Either that or their departure had been masked by the sound of the Zebras’ hooves shaking the earth as they made their retreat.

He found a large boulder and climbed on top of it, then finally let go of the resolve he’d used to make his announcement. The sorrow flooded in and the tears welled up. “Zecora,” he croaked.

“I suppose there’s no need to ask what’s on your mind,” a familiar voice called.

Vital Spark whipped his head up in surprise. Mkuta’s face was bedecked by a wan smile.

“You’ve grown so much in such a short time. I hardly recognize the colt I picked up off the savannah a year ago.” The shaman made his way up the boulder and took a seat next to the mourning Unicorn. His tail wrapped comfortingly around Vital Spark’s flanks.

“Not enough for what matters.” Vital Spark sniffled and wiped his nose.

“What matters is you had enough presence of mind to get us away from the village as quickly as possible. True, we could have tried to cripple the remainder of their forces, but it would have been risky, and besides that, there were our own fallen to consider. You did the right thing.”

“Even coming to the mountain?”

“Well, even the best and brightest make mistakes from time to time,” Mkuta smirked playfully.

“Stop that!” Vital chuckled, despite himself. “I’m trying to be sad.”

“Why be sad, when you can be determined, instead?” Mkuta asked.

“I can be both,” Vital said somewhat uncertainly.

“Vital Spark, we both know you’re running on anger and frustration. Those sources of power only last for so long, before they’re burnt up, and then you’re left with the grief. You don’t have to shoulder the burden of leadership alone.”

Vital Spark was quiet for a time as he stared out over the savannah. “It’s … scary, being the one in charge. Every second, I keep hoping Mwalimu will wake up to take it all back. Everyone keeps looking to me for answers I don’t have, and after this, I wouldn’t be surprised if half of them chose to leave with whatever supplies they can carry.”

“And what will you do, if they do?”

Vital Spark sighed. “I don’t know. We need the supplies to help tend the wounded, but at the same time, we only have so much that we can pass around. Even if they left with every scrap of food and water, I don’t think they could survive the journey, not with how bad the blight’s gotten.”

“Then you’ll need to figure out a way to ensure they choose to stay, for their own safety,” Mkuta said simply.

“I can’t do that and climb the mountain, though.”

“Did Bayek teach you nothing of delegation, while you were at the Ukata Mkubwa?” He gave the Unicorn a light smack on the head. “Trust people to manage, while you travel. It’s that simple.” He shrugged. “As for your other problem, if you truly do intend to travel to the living waters’ source, then you should take Zecora with you.”

“In her condition? Are you mad, Mkuta?” Vital balked.

“There is a reason why it’s called sacred ground, Vital Spark. That water provides life to the land, sure enough, but at its source, it is said to hold great power, power enough to heal wounds and purge illness. The last time its powers were invoked was during the great plague five hundred years ago. If you wish to save Zecora, to restore her, then this is your best chance to do so.”

“Do you really think the others would agree?”

“Agree or not, you should go ahead. If you plan to fly in the face of tradition, fly big. That girl is a pain in my flank, but it is a pain I would rather not go without. Mwalimu would agree. She is the future of this tribe, after all. I don’t believe the Earth Mother would want her to live as a cripple.”

“We’d need to brace her back, make it so her spine can’t be shifted.”

“I’m sure we can come up with something. We’re a very resourceful people, after all.”

“Wow. I never thought I’d be the one on the receiving end of a pep talk.”

“There’s a first time for everything. And as I recall, I had to encourage you a time or two under Zecora’s,” he cleared his throat, “unique teaching method.”

Vital chuckled and shook his head. “Don’t remind me.”

The two friends sat there for hours, looking over the horizon as they shared their griefs, their hopes, their worries, their fears, and their memories from the past year. It proved a most cathartic experience for the Unicorn, and he sighed peacefully as he looked back to his old friend. “Thanks, Mkuta.”

“Sometimes, all it takes is a friendly reminder to help us settle our minds again.”

Just then, one of the younger shamans came racing up the trail and skidded to a halt in front of the pair. He panted briefly, then finally managed to gasp, “Chief Mwalimu … is awake.”

“Well, I guess now’s as good a time to ask permission as any, then, isn’t it?” Vital asked Mkuta.

“Something tells me he will say yes,” Mkuta replied as he stepped off the boulder. “For now, let’s go present our respects to the chief, yes?”

Vital Spark smiled. “Of course.”





“Of course you need to go,” Mwalimu said. He winced as he struggled to adjust his position on the ground. A few seconds later, Vital Spark had him propped up with some spare bed rolls. “Your logic is sound. To be frank, I had intended to propose such an action, after our communion. The meeting was meant more to seek to determine what we may be facing, rather than the source of the trouble.”

“Then why didn’t you say so in the first place?” Vital asked.

“Because, without enough justification, traveling up to the mountain is sacrilege. The guardian spirits that protect the spring wouldn’t allow it.”

“And you didn’t think to try contacting these guardian spirits first?”

“They don’t normally speak with us, save in the direst of situations. And even then, they prefer a face-to-face interaction.”

“Seriously?”

“He speaks the truth, Vital Spark,” Mkuta said. “For whatever reason, they don’t enjoy interacting with us. Those who seek to do so are firmly rebuffed, and that’s if they are lucky.”

“And if they’re not?”

“As Mwalimu said, it has to be a good reason. If not, the spirits have their way with you.”

“And the shaman is never heard from again,” Mwalimu finished.

“And these guardian spirits, do they have a compact?”

“They are bound to allow access to the spring, if the need is justified. Otherwise, it is their duty to protect it and ensure it doesn’t fall into the wrong hooves or hands,” Mwalimu said.

“Are there any other potential pitfalls or traps I need to be worried about?”

“If the mountain wishes you to pass, it will let you. Otherwise, you’ll never make it.”

“Hence why a shaman needs the chief’s blessing?”

Mwalimu chuckled and shook his head weakly. “My daughter taught you well.”

“Which is why I can’t afford to fail her now.” Vital sighed. “Is there anyone who might be willing to face the danger with me? Having to carry Zecora by myself without displacing her back may prove a challenge, otherwise.”

“I can’t make any guarantees on the matter. Asking any of them to go up the mountain would be asking them to potentially sacrifice their lives. It isn’t a task to be taken lightly.”

“Even when that task is in fulfillment of their duties?”

Mwalimu sighed. “Even then.”

“Then, with all due respect, and forgive my language, but screw them. If they don’t care enough about the duties they signed on to take care of and swore to uphold when they started this path, then they’re not worthy to go to that spring in the first place.” Vital grit his teeth. “I’m not about to let her suffer, nor am I going to let my home wither away to desert.” Ice crackled beneath his hooves, once again. “Help me figure out a way to carry her without draining my magic, and I’ll do the rest.”

“It will be dangerous. Are you certain?”

Vital nodded. “I am.”

Mwalimu nodded. “Then so be it.”





The contraption was a crude one, but the best they could manage under the circumstances. Rawhide shields were interlocked and sewn together to form a rigid surface, followed by puncturing holes along their edges, so they could be tied together. A series of bindings were then woven through the holes on either side and tied at the bottom of the new board to hold Zecora in place. Lastly, the bindings were tied around Vital Spark’s barrel to ensure she wouldn’t be easily displaced.

“Assuming the mountain will let me, I should be able to make it to the spring within a day, right?” Vital asked as he fidgeted with Mustafa’s staff in its holster to his left. With Zecora on his back, he’d had to improvise a means to carry the weapon without causing discomfort to the mare. Fortunately, his lessons with the hunters and leather workers at the border had served him well.

“It may take longer,” Mwalimu warned. “Make sure to take your time. You need to stop occasionally to adjust to the altitude.”

“Anything else I should be aware of?”

“Don’t die.”

“Thanks,” Vital said wryly.

“Be safe,” Mwalimu said more seriously. “I want the both of you to come back.”

“We will. I promise.”

“Spirits be with you,” Mkuta added.

“One can only hope.” Vital Spark gave both a brief nuzzle, then departed on his journey.

The first couple of hours were easy going. The slopes were wide and the angle shallow, allowing for a simple climb that didn’t put undue stress on Vital Spark. When they had risen a certain distance, Vital Spark took his chance to sit reluctantly and catch his breath. He looked worriedly at Zecora and brushed a hoof gently over her mane.

“Hold on, sis,” he said. “We’ll get there soon.” He tilted the makeshift stretcher in his magic and levitated some juice from a water skin into her mouth, then down her throat, being careful to ensure it took the proper route towards her stomach. When he was satisfied, he lowered her gently to the ground and proceeded to meditate.

The tumult from the earth was a ragged roar, almost like a moan. Rather than allow himself the chance to get lost, he turned his consciousness towards the heavens, breathing gently in invitation. A dim eddie stirred, but nothing else. It was almost as if the air were actively holding its breath. Once more, he heard the same phantom whinny that had haunted his slumber so often after his first arrival at the Moyo Wa Roho. And with that cry, a great wind blew down off the mountain and across the savannah. The earth was in pain. The air … was afraid. He furrowed his brow as he opened his eyes once more and cut off his connection to the spirits. “Just what is going on up there?” he murmured to himself as he rose to his hooves and tied Zecora’s spinal board on his back once more. “Only one way to find out, I suppose.”

The rest of the journey passed in silence. On a few occasions, the paths wound and crossed one another, but meditation soon revealed the way forward as he focused on his natural affinity with the air spirits to discern the way the air flowed over the lay of the land. As time passed, the air began to cool, and the hot savannah sprawled far below, like a scraggly blanket. The wind danced in eddies, kicking up loose dirt to form dust devils in the wavering heat. Once more, Vital Spark had to wonder at the difference in behavior. Once beyond the mountain’s borders, the wind seemed happy, carefree. What force could have taken residence on the mountain to change the wind’s nature so dramatically?

He made camp for the night, being careful to set up a proper shelter, after locating a place where they could rest away from prying eyes. It was unlikely to experience an attack, but with Zecora unable to defend herself, Vital Spark wasn’t about to take any chances. He tied a canvas over them to create an artificial lean-to, then tossed patches of dirt over the top to camouflage it. As an added precaution, he prepared a set of warning lines several yards up and down the trail, so he would be woken if anything tried to approach. Then, once he was certain Zecora was comfortable, he prepared for bed and slept. The whinnies echoed in his dreams, like screams. It was most definitely not a restful night.





For two more nights, Vital Spark repeated the same routine: feeding Zecora, resting, meditating, setting up camp, and taking it down again. All the while, the air grew colder and the ground harder until it developed slush, and then proper snow. Vital Spark was able to use his magic to manipulate the drifts, but the effort left him needing to take more breaks. Steam rose off his body as the toll of his work made itself manifest. In addition to the restraints keeping Zecora in place, Vital Spark added the cloak and blankets he had packed in his saddle bags to keep her warm.

Finally, the slope levelled off, and Vital Spark could just make out the opening of a great stone edifice. Icicles flowed artfully on either side of the entrance, but a closer inspection revealed the carvings that lay beneath the frost. Vital laid his hoof against the ice and felt the familiar hum of the spirits’ power from within, faint though it was.

“We made it, Zecora,” he said with a smile. “We made it.”

The cold air blew through the passage as he passed into the enclosure. Snowflakes flew in whirling eddies, while the barest patter of water trickling on snow drew the Unicorn on. It was only a matter of time until they found the spring. The snow drifts were uniform, leaving him lost as a navigator in a hurricane. The wind became more violent and he squinted into the stinging crystals targeting his eyes. The howling winds carried that same shrill cry that had haunted him for so long. Vital shuddered, then smacked himself in the face, worried he may have been falling asleep.

After another five minutes of fruitless searching and fussing over Zecora, he finally let out a frustrated cry. “This is ridicu–whoa!” The warmth of his sopping fetlocks had melted enough of the snow to create a slick surface beneath his hooves, and he slammed against the floor of the cave with a muted thud.

He growled in frustration. “Where is it, damn it?”

The wind blew harder in response.

Vital Spark sighed. “Okay, assuming this is the place, then that means the guardians have to be here, too, somewhere,” he reasoned. “That’s probably the best place to start.”

He slowly removed the bindings holding Zecora to his body, then assumed a meditative pose, keeping Mustafa’s staff firmly planted in the space between his legs. “The chief tells me you prefer to deal in the physical plane, but you don’t like dealing with the usual shaman.” A wry smile touched his lips. “As you can see, I’m not the usual shaman, but I do come to invoke your services by the authority of the contract you are under, with the current chief’s blessing. Show yourselves or the compact is broken.”

An angry shriek filled the air, followed by a raspy whisper that echoed through the space.

“It dares? It dares to demand our obedience? Arrogance!”

“It’s kind cast us out. It’s kind killed our head, and now it comes to us?”

“It reeks of the cursed walker’s magic,” another hissed.

“Freeze it!”

“Let the cold burn like its cursed fire!”

The rage was as a torrent, as were their shrieks of outrage.

“Are the guardians so quick to judge that they would freeze one, before he presents his case?” Vital Spark countered. A peculiar groaning moaned from beneath, and at that moment, he knew where the spring lay, and he knew just how precarious a position he now sat in. “I may reek of the foreign magic you hate, but I had no part in whatever may have cast you out. I was adopted by this tribe and trained in their arts by the heir to the chieftainship, who now lies before you. It is on her behalf that I come, not my own.”

Another hiss sounded, heated, biting, not unlike the utterance he made, when he was stung harvesting honey from the wild bees in the savannah.

“And how shall we know it speaks the truth?” one finally demanded.

“By this mark that I bear,” he said pulling his necklace off and holding it forward. “Crafted with the love, care, and trust of the chieftain. If this wind and snow be your doing, I humbly request you calm it, that we may speak openly and in fairness. I am told you prefer negotiating on the physical plane.”

The biting snow stilled, though dark storm clouds still roiled overhead. With the storm  abating, Vital Spark was finally able to perceive the breadth of the space he had entered. The cave was mostly sheltered, with only the opening overhead and the entrance he had passed through to give extra space. It made it the perfect hold for the snow to pile and condense, mixing with the waters that doubtless flowed beneath the ice.

At last, the silence was broken as the flurries danced and coalesced into vaporous clouds that gradually took shape, until a veritable herd of what appeared to be horses made from clouds materialized across the surface and behind the Unicorn.

“Speak quickly, or not at all. For what reason do you come here?” the largest of the spirits demanded.

Vital nodded his head respectfully. “I thank you for choosing to address me as a person, rather than a monster.” He rose from his position and used his staff as a walking stick to steady his balance. “I have come here to ask access to the powers of the spring. The one you see before you is the sole heir to the chieftain. She is the future of the shamans. She also had her back broken recently in a skirmish with the Minotaurs. The chief was also injured, which is why I come in his stead. He asks that you honor the compact and allow his daughter access to the waters, that she may be healed and lead her tribe forward into the conflict that doubtless lay ahead.”

“We know of this conflict of which you speak. The hatred of the Minotaurs knows no bounds, and the flames of their rage are ever fanned by their leader. You intend to fight with them?”

“This tribe is my family. How could I not?”

“Then we see no objection to your claim.” The creature reared back slightly as its form pulled away from the Unicorn. “Take her to the water’s edge, lest she be lost forever beneath the ice.”

“I thank you.” Vital bowed his head, levitating his necklace back around his neck, before following the opening made by the spirits to travel back towards the entrance of the cavern. The walls glistened with frost as runes and other pictograms made themselves manifest, alongside a series of worn reliefs. He pulled Zecora closely behind him, until they reached the point where ice gave way to hard rock once more.

When the two equines had cleared the spring’s surface, the spirits raced around the edge in a maelstrom. Rather than the thundering of many hooves, a cold wind tore through the mouth of the cave, filling it with an unearthly wailing as the ice gradually began to crack, then broke apart entirely to reveal the churning waters beneath. As their wind blew, the ice chunks dispersed farther and farther back, compacting, until they reached a quarter of the way to the other side of the spring’s surface, then froze in place. When their work was done, the spirits hovered restlessly over the water, tossing their heads anxiously.

“Do it quickly and have done with it,” the leader commanded. “There is no time to waste.”

“Do I have your word your cold will not harm us after?”

“We honor the compact. Your visit is justified. Have faith.”

“This from the ones who were so reticent to trust in me just a few short minutes ago,” Vital said wryly. “Life really is a funny thing, isn’t it?” He chuckled as he approached the water and watched the wavelets gradually settle. Then he frowned. “Forgive me,” he said as he dropped the rope that drew Zecora behind him and propped himself up on Mustafa’s staff, “but there is another matter I must pursue with you, before I proceed.”

The air began to stir as the spirits tossed their heads. “And what more is there that you seek?”

“The land is dying. The spirits of the earth are in pain, or at the very least too busy to speak with us directly. By all accounts, this spring is meant to be the lifeblood of the land. If that is the case, then why does the land wither? Why are the mountain streams and rivers dry?”

“We cannot say. As you see, the spring is preserved. Perhaps it is the doing of the foes you face.”

“If that were the case, we would have known far in advance. Their power is distinctive, much like our own. We would have felt it moving through the land, and they know better than to raise their hands against the land, when they claim to be the children of the earth. Whoever is responsible was much more careful. So careful that the spirits said nothing about it, until the moment we lost contact with them.”

“Again, we cannot say. Our duty lies in protecting the spring, not policing its exits.”

“And I see you go to great lengths to do so,” Vital Spark noted as he eyed the many frozen chunks of ice, where Zebras stared with fear-filled eyes, their mouths open wide in protest.

“Place the mare in the spring, mortal. Our patience wears thin.”

Vital took in the frost, the ice, the pillars, then closed his eyes. “You know, if I were an extremist interpreting a contract to its farthest edge possible, and that contract happened to involve the protection of a certain object, I’d probably try to make sure nothing else could have access to it in any way, shape, or form.” He opened his eyes and looked up at the spirits. “And if I were an entity that shunned positive emotion, I would probably want to create as much difficulty as possible, without getting caught, so that I wouldn’t have to deal with that unpleasantness.” 

He leaned casually on his staff. “Now, you see, we have a slight problem here, in the fact that a dear friend of mine told me that this here spring would have to thaw, and that it would happen in my lifetime. Now, the only way I see that happening is if you folks were to make that happen. And the only reason I can think for why the spring would need to thaw is if the water is so cold underground that it’s actually frozen and blocked its flow. Now, assuming that’s the case, it makes one wonder, how could a spirit of wind and cold claim not to know about that happening, and the drastic consequences that are sure to follow,” his hooves scraped into a combat stance, “unless they were the ones responsible in the first place?”

The spirits were silent for a time, and then the hatred rolled off of them in waves as they reared up as one to glare down at the Pony. ”Kill it,” the leader hissed in a quiet voice.

Out of reflex, Vital Spark cast a beam of magic into the ground beneath Zecora and a dome-like structure of ice suddenly rose to surround her, with just the barest hints of holes to supply her air, while allowing her to retain her heat. Then he turned his attention to the spirits raging around him as the clouds roiled and began to descend. The storm kicked up and the deadly cracking of ice reforming met his ears. The light faded as the creatures charged as one herd, plunging into the ground and spreading like a mist over the Unicorn’s hooves. Warm air puffed out Vital’s mouth as frost began to form over his fur and mane.

The air grew harder to breathe as the spirits’ barrage entered his lungs. Vital Spark knew the spirits of the desert wouldn’t be of much use. They feared these creatures, and rightly so. Their fury was most definitely not a joke. The Unicorn’s primary focus had been in learning how to understand and commune with the spirits of the earth. That hadn’t left him much time to study the hierarchy of the air, if there even was one to begin with.

His body began to shake uncontrollably as its natural defenses kicked in. Adrenaline flowed as his heart rate picked up and his teeth chattered. Ice began to creep up his back hooves and he quickly broke his forelegs free of the ground, before the ice could become too strong. Time was short, Vital Spark knew. “Gamble it is, then,” he muttered to himself as his horn ignited and a blue nimbus enveloped his hooves.

“Rulers of the frozen flame, ye lords and ladies of the frost and snow, I call to you now and ask you make yourselves known to me.” His magic surrounded his necklace and levitated it before the staff, which had taken on a similar nimbus. “I make this humble offering in exchange, that I may know thee and call upon thy name to bring justice to the oath breakers, they who have raised their hooves against the Earth Mother and the lifeblood of the land. Please, hear me.”

The storm grew worse, and Vital Spark could hear and feel a sort of crackling in his chest as he struggled to breathe. “Please,” he gasped as his breathing became more shallow and the light from his horn and hooves began to flicker.

“Freeze its blood,” the hungry voice cried as its fellows let out that familiar shrill whinny.

Just as Vital’s magic was beginning to give out and the tiredness of sleep to overtake him, a sultry feminine voice sighed in a bored tone. Oh, very well. I suppose I can let you slide, just this once, but you really must do something about those rubies. Such gaudy things.” The red in the gems slowly began to drain, until a bright blue shone through each of them and the necklace flew back onto his neck again. “Do wake up, won’t you? I’d rather not have to drag you back to my realm, after all this effort.”

Vital Spark shuddered as a jolt of energy coursed through his body, snapping him awake. He gasped, then winced at the pain in his lungs as he clutched his chest with a single foreleg.

“My name is Shiva, mortal. Remember it well. I’ll let you call me this once. Next time, I expect a proper contract, though.” Her voice giggled. “Though bringing a girl a few jewels never hurts,” she added. “Now, why don’t you call my name, so I can play with my new toys, hmm?”

Vital Spark panted as the room began to spin around him. Even with the jolt of energy, the cold was running its course. He had to act quickly. “Sh-Shi … va,” he barely managed to say as he dropped to his knees and the ice spread up to his flanks.

Shiva sighed. “I suppose it will have to do.”

A loud snap, like the crack of thunder, boomed through the tiny space, followed by the sound of jingling bells. From the swirling cloud formation overhead, the great blue fingertips of a massive, albeit incredibly delicate hand began their slow descent. A set of metal bangles bedecked its wrist, and a flicker of purple fabric wafted alongside it as it descended.

“Such naughty little things,” Shiva’s voice rang clearly through the air, even as the finger descended to touch the top of the spring. “I usually leave the thawing to my brother, but in this case, I suppose I’ll have to make an exception. Grandfather would be rather put out with me, if I let things stand as they are now.” A second later, the entire surface on the water shattered to dust and rose to bedeck the skin along the finger with a kiss of frost, not unlike body glitter.

The clouds blew apart from the impact, and the spirits reared in outrage as hairline cracks began to form along each of the ice blocks throughout the chamber. Their leader let out a shrill whinny of rage and defiance, then rallied the rest of its herd together to storm the massive appendage.

“Are you actually doing what I think you’re doing?” Shiva’s voice called disbelievingly.

The patches of cloud continued to come together, until a massive horse the size of ten huts and trailing frost and snow in its wake raced towards the spring and the hand at a breakneck pace.

“Do you know who I am?” Shiva challenged.

The living storm just whinnied shrilly in defiance as it charged with a single overwhelming cry. “Kill!”

“Oh, my. You really don’t, do you?” The great hand opened wide as the amalgamation of wind, snow, and hate plunged on to break against the blue palm and spider out across its surface, leaving pale white streaks behind in their wake. “Oh, new makeup. That will be fun to tinker with later. But first things first.” The palm turned itself skyward and suddenly the encroaching tendrils of cloud were drawn forcefully back into a whorling ball that bulged and struggled against invisible bonds. “I see. You creatures feed off of negative emotions to grow stronger. Interesting. Well, in that case, I’m sure I’ll be able to keep you well fed, while I chastise you.” The massive palm curled closed, muting the shrill whinnies that were sounding less of rage and more of terror as the arm steadily began to retract itself. “Every creature of the frost knows not to attack their queen.” A wicked, throaty chuckle echoed through the clearing as the temperature began to rise again. “The balance on the mountain should be returning to normal shortly, little one. Do give my regards to its owner, won’t you?”

The hand finally reached back into the swirling mass of clouds. Just as its knuckles were about to pass the barrier, a more playful giggle echoed over the air. “Oh, and say hello to Clover for me.” With that, the laughter resumed as the hand fully retracted and the storm clouds dispersed, letting the brilliant rays of the savannah sun filter down into the open cave and dance across the walls, reducing the frost to water, while the frozen tombs collapsed, releasing their prisoners.

Vital Spark stared wearily up at the sun, basking in its warmth and sighing with relief. His limbs still felt heavy, but he knew he had one more task to fulfill, before he could rest. He dragged his hooves along the floor, using his staff for support. He clenched the rope of Zecora’s board and pulled, dragging ever closer to the waters, even as his muscles stabbed with pricks and needles from the warm air washing over his fur.

After what had to be the slowest minute of his life, Vital Spark finally felt the spring’s waters lapping gently against his hooves and fetlocks. The water was cold, but compared to the frigid ice he had just endured, it felt almost like the hot springs Lady Ujuzi had mentioned existed in the Stampede Grounds. He slowly undid each rope along the shields, then gradually leaned onto both sides of the stretcher, watching as the water flowed over the edges, lapping at the Zebra’s flesh, while the sun’s light refracted soothingly off the water’s surface.

“It’s okay now, Zecora. We made it.” Vital Spark smiled tiredly as the room began to slide out of focus. “We made it.” He welcomed the lapping water’s gentle ministrations as they drew higher and higher on his weary frame. And then he knew no more as the darkness claimed him.





The air was dark and musty in the old structure. Seamless stone walls blocked out almost all signs of light, save for what flowed in from the single entry point, beneath a great cloth. The air reeked of ash and soot as thunderous detonations shook the earth and the war cries and bellows of Zebra and Minotaur pierced the air. And yet, despite the clear signs of pitched conflict, somehow, the structure remained undisturbed and unviolated. That is, until a tiny spark popped into existence and began to sputter and spin on the floor. This was soon followed by another and yet another as a veritable waterfall of the strange specks fell out of thin air and began to rise, spinning, whirling faster and faster, until a great glowing disc-like structure the size of a Minotaur illuminated the surrounding space, exposing thick hide shields, spears, clubs, bows, quivers, and all manner of leather garb fit for battle.

Hammer Strike was the first to step out, stumbling faintly as he worked to regain his sense of balance. He knelt to the ground for a moment to catch himself, before looking back to the portal he had created, waiting for the others.

Pensword flew out at a breakneck pace, crashing into the wall and causing several spears to clatter loudly to the floor. He shook his head to clear it, then sputtered. “Did I neglect to mention how much time travel gives me headaches?”

There was a gap of several more minutes, before Grif stalked out of the portal, stiletto in one hand, ready for anything. He took a breath as he scanned the area and his eyes slitted. “Zebrica. This building’s definitely their handiwork.” A low growl escaped his throat. “This village is under attack. I can smell blood and fire in the air, and something that smells awfully like–.”

A loud cry of surprise cut the Gryphon’s dialogue off neatly, followed by a barked order as the warrior in the doorway leveled his spear at the three friends, while their portal shrank into non-existence, disappearing with a final little pop.

“Anyone speak Zebrican?” Grif asked as he dropped the knife and held up his claws to show non-aggression.

“Most of the basics,” Hammer Strike offered. 

“Got anything for ‘we aren't going to hurt you?’” Grif asked.

Hammer Strike hummed to himself for a second before speaking, “We are not hostiles.”

The Zebra narrowed its gaze. “You speak our tongue. Who are you, some noble from Canterlot?”

He gave a faint shrug. “Not entirely. I am Lord Protectorate Hammer Strike.”

“That’s–.” The Zebra was suddenly cut off as a great bull with glowing red eyes burst through the building’s opening, causing a partial collapse in the roof as its long horns pierced through the warrior’s side, followed by the bull flinging the Zebra into the wall that was still intact as it unleashed a powerful bellow; a bellow that was cut off as Grif grabbed a nearby length of rope and, with a quick flick of the wrist, sent it outwards to wrap around the Minotaur’s left horn. With a savage yank, Grif brought the beast’s head down to the ground and, growling like a large predator encroaching on wounded prey, he ran up to the Minotaur and sliced his throat smoothly with the same knife he’d dropped less than a minute prior.

Without giving so much as a glance to his dying enemy, Grif turned his attention to the Zebra. “Hammer strike, what can we do?” he asked grimly as he opened his bag and retrieved a vial, sprinkling its contents on the wound and muttering a silent prayer as the potion began its work.

Hammer Strike reached into his coat, pulling out a blue crystal, before reaching into a different side, searching for something. After a moment, he pulled out a green crystal of similar size. “I don’t have a ton of energy that I can work with, right now, Grif. Combine these aspects for me.” He passed the crystals casually to Grif as he moved towards the Zebra.

Grif didn’t stop to ask questions as he grabbed the crystals and concentrated. Soon, a single crimson crystal stood where the two had once been before. His muscles were tense as he offered the crystal back with a rigidly controlled motion.

Hammer Strike scanned over the Zebra to the best of his abilities and attempted to use the aspect to heal him. It took some effort with the low amount of power left in his field, but he was able to manage a quick patch up, aiding the potion to help close up the wound and staunch any internal bleeding. He sighed as his energy settled and he rubbed at his temples to relieve the dull aching. “It’ll take some time for him to recover entirely, but this will keep him living.”

“Okay,” Grif said, suddenly all business. “So Minotaurs are attacking this village and Vital’s somewhere here. How much fight have you got in you?” he asked the Earth Pony.

“Plenty enough,” Hammer Strike assured him. “Just not thaumically. I’ve still got magic to spare,” he replied as a soft blue glow took over his left hoof, while a golden glow followed onto his right.

“Okay, I think it’s obvious that we don’t know enough to do anything decisive here,” Grif said. “Much as I hate to say it, we can’t fight an army of Minotaurs with what we currently know. You need to find whoever's in charge and see if you can communicate an order to them to retreat.” He turned to Pensword. “You find Vital. Be careful and try not to engage, unless you have to. I’m going to see if I can buy whoever's left some time.”

Pensword nodded grimly. “You can count on me.” He took to the skies immediately, scanning over the village, only to blanch as he noted the many columns of smoke rising in a chain along the surface of the land as bovine clashed with equine across the brittle grass on the plains. “Oh, Celestia damn it,” he swore.

Grif barreled out the door in time to see another bull charging in their direction. Reaching behind him, Grif grabbed for the first thing that came to talon, which ended up being the haft of Graf’s axe. Hefting it in his talons, he charged forward. The Minotaur’s eyes widened upon seeing the opponent he expected the least barreling towards him. That proved to be a fatal mistake as Grif leaped at the last second, arcing over the minotaur with one single chop. Grif landed on the ground behind his opponent with feline grace and continued forward. The Minotaur's head rolled across the ground, while it’s body charged ahead a few more steps on its inertia, before slamming to the ground and sliding forward.

Hammer Strike sighed to himself as he sequestered the Zebra away into a more hidden spot. He frowned as he looked out one last time, before stepping towards the back of the room. The shadows grew darker as they covered his being. He reached over his shoulders towards his back, where a gold-etched katana suddenly materialized, before he stepped grimly into the shadows. It was time to administer some chastisement.