Extended Holiday
Ch 149: Titans, Go!
Act 23
“So, just to clarify here, the original cause of the argument between the Zebras and the Minotaurs, the thing that led to the first great war, and then to this one, was because you each thought you were the family favorite?” Vital asked disbelievingly as he looked first to Mkuta, then back to Fjüra, both of whom managed to look at least somewhat bashful. “And nobody thought to point out how stupid an argument that was? Gaia literally gives to everyone and everything on this world and every other world she’s a part of.”
“Well, when you put it that way, it sounds so … childish,” Mkuta began.
Vital deadpanned. “Mkuta, I love you. I respect you. But the reason that sounds so childish is because it was. Heck, even they all would agree with me.” The Unicorn pointed off to where the various deities sat in conference one with another. Zebras and Minotaurs were engaged in a series of tentative discussions, each speaking in hushed whispers, for fear of rousing the wrath of their gods. The cows kept a close eye on the warriors to ensure no further misunderstandings could come to pass. Meanwhile, Hammer Strike and Grif were both attending to a certain Pegasus who had only recently come back into consciousness.
“It’s good to see you’re alive, Pensword,” Hammer Strike commented with a faint grin.
Pensword grinned. “Conversation. Honest to Faust conversation!” He giggled uncontrollably for the next minute or so. “It’s so good you came. How was the war? Did you burn anything? Did Grif go all hyper speed? Did the foal survive?” So quick was the stream of questions that he started to trip over his own words, before breaking off with a dry cough. He took enough time to breathe and regain his composure. Of course, he still grinned. “These are the first words I’ve uttered that others can understand in months!” He drank lustily from a jug of fresh water that had been offered.
“Besides the wings, what exactly happened to you?”
Pensword remained silent for a time as he ordered his thoughts. “I couldn’t sing. They forced me to do everything, save using the restroom and sleeping, in view of others. It was like I was some zoo animal. They broke one of my wings, and I had nothing to dull the pain or make it set correctly, until the cows stole me out of my cell. I think I’ve had two concussions at minimum. They left papers and ink, at least, so I wrote, a lot. I also did rough sketches on the walls.” He frowned. “Then there was the physical exercises. I tried to keep fit, while I was away, though the broken wing did hamper my progress there, to an extent.”
Hammer Strike stared at him for a few seconds longer. “Anything else?”
“Like?”He looked around and lowered his voice. “I did leave small thaumic crystals the size of peas to try a break out, when you entered the city, but I already took care of them, before I left my cell.” He frowned. “Also, I….” He allowed himself a quick glance at the deities, then broke contact. Clearly, he wasn’t comfortable with the idea of interacting with them, let alone being in their presence. He cleared his throat and did his best to move the conversation forward. How are the foals? The bulls … almost killed a Zebra foal that looked to have been my age when you gifted me Lexington.”
“They’re fine, Pensword.” Hammer Strike rubbed the side of his head. “I was … honestly expecting more.”
“Like? Hammer Strike, what I saw was that if I had lost any favor, they would have crushed me before I could have done anything. They smashed me with a rock half the size of my head. It came so quickly that I didn’t have time to react.” He laughed suddenly. “Did you know you’ve spoken less words total than the days I’ve been held captive? Just hearing Equish is a blessing. Well, that and getting to see your face and Grif’s.” He frowned. “You did find Vital, though, right? That was the whole point of this mission.”
“Yes, we found him shortly after learning that you descended from the skies and engaged in combat, leading to your capture,” Hammer Strike chided.
Pensword nodded slowly. “And in doing so, I saved a foal’s life.” His jaw tightened. “I can live with that choice.”
Grif, who had, for the most part, been in the same position since he’d left the arena, rose and staggered over to Pensword. He stared at the Pegasus for a long moment, before pulling him into a hug. He held him silently for two full minutes, before he released him and proceeded to punch the Pony in the face. “That's for bucking insubordination,” he growled.
Pensword blinked and wrinkled his nose, then crossed his eyes to survey the damage. “You … you told me why you hit me.” He laughed again. “I actually know what I did to get hit!” He grinned and blinked to push the building tears back as he drank in his friend’s face. Then he looked back to Hammer Strike. “I knew you’d come to finish the war, the both of you.” He chuckled. “So, where is Vital?”
“Talking with the gods,” Grif said. “We’ll be leaving as soon as possible.”
“Oh, that’s good.” Pensword smirked. “And somehow, I’m not surprised.”
“You’d better start praying we don’t tell Lunar Fang about this,” Grif said.
Pensword looked at his wings. “Grif, I can’t hide this, and I will tell her, okay?”
Grif sighed and nodded. He looked toward where Vital Spark was supposed to be returning from and waited.
“Though, speaking of my wings, did either of you find my equipment? I remember having armor and wing blades, but I was stripped when I woke up in the cage. Do either of you know where it could have been taken?”
“I haven’t had time to scout the place to locate your equipment,” Hammer Strike replied. “I was somewhat preoccupied.”
Vital Spark walked over to the trio with somewhat wider eyes. “Um, Grif, the gods want to talk with you.”
“That … can be taken many different ways, Vital,” Pensword replied with a nervous twitch of his wings.
“Lets get it done, then.” Grif groaned as he pulled himself to all fours. “I want to go home.”
“Let’s just say they want to give us a proper reward for the parts we played in resolving this situation peacefully, … relatively speaking.” He looked worriedly back at the hecatoncheires, who were currently huddled together in council with Prometheus. “And they already decided on what they want to give me.”
Pensword smiled. “Vital,” he said somewhat chidingly, “it’s good to see you again, too.”
“Did I forget to welcome you back to the land of the living, Pensword? How terribly absent-minded of me,” Vital said glibly. Then he smiled as he walked over to his friend. “Sorry I made you guys come all this way. Mtaala and the other cows told me what you were put through.” His eyes hardened. “Needless to say, there will be some rather harsh words for the bulls responsible.”
“Thank you,” Pensword replied. “And you know we’d have gone back here to get you, no matter what. You’re family.” He looked half nervously, half guiltily, up at the giants. “Though I think we should continue this after Grif meets with these deities, don’t you?”
“A sound course of action. Come on. I’ll carry you, Grif. That display of yours took a lot of stamina, didn’t it, birdbrain?”
“A message needed to be sent,” Grif said as he inched forward.
“I’ll take that as permission to carry you, then,” Vital said as his horn lit up and Grif lifted off the ground. “Time’s a wastin’.”
The pair strode off a ways, until they stood beneath the seven siblings. “Grif, allow me to introduce you to the titans, seven of Gaia’s younger children who fled to this world with her, when Earth was losing its magic. The purple one is Amethyst, the yellow Topaz, and so on and so forth, according to their gem coloration.”
“The travelers,” Opal greeted warmly. “Thank you for coming to the aid of our children.”
“They took my friend,” Grif stated bluntly. “We had mutual interests.”
“Be that as it may, you deserve to be rewarded for what you have done to save the peace. Our brothers know your kind’s traditions well, and have a proposal Topaz will put to you, once we have finished here. As for your friend, the shadow tamer, we fear it is not our place to grant him a gift, save for a word of warning. I give it to you to decide how much to reveal of what I say.”
Opal turned to peer directly at Hammer Strike as the white patch on her forehead pulsed in a series of rainbows. The air shimmered around them to form a curtain of silence. “The ancient secrets you seek will come at a cost. There is a reason that land was lost. The Daring will find the way. The Hammer will be worn and beaten, yet still will strike the warning bell. Few, if any, will respond, until it is too late. It has happened. It will yet happen. And pain and loss will be the result. One will rule. Two will learn. One will watch from beyond. And a kingdom shall be forged from the remnants of an empire.” She looked pityingly at Grif. “I am sorry.”
“Thank you.” Grif bowed his head. “I’ll take that to heart and think on your words.”
Opal nodded and stepped back. The veil dropped and Topaz smiled as he stepped forward.
“And now to my contribution. To the warrior who liberated two races with one fell swoop, I have learned much of your culture from one who resides within your kingdom’s capital. We both have a passion for knowledge, and we have been known to collaborate from time to time.” The titan’s eyes sparkled mischievously. “With your permission, our siblings and we would like to fashion a proper set of trophies suitable to your culture and the nature of your conquest.”
“Very well,” Grif nodded.
“Do we have your permission to take the head of your adversary?”
“Be my guest,” Grif said, spreading his talons.
“Then you may go. We have much work to do. You will be called, when your rewards are complete.”
Grif nodded, then turned to leave. Vital lifted him in the air again and trotted off to join the others.
Hammer Strike frowned to himself as he walked back to the edge of the labyrinth and his waiting coat. He could still feel the energy from the barrier he’d generated around it, so it hadn’t moved from the boulder near the entry hole he’d blasted. It just wasn’t going to be a short walk back. He passed by segments of walls that had been damaged beyond repair and sighed to himself as he released the dome. He brushed the fabric to take off the dirt. It wasn’t until he looked down at the boulder that he noticed a small gold twenty-sided die with white numbers.
He was certain it hadn’t been there when he first laid his coat down, but with the dome of magic he’d surrounded his coat in, there was no way someone could have placed it there.
He picked up the die and studied it carefully. It was different in design from the one Grif had shown him, but held the same feeling of power within it. While the idea of rolling it was tempting, he knew this wasn’t the time or place. He stored it in his pocket instead and decided to investigate it later, before heading back to join his friends.
Pensword sat on a cushion the cows and bulls provided after the conflict had ended. Judging by its size, it was likely designed for a much larger entity, but the soft filling and cool silk left him feeling exceptionally comfortable. In a way, they reminded him of the cushions back in Canterlot. And with that thought came a sudden pang of homesickness that washed over him. It had been so long, nearly a quarter of a year, since he’d seen his loved ones’ faces. When were they finally going to leave?
He frowned as he listened to the discussions around him. More than a few of the bulls looked shiftily at the Pegasus when they thought he wasn’t watching, and spoke in low whispers on the fortune that he had escaped. Apparently, his quarters were crushed by the debris from the mountain as the hecatonchires woke from their slumber.
One of the cows arrived and offered him a steaming cup of tea. Now that they could properly understand one another, it was much easier to hold a conversation, and he found that the cows were not only courteous but very well-educated. He sipped the beverage gratefully and let the gentle warmth do its job, easing the tension in his muscles and calming his frayed senses. All the same, he refused to look up, knowing that he would catch at least a glimpse of one of the many deities that now towered above them. How Vital Spark managed to keep so calm about it, he couldn’t understand. Grif had his other gods to represent. And Hammer Strike, well, he was Hammer Strike. He’d already seen gods and spoken with living embodiments of concrete concepts, such as Death, Nature, and Time. All Pensword had on his side was his ability to communicate with the spirits of the dead, and these titans were a far cry from that.
Vital Spark smiled as he approached his old friend. “So, now that you don’t have to worry about being treated like a display animal, what do you think of the Stampede Grounds?”
“Hot,” Pensword replied bluntly. “And I still feel like a display animal, but I think it's because some of these beings haven’t seen a plucked Pegasus.” He narrowed his gaze. “I wish I knew who did this. I’d shave their fur completely. See how they like it.”
“I’m pretty sure they’re probably dead, Pensword. Either that or dealing with the harshest punishment the cows can cook up. Without Disiungitur around, there’s no current lead bull to take over. The cows are basically pulling rank behind their matriarch. I get the feeling this is going to be a major turning point for the Minotaurs, culturally speaking.”
Pensword’s frown deepened. “I saved a foal’s life and spent over ninety days locked up. I don’t know how to feel, let alone the fact that right now, I’ll be going home without a chance to exact revenge and with no compensation.” He snorted as he sipped the dregs from his cup. The heifer was only too happy to refill it again. “I don’t even feel like singing, for once.”
“It’d be a little odd, if you did. Captivity, especially the kind you endured, isn’t very conducive to a positive mental state, as I’m sure you’re well aware. You’ll recover eventually. Just make sure to take your time. Besides, you may yet get the chance to help with dispensing a little justice, if you’re interested.”
“Oh?” Pensword’s ears perked a little. “What needs doing?”
“The spark that lit this powder keg of a war came in the form of an assassination on the Longhorns’ chief. If they hadn’t been attacked, this whole conflict may well have been averted, or at least reduced. Innocent blood still needs to be avenged, and the killers brought to justice. I need you to help with that.”
“What do you need me to do?” A hard edge had come into his voice.
“According to tradition, the Longhorn tribe must now seek out the killers of their chief to avenge his death. If it’s possible, I’d like for you to use your gifts to communicate with the chief’s spirit, assuming he hasn’t crossed over yet. Now is the best time, since the titans have made it so we can all understand each other. Language won’t be an issue.”
Pensword closed his eyes and concentrated. He wasn’t sure how long it would take or if he could even find the spirit. It didn’t help that his other self may already be back in Equestria fighting the Third Gryphon War. For all he knew, if Gryphon spirits lingering in Gryphonia felt his energy, they might try to attack him, assuming he could even call out to the spirits here. Then again, with the gods of Zebras and Minotaurs present, it was possible his call could be masked, or at least he would experience a measure of protection. He sighed.
“I can’t make any promises, Vital Spark. I’ve only ever tried contacting my family before. The other spirits I’ve spoken with have sought me out, not the other way around.”
“We can at least try,” Vital said. “If you can’t, then we can ask Fjüra. She might know a means to call his spirit here for questioning.”
“Let’s see if he comes willingly first. Those that come of their own volition are much easier to talk to.”
“Will you need anything to help? Something to form a connection, or someone who was close to him?”
Pensword frowned. “Not really. I don’t know them very well. I doubt the Longhorns bought personal belongings from the chief with them. So, I sent out a question instead. I asked if he wanted revenge on those that killed him wrongfully. Either he’ll show up to help with that or inform me that it wasn’t a wrongful death.”
Vital deadpanned. “Pensword, he was assassinated. Believe you me, it was a wrongful death.”
“I have to cover all my bases when it comes to the spirits, Vital. I was taught to have an open mind when contacting them. That is what I am doing.”
“I assume you already addressed him as the former chief of the Longhorns?”
“Yes.”
“Then we shouldn’t have to wait long. As a spirit, it would be a simple matter for him to identify his killers and any connected to them.”
At that moment, a tall burly black bull with polished white horns materialized out of the ether. His pauldrons and the quality of fabric for his loincloth denoted his station. His gaze was level as he locked his gaze first on Vital Spark, then on the Pegasus.
“You would help my people bring me rest, though this matter does not concern you?” he asked in a rich deep voice.
Pensword lowered his head in respect. “I am a Thestral with a gift. It is my duty to do so. And were it not for the death you faced, the war that led to my own imprisonment and humiliation would not have commenced. If I can bring your vengeance to pass here in the land of the living, it will provide me with an element of closure as well as vengeance for you and your tribe.”
The Minotaur narrowed his gaze. “The four-leg who killed me hides in another land with those who would steal our homes and defile that which is sacred to my people and our siblings of the south,” he said, motioning towards where Zebra medics gathered with some of the cows. “Greed has driven this affair; greed sparked by the sight of that which your companion wears about his neck.”
Pensword pursed his lips as he eyed Vital’s necklace. “I see. This is about gems. That implies it’s a Unicorn, most likely.” He shook his head as the memory of a certain Unicorn traitor from the war flared through his mind. “I’ll see what I can do.”
The Minotaur pointed to Vital Spark. “He knows the ones responsible. He has seen the murderers’ faces.”
Pensword nodded. “I’ll make sure to ask him.”
“Then I will leave it to you and my tribe. Until then, I will wait in the great between.”
“We will give you peace,” Pensword said by way of farewell and the spirit vanished. Then he turned his attention to Vital Spark. “So, question I have for you. Do you remember encountering any Unicorns during your time here? Your chief says that his murder was arranged by a foreigner because of those gems on your neck.”
Vital Spark frowned. “There’s only one time I interacted seriously with other Ponies, and that was when I was back at the trading post. I posed as a hunter and tricked the nobles into treating me to a meal to spite them, after how they looked down on me and my escort. Any one of them could have done it, but only one seemed particularly interested.” He was silent for a time. “I think we may need to have a talk with Prometheus. If this murderer is who I think it is, we’ll need his help to get to her.”
The three hecatoncheires and Prometheus had been hard at work for the last few hours. The many-handed ones demonstrated the discipline of their control as they each worked the metals and gems that had formed in the remains of their mountain over the years. A great glowing caldera remained to act as their forge, and the deities showed no fear as they plied their crafts to refine the materials they required.
Zebras and Minotaurs alike still maintained a certain amount of tension one with another, but the watchful eyes of the titans ensured no combat would break out. Enough blood had been shed on both sides. Zebra and Minotaur worked in unison to share knowledge of their healing arts. The cows were easy to establish a relationship with. The bulls, on the other hand, would take more time. Those who were not ready to accept the current state of things were dealt with swiftly and either given the chance to fight with one another or to be put under the equivalent of house arrest by the titans. Now, the bulls may have been familiar with earth, but they were no dwarves. After the first few bulls were sealed in a cubic cell of stone, the rest got the message.
Finally, Prometheus beamed at his brothers. “It is complete.” He patted them on their backs. The hecatoncheires returned the gesture in kind, and Prometheus winced from the impact.
“Let us show them what we have wrought,” Gyes said.
“Then let the mortals come forward. Vital Spark, Grif, if you would?” Prometheus asked.
Grif received his trophies with a quiet dignity. The three great beings had removed Disjungitur’s horns and molded them carefully. One had been carved with various depictions of Grif’s fight with the Minotaur king in classic Greek style. The carvings were then inlaid with obsidian to make them easily visible against the horn’s milky colour. The mead horn had been emptied and cleaned to a mirror-smooth interior, and a chain had been attached, so it could hang from the neck. The other horn had also been emptied and smoothed out, but opened at both ends. Polished copper had been fashioned on the smaller end and the surface had been decorated with metal fastenings engraved with various symbols and runes. A small leather thong had been attached with one end near the mouthpiece and another near the larger opening to hang from a belt.
Grif accepted the gifts gratefully, albeit wearily, and bowed.
It is uncertain how the gods were able to manage it, but the plain piece of wood had been completely transformed. The gnarled portions at the top had peeled open in equal lengths to spread down and out like the jets of a fountain. The lower portions had been carefully twisted and carved to give it a spiral-like shape. Patches of crystal flowed through the gaps in veins of blue and white. A large emerald had somehow been absorbed by the wood at the top and surrounded by a series of polished agates. A fine twine of gold and silver rimmed the ridged gaps between the gem formations and the wood they had become so intertwined with.
”This was a gift from Mustafa. It seemed only fair that we honor the intent behind that gift,” Prometheus said.
“Then it’s still alive?” Vital asked.
“Very much so.” He smiled sadly. ”Sapphires for wisdom and sound judgement, the emerald for honor, and the agates for virtue. In a way, you might say we helped make the wood a little more wise. It should help to keep you on the right track.” He lowered his hand and held the weapon between his fingers, so that Vital could grab it more easily.
“Thank you.” He nodded his gratitude to the great craftsmen. “I … don’t wish to sound impertinent, but there is one more matter I was hoping you might be able to assist us with before we go.”
“And that is?”
“Mustafa sacrificed himself to protect Zecora. That needn’t have happened, were it not for the initial murder that sparked this conflict. My friend, the winged four-leg over there, has the gift to speak with the spirits of those who have passed. I asked him to communicate with the spirit of the former chieftain of the Longhorns, and he agreed. The chief revealed that his murderer and the one who ordered the attack have both fled back to our homeland of Equestria. It is my humble request that you use your power to bring them both here to face justice at the hands of both Zebra and Minotaur.”
“This is no simple request. I would require the creatures’ names to bring them here.”
“I know the one. And it will be a simple matter to get the other from her,” Vital assured him. His voice was hard as the staff leaned against his shoulder. “She has much to answer for.”
Prometheus nodded. “Then let it be so.”
Lady Carmine had been sleeping quite soundly in her home. Her dreams were filled with the happy event of ever-flowing vaults filled to the brim with precious blood rubies, sapphires, and diamonds. She snorted in delight at the sight of workponies mining the great mountain of the Moyo Wa Roho. At last, a proper civilization graced the land, one that would know how to utilize its bounties to the fullest.
Her beautiful dream was disturbed, however, when the distinct sensation of nudging hooves drew her back into reality. Those damned servants. Whoever had dared to rouse her would soon feel her wrath. She had left specific instructions not to be disturbed! The deals to achieve the rights to the Zebras’ lands after the war had required extensive negotiation. It certainly didn’t help that she’d had to agree to granting that heathen Zebra citizenship.
“This had better be important,” she growled. The sun burned her eyes, and they struggled to adjust to the light.
“Oh, trust me, Lady Carmine, it’s very important.”
Carmine suddenly found herself levitating against her will. She quickly brought her magic to bear, only to feel a terrible pain as an ornate ring engraved with all manner of tiny precious stones and sigils slammed home on her horn. Each attempt to counter the spell the held her led to more pain. She winced, then finally gathered enough wits to glare down at the impudent Pony that dared to humiliate her. “What is the meaning of this?” she demanded.
Vital Spark stared up at the thrashing noble with a cold expression. “The meaning of this, Lady Carmine, is that you’ve been extradited from Equestria to stand trial for murder, exploitation, and war crimes against the nation of Zebrica and the the Minotaurs of the Stampede Grounds. Welcome back to the savannah.”
The trial was short and direct. The combined forces between the cultivators, medicine Zebras, and the cows yielded a potent truth potion. Since Zebrica currently was bound by treaty with Equestria, it was agreed to keep the trial in the Stampede Grounds, where no such restrictions could prevent their methods from the technical standpoint of the law. Grif had only been too happy to point out that particular loophole, much to Lady Carmine’s dismay.
With the necessary information extracted, it was a simple matter to bring her accomplice and bind him in a similar manner. The ultimate ruling was inevitable.
“You can’t do this to me!” Carmine protested. “Do you know who I am?” She glared at Vital Spark, then glanced over at the Gryphon. “Who are you working for, that bastard Flame? I’ll double whatever he’s offered you.”
“As if that insufferable moron could come up with something of this caliber,” Hammer Strike commented as he drew near.
Carmine furrowed her brow as she gazed at the Earth Pony. “Hammer Strike?” She shook her head. “No, you must be an imposter of some sort. Hammer Strike is on the front lines near the borders. Who are you?”
“Still the same, just in more than one place,” Hammer Strike replied simply. “It’s not that complicated. Do try to keep up.”
“That’s impossible,” she scoffed. “Not even Star Swirl the Bearded could manage that.”
A very peeved-looking Pegasus snorted. “You know the stories. Celestia’s Ghost is where he needs to be, no matter where or when.”
“You act like he would actually be needed here,” she scoffed. “All I see is the people who kidnapped me from my bed and hauled me to Faust-only-knows-where for a witch trial.
A wall of jagged green stone shot out of the ground to surround the Unicorn, while the edges gradually pushed closer and closer towards her. The translucent material of the gem wall gave an excellent view of the suddenly very fearful Unicorn. It certainly helped that the wall was so pale.
“If there is one thing we hate,” the first of the Emeralds began.
“It’s liars and oathbreakers,” the twin finished equally coldly.
“You hurt our children. Perhaps not directly, but the blood is on your hooves. You’ve admitted as much. You are not merely being tried by mortals. You are being tried by deity,” Amethyst added. “Your goddess will not save you from your folley, nor will honeyed words nor poisonous threats. You will pay for your crimes.” Then she turned to stare at the young Zebra warrior in disappointment. “The both of you must.”
“We would say to send them to Tartarus, but this one doesn’t seem nearly so tortuous as our own,” Gyes said.
“Why not just have her die over and over again? Each death will be the same as those who fell,” Cottus growled. ”Would that not be a worthy punishment?” His many faces sneered and one winked slyly to his siblings.
Carmine paled noticeably. The Zebra began to tremble.
“We are better than our barbaric family, Cottus. Let one death be enough for mortals,” Prometheus offered sagely.
“Then how shall they be punished? The female desires riches. Perhaps we should accommodate her. After all, she’ll need an offering for the river,” Gyes suggested.
“She must live,” Opal interjected. “That much I can say with certainty.”
Carmine sighed in relief.
“She must still pay a price,” Topaz said. “If riches are most precious to her, then riches should be the focus our our judgement. Would you all not agree?”
They nodded.
“If you’ll forgive the intrusion, nobles like her also value political connections and negotiations. They’re always forming alliances, making deals, arranging marriages and contracts. If you remove that opportunity from her, she would most definitely suffer,” Vital Spark said.
“And what do you suggest?”
The Pony shrugged. “I admit it may leave a bitter taste in your mouths, since your family used it once before on a mortal, but it is an effective punishment. Make it so she can’t be believed by anyone ever again.”
“You would have us give her the curse of Cassandra?” Prometheus asked.
“As a suggestion,” Vital Spark clarified. “I know the decision is up to you.”
“Curse of Cassandra?” Amethyst asked.
“It was before you were born,” Prometheus explained. “Your cousin Apollo wanted to claim a mortal woman for himself. In exchange for her love, he promised her the gift of the sight. She readily accepted the gift, then spurned his advances. In retribution for her dishonesty, he struck her with a powerful curse. She would speak her visions all she wished, but none would ever believe her. That is the curse, to never be believed.”
“Wisdom dictates that such a curse would have an inevitable conclusion,” Sapphire said.
Opal nodded. “A short life with a quick death. That would be just.”
“It doesn’t have to be,” Ruby said quietly. “We can make sure she lives a long time. It won’t be that hard, if we give her enough….” Ruby swallowed. “Enough of my hearts.”
“Ruby, no.” Amethyst shook her head insistently.
“They would ensure she lives a long life, one where she can experience every fruit of that curse for herself.”
“And she would lose them just as quickly, either as a result of her own greed or from this curse, assuming we decide to follow such a course.”
The Emeralds shrugged.
“Then don’t let them stay lost,” the first said.
“Make them come back to her,” the second agreed.
“Then punish her for losing them,” the two said together.
“I know how,” Cottus rumbled. His faces had all contorted into wicked grins. “Let them burn her as we were burned. Not in body, but in the soul. She will feel the pain, but no mark shall be left upon her flesh.”
“Better yet,” Gyes boomed, “If she hordes like a dragon, then she counts like a dragon. Why stop at the gems? Let all her riches burn her. If it has value, leave her unable to handle it herself, save for those things that are most necessary.”
“Such as?” Topaz asked.
“A bed, a table, that sort of thing.”
“And if she begins to horde those things?”
Gyes shrugged. “Adjust the curse to apply to them, until she stops. She should get the message, if she wants to sleep again.”
By this point, Carmine was practically bawling. Her vibrant red mane and tail swished and flopped as she struggled to maintain her composure. “Y-you can’t do this to me!” she wailed.
“We could always just kill you now,” Topaz said casually.
Carmine whimpered.
It didn’t take long to finalize the curse and send the Unicorn on her way. It was agreed that thirty fire heart rubies would be more than enough to suit their purposes. As an added effect, they placed a Want-it-Need-It spell over the gems to ensure all who laid eyes on them would covet after them, though Ruby insisted they lay an extra spell over the rubies to keep them from being cleaved or cut in any way.
When Carmine had been returned to Equestria, Amethyst turned her attention to the young Zebra colt.
“I’m afraid there is little that can be done for you, child,” she said regretfully. “You broke the peace and shed innocent blood. By rights and by law, justice is to be carried out at the hands of those to whom we deliver you for judgement.” She shook her head sadly. “May Death be kind.” She turned her head away remorsefully with the other six titans and looked to her three elder siblings. “He is yours, brothers. Your children may do with him as they wish.”
The Longhorns were only too happy to stake their claim. With the murderer caught at last and denounced by the very gods and chieftains that would have protected him, there was no one to prevent the retribution to follow. The strike was swift. Since the chieftain’s son was no longer among the living, it fell to Fjüra to execute the killing blow. A few earthen restraints and a neck brace provided by the titans left the Zebra’s neck exposed to her axe, and she landed true. There was a dreadful thunk as blade cleaved bone and sinew to embed in the hard earth. The head rolled and blood flowed freely.
“Blood for blood and life for life,” Fjüra intoned. She raised the head high for her fellow tribe members to see, then cleaned the axe blade and turned to the gods. “Now we can begin to build anew.”
“Without the usual conflicts, I hope,” Vital said pointedly. “I think my friends and I would rather not have to come back a second time for another war.”
“That is unlikely,” Opal said as her eyes became distant and the mark on her forehead flashed again. “True peace will take time to build, but this will be a good start. Besides, I think our children know we don’t want any more conflicts of this nature. Don’t you?” she asked as she peered intently over Zebra and Minotaur alike. Cottus stood behind her, flexing all his muscles, while Prometheus stood behind Cottus with an equally intimidating stare.
The two races got the message.
Vital Spark sighed as he walked with his sister. The other goodbyes had already been said to old friends and warriors. This one would be his most personal, and possibly the most painful.
“So, this is the end, isn’t it? You’ll be going back home,” Zecora said.
Vital nodded. “I have to. You know I don’t belong here in this time.”
Zecora chuckled. “I still can hardly believe it took that long for the summoning to work.”
Vital shrugged. “The gods work in mysterious ways. Why not spirits, too?” He smiled sadly as he levitated a carefully polished adderstone by a simple leather cord he’d looped through its hole. “I know it’s not much. I’d hoped to be able to embellish it a little more for you before I go.” He sighed. “Being god-touched, I suppose its magic might not be so useful to you as it would normally. It’s the best I can offer, though, as … well, as something to remember me by.”
Zecora chuckled. “You do realize how self-centered that sounds, right?”
Vital laughed. “I know. And so sappy.” He frowned. “But I want you to take it, all the same. Besides, of the two of us, I think you’ll have the harder end of things. The next time you see me, I won’t know you by anything more than reputation. And it will be up to you to keep it that way. You can’t let me know about this, any of it. You can make references to home, maybe some of the things we used to do together, but you can’t outright tell me the truth, not until I come back here. And even when I do, you can’t tell Pensword, Hammer Strike, or Grif either.”
Zecora stared at him.
“What, have I got something on my face?”
“You … called this place home.”
“There’s an old saying where I come from, Zecora. It goes, ‘home is where the heart is.’” He looked over at the milling Zebras and Minotaurs. The two races were working side by side to tend the wounded, repair the damage from the hecatoncheires’ awakening, and otherwise get to know one another. “And like it or not, a piece of my heart is always going to be here with you and the tribes. You all took me in, made me a part of your culture, your family, despite being an outsider and a Unicorn. Sure, part of it was for prophecy’s sake, but that doesn’t change what happened during that time. You became my teacher, and then my big sister. Mkuta became my friend, Mwalimu the peacemaker. I could go on for ages.” Tears swam in his eyes as he lowered the necklace over Zecora’s neck. “I’ll never forget what you all did for me.” He rose, embraced her with his forelegs, and nuzzled her neck gently. “I just wish you didn’t have to take the long way round.”
“Stupid Unicorn,” Zecora muttered, though her heart wasn’t in it.
Vital stepped back and wiped the tears from his eyes. “Right back at you, stubborn old Zebra.”
“Old?”
“Well, you are older, aren’t you?” he asked impishly.
“Oh, I’ll get you for that.” Zecora smirked as she rose to her hooves.
“You’ll have to catch me first.”
“Just to be fair, I’ll give you a head start.” Her smirk turned into a familiar sneer. “Start running.”
Vital Spark grinned. “Worth it!” he yelled behind him as he took off as fast as his hooves would carry him in what would be their last chase as brother and sister for over a millennium.
Pensword shifted restlessly from hoof to hoof as he waited. He knew his friends were saying goodbye, but for him, the sooner they left, the better. He doubted he’d even want to come to these lands in the present. His eyes roved back and forth nervously in hopes of spotting his friends or the familiar light of the portal, whichever came first.
Vital Spark smiled as he passed through the crowd to reach the recumbent Pegasus. His fur was freshly coated in dirt, and a hint of bruising showed beneath his eye socket. “Hey, Pensword, what’re you doing over here? Hammer Strike and Grif are already set to go.”
“Waiting for you three,” Pensword grumbled. “Then again, no one told me where we were meeting, so I wasn’t sure where I’d need to be.” He winced as he moved and a grimace passed over his face. “As you can see, I’m still recovering.”
“I can carry you, if you want,” Vital offered. “If I can manage Grif, I can certainly manage you.”
“I would say no, but frankly, I think that would be for the best.” He sighed, “I need a check-up when I get home.”
“You think you’ll have it bad, wait till Trixie sees this shiner bloom.” Vital chuckled as he wrapped the Pegasus with his magic and made his way towards the great colosseum. “At least your wives are regular Ponies.”
Pensword laughed. “For a stallion your age, in a Thestral camp, that is something to be proud of.” Pensword’s spirits rose a little as he shook his head in a mirthful chuckle.
It didn’t take them long to arrive. Grif stood tall and proud, with his swords strapped to his sides and back. The two horns had been safely stored in a side satchel. The beginnings of new scars had decorated the Gryphon’s body. A few dressings had been placed along the deeper wounds from the deadly spikes on Disiungitur’s war hammer. Hammer Strike wore his coat again and nodded gravely to the pair as they approached the interior of the cage.
“I found our straggler,” Vital said. He smiled as he lowered Pensword to the arena’s floor.
“I wouldn’t have straggled, if I knew where we were meeting,” Pensword replied testily.
“Let’s just get going,” Hammer Strike commented. “I’d like to get home and get back to my forge.”
“And Rarity?” Vital asked.
“Yes.”
“Well, I think we’ve all said our goodbyes, so it’s all on you now,” Vital said. “Whenever you’re ready.”
Hammer Strike replicated the same portal as he had before, creating a dome around them to ensure their security as the disc glowing appeared before them. “Allow me to go first. And give me a minute before you enter, all right?”
“Dare I ask why?” Vital asked.
“I need to check things on the other end first to ensure I got it right, and the more that travels through, the more energy it takes. So if I come back through, I did something wrong. If I don’t, then it’s fine.”
Vital smiled. “Okie dokie, lokie.”
Hammer Strike entered the portal, and after a minute, did not return.
“Grif, you first,” Vital insisted. “I’ll follow up with Pensword behind.”
“Nope,”Grif said, looking sternly at the two. “I’m not taking any chances. I’ll go last.”
“Just go, Vital. We should move. I don’t want to strain the portal any longer,” Pensword muttered as he tried to push himself back up. “If needed, I will walk through. I am better, after all. Well, mostly.” His eye twitched. “I do not like dealing with giant mountain-sized deities.”
Vital chuckled. “All right. After you, then, tough guy.” He nudged Pensword gently.
Pensword limped, and his wing still sent off twinges of pain with his gait, but his breathing was better, and he stepped through the portal under his own power. Vital Spark nodded and soon followed. The familiar sight of the freshly-stoked coals, materials bins, and various tool racks filled the Unicorn with a strange sense of nostalgia. Thanks to his year in the savannah, he’d been able to build up a certain amount of tolerance to high heat conditions. It was strange being in such a relatively confined space, after all that time on the grasslands, however.
In the time it took Vital Spark to familiarize himself with the forge again, Fox Feather had pulled Pensword sharply to her side and ran a close inspection of his growing feathers. Her expression was dark and her movements clearly communicated she wasn’t happy.
Moon River looked confused as her head turned from one portal to the other, then back again. “Ring hurt Daddy!” she yelled and readied her crossbow.
Grif emerged from the portal with a slow tired pace. He smiled gently at the filly as he roughed her mane. “It’s okay, Moony. We just ran into some trouble getting Uncle Vital back. Uncle Grif had to beat some monsters.”
“Daddy hurt!” she countered, shaking her head obstinately. “Make Daddy better.”
“He’ll be okay in time,” Grif chuckled. “You trust me?”
Moon River nodded, then promptly let off two bolts. One landed on Vital’s horn, the other smack dab on his lips. Then she giggled.
Grif bent down and whispered something into the foal’s ears. Then the filly turned to Pensword and let a bolt off at his flank, too.
Pensword sighed sadly. “No more couches, please. I’ve been in a gilded cage for months wanting to hold my famIly.”
“We’ve had a very long stay,” Grif said as he neatly cut off Lunar Fang’s coming questions. “We can tell you the story later, okay?” With that final piece said, Grif shuffled out of the room. It was time to get home for a long and well-deserved rest.
“By the way, how much time has passed, exactly, since the … incident?” Vital asked.
“Three Days,” Lunar Fang said.
Fox Feather looked to Vital. “Since you have the horn, and since Lunar Fang and I are getting close, you’ll need to take Pensword to the doctor.” She turned to glare at her mate. “Where you’ll tell both of us exactly what you did and what they did.”
Lunar Fang put a bowl of water in front of Hammer Strike. “You rest, if you can. And, if you don’t mind, could you watch Moon River? Fizzpot is hunting for the boys.”
Hammer Strike shrugged. “Sure. I don’t have much else to focus on at the moment.”
Lunar Fang smiled gratefully as she handed the foal over.
“Willow is going to whoop his sorry butt for getting this banged up.” Vital sighed. “I’ll see to it.”
Pensword flinched back from his wives’ glares as the Unicorn’s magic wrapped around him again and pulled him along through the air. Plainly, he wasn’t going to have a pleasant night that evening. Not for the first time, he wondered, was it worth it?
Moon River looked down at Hammer Strike. “Daddy okay later?”
“Daddy will be okay later,” Hammer Strike confirmed.
“Good.”
“I’m home,” Grif spoke tiredly as he entered the house. He began to remove his weapons and armor and placed them on the rack. Two blurry balls of fur and feathers quickly lunged at their father, bouncing fruitlessly against his heavier bulk, then hugging him with all their strength.
“Hey, girls.” He smiled, wrapping his daughters in a hug. “Daddy missed you.”
“I assume the mission went well,” Shrial said. “You smell like blood.” Then she peered at the bandages on Grif’s body. “And you took some blows.”
“Went well depends on your opinion.” Grif sighed. “We found Vital Spark in Zebrica, in the middle of an attack by Minotaurs. Pensword was captured and they took him to their capital. We had to befriend the Zebras, make something resembling an army with them, and then proceed to campaign into the Stampede Grounds all the way to the gates of Labyrinthian. And then their gods talked with the Zebra gods, and I ended up in mortal combat with the enemy leader.” Grif set the twins down and moved to a tapped cask in the corner. He filled his mead horn with gwarkalah and sighed. “I’ve been gone for months.”
“You really need to have Hamer Strike talk with Fate, then. It sounds like she keeps sending you through time on a whim. Have her give you a proper vacation, before she pulls one of you Winds-know-when. And if she doesn’t, have him tell her I’ll be making a special visit to persuade her otherwise.”
“I pity her, should you ever make that visit.” Grif chuckled and kissed his wife on the cheek. “For now, I’m just glad to be home. I missed you all too much for words.”
“Well, Avalon is with Tazeer and Gilda is sleeping off her meal. I swear, she ate enough to feed a regiment.”
Grif laughed. “She’s carrying triplets. What did you expect?”
“She gave Cheshire a run for her money, Grif. Cheshire!”
“I seem to remember you enjoyed big meals while you had the girls,” Grif smirked and kissed her forehead. “Are you okay?”
“Fine. For us, it hasn’t been so long. You did tell us what you had planned, once you arrived, after all. Avalon may be upset that you got a few new scars, though. You know how she hates when you bleed.”
“But I know you love tracing them.” He smiled.
“That’s no excuse for getting new ones, and you know it, Mister.” She poked him gently with a talon. “Now how about we get you over to the bedroom for some proper treatment, hmm?”
“Well, I wouldn’t say no to that.” He grinned and drained his cup. “But what about the girls?”
Shrial shrugged. “I doubt they’ll be turned off by a few bloody bandages. Besides, they have to get used to it eventually.”
“Well then, lead the way.” He laughed, setting the last of his things on the rack.
“And girls, no climbing over your father, until after I’ve looked over him. Understood?” Shrial asked as she stared intently at the two cubs.
The girls just giggled at the new expression, and Shrial sighed.
“It was worth a shot.”
Vital Spark sighed as he finally walked out from the infirmary. The veritable barrage of questions, insults, and more than a few swears was more than enough to exhaust any Pony. Little Willow was not one to mince words, and her waving a knife around and stabbing with each detonation of language certainly didn’t help to put the staff at ease. It did seem to put a smile on Lunar Fang and Fox Feather’s faces, though.
He sighed as he shuffled through the halls. After all that, he definitely needed a break. He ambled into his room to find a familiar cage obscured by an even more familiar streaked mane and not quite so familiar wings.
“Trixie?”
“Hello, Vital. You look tired. Something happen in Canterlot?” She approached him and nuzzled his neck.
“You could say that.” He sighed as he undid his leather straps to levitate his new staff, his hunga munga, and his rungu to lay on his desk or weapons rack as he deemed fit. “Though not necessarily all in Canterlot. It’s kind of a long story, and I’m not sure if Hammer Strike wants me to share the details with you yet or not.”
“You had an adventure?” she asked.
“Eeeyup.” Then he strode back over and kissed her. His lips lingered longer than usual. He smiled softly. “I missed you.”
“Well then, at least you kept your mind in the right place.” She grinned, returning the kiss. “I missed you, too.”
A mischievous smile pulled at Vital’s lips. “By the way, Trixie, did I ever tell you about my sister?”
“Back on Earth?” Trixie asked.
“It turns out I have one that’s been watching out for me here in Equestria, too. She’s going to need a seat at our family table.”
“Of course. Trixie will make sure to have a place set for her.” Trixie smiled.
“The best part is you’ve already met.”
“Oh?” Trixie raised an eyebrow.
“A mare with a most telling trait. Her rhymes are far from second rate.”
“The Zebra who lives in the Everfree forest?” Trixie asked in a shocked tone.
“The very same. Without saying too much, let’s just say she’ll fit right into our family of overpowered magical beings.”
“I suppose she will.” Trixie nodded.
“Speaking of which, she hasn’t seen you since your ascension, has she? I wonder what she’d think if she could see you now.” He chuckled. “I can already guess how she’ll react when I see her again.”
“Should I have painkillers ready?”
“Nah.” Vital shook his head. “You may need to hold back on your killer protective instinct, though, if we spar.” He chuckled. “She packs a mean left hook.”
“Trixie will keep that in mind. But she does have one question she’d like you to answer.”
“And that is?”
“Why did you dye your mane silver?”
Vital Spark stopped cold. “Uh, fiance say what now?”
Pensword was bored. Little Willow had forbidden him to read his books. Lunar Fang had taken it upon herself to do the paperwork for Clan Pen and the barony, Fox Feather had taken the boys hunting, and Moon River was still with Hammer Strike, making him worry just what she might come home with. The fact he also had been sequestered in a part of the infirmary without any windows in what equated to complete isolation made it evident the mares were doing everything in their power to make sure he’d never pull a stunt like this again.
He sighed resignedly. He’d get to tell his side of the story tomorrow morning, most likely after he thought over his actions. He chuckled and shook his head. What was one more night, after three months of forced isolation? He was already banking on missing a visit from Luna. She’d likely be busy, and the girls would ensure she stayed away, after they explained the situation behind his disobedience. For some odd reason, an old memory of Rainbow Dash playing ball while she was stuck in the hospital played through his head. Ah, yes, the time when Equestria was just a make-believe world and the Mane Six mere characters. That had been the episode where she got into Daring Do. “They sure know how to hit where it hurts,” he murmured. Sleep hadn’t touched him yet. He had little choice but to try to pass the time, until his body relaxed enough to rest.
It was going to be a long night.
Hammer Strike sighed contently as he sat down in his office. Paperwork was settled before he had left, so had an unusual amount of free time. After taking a few minutes to soak in the general normality or abnormality that was Unity, he sighed and locked the room down with thaumic energy. It was time to get to work again.
He reached into his coat and pulled out the small white die. He rotated it in his hoof, scanning over the edges and numbers. For some reason, the number twenty-one would flicker into sight for a brief moment before changing into a different number.
He glanced over it thaumically only to note a distinct lack of anything. The artifact had no aspects whatsoever. That shouldn’t have been possible. He frowned as he looked it over once more, gauging the temptation in his mind before deciding whether to roll it or not. If it was like the die Grif had used before, he was bound to be in for something interesting, as for how interesting, well, he wouldn’t know until he rolled it.
He debated the pros and cons, then shrugged and tossing the die across his desk. Gravity was oddly strong on the die. It only rolled a few times, before suddenly stopping on nineteen. The number began to glow, shining brighter and brighter, until Hammer Strike had to avert his gaze. There was no pain, no connection, nothing special about it’s turn, before the light faded, leaving a small blood-orange sun-shaped glossy stone on the top of his desk.
Hammer Strike couldn’t help but look confused as he slowly reached out for the stone. He’d expecting something, but certainly not this. If Grif was anything to go on, he’d thought a weapon would have emerged. He picked it up and a strange charge passed through his hoof. He activated his thaumic vision and perceived the stone was constantly outputting energy.
Yet this energy had no form to it, no conduit, no source. It just came out in a constant flow.
He frowned as he felt his field reach to the energy and connect. He gasped as he felt his reserves filling faster than normal. While the difference was far from extreme, it certainly proved revitalizing, and the energy remained consistent. It wasn’t draining faster than it was releasing, which meant it was probably replenishing itself from somewhere.
He frowned as he placed his new tool into his vest pocket. He was curious to know more about it, but he could already hear the sound of hoofsteps clopping towards his door. Someone was bound to require his attention. He would just have to study the new artifact later.