//------------------------------//
// Chapter Ten - The Old Gods 
// Story: Fairlight - To the Edge of Midnight 
// by Bluespectre 
//------------------------------//


CHAPTER TEN

THE OLD GODS


Innumerable tales abound in the more remote areas of the land where popular stories of heroism, cowardice, sacrifice, love, and revenge, have endured down throughout the ages. Many are merely stories to entertain the listener, others allegories or parables intended to convey a message in a more understandable and palatable context. To a child this may, by way of example, be a cautionary tale to warn of the dangers of entering particular areas where wild beasts dwell, or perhaps engaging in the kinds of behaviours which could cause personal or societal embarrassment. Few adults would pay much heed to such tales, despite the fact that many of them would have grown up with them themselves. In the more urbanised part of Equestria, some of the more enduring stories have been a firm favourite amongst children for hundreds of years. Several have even been made into stage plays or foals compendiums of fairy tales. As much as we may pass these off as whimsy or flights of fancy on behalf of the authors, it would be foolish to assume that all of this ‘country folk wisdom’ as it is more commonly known, has no grounding in historical fact. All stories must originate somewhere, and most carry at least a kernel of truth, be it a personal experience or historical event that has been passed down through word of mouth from generation to generation. Few literary records were made in the more rural communities, with much of what was learned passed down through little more than word of mouth. It is these which I have undertaken to record for posterity, lest they be lost forever to the ages. It will then be up to the reader to determine whether these stories speaking to us from the mists of the past hold any credence or are mere flights of fancy. Whatever the truth of matter we ignore our past at our peril, and should always strive to remember the lessons of our ancestors lest we ourselves repeat the mistakes they made.

Extract from ‘Songs, Ballads and Tales of the Past’ by Stylus Atheneum.

A well worn track lead from the back of the hut up a steady incline to the top of a hill overlooking the forest. The view was unlike anything I had ever seen in Equestria, or the eternal herd for that matter, and was something that would stay with me for the rest of my days. Spread out in all directions were the crystal trees, interspersed with the low black thorny bushes whose wood I had been harvesting only a few short hours earlier. There was no sun here, no heavenly body to illuminate the days and warm the land. But there was still light. The trees themselves washed the eternally black sand with their radiant white luminescence, tinged with all the colours of the rainbow. My fur seemed to sparkle here, the purity of the land washing over me like a cleansing river of divine radiance. I had been to the Wither World, I had walked through their forests, and yet I had never had the time to truly appreciate the magnificence of such an alien landscape. In the thestral realm of the dead their place of repose was a reflection of the world they had come from, and it held such indescribable wonders I began to miss both the land and the friends I had left there: Thorn, Star Beard, Ember… all of them. At the time I had thought the Withers to be no more than a nightmare made real, a manifestation of all the cruelties and horrors the gods could inflict upon a living being. But I had been wrong. For such a strange land of unforgiving violence hiding around every corner, there was an inner beauty to it that truly did strike a chord in my heart. Perhaps more so the herd in some ways.

“Sit.” Briar motioned to a spot beside a large carved black stone bowl. 

The bowl was around two feet across, and the only feature on the hill other than a chest of black wood from which she produced a large pitcher, several jars, and a mortar and pestle. Somehow though I doubted we were there for dinner. Glimmer sat in silence opposite me, the bowl between us whilst Shade sat beside Briar. How the old mare managed to keep the little one so quiet was a mystery in itself regardless of the strangeness of the proceedings. In fact she looked as though this were the most natural thing in the world. And that, if nothing else, I found unsettling to say the least. Briar took a stopper out of one of the jars and tipped the contents into the bowl which began to smoulder and spit almost immediately despite the apparent absence of any source of heat. She then uncorked another of the jars and tipped several long white mushrooms onto a plate which she passed to me.

“Take two. Chew, don’t swallow.”

I’d been warned about eating strange fungi when I was a child and was more than aware of the effects they could have on the unwary from the stories Meadow had told me from working in the hospital. Here however it didn’t look like I was being given much of a choice in the matter. I glanced sidelong at Glimmer who had also taken two of the odd things. She didn’t meet my gaze, doing as Briar instructed without saying a word. I took a breath and did the same. The taste wasn’t quite what I’d describe as terrible, but certainly gave a whole new dimension to the word ‘unpleasant’. Shortly, Briar took her place beside the bowl and sprinkled more of the strong smelling resin chunks into it causing them to spit and hiss as they released fragrant clouds of rich blue smoke. The smell was quite pleasant actually, carrying a warm, sweet note to it that reminded me of the incense in the temples I’d frequented with my mother. It was more years ago than I cared to recall now. I closed my eyes and felt my mind and memory begin to drift back to those carefree days of my youth. Mum, the mare who had brought me into this life. Dad, the gruff yet lovable rogue that mum had fallen in love with. I’d loved them both, despite all their faults. Mum had often said that dad had been married to his job more than her, but as a child I hadn’t really understood what she’d meant. If I had, I wonder if I would have been so eager to follow in his hoofsteps? Rather unsurprisingly, mum had been furious when I’d joined up. And dad? Well, dad was just dad wasn’t he. He hadn’t been particularly bothered one way or another. In fact not long after I’d signed on the dotted line for the watch academy, dad had simply up-sticks and disappeared one day, transferring out to another watch station on the other side of Equestria without so much as a backward glance. I never heard from him again. Mum stayed in the family home pretty much the same as she always had, pining after my father right up until the day she passed away. The doctors didn’t know what had caused it. Some said it was a stroke, others a heart attack. The result however, was the same regardless of the cause - I’d had to bury my own mother. As for dad, he’d never even bothered to turn up. Whether it was because he hadn’t been told or just couldn’t be arsed coming to see her off, I don’t truthfully know. He never returned my letters, nor had he made any attempt to contact me either. Over time I put it out of my mind, wanting nothing more than to forget my former life. But it never quite left me; the sense of emptiness in my life, the feeling of loss and the cold realisation that my own father had simply… given up on me. Even in the watch, working as hard as I did I had hoped that he would have come to see me sooner or later. But of course, he didn’t. It was that which hurt the most I think; the fact that my father, my very own father, had cut me out of his life totally. I never even got to say goodbye. Ha! I bet the old fart was still plodding the beat out in wherever he was now. Mum on the other hoof… I don’t know. I hadn’t made any attempt to see her despite Meadow’s cudgelling. One day I would look her up. One day...

I opened my eyes and felt the world lurch sideways. Well, looked like the mushrooms were working alright! But damn it was smoky here. In fact it was so thick it was more like a fog rolling in off the bay, pouring into the streets and covering the world in a muggy haze. Briar and Glimmer, despite being sat only a couple of feet away from me, were wreathed in the smoke to the point where I could barely make them out at all. Although to be honest I think I was more surprised that I wasn’t choking on the damned stuff. My mouth tasted funny too. Those mushrooms had gone now, dissolved or swallowed, the bloody things leaving a taste in my mouth like I’d been dining on rusty nails. 

“Briar?” I couldn’t see anything other than the smoke. “Glimmer? Shade?” 

Nothing.

Warily I rose to my hooves, trying to get my bearings. Everything was lost in a haze of grey, the strong smell of smoke thick and cloying. Something was burning nearby, I could see the flickering of flames yellow against the smoke. “Hello? Is anypony there?” Cautiously I moved towards the fire. The smoke was so thick now I couldn’t even see the sand beneath my hooves. “Hello?” One of my fore hooves thumped into something on the floor. Something large. My heart thumped in my chest as I leaned down to see what I’d… Oh gods... it was a pony, a deep green coloured pony. Suddenly my heart began to race. This was… it couldn’t be. Not here! I reached for her, trying to take her up in my hooves, but almost as soon as I made contact she simply… vanished. The blue-grey smoke billowed around me, hiding where she’d lain from my sight. Luna’s mercy, I was frantic. I whispered her name into the eye stinging smoke, “Meadow?” Suddenly I could hear laughter. It was faint, but close by. “Meadow!” Phantom figures danced in and out of my vision, darting away when I tried to focus on them, always just on the periphery of my sight. I walked on, but to where I didn’t know. All I knew was that I didn’t want to stay there. I couldn’t stay there. The laughter however, continued, taunting me, deriding me at every step. There were no words, but I could sense the meaning as if it had been held up before me in burning letters ten feet high - I had failed. I was a fool who had lost everything and done nothing to stop it. I could have, but I didn’t. Why hadn’t I? Why? 

I began to run. I had to get away from there. I had to escape! The laughter followed me, rising to an almost maniacal screeching that came from… above me? As I ran I looked up, desperate to find the sun, the moon, anything that could help me orientate myself and escape this madness. And there, high above the smoke where light should have been, was the enormous shadowy figure of a mare. Her features were indistinct, her eyes hidden by a cowl of billowing darkness, and in her hooves she held crossed pieces of wood, the strings disappearing down into the smoke below - to the ponies dancing like marionettes to the music of insanity. Meadow, Tingles, Shadow, Lumin, Sparrow - all of them tied to those dread strings, dancing in time to the mare’s laughter. I tried to shout to them, to scream out a warning, but the burning smoke caught my throat and lungs, sending out nothing more than a croaking gasp. I still had to try. I had to make them see! But the strings, the smoke…

I looked down and saw the reason why I couldn’t move. I stared at my hooves, following the taught strings up, up into the grey sky and the blazing eyes of the shadowed mare. A great peal of laughter rang out, shaking my body and my soul as I danced to her music of heavenly madness. I think my own screams must have brought me round. Sweat poured down my face, over my muzzle and dripped onto the dry, black sand. A creature stood over me, black as midnight, eyes ablaze, antlers sprouting from either side of its head silhouetted against the starry night sky. Behind her a lone drum sounded like the heartbeat of the universe. A low chanting, barely perceptible, but one that was in perfect harmony with the beat, filled the air as thickly as the smoke.

“Stand.”

Automatically I did I was commanded.

The smell of burning was strong in my nostrils, my heart beating strong and loud in my ears. But my head… gods above it felt like somepony had stuffed me into a clothes wringer. Any conscious thought however was beyond me at this point. All I was capable of doing now was staring up at the terrible image before me. Waiting. The voice, deep and sonorous, made the very world shake around me, sending vibrations through the ground and up my legs to my chest. 

“Through this sacrifice the path is opened. Through this sacrifice the way is known. Through this sacrifice we give our thanks to the gods. Fate, mistress of the eternal mountains of knowledge, grant your servant this vision.” The figure moved towards me and dipped their hoof into a bowl, took it out, and placed it on my head. “Blood of your enemy to strengthen your heart.” The mare’s hoof ran the sticky warm fluid down my muzzle. I opened my mouth and took in a draught of the fluid in the bowl. It was rich, strong, and carried the tang of iron. “Body of your enemy to embolden your courage.” Something hot, spicy, and dripping in juices she placed in my mouth. I chewed it and swallowed. “Bones of the world to remind you of your true mother.” I stood still as the mare sprinkled a grey-white powder over me. 

The chanting grew louder and my head began to swim with images from my life: Meadow lying motionless, my friends in the watch butchered by weapons brought in from another world, the warriors of my tribe littering the ground before the glowing silver of the portal to the changeling lands. Face after face stared at me with their motionless, empty eyes. All of them dead. All of them dead because of me. My heart cried out in interminable grief at what I had wrought, whilst above it all, far above the sorrow and the pain, the air resounded with the laughter of the mare playing us all like soulless marionettes as she made us dance to her tune. I saw myself now, lying motionless in a pool of my own entrails while Tingles screamed for help amid the burning ruin of our home. I saw… a string, a line of crimson as deep as blood, pulsing, vanishing off into the smoke. Within me something stirred, opening its eyes and saw the world for the first time. It was confused, unsure of its surroundings. Anger, sadness, and the long buried rage I had thought forgotten began to simmer within it. Within me. It was fury of the purest form. And with it… came hunger. It was hungry. I was hungry. I was suddenly overwhelmed by a burning need for nourishment unlike anything I had ever experienced before in my life. I had been asleep all this time, all these aeons, and now, now, I needed to feed. The void needed to be filled. I could feel my life burst into flame as hot as the sun, my teeth itching and my hide burning. The spirit within me screamed. I screamed. I reached out and grabbed my prey, sinking my teeth into the soft flesh... and drank. Greedily I gulped down the life essence in great draughts, not bothering to taste, not wanted to waste a single moment or a single drop of this most precious of life’s gifts. I was consumed, utterly consumed, taken now by the single minded drive to fill that which had been empty for so, so long. And goddess help me, I was so hungry. So, so hungry…

“Lord Fairlight. Lord of the tribe of the four winds. It is time for you to awake.”

Smoke swirled around me, the thick cloying cloud gradually draining away, replaced by something lighter, something... colder. I stood tall, letting it flow over me, infusing my soul, my body, my skin and my bones. I felt as light as the wind itself, the chill of winter filling my heart once more. It was time to awake. It was time to be who I had always been. Who I had been born to be.

“Fairlight? Come back to us now. Come back to yourself.”

It was hard to let go. I had to, I knew I did, but I missed this so much. I wanted to stay here, here in this place where I was truly myself.

“Fairlight. Come now, come...”

Meadow? No… No, it couldn’t be. They had taken her from me. They’d stolen her life as they’d stolen the life of my unborn daughter. They had left me for dead... and they had paid the price for their folly. The two animals responsible for this act of sickening depravity were little more than puppets, and I had sent them both to Tartarus with my own hooves. But the master… the master of puppets was still free, and even with me gone could pose a threat to my family in the mortal realm. Shadow, Tingles, Lumin… all of them. I had to get out of here. I had to get home and-

“Fairlight!”

I opened my eyes and felt the world lurch drunkenly around me. Oh goddesses, my head! Celestia’s arse, what the hell was happening to me? What had that stupid damned thestral bitch done to me with her blasted concoctions this time? My heart was racing and my head rang like the schoolyard bell. But the anger, the hatred and rage, was still there, and so real, almost physical in its intensity. And I loved it. Gods, I loved it! I stretched my neck out, tasting the air, the tang of iron on my lips and teeth still deliciously present. I yawned, shaking the blood from my coat. It was good. So, so good.

Hang on...

Blood?

I opened my eyes suddenly and looked down at the shattered form of the thestral lying at my hooves. It -he- was drenched in blood. Quite literally, soaked from muzzle tip right down to the very end of his tail. I stared at my hooves in disbelief, watching as a single shining droplet fell to the ground. I couldn’t quite comprehend what I was seeing, and yet… here it was. I was covered in it, standing there as it steamed silently in the cool air: rich, red, sticky… Blood. Gallons and gallons of it, covering me, covering the sand and the still warm body with the teeth marks... Oh no… Oh, no, no, NO!

Glimmer stared at me in barely disguised horror as I span round to face Briar. She too was covered in the blood of the stallion before us, her headdress of antlers dripping with crimson. The knife lying in the bowl, the pitcher, everything… Everything reeked of the vital fluids of the stallion on the ground. 

My voice was a bare whisper as I breathed his name, “Lance...” 

“He has been sent to shining lands to be reborn,” Briar said calmly. Her eyes twinkled as she stood before me. “He has gifted you his life essence so that his name will be remembered. We will sing of him with the dawn.”

I saw the ragged marks in his neck and the deep knife wound in his chest. His blood covered me, the taste of it still lingering on my tongue. The taste of his life. In that moment of realisation I felt a heady mixture of horror and exhilaration. I was frightened and emboldened, tired yet excited. I was myself, but not myself. I tried to make sense of what was going on and failed spectacularlyt. For some reason however, I just didn’t care. 

“He sacrificed himself,” was all I could manage.

“He had failed the rite and would have returned to his tribe in disgrace to work the land as a common labourer,” Briar explained. “To a warrior as proud as Lance, that was something he could not accept, and so he gave himself to me as a sacrifice so that we may commune with the gods. His blood opened the way. His life essence served to nourish your own.” Carefully Briar removed her headdress and with a sigh, sank to her haunches. 

I sat down in amazement. Lance… He had given his life, or more specifically, his soul, to me. “Why?” I breathed. “He hated me. I’m an Equestrian. A pony for goodness sake. Why would he give his life to somepony he hated?”

“It is exactly because you were his enemy.” Briar damped down the small concealed fire under the large stone bowl as she spoke, “Forgiveness is not in our nature. To forgive, to show compassion for the fallen or to choose the path of appeasement, is to show weakness that can be exploited by your enemy. By giving his life in this manner he showed that he was stronger than you, and demonstrated his courage before the goddess.” 

“But he still gave his life for me.” I shook my head. I still couldn’t fully understand what had just happened. “Did you… did I…?”

“Did you kill him?” Briar smiled. “No. You took his essence as I took his life. It was as he wished. It was his will.”

“You...” I hung my head in shame. I had taken the life essence of this warrior I had only just met. Briar had killed him, stabbing him in the heart, but it was I who had taken who he was. I felt sick inside. I had done something terrible, but not something I had not done before. In battle, lost in the song of war, I felt no qualms about taking the life essence of my enemy. I had slain many, slicing my blade through skin, muscle and bone. I had not thought it too many. I had… I had enjoyed it, rejoiced in it even. Yet now, part of me felt empty and cold - as cold as the dead warrior before me. 

“Do not mourn for him, Fairlight.” Briar walked up beside me and stared down at the bloodied corpse. “What he did for you he did as much for himself.”

“It still feels wrong,” I whispered half to myself. I gave myself a shake and tried to shove the confused feelings of jubilation and self loathing aside. “We can’t leave him like this. I want to sing him to his ancestors.”

“Oh?” Briar looked at me in surprise. “So you do know a little of our ways.”

I nodded, “I stood beside your people in battle.” I lifted my head as a surge of pride fizzed through my veins. “I fought with Glimmer, with Thorn and with Shadow. I fought with the tribe that saved my life in the Wither World. I stood with Far Sight and sang as we witnessed his daughter’s passing to the next world.” I tossed my mane and took a breath, remembering the sights of the battlefield and the exhaustion of war. “The Beyond, the Purple Sands and the Broken Cliff tribes are as much my people as the Four Winds.” Briar watched in silence as I lifted the broken body of Lance onto my back. “As they are my brothers and sisters, Lance too is my brother. And I will send him home.”

Briar nodded as a faint smile crossed her lips. The matter was settled. And so, together with Glimmer, the three of us set about the solemn task of building a pyre for Lance in an open area behind the hill. It was peaceful there, and quiet except for the occasional trill of the spectrals. Shade sat nearby, watching us with eyes that gave me the impression of a soul far older than she appeared. She seemed at home here, especially with Briar whom she followed everywhere. I confess I felt a tinge of jealousy at that, and perhaps even… loss. She wasn’t my daughter of course, but I couldn’t help but feel some connection to her even after such a short period of time together. Perhaps it was because I missed my own children, I don’t know. But yeah, I did miss them, all of them: my tribe, my family, and all my friends. I felt alone here in this strange land, even with the kindness shown to me by Glimmer and Briar. 

As we worked I pondered the visions I’d had: the puppeteer, the scenes from my past, and the overarching sense of being played that pervaded everything. It didn’t take a detective to understand what my fears centered around, but if I was dead then there was nothing I could do about it now anyway. Was there? Gods, I didn’t know. Star Swirl had told me I still had more of a part to play; something about my ‘destiny’, or some such nonsense. Ha! The old sod just loved being cryptic with his answers. Unfortunately it did bugger all to help me understand what the hell was going. It was as if I was just given pieces of a jigsaw puzzle and expected to fit it all together without knowing what the final picture was. And that was something I didn’t like. But somepony knew, and not just Fate either. Somepony had played me like a cheap fiddle, stolen my family from me and then tried to finish the job by blowing up my home. I may not have been in it when it exploded, but I’d ended up in the herd anyway. And now I was in the thestral realm of the afterlife burning the body of somepony, some thestral, who had given up everything to help me. The madness of it all was mind blowing.

“Those visions,” I said levitating another piece of wood into place. “They were from my own mind, weren’t they?”

“Some.” Briar threw some sort of strong smelling fluid onto the wood. “What is in your heart is the signpost to the loom of Fate. The visions Fate grants are a mixture of your past, present and future.”

“Did you see them too?” I asked.

Briar shook her head. “Only the vision walker who seeks the true path can see them.” She put down the bucket of fluid and helped me carry the corpse of Lance onto the pyre. “To me they would be meaningless. How they are interpreted is unique to the vision walker. Only you can do this.”

Only I could interpret them, eh? I pushed Lance’s tail up onto the pyre, looking at the ruined mess of the stallion. I hope I give your sacrifice honour, my friend, I thought to myself. Not that Lance could hear me now, nor was he by any stretch of the imagination even my friend. This stallion giving his life, or rather ‘after’ life, had been an act of defiance in some respects, but whichever way you looked at it he had still done this for me. I had to respect him for that at least. Could I have done the same if the roles had been reversed? No. Lance came from a very different world to me, and I doubted that I would ever fully understand this strange race. Their language, their customs, their beliefs; all of it was so unfathomable that I was amazed that ponies had ever thought that coming here for a visit was a good idea. And yet if the brochure was anything to go by they clearly had once, probably long before the war with Nightmare Moon and the Legion though. Nowadays you would be hard pressed to find any ponies who remembered they even existed, and those who did were gradually dwindling as one by one they went to the forge for a new life. 

Time in the herd meant very little, and the same was true here. Briar passed me the lit torch in silence, and I pushed it into the dry, oil soaked wood. It began to catch almost immediately, and in seconds the pyre was sending flames and embers shooting high up into the sky. I remembered from when we had sung the warriors of the Beyond to the afterlife after the battle in the city, how their brethren had spent the night telling tall tales of the departed’s deeds: laughing, feasting and drinking together to honour their memory with joy rather than sorrow. But for poor Lance, there was little to celebrate. He had never been a fully fledged warrior, and even Glimmer who had been in the same tribe seemed to know little about him. And now, the two mares were looking at me expectantly. I closed my eyes and smiled sadly.

“Lance was a warrior of the Beyond,” I began. “A young warrior, proud and strong. It was his wish to protect the people of his tribe and prove himself in battle. He stood tall and true, and challenged the lord of the wendigo to battle. His strength and power were the stuff of legends as he fought with axe, hoof and teeth. Finally struck down, the lord of the wendigo looked down upon Lance, thinking that he had won, that he had vanquished his foe. But Lance, laughing in the face of death, showed the gods that he was the bravest there that day. He sacrificed himself, giving his life to save the gravely wounded lord so that he would forever remember the brave thestral of the tribe that had challenged him. His enemy would carry that memory for the rest of his days, and know with every breath, with every beat of his heart, that he owed his very existence to a warrior named Lance. For him, for all his tribe, I remember him.”

“We remember him.” 

Briar began the song. I didn’t know the words, but the meaning the ululating chords conveyed spoke louder than any language could ever convey. It was the same as I remembered from when Shadow’s sister had been slain by the lake monster. Starting low, the song thrummed through the ground, reverberating around the forest. A flock of white spectrals took flight and flew over us, swooping around the rising sparks and adding their own music to the song. The sounds grew louder, growing in intensity until they rose to a cry to which I added my own. The three of us sang, and the fire burned. It was the end of Lance’s journey through life, through the afterlife, to wherever their souls eventually went. For me, it signalled the end of a chapter, and the beginning of a journey which would take me to complete what I should have finished long ago. 

The puppet had finally cut his strings.


********************


Glimmer set out food for us and poured the drinks while Briar fussed with an array of blankets and cushions. The firelight from the still burning pyre played across our bodies, sending out ominous shadows into the surrounding forest. To the thestrals this was a time of joy and celebration. Here they remembered the dead and praised the gods. Here they saw death as something to be embraced, the metaphorical first page in a fresh book. For Lance, it certainly was. 

“Briar?”

She didn’t look up from her latest cushion plumping. “Hmm?”

“What happens to the souls who pass from here if there are no new lives to be born into?”

The old mare stopped what she was doing and glanced up at me. “Do you always ask so many questions?”

I suddenly felt like a bucket of water had been thrown over me. I was overstepping the mark here, and Briar knew it. “I’m sorry,” I said with a bob of my head. “I used to be a watchstallion, and my inquisitive nature can get the better of me at times. Please, forgive my impoliteness.”

Briar sighed, “I do not blame you for being inquisitive, Lord Fairlight. It…” She closed her eyes for a moment, lost in thought. “It is simply a topic we do not like to discuss. It is… uncomfortable.”

“I understand,” I acknowledged.

The black mare shook her head, “No. But then I doubt anyone truly does.” She gave her wings a shake and turned her head to stare at the pyre. “They go to the shining lands.”

“The shining lands?”

“It is a place of peace,” she explained. “A place of infinite light, warmth, and rest. It is where we go to sleep until we are reborn.” She raised an eyebrow at me, “You understand why a thestral would find such a place… troubling?”

“For a race of warriors?” I nodded. “Yes.”

“Hah! Not all of us fear a good rest from the troubles of life, Lord Fairlight.” Briar moved closer, her voice kept low to avoid being overheard by Glimmer who was putting the final touches to our meal. “Some believe we are reborn as... Equestrians.” 

Briar gave me a wink and returned to her cushion plumping.

“You’re having me on!” I hissed.

“Am I?” Briar shrugged. “The gods have their ways, Lord Fairlight, and who are we to know their minds?”

I felt a shiver run down my spine. “Why have you started calling me Lord Fairlight all of a sudden? I’m just a pony, Briar, and-”

“Hush!” The mare snorted out a whuff of sulphurous smoke from her muzzle, stopping me in my tracks. “If you have time for questions then you have time for work. Go inside and bring us my smoking set. Tobacco and pipes for all three of us.” She waved a hoof towards her hut, “Go. Now!”

Still covered in dried blood, my coat reeking of the strange smoke and the tang of iron in my mouth, I did as I was commanded. The path down to the hut took me between the brightly glowing trees where a light breeze played through the crystalline branches, tickling the hairs on my muzzle. It was, quite literally I suppose, like the proverbial breath of fresh air. I rounded the corner of the hut and nosed my way into the interior. What an odd place it was! Peculiar items, arranged no doubt to some particular whim of the owner, lined the walls along with Briar’s jars, ointments, and the ever present bleached bones of ‘things’ I would have preferred not to have seen. Still, it was a damned sight better than bumping into them when they had been alive and kicking. What with the dragon skull hanging from the ceiling, the teeth on strings hanging from the ends of the shelves, it could have been any witch’s home from Equestria. Good gods, it could have even been my aunts home! I chuckled to myself and collected the humidor from the shelf where I remembered Briar had kept it when I’d first partaken of her fine tobacco. I lifted the lid and sniffed at the contents, inhaling the wonderfully enticing aroma. It was not that dissimilar to tobacco I’d had back home in Equestria, but it was just as good as any of the finest blends I’d tried. 

I reached for the tinder box and stopped myself. It was a bit pointless when I could magic up a small flame easily enough, so I put it back, catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror. There I was, still the same old grey, if stained red at the moment of course, but the brown eyes were just the same as- I froze and quickly looked back. For a moment, just a brief flicker of time, I thought I’d seen a hint of blue. Ice blue. I leaned forward, turning my head this way and that. No, it must have been the reflection of the walls playing tricks on my reflection. Hah! For a moment there… yeah… Funny, it wasn’t that long ago I’d hated the blue of my eyes that I’d essentially ‘contracted’ along with the spirit in the Wither World. And who could forget how ponies would run in terror at that unnerving and ethereal inner glow? Now… I kinda missed it in a way. And that was the point wasn’t it? I missed being… ‘me’ I suppose. I sighed and reached up to the pipe rack. There were any number of the things, and there were no two alike either. It seemed that our Briar had a touch of the collector about her, as each pipe was made of a noticeably different material, showcasing the various products the darklands had to offer. One looked like it was made of stone, one of the black wood, one of crystal, one of… something I didn’t know. I took a selection and dropped them into my repaired pannier. If the miserable old bugger didn’t like the ones I’d picked then tough! Giving my stiffened mane a fruitless shake I trotted back out and up to hill to join the others. 

Glimmer gave me a smile as she poured out a drink for me. I smiled back in kind. The cushions, now plumped to perfection, were firm but comfortable, and the balta just the way I remembered it too. It certainly would have done fine service as paint stripper back in Equestria, but here it was a pleasant beverage shared with friends. One day I would have to bring some back to my home, but the glands of the lake monsters it was apparently distilled from would prove a little difficult to acquire I think. It was probably best not to think too much about that really, especially as I was well into my second cup of the sticky spirit. Beside me Glimmer picked up a peculiar string instrument that had appeared from somewhere whilst I had been away, and began tuning it as I lounged back on my cushion peering into the burning pyre. The wood snapped and popped, the smoke vanishing up into the near black sky. Beside me and yet all around me, a gentle singing began. It was a thestral song, full of the mystery of these creatures and their land. I couldn’t understand the words, nor could I even begin to emulate them without sounding like I had some horrendous throat infection, but the sounds… gods above they were so… soothing. Was that the right word? I snuggled into my cushion and took another sip of the balta. Yes. ‘Soothing’ was right. The clicks, squawks and shrieks that I had come to associate with the thestral tongue really did have a side to them that leaned towards the poetic and, dare I say it, romantic? I leaned over and watched Glimmer as she sang. Beside me, Briar sat with the sleepy form of Shade, her now perpetual companion. Despite my tinge of jealousy they seemed right together somehow. I nodded to myself and yawned expansively.

“Tired?” Briar asked.

“A little,” I confessed. I lifted my cup, nodding towards the pyre. “Fine drink, fine company, and a good farewell to a brave warrior.”

“A good farewell,” Briar nodded with a faint smile across her lips. 

“What’s the song about?” I asked.

Briar shrugged and took a long sip of her own drink. “It is about a warrior who falls in battle leaving a loved one behind.” She chuckled slightly under her breath, “It’s a familiar story that has been told in many lands down throughout the ages. The names change, the places too, but the meaning is always the same.”

“A sad tale of loss,” I said quietly. “Odd how such music can convey a picture of beautiful serenity in the face of losing one you love.”

“It is one way we make sense of our grief,” Briar said softly. “This is how the girl shows hers.”

My heart skipped a beat and I sat up suddenly. Glimmer and Lance… surely not? She’d never mentioned him before, but neither had I asked! Oh goddesses, and I’d killed him! Well, not really, but as good as. Oh no, damn it! I had to-

“Lord Fairlight,” Briar’s hoof pushed me firmly but gently back down. “You are not one of us. You are a friend of our people, true, but there are aspects to our people that cannot be understood by those from… outside.” She closed her eyes and nodded to herself as though affirming something that only she could see. “Glimmer knows what happened. She understands, and she accepts it. Honour her, and Lance, by treating her with the same respect you show me. Do not pity her, and do not show sorrow. If you do, she will lose all respect she has for you. Do you understand?”

I stared at Glimmer, listening to her song as the notes washed over me. Here I was, sitting covered still in her stallion’s blood, and I was acting as though this was nothing more than a pleasant social evening around the campfire with friends! It was so wrong, and yet what Briar said made so much sense too. She was right about one thing: I didn’t understand thestrals. I may have some friends amongst them certainly, but I didn’t truly understand their culture nor their customs. I valued Glimmer as a family friend, as the mare who had saved my life, and to see her here singing for her lost love was heartbreaking. I felt a terrible sense of guilt, but is this how she would want me to be? I think she’d known what Lance was going to do, or at least had a good idea. We had sung his soul to the shining lands and were singing and drinking together as thestral warriors did when they lost one of their own. Perhaps, as insane as this would appear to many ponies, this celebration of who the departed was rather than mourning them made more sense than the way Equestrians dealt with loss. I looked at Briar and nodded my understanding to her. Smiling, she clopped me on the shoulder and passed me the tobacco.

“When we are finished we shall go to the lava pools to wash,” she said, taking her own pipe. “The waters there are heated by the volcanic lakes far below the land where the ancients lie. It is there we will cleanse the sadness and grief away to be reborn anew so we may face the future with pride and confidence.”

I could understand that. Volcanic lakes heating the water sounded like the hot springs behind the Wyvern’s Tail, and that was something I could certainly look forward to. I probably looked a fright, and as I was still covered in Lance, there was no way in hell I was going to bed tonight until I had scrubbed everything off. Still, one thing she said intrigued me. “Ancients?” I asked. “Who are they?” 

“Dragons,” Briar shrugged. “Ones who have tired of the mountains and simply wish only to sleep.”

“They don’t go in for reincarnation then?” I opined.

Briar sighed and took a sip of her drink. “Who can say? The minds of dragons are as tightly locked as a ball of steel. Some leave to be reincarnated whereas others take their horde into the bowels of the land to guard it until the sky giants walk the black sands to battle the gods at the end of time.”

“The end of time,” I whispered to myself. “Ragnarok.”

“That is one word for it,” Briar agreed with shiver. “But now is not the time for such melancholy. Now, another drink is called for I believe.”

The balta flowed like black wine as the three of us sang, danced, and drank the night away. I even got to give a rendition of three little maids which Glimmer found hilarious, whilst Briar only looked confused at my pretending to be an innocent school girl. Still, I caught a glimpse of her hiding a smirk behind a convenient wing when I reached the chorus. But as all things come to a close, so did the evening, and the three of us, plus one sleepy little foal, walked down the other side of the hill to the steaming rocks and the promised pools of hot water. Some of which I may add were near scalding. Thankfully yours truly had the cooler pool which was also, judging by the small splashing thing beside me, suitable for foals. This particular turn of events wasn’t missed by Glimmer who smirked at me the way only a thestral could.

“You know, sweet flanks...” The mare blew out a whuff of smoke as she leaned on one of the rocks dividing the pools. “I have no mate now. I may even be tempted by one who can only tolerate lukewarm water.”

I wasn’t sure what to make of that statement. Lance was a still warm pile of ash and blackened bones, and already Glimmer was making a move on me. I didn’t know enough about thestrals to assess whether this was normal or not, so I erred on the side of caution. “I’m sure you’ll have the pick of the warriors back home,” I suggested with a smile. “They’ll be falling over themselves for a fine mare like you.”  

“A fine mare...” Glimmer sighed. “Is that how you see me? A fine mare?”

I nodded, scrubbing my now soaked mane to try and wash away the remains of her late partner. “Of course. We’re friends, Glimmer. Meadow, Sparrow, Shadow and I, care a lot about you.”

Glimmer shrugged slightly and turned over onto her back, her lower half wreathed in the steamy water. “A fine mare...”

Something was troubling her, but exactly what I didn’t know. There was a sadness to her tonight, and not one that had anything to do with Lance either. His death didn’t seem to trouble her in the slightest, which I found strange in itself. But perhaps that really was normal for one of these enigmatic creatures. Still, It wasn’t a comforting thought. I mentally changed the subject by returning to cleaning my coat. The soap Briar had given me lathered wonderfully, and I soon felt myself becoming reinvigorated by the mineral rich water which soaked into my coat and warmed my skin. 

Glimmer stared off into the steam, her eyes distant. “Fairlight?”

“Hmm?”

“I-” she began.

Suddenly something small, black, and decidedly leathery, hurtled into Glimmer’s vision. 

“Ack!”

“Agh!” Glimmer thrashed in the water, trying to move away, but the foal was on her in a heartbeat, clicking and squeaking.

“Fairlight, get it off me!” Glimmer gasped.

“Keep her out of the water!” I shouted desperately, pulling myself out of the cooler pool. “It’s boiling in there for her!” 

“For the goddess’s sake, get this thing off me!”

I concentrated my magic and enfolded Shade in a glowing blue bubble of energy where she happily rocked back and forth, clicking and chuckling to herself. Breathing a sigh of relief I floated the mischievous pest back to my pool and let out a groan. “Come on, love. Settle down and let’s get you clean, eh?” Shade was hardly dirty, but I took up the sponge and began to wash her anyway. Luna’s ears, it was like washing a leathery bag of bones that was wriggling in every direction at once! Now as a parent I suppose I should have washed her before myself, but Shade was pretty much clean already, and I felt fully justified in spending a bit of time on myself for once. I just wish I didn’t feel so bloody guilty about it. “Will you hold still? Honestly!” 

“Eeak! Whurp!”

Gods, those noises were absolutely adorable! “Ooh! Come here you.” Shade slipped out of my grasp momentarily, but I was able to catch her in a laughing, soapy, embrace. “Grrr! I gotcha!”

“EEEK!” 

Shade’s laughing, giggling shrieks made me burst out laughing. There was something infectious about her that sent a warm feeling into my heart. She was so small, so delicate, and carried with her an innocence that was totally at odds with the horror of how she had been born into the world. Briar was right: she was a gift of the gods, a tiny life born from what been nothing but suffering and pain - misery washed away in the light of a child’s innocence. I looked into her burning red eyes, those burning flames of joy and youthful energy. Despite her alien appearance she reminded me so much of Lumin and Sparrow that my chest burned with the emotions surging through me. Lately I had been an emotional wreck, what with my marital problems with Meadow, my confusion, and overall state of distress. Now though, here in the warm pools with a soapy and squeaking Shade, I felt strangely at home. I sure as hell was no thestral, but there was something about this land that called to the wendigo part of me. I’m not sure the word ‘relaxed’ would be particularly accurate as this place was full of things that could devour me in one gulp. But still…

“Doesn’t that bother you?” 

I looked up at Glimmer briefly, “What?”

The mare frowned, “That… that foal.”

A carefully aimed stream of water sluiced the suds off Shade’s body. I was careful to keep it from her eyes and muzzle, preferring to use the cloth Briar had given me to clean that part of her. I’d have to give her mane a good comb while it was still wet which should help with any tangles too. 

“Fairlight?”

I paused. Shade looked up at me curiously with her head on one side, listening to me. I leaned down and kissed her on the forehead which elicited a squeak of happiness. “No,” I said quietly. “She doesn’t bother me. She doesn’t bother me at all.”   

“She’s not your foal,” Glimmer said, glancing over her shoulder at Briar who was still washing her her mane. “That’s what they do. They… They slip into your home in the dead of night. They use their unnatural magic to tie a knot in your heart so you believe them to be your own. So you… So you would fight to the death to defend them.” She gave herself a shake and looked at me directly. “Can’t you see that?”

“So you think she’s some kind of demon?” I barked out a laugh.

“This is nothing to laugh about,” Glimmer hissed.

I floated Shade up and poured water over her tummy, making sure all the soap was off. “Do you know how many times I’ve been called a demon, Glimmer?” Carefully, I placed the happy Shade onto a wide flat rock. “Do you have any idea how much that cut me?” I looked round at her with a raised eyebrow. “Or how thestrals appear to equestrians?”

Glimmer shook her mane. “You’re not listening!” She huffed out a mist of smoke and water vapour. “She’s taken you in, Fairlight. Oh, she may look innocent, but the child knows exactly she’s doing. That was-”

“Glimmer, I’ve heard enough!” I snapped angrily. I turned to face her, placing my fore hooves on the rocks between us. “I know she’s not my daughter and I know exactly how she came into being as I was bloody well there, remember?” I gritted my teeth, forcing the building sense of outrage down into the depths of my soul. “I’m no fool, Glimmer, and Shade is a child - no more, no less.” I fixed her with a gaze that brooked no nonsense. “I don’t give a damn what your idiotic legends say about ‘gifts’ or whatever you want to bloody well call them. They are children, Glimmer. Children that your own people are crying out for and you treat them like some sort of damned parasite!” Without thinking I scooped up the damp foal and held her between us. “Look at her! She’s a thestral just like you. She’s a thestral child for Luna’s sake!”

“Urrp!”

“Why don’t you hold her?” I offered. “Just once, Glimmer. You’ll see for yourself that-”

“NO!”

I stared into Glimmer’s eyes as I held Shade. The thestral mare was my friend, the fearless warrior who had died saving my hide in the white city of the Wither World. She had sacrificed everything to protect a pony she didn’t know. I’d tried so hard to understand her, but now... I didn’t like what I saw. I turned away. “Then do not,” I said flatly.

Water poured off my back as I hauled myself from the soothingly warm confines of the pool. With my souring mood, the once delicious feel of the water against my hide now felt bitterly uncomfortable. Fortunately several large towels had been left warming on the rocks and I began to dry Shade, my back kept firmly to Glimmer. It wasn’t my intention to hurt her, but right then I couldn’t bare to see her. I was sick of superstition. I was tired of foolish and ill informed ‘opinions’ from those who could not see beyond the end of their muzzle. Behind me I heard Briar speaking to her, but I paid it no heed. Right then, Shade needed me.

********************

We finished our bathing in near silence. Other than for Shade’s repeated attempts to dive back into the pool after I’d only just dried her off, the only sound to be heard had been the sharp clopping of hooves on rock and the occasional snort. The atmosphere was uncomfortable to say the least, but finally we finished up, packed the last of our things, and headed back to the hut. Shade, not unsurprisingly, preferred to hop up onto Briar’s back and I was left to head the solemn group along the track, avoiding the hilltop where the occasional wisp of smoke could still be seen floating up to vanish in the unseen breeze over the forest. Walking there at the head of our silent quartet felt extraordinarily lonely, especially with only my own thoughts for company - and that was something I wouldn’t have wished on my worst enemy. I had always been prone to introspection, not to mention self doubt and the good old standby of ‘putting myself down’ as Meadow liked to intone on a regular basis. Sure, I did have problems adjusting to the afterlife, but I was getting better, right? All those courses, the doctors visits, the days out with the in laws? Oh yeah, that had really helped hadn’t it! I suppose I did feel a bit more like my old self today, at least compared to how I’d been recently, but I still wasn’t fully ‘me’ any more. As much as I hated to admit it, the wendigo was a part of the whole that made up the hopeless emotional mess called Fairlight. Missing that part meant I was, to use the words of Star Beard: ‘incomplete’. Ha! That still didn’t make any sense to me, and I guess it never would. Perhaps there simply wasn’t any sense to be made of it in the first place; a question that had no answer. Or an answer to a question that had never been asked. I shrugged to myself and sighed aloud. I was so sick of not being able to do something, let alone move forward with my afterlife. I had spent years being toyed with by others and I sure as hell didn’t want to let that happen again. I simply couldn’t. Not if I wanted to keep what was left of my already fragile sanity at least. Part of my subconscious was warning me about something, but as usual I was so wrapped up in my own self absorption that I paid it no heed until I heard the snap of a branch. Now, I was fully alert. A little too late unfortunately as it turned out.

“Glimmer?” A male thestral’s voice called out from the forest, followed by the appearance of several armoured warriors. “The trial time is past and you have not returned.” The lead stallion walked up to us, his gaze upon me announcing loud and clear his opinion of my presence. “Who is this?”

Glimmer opened her mouth to speak... and then froze. Before us, striding out from between the thestrals, was something I never expected to see here. It was a pony. He was a fairly plain looking fellow: a unicorn, grey in colour, with yellow eyes and a black mane and tail. The cutie mark of three snowflakes intertwined on his flank was almost unnecessary. I knew what he was before he’d even opened his mouth.    

The muscular grey unicorn walked right up to me, radiating superiority like a hungry dragon over a field of cattle.  “Who are you?” he asked. “Celestian?”

My mane bristled at his attitude, but I held my ground. We had a foal here and I couldn’t afford to have these guys rampaging around us just because I’d said something to ruffle their feathers. Not that they actually had any feathers of course, but you get the idea. “My name is Fairlight,” I replied levelly. “I am of the Four Winds tribe. And who, pray, are you?”

“I am Herath,” the stallion announced, raising his head proudly. “Of the Four Winds.” He narrowed his eyes as he stared at me. “I do not remember you. And your name is not one I have heard spoken by any of our people.”

“I only came to the herd recently,” I replied calmly. “I inherited my tribal position.”

Herath raised an eyebrow. “Did you?” he replied quietly. He seemed wary of me, but there was mistaking his doubt at my assertion. “You do not have the eyes of one of us. Can you explain this?”

“I can,” I said politely, “but is this really the time and place for such a discussion, Herath?”

The stallion looked taken aback, but held his peace and merely nodded, “You will come with us. Glimmer, you will return to the Beyond’s holdings and explain to the lord how the trial faired with Lance.” He looked around, apparently expecting Lance to appear at any moment. “Where is he?”

“Lance is dead,” Glimmer replied. She tossed her mane keeping her voice remarkably neutral. “He failed the trial.”

“A shame,” Herath acknowledged with a bob of his head, “but thus are the threads of Fate woven in  her tapestry.” He paused for a moment before announcing, “You shall both accompany us.”

I glanced surreptitiously behind us, but Shade and Briar where nowhere to be seen. I’ll confess I was initially alarmed by their disappearance, but quickly felt a sense of overwhelming relief wash over me. I didn’t know what these guys had in store for us, for good or ill. Whatever it was, at least Shade and Briar were out of the way. Funny how she’d been able to disappear like that though. Perhaps she’d sensed something we hadn’t? Not that it mattered now anyway, with all that armour and weaponry, Herath and his goons would take us apart in a heartbeat if we tried to escape. What I couldn’t help wondering however was why a wendigo was here with the thestrals, and not only that, but in charge too apparently. Very odd indeed. Naturally I knew the thestrals had been allies in the war, and also that some thestrals saw them as being nigh on deities if the way I’d been treated in the Beyond had been anything to go by. At least, that was after they’d seen me in my wendigo form. Now, I, like Herath himself, was nothing more than a regular old unicorn. I certainly didn’t like the term ‘Celestian’ though. I knew damned well what he was referring to, and as much as I may have had some dealings with the plump-rumped matriarch of Equestria, I was no fan of hers by any stretch of the imagination. Whether Herath would believe that was another matter altogether, and a subject I intended to avoid if at all possible. No, the best thing I could do here was show no fear nor hesitation, and play along with the guys and see what Fate had in store for me. So, with Glimmer beside me, we followed the party out of the forest and onto the road.

“Glimmer? Who are these guys?” I asked quietly as we trotted along.

The black coated mare shook her head, keeping a wary eye on the rest of our ‘hosts’. “They are part of the lord’s retinue.”

“But he’s a wendigo,” I replied. “You never mentioned them before. Are there many here?”

Glimmer huffed under her breath, “Will you stop asking questions!” She glanced ahead of us. “Damn it, Fairlight, I’ve been trying to tell you. You’re-”

“Be silent!” one of the guards snapped. “We are in manticore territory you fools. We do not have time to be fighting them now.”

“If you say so,” I beamed. 

The guard looked less than impressed, snorting out a blast of sulphurous smoke from his nostrils in a display that klaxoned his opinion of ponies. He returned his attention to our front, leaving me to my own silent ruminations. What a bloody misery! Still, he did have a point. Unarmed and unarmoured I was hardly a force to be reckoned with, and would more than likely be the first thing a hungry manticore would target out here. Silence was indeed golden, and if it kept me in one piece then I would play along with these guys for a while like a good little sheep. Glimmer’s reaction was interesting though. She hadn’t said much, but I had the distinct impression she knew full well who these characters were, and also where they were taking us. Whatever else Glimmer had been going to say before the guard cut her off would have to keep until later. Right now, like me, she was keeping her mouth well and truly shut. She seemed a little cowed by this Herath character and his pals. In retrospect I suppose I should have paid more attention to her body language, but truth be told I was actually looking forward to meeting the ‘Lord of the Beyond’, whoever that may be. Back in Wither World I hadn’t exactly seen eye to eye with the upper echelons of thestral society at first, and had come within a hair’s breadth of having my head separated from my body. The duchess, goddess bless her, hadn’t appreciated my ‘involvement’ with Shadow it seemed. Not particularly because I was a pony I suspected, but more down to the fact she had already bargained her off to the hulking lord of the Purple Sands tribe - a minotaur of all things! I guess it wasn’t the strangest pairing out there, but the guy was a raving psychopath and I’d been forced to show him the error of his ways at the point of a sword. If I concentrated I could still see the look in his eyes as my blade cleaved him in twain. Like father, like son... The worst part of it was that I hadn’t thought twice about doing it. As time passed I began to feel less and less ‘emotional’ about fighting. Whether that was down to the wendigo within me or something else, something more ‘primal’, I didn’t know. All I can say is that I did what I had to do. Leaving that murderer in charge of the Purple Sands would have continued the bloodshed until there was nopony left. And as for that rat’s cloak… Gods, I still had nightmares about it. I could see the faded cutie marks, the ancient blood stains, the gloating look on the foul monster’s face as he made sure I’d seen it too. It was, after all, him or me. If I hadn’t done what I’d had to do there would have been another addition to that foul garment. I only wish I’d made a cloak out of his damned hide and used it as my own banner. Instead, the Purple Sands were now allied with the Beyond, and with Ember as the duchess of the Broken Cliff tribe, the power of the three combined was considerable. Goddess, how I missed them all. I missed Shadow. I missed her so much my heart ached whenever I saw Glimmer’s glowing eyes and her swaying hips. Bony thestrals may be, but there was something in that sleek lithe look that grabbed at the primal part of me and made my teeth itch something crazy. Subconsciously I ran my tongue along them. They felt a little unusual today, and they had definitely been feeling a touch itchy for some reason. Oh hell! When was the last time I’d brushed them? I groaned inwardly and slogged onward, my hooves clopping along that long sandy road to only the gods knew where. 

Our long march took us further and further into the dark lands of the thestrals. With every step memories of the Wither World assailed me. Memories I’d thought long forgotten, or at least long buried, seeped up from those fathomless depths - both the good, and the bad. We followed the road past seemingly endless forests, watched dragons cavorting high overhead, and stopped by lakes where the inky black waters churned. There we refilled our water skins. On the subject of skins, I caught a glimpse of a sickly white skinned creature sliding just below the surface that the thestrals either hadn’t seen or else merely ignored. Personally the thing had my hackles up in an instant. I recognised the creature immediately; it was one of the lake demons that had taken Shadow’s sister. Those damnable beasts of the depths could strike like lightning, snuffing out a life in a heartbeat. I sure as hell didn’t want to be anywhere near the shoreline when those monsters were around, but for some reason the thestrals didn’t pay it any mind. Part of me itched to speak out, but the other part, the part that had a sick sense of curiosity, wanted to see what they would do if the lake monster decided it was hungry. That unasked question however, was about to be answered. The crunch of hooves through the black sand of the shoreline drew my attention. 

“Something is troubling you?” Herath asked.

I shook my head and took a swig of water from my canteen. “No,” I replied politely.

The grey stallion glanced back at the lake. “You have seen the Slaethe before?”

“Slaethe?” I frowned in thought. “You mean the lake demon?”

“To the ignorant or the superstitious, the name ‘lake demon’ is appropriate,” Herath replied coolly. “There are few left in Equestria now. Those that remain inhabit the mountain lakes and underground pools where once they were farmed for their glands.”

“Balta,” I nodded. “Squeezed glands never tasted so good.”

Herath snorted. Whether it was his version of an ironic laugh or simply derision was unknown. “How came you by one of the Slaethe?” he asked. “You appear unconcerned by thestrals and even have one as your companion. For one who has lived with Celestians, you have either no sense of danger, or...”

“Or?” I asked.

“Or you have been here before.” Herath raised an eyebrow. “However, I doubt that. If you had been here before I would have known. No… No, I think you have been to the Wither World. Yes?”

I nodded, “I’ve been there.”

“Is this how you came by your spirit companion?” he asked.

I took a deep breath and tried to make myself relax, but there was an edge to Herath’s tone of voice that I didn’t like. He’d shown no interest in me at first, and yet now he wanted to be friendly? Alarm bells were clanging in my mind, but if I was careful I might just be able to find out more from him than he did from me. I’d keep it short and sweet. “I had a near death experience and found myself in the Wither World,” I explained. “I met the spirit there, and later he bonded with me.”

“But you do not have the colouring of the tribe?” Herath seemed perplexed, but pressed on. “You do not have the yellow eyes of our people.”

“My mother was...” I closed my eyes, remembering my mother and her deep yellow eyes that had always made me feel so safe and comforted when I was growing up. We hadn’t been as close as some families I’d known, especially not with my father, but I still loved them even with all their faults. Even now. “My mother was a descendant of the four winds tribe,” I said honestly. “My father was a normal unicorn.”

“A half breed.” Herath’s bottom lip jutted out in thought. “You have the look about you.”

I had the impression he wasn’t so much trying to goad me as simply being painfully blunt. “It never stopped me from changing into a wendigo,” I replied with a hint of smugness. “The spirit joined with me just the same as any of my ancestors.”

Herath’s eye twitched. It was only for an instant, but it was there alright. So, a hint of injured pride there was there? Apparently I wasn’t ‘pure’ enough for him. Well, there was another name for what he was, but I wasn’t going to provoke him by pointing it out. Not now.

“And where did you bond with the spirit?” Herath asked. “In the Wither World itself?”

“Initially.” I leaned back and yawned, acting as though this little pantomime was tiresome. My hearing however was as keen as ever and easily picked up on the hint of urgency in his voice. “I bonded fully over time,” I explained, “after I had visited the chamber in the fortress.”

“The fortress?” Herath’s voice nearly cracked. “How came you by the fortress? It was destroyed long ago during the great war. All inside was buried by ice, rock, and the magic of the white witch.” 

“Oh, there’s a way in,” I said nodding my head. “I found my way there more by chance than anything else. The mountains are guarded by the magic of the princess. As for the rest, well, it just… kinda happened.”

Herath’s ears pricked up and he licked his lips as though eyeing a delicious morsel just waiting to be devoured. “Did you perform the rite of bonding?” he asked. “Do you have the memories of the ancestors?”

“The rite of bonding?” I shrugged. “The spirit took charge of that side of things.” And raped Tingles in the process too, the thrice cursed thing. Even the merest thought of it would normally throw me into a pit of self loathing and despair that this time I narrowly managed plunging into. I looked up at Herath and tried to keep the anger from my voice. “I didn’t have much say in the matter as it turned out. And yes, the memories of our people helped to guide me on my journey. I take it this is normal?”

“Normal?” Herath plopped himself down on his haunches and began to stare off into the distance. 

“And what about you, Herath?” I asked. “Were you there when the fortress fell?”

Herath sat up suddenly, blinked, and turned to face me with a look of surprise on his face. “You know how to access the fortress?”

Damn it, I didn’t like the way this conversation was heading at all! “As I said, I came across it by accident,” I told him. “I only managed to survive by the skin of my teeth after being buried under an avalanche. It is not the kind of place to go unprepared. Or even if you are prepared for that matter.” I took a swig of water and wiped my muzzle on the back of my foreleg. “Only the suicidal would go there now, Herath. The fortress is a place of death and despair where only the ghosts of the lost reside.”

The a long pause before Herath closed his eyes. “We are ghosts,” he breathed. Slowly, he stood up and gazed back at the lake. “The white witch made us what we are now.” The stallion began to walk away. “We are the dead. We are no more than memories, forgotten and buried long ago.”

And on that cheery thought I topped up my canteen and pushed the stopper in firmly. What a little ray of sunshine Herath was. ‘We are the dead’. Ha! I suppose he was right of course, but as there was bugger all he or I could do about it there was no sense in moping around for all eternity. It was far better to imagine yourself up a nice house, a pretty garden, and just get on with it. Yearning for what was lost was a sure fire way to get yourself a comfy padded room in the local nut house. And yet even with a nice house surrounded by a pretty garden I still felt that keen sense of loss deep down inside. It was a hole in my sense of self that even the love of my beautiful wife and family could not fill. No matter how much I wished they could.

Unaware of our morose conversation, Glimmer was sitting with the other thestrals around a small campfire, although she seemed more than a little uncomfortable with them if her body language was any indication. Every so often I saw her leg move, her hoof twitching towards her back where her crossbow and axe normally sat. But it was the other little things I saw too: the flick of her tail, the toss of her mane and the odd snort. All of it spoke of her discomfort despite her laughing with the others at some amusing tale or anecdote. Whether her companions were aware of it however, they certainly weren’t letting on. Meanwhile my own ‘visitor’, Herath, was as quiet as the ghosts he believed his, or rather ‘our’ people were. I tried to lighten the mood a little with a change of subject. 

“I believe a group of wendigo entered the herd recently from the northern equestrian mountains. Have any of them been through here?” I asked.

Herath took a deep breath and fixed the sand between us with a withering stare. “Some. Others have... ‘regressed’.”

“Regressed?” I asked, “What’s that then?”

“You don’t know?” Herath barked out a laugh, his humour fading almost as quickly as it had arrived. He closed his eyes and shook his head sorrowfully. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t, would you? You are a half-breed. A mongrel. You could never understand.”

“Try me,” I replied biting back the reply I really wanted to give. Half-breed?!

Herath grimaced as he spoke. “They are the ones who gave up the ways of our people and reverted back to the primitive ways of the… of ‘normal’ ponies.” He shuddered noticeably. “It is a hard thing to lose part of your soul, but to give up on who you are, to surrender to those coloured, singing, squalling milksops is… unforgivable.” 

“None of the wendigo here were ever able to regain their powers?” I asked.

“If you are truly one of the tribe,” Herath rumbled, “then you would already know the answer to your question.”

I closed my eyes and nodded. “I had hoped that there may be a way,” I said quietly. “I’d thought that there was a chance, or some way that-”

“There is no chance,” Herath snapped. “No possibilities, no chances, no stone we have not turned searching for some way we could regain our true selves.” His eyes blazed, “They stole our lives, our lands, and even in the afterlife the gods of the Celestians steal our souls. We have lost everything, can’t you see? Are you so blinded by the blue skies and green fields, become so softened by the pampered life of a race of cowards, that you cannot see the truth staring you in the face?” Herath stomped a hoof, kicking up sand in his anger. “I see it every time I look in a mirror. I see it every time I look down and see the grey fur of a pony. I see everything.” He turned to leave, his head hanging down limply. “I see everything... but hope.”

“Herath, who is the lord of the Beyond?” I asked hopefully. 

“You will find out tomorrow,” he replied dully. “You shall meet him then.”

With no further words between us the large stallion walked back to his lonely vigil by the neatly stacked armour and weapons. Well away, I noticed, from the others of our group. Sitting there, alone, the wendigo was the very definition of the word ‘solitude’. As much as I felt a tinge of sympathy for him, Herath struck me as the kind of guy you never wanted to invite to a party. I’d met his kind before; they could drain the atmosphere away as easily as pulling the plug from a bath. In Herath’s case he was more akin to a black hole pulling in the light of the stars from all around him. Still, I had to admit the big fellow was justified in his bitterness towards his fate, and the gods alone knew how long he’d been here like this. If he was indeed from the time of the war, or even thereabouts, it was around a thousand years ago in Equestrian time alone - a whole millennia’s worth of bitterness, stewing away inside his heart and mind. So far he’d been fairly cordial, if not exactly the most engaging of hosts, but he was still one of the tribe. He was, after a fashion, one of my own people. A concept I constantly struggled to come to terms with. Even after all the time I had spent here with my beloved wife and child, there was still that wendigo part of my soul that cried out to the moon at night when the stars were out and the heat of day had given way to the cool of the evening. It was a cry that Luna herself could not reply to, nor the loved ones I had left behind.

I leaned back and looked up at the stars twinkling in the distant heavens. In a way, this was heaven. For the thestrals anyway. For the wendigo, this was a prison, and one they had created for themselves in some respects. The wendigo were their own creation. A creation that the gods had never intended to come to be. That being so, why should the gods create a heaven just for them? I could call myself the ‘biscuit king’ and roll around in cake crumbs demanding a heaven for the biscuit people for all the difference it would make. As mad as that might make me, was the stark reality of existence in the afterlife for the wendigo any less insane? They had joined themselves with the spirits of the nether world, the space between the Wither World and Equestria. They were far from pleasant beings to begin with, comprised more of raw magical energy and anger than anything else. The result of their joining was the race of wendigo that were now all but extinct in Equestria. The magic of the herd had purged them of their magic, reverting them to who they had always truly been, regardless of how they may feel about it. The sad reality was that the wendigo saw themselves as true a race as any other in every regard. Something told me however that the gods didn’t see it quite the same way, and that moping around was going to achieve absolutely nothing. Nothing good anyway.

Our evening meal consisted of whatever the thestrals could provide. Glimmer had her own saddle packs and panniers whereas I only had my light packs that I’d taken with me to the bathing pools. Not bad for toiletries, but I’m not sure how long you can live on toothpaste, and soap gives me hellish heartburn. On the subject of Glimmer however, for some reason that nopony had bothered themselves to explain she was being kept away from me for the most part, and even on the march we’d been separated. It didn’t bother me too much really, after all I’d spent a great deal of time alone after… after that happened. The job that had been started by somepony but hadn’t been finished... Had it? I sighed. No, those bastards had done their job well enough. They’d tortured and murdered my wife and our unborn daughter, leaving me to die in the burning wreckage of our cabin beside the corpses of my family. The cabin had been rather erroneously called a ‘safe house’ - a remote home assigned to us by the watch until we could get to the bottom of whatever the hell it was we were all mixed up in. 

“Oh, Celestia...” I pulled the pack up under my head, adjusting the contents to form a makeshift pillow. Most of my things were still at Briar’s: my cloak, travelling packs, food, dignity… Yeah. Great. At least Shade was safe, thank the gods. I couldn’t bear lose another foal, even if she wasn’t my own. Seeing her every day it was so easy to forget how Sparrow had died, trapped in her mother’s womb as Meadow’s life ebbed away on the hard wooden floor. Her murderer looming over her. Laughing.

Laughing.

I hadn’t laughed. Meadow hadn’t laughed. Neither did the killers when I’d finally caught up with them. The keeper of the underworld had them now. The puppet master had lost two of her marionettes, but there would more. There were always more. The two filth who had killed my family and sent me to a personal hell were disposable assets, and as long as the mind behind all this was at large, Lumin, Tingles, Shadow, and all of them at Smiling Borders were in danger. If only I could find a way back there, even just for a short time, no more than a week say, I would be able to find down who was behind it all and take them apart so they wouldn’t threaten anypony again. Velvet Cream would be my first target, the commissioner my second, and the gods help them when I found them. The gods themselves would weep at what the wrath of the wendigo had wrought upon those two. And if there were more… then they too would pay the price. And there was only one price to pay… 

“Food.”

The thestral standing over me placed a wooden plate of food beside me. Slowly, I looked up at him and smiled. 

“You! By the goddess, your…!” The thestral balked and then shook his head, taking a step back hurriedly as his eyes went wide.   

I blinked in surprise at his reaction and quickly sat up, glancing behind me. What the-? There was nopony there, only the empty darkness of the black sand and the occasional small copse of crystal trees. Looking back at the warrior he stared at me before shaking his head. 

“Yes?” I asked.

The warrior snorted. “Eat,” he snapped. “We move in one hour.” 

And with that he turned and walked back to his comrades, but not before taking a nervous look back over his shoulder at me. I was perplexed. What the hell was all that about?! Damned idiot, I thought there was something sneaking up on us! Huffing in irritation I picked up the plate and gulped down the contents without bothering to taste it. Maybe it was just as well I hadn’t looked at it first. Whatever it was left a strange, rich, almost burnt rubber taste in my mouth. Right then I didn’t care whether it kept me up all night with heartburn or not. I doubted I’d be getting any sleep any time soon anyway. Blasted thestrals, they were peculiar enough as it was without acting all jittery around me too. I let out a sigh and flopped back onto my makeshift pillow and tried to get some rest. All too soon we would be on the move again and I would finally be able to see who this ‘lord’ was, ask why in Luna’s name I had been dragged along like some unwelcome baggage, and then get the hell out of here with Shade. I just hoped she was alright. She wasn’t my daughter, I kept telling myself that, but not having her with me felt like a little part of me was missing somehow. Perhaps a few winks would put my troubled mind to rest. Goddesses, it had to be worth a try.


********************


The wind began to pick up as we walked. Glimmer and Herath headed the party whilst the thestral warriors followed in an evenly spaced formation behind. Nopony seemed particularly bothered about me for some reason. In truth I could probably have just turned around and walked away, but I had a sneaking suspicion that attempting such a thing would elicit a sudden, and decidedly unpleasant, response. The thestrals were no fools, and I bet that even though I couldn’t see them doing it, I was likely being watched like a hawk. Even so I had a fair turn of speed with these old pony legs which I could call on if needed, and the bony creatures were anything but fast with their clumsy wings. As for how fast they could run in that armour though was something I didn’t fancy finding out the hard way. No, I was stuck with them whether I liked it or not. At least for now. Speaking of which, there was a commotion up ahead. Several of the thestrals were becoming animated, chatting to one another in loud clicks and squawks. Herath and Glimmer hadn’t slowed down, so… Ah, now I could see why. We’d broached the top of a long incline, and coming into view in the near distance was what I could only describe as a veritable mass of thestral huts. The tribal huts I had seen in the Withers were arranged in long neat lines either side of a main thoroughfare, with the great hall sited at one end of the village. Here however, it was a little different. Not because the buildings themselves were any different from their counterparts in the mortal realm however, nor even how they were laid out. No, it was the sheer scale of it that took my breath away. In the Withers there had usually been no more than several dozen to a village. Here, there were hundreds, thousands even. Each little upside down nest of shining crystal branches was a set distance from its partner, the roads through the black sand all leading to a large centralised open area and what could only be the lord’s hall beyond that. I never thought for a moment that I’d need sunglasses in the thestral lands, but by Luna’s fuzzy ears, I wished I had brought the blasted things now. The glare off the combined ranks of sparkling homes was almost painful to the eyes, and a stark contrast to the otherwise dark landscape I had come to associate with the thestral race. 

We followed the road down, past the huts and headed straight towards the centre of the web. Around us thestrals stopped to watch the curious procession, staring at me as though I were some untethered hunting trophy. It wasn’t a comforting thought either. Although thestrals didn’t eat ponies, I’d still heard the stories, the old legends of the dark creatures that haunted the night. Parents used to use them to scare foals into coming home before last light. Those that remembered the stories of course. It was just as well I didn’t believe them, otherwise I would have turned tail and run for all I was worth long ago. That said, if you could look past the strange appearance of these beings, it could have been any town in Equestria. Well, if you had an active imagination of course. Very active! But sure enough, here and there stalls had been set up selling all manner of things, from weapons and clothes, to leather work and food. Interesting smells assailed me from all sides; some pleasant, others not so. There was certainly a theme here though. Armoured thestrals were everywhere, and that coupled with the militaristic layout of the town gave this reluctant observer the impression of being in the midst of an army campsite. For the thestral passing from the Withers to the afterlife it must have been home from home. One hut, one set of armour and weapons, and you were as happy as Larry. All you needed then was a good war to get your muscles working properly and the thestral idea of heaven was born. It was no wonder they were moved from Equestria by the gods, otherwise the pastel coloured peace lovers would have been extinct long ago. Come to think of it, how the hell ponies had won the war against the Legion and Nightmare Moon was nothing short of miraculous. I had seen the memories of Maroc and it still seemed unreal to me no matter how many times I ran it through my mind. The ponies in his time must have been a far different breed than they were now, that was for certain. Perhaps it was just as well in some respects, but it still showcased the adaptability of their race.

Their race.

Goddesses, when had I started thinking of Equestrians as ‘them’? I stared down at my hooves plodding along. They were typical pony hooves attached to typical pony legs, and a very typical pony body to boot. But it was what was inside that was different. I was a wendigo whether I liked it or not. Demon, terror of the northern winters, call me what you will, but I was who I was. Maybe I’d forgotten that on some level, I don’t know, although I think that there was still that part of me that didn’t want to be a wendigo, that wanted to remain nothing more than a plain old everyday stallion with a wife, child, and a happy little afterlife in our beautiful cottage. It hadn’t been enough. Pop had known that too. In the soul hunters I’d felt more at home, for as short a period as it was. In my own mind I’d been a watchpony again, back in my old life helping those who needed help. And it had felt good. Since arriving in the thestral world of the dead however, the other side of me had been silently crying out into the dark sky, pulling at me in a way that had felt both exhilarating and terrifying in equal measure. In life it had been a constant internal struggle. One part pony, one part wendigo, I had been able to control the wendigo side of me for the most part, but not until I’d done some terrible things - things that I would remember on dark, cold nights by the fire. I had done my best to accept that no matter what the future brought, it was still a part of who I was, and if I were honest, if somepony asked me now if I could give it all up and return to being plain old Fairlight Loam the watchstallion... I know what my answer would be.

Our merry band halted by another group of thestrals who they apparently knew, and soon the whole lot of them were all chatting away in that strange language of theirs, leaving me standing about like a spare part. Some guards these guys were! Beside us the loud clanging of a blacksmith’s rang in my ears, dulled only slightly by the large numbers of pedestrians pushing past us. Rather than being an annoying sound however, I found it quite mesmerising. The heat, the smoke, the ringing of steel upon the anvil - it was creation on an almost primitive level. But the skill of a talented blacksmith should never be underestimated. They could transform elements from the earth into something magical in its own right, forging everything from simple garden tools to true works of art. Without any conscious will of my own, my tired hooves drew me towards the music of the metal, and the tall slim stallion wearing an apron as he beat the glowing iron. I was transfixed by the sheer energy, the raw power of what I was seeing. A piece of metal, white hot, was struck again and again in a rhythmic pounding of the hammer. Sparks flew like burning flakes of starlight. It was so beautiful, so entrancing…

“Can I help you?” The stallion stopped to wipe the sweat from his brow and put down the hammer. He had a shorter mane than most of the thestrals I’d seen, most likely due to his work. His coat was slick with sweat, his eyes a deep ruby red, whilst his muzzle displayed short sharp teeth curling up over his top lip at the corners of his mouth. As I watched he walked over to a water butt and rinsed off his face before lifting the ladle and taking a long draught.

“Sorry,” I replied, “I was just so fascinated watching what you were doing. I’ve seen blacksmiths at work before and it always called to me for some reason.” I gazed at the forge and sighed. “I guess I missed my calling in life.”

“It’s never too late to start,” the thestral replied. “I was a warrior in my day, but when I came to the Darklands I fancied a change of pace. The town needed more armourers, and so, here I am.” The thestral’s eyes widened. “Ah! Where are my manners? The name’s Nimbus. And you are?”

“Fairlight...” I frowned in thought for a moment. Nimbus? I’d heard that before somewhere. And then it came to me, “You aren’t Thorn’s son by any chance are you?”

“You know my father?” The young looking fellow took a step towards me, frowning in thought. “By the goddess… You’re that pony everyone’s been going on about, right? The wendigo?”

“Not so much a wendigo in practice, but yup, that’s me.” I reached out a hoof. “It’s good to see you again.”

Tentatively, Nimbus reached out and shook my hoof. “You know me?”

I took a breath and nodded slowly, “I saw you only briefly. By the bridge on our way to the white city. You were-”

“Already dead,” Nimbus finished for me. He shrugged it off. “It doesn’t matter, they did what they had to do as warriors. I died as a warrior should. It all worked out as the goddess planned.”

“They turned you into a living bomb!” I huffed. “I had nightmares about what they’d done to you.”

“But my father succeeded, didn’t he?” Nimbus asked, no doubt knowing the answer already.

I conceded a nod. “Yeah. At a damned high price though.”

“And now three tribes are unified,” Nimbus smiled. “And I believe that is thanks in part to you, is it not?”

“Ha! I think it happened despite me you mean!” I laughed.

Nimbus rolled his eyes and chuckled merrily. “Come, have a drink with me, friend. I have some chilled Andrilean Ale here which I’d set to one side for later.” He shook his mane as he removed the lid from a box beside a long wooden pipe-like system. “You know, I can’t remember why I put two jugs in here. Perhaps it was fate that brought you here today.”

“To sample your ale?” I asked.

“And why the hell not?” Nimbus passed one of the jugs to me and lifted his own up. “To old warriors!”

“To old warriors!” I laughed, and toasted my old friend’s son in good cheer.

Nimbus pointed to the box. “What do you think then, Fairlight? I’ve tapped into the mountain’s coldest stream and use a system of pipes to ensure I have constant running water here for the forge. Also makes a damned good place to cool your beer too.”

“It’s very ingenious,” I said taking another mouthful of the cold refreshing brew. “Do you need running water in a forge?”

“For Heaven’s Steel, yes.” Nimbus put down his ale and licked his lips. “Mmm! The usual weapons and armour are made from the crystal trees you see. A good few whacks and they end up with chips, not unlike flint weapons, but much, much harder. Heaven’s steel though is different. It has to be forged at much higher temperatures than other metals, and running mountain water is the best thing I’ve found to quench the metal just right. It needs to be hard and sharp, but flexible enough so it won’t break. It keeps its shape too, which is something I managed to achieve after more than a few accidents, I can tell you.”

“I’ve never heard of heaven’s steel before,” I said honestly. “Is it rare?”

Nimbus finished his ale in one impressive swig before answering. “It is. I pay the younger warriors to bring it back for me when they find it so I can use it to make weapons and armour. Not so much in the armour department though because finding enough of the stuff even for a peytrel can take months. Years sometimes for the right grade.”

“Where does it come from?” I asked.

“Falls from the sky believe it or not,” Nimbus shrugged. “Some call is Sky Metal, Gods Tears, Dragon Shit, you name it. Basically we find lumps of it out there now and again, but there’s not an awful lot in the samples we recover so prices are kept high.”

“But the price for a piece made from it is even higher?” I offered.

Nimbus belched out a laugh, “Damned right it is!”

The young stallion’s smile was infectious, and I found myself warming to this unusual and gracious host of intruding ponies as I began to lose myself in his world. “Forgive me Nimbus, but you seem a lot different to the other warriors I’ve met. I don’t mean this in a bad way you understand, it’s just that you come across as a lot less, um… stuffy?”

“Do I?” Nimbus huffed and leaned against one of the large roof supports. “Yeah, I get told that. I was brought up like the rest, and having a father like Thorn made everybody else think I was going to be ‘just like him’ or be the next great general of the army or some such rubbish. Nope, I did my duty, and after I’d died I began thinking to myself: is this really what I want to do for the rest of eternity? Just bash others on the head?” He shook his head, “No. But this...” He reached into a barrel of small dark metallic lumps of ore, “this is worth it. To work with this incredible material and create pieces that will last until the end of days? That, Fairlight, that is truly a worthy path for any fellow tread.”

“To create rather than to destroy?” I asked.

“I was thinking more about making money, but yes, that’ll do too.” Nimbus suddenly laughed out loud and slapped his side. “Come, Fairlight, let me show you something that will make your heart sing!”

The interior of the forge was just as dark as I remembered from my last visit to the blacksmiths in Ponyville. This was by design of course, and intended to aid the smith in determining the temperature of the heated metal by showing up the variations in the colour better than it would under normal daylight conditions. The finished pieces on display play here though were a different animal altogether from the more pedestrian creations of your everyday equestrian smith. A myriad examples of the thestral blacksmiths art hung from hooks, sat stacked in barrels, or were otherwise leaned up in racks on the walls. Spears, swords, axes, you name it. Some of the items were made from the crystal material I was used to seeing, but others had been crafted from a much darker substance. So dark in fact that they seemed to suck what little light there was from the very air around them, playing tricks on the eyes of the observer. I blinked, trying to focus on them as Nimbus carefully reached down and unlocked a large chest heavily bound in thick layers of iron strapping.

“Problem with thieves?” I asked.

The blacksmith shook his head. “No, but I believe it’s best not to take chances. Besides, we have more than thestrals here in the Darklands.” He looked up at me apologetically. “No offence.”

“None taken,” I smiled.

“Good. Now then, let’s get this into the light.” Nimbus lifted out a thickly wrapped object from the chest’s depths and carried it over to his workbench. After I’d moved some of his tools aside to make room, the thestral placed the item down and took a breath. “Here it is,” he said quietly, “my masterpiece. I made it for the last lord of the Beyond, but when he fell in battle it just ended up languishing here. Unpaid for.”

“Can’t you sell it?” I asked.

“I tried,” he replied, “But my people are a superstitious lot, and some idiot said that it was cursed for some damned fool reason. The next thing I knew was that nobody would so much as look at the thing save they ‘absorb its negative energy’ or some such rot. I wouldn’t mind, but he hadn’t even picked the bloody thing up before he got his dumb head lopped off! Maybe if he had he’d still be around now.” Nimbus sighed, “Such are the trials of the gods. Here, have a look for yourself.”

Carefully the thestral turned back the sheets of oiled cloth. One, then another, and then another, each uncovering a little more of the sleeping weapon until, finally, the thestral’s artwork was revealed in all its glory to my inquisitive gaze. And ‘art’, it most certainly was.

“What do you think?”

I stared at the thing before me in open mouthed awe. Words failed me. It was… It was simply... magnificent. The haft was carved black wood, elegantly turned at just the right angles for a pony to be able to hold it in their hooves and forelegs. Silver inlay, neatly applied and tastefully subdued, wound like ivy along its length. But it was the blade that sang the loudest to me. The long curved blade, wide at the top and sweeping down to a point that was as sharp as the breath of winters first frost. Runes were carved into it, inlaid in some sort of red substance that glowed eerily in the light. The blade itself though, seemed to hold a deeper inner light of its own. Blue. Blue as the ocean’s depths and the deeper blue of a midnight sky. As I moved I swear I could see stars in the darkness, twinkling like silver, dancing away as I my eyes fell upon them. 

“My goddess...” I breathed, “It’s full of stars.”

“A trick of the light and the metal’s inner structure,” Nimbus said quietly, apparently pleased with my reaction. “Heaven’s steel never needs sharpening. Never cracks, nor bends, nor breaks.” He shrugged, “And yet this will never see battle. A shame.”

“The inscription...” I whispered.

“Oh that.” Nimbus raised an eyebrow, “It’s an ancient language from somewhere. Personally I haven’t got a clue what it says, but the lord asked for it to be inscribed and-”

My lips moved on their own, the words coming from a place that bypassed my conscious mind and spilling out into the quiet of the forge, “One to find the way. One to open the lock. Blood to open the world. Heart to close the wound.”

“You can read that?!” Nimbus shook his head in amazement. “Nobody I know here could make head nor tail of it, and in honesty, I don’t think the lord could either. I think he just liked the look of the runes. How did you...?”

“I… don’t really know,” I said quietly. 

I blinked and rubbed my eyes. I’d had something like this happen to me before, back when I had been able to tap more readily into the wendigo memories stored within me. I hadn’t seen nor heard anything from them since before I’d died. And yet now, without warning, I’d been able to read ancient writing as easily as Equestrian. I was beginning to feel decidedly unsettled and I think Nimbus noticed it too.

“I’d better put it away,” he said quickly.

“NO!” My hoof shot out and caught him. “No… Please, Nimbus. Can I… Can I hold it? Just for a moment, please.”

The young stallion stood staring at me, his eyes watching me warily as he said, “Um… Sure.” 

A little hesitantly, the tall stallion stood back and let me approach his workbench and the incredible weapon that lay upon it on the bed of cloth. The steel, cold as death and no doubt just as lethal, sat there, waiting for me. My lips were bone dry and I licked them in anticipation. Carefully, slowly, I reached out and lifted it from the bench. But not with magic. Not this time. No, this was a weapon that need to be wielded with sinew, muscle, and brute strength alone. My hooves trembled as I lifted it and felt the weight. My heart leaped into my throat. It was as light as a feather! And yet it carried just enough heft in the perfect proportions to give it momentum. I slid my foreleg down the wood, feeling for what I knew was there. The slightest amount of pressure, and with a ‘click’ the black blade swept out with a hiss that cut the air in twain. I smiled. Memories of battle, the sound, the blood, the screams... The wendigo within me sang the song of war as clear as the mountain air. 

“It knows you.” Nimbus’s words drifted through the air.

I blinked as I came back to myself. “What do you mean?”

The black stallion leaned against the pillar and smiled. “A weapon chooses its master. I could make a thousand blades, all identical, but only one of them would suit the bearer. This one,” he nodded, “has found you.”

“I’m no warrior,” I said quietly. I could see my reflection in the blade as the sparks of light in the steel glinted in the dim light. “Not now.”

“Who said you had to be?” Nimbus replied. “I know many who carry a weapon as nothing more than an ornament. For you though, this blade has found a master. Whether you use it as a weapon or not is up to you.”

“I… I don’t know.” I closed my eyes, painfully tearing them away from the sheer majesty of the weapon in my hooves. “I can’t pay you. The herd doesn’t have-”

Nimbus held out a hoof. “You don’t have to. My father does not make friends lightly, Fairlight. And besides, nobody here is ever going buy the thing, so I’d rather it-”

“You!” The voice slammed into the forge like a hammer blow. “Get out of there and come with us. Now!”

Reluctantly I passed the scythe back to Nimbus. “Thank you, Nimbus. Perhaps one day, eh?”

“Perhaps.” Nimbus stared past me at the warrior. “He’s coming now.”

The busy life of the thestral town ebbed and flowed around me, the cries of stall holders mingling with the overall rumble of life so typical of any well populated urban area. Some of the locals stopped to stare as we passed them by. Most simply ignored us. Nimbus stood in the doorway of his forge, watching us leave in silence as I was lead away like the compliant prisoner I apparently was. Whatever lay in store for me wasn’t far away now anyway. Looming up ahead of us was the focal point of the town; the great hall of the lord. Unlike the nest-like homes of the general citizenry, the lord’s abode w as built of neatly cut logs of crystal, the whole giving the appearance of a massive upturned boat. Just like the home of the Beyond tribe in the Withers, numerous flags and shields adorned the walls - flags I had seen before. They were black, trimmed in deep purple, and sporting a white embroidered helmet in the centre. It was the emblem of their goddess, Nightmare Moon. Even here, even now, the darker persona of the princess of the night was worshipped as the one true goddess of the moon. Her defeat at the hooves of her sister apparently meant little to the thestrals, and she was as revered now as she ever had been. 

The steps up to the large double doors were polished and worn from the countless hooves that had passed this way over the aeons, whilst guards in black painted armour stood like living statues flanking the entrance to their lord’s home. There was a part of me that half expected the duchess to appear at any moment screaming for my head, but as far as I knew the crazy old coot was still alive and kicking in the Withers. At least, I hoped so. The last thing I wanted was to be reunited with that lunatic. I doubted she’d ever forgiven me for taking her daughter away from her, irrespective of the fact that she had achieved what she’d wanted anyway: the unification of the two tribes. Now, with Ember having married into the Broken Cliff tribe, they were larger still. With those bonds of marriage the prosperity of the three tribes was assured. For the foreseeable future anyway.  

Our party was met by a pair of thestral mares wearing white cloaks. The two of them walked tall and proudly, their heads adorned with wreaths of golden leaves, an ostentatious adornment which spoke volumes of their lord. Most of the thestrals I had met previously were more, shall we say, rugged? Even the duchess hadn’t exactly been over dressed, but perhaps things were a lot different here than I’d expected. In any case I couldn’t hear what was being said from where I was standing, but whatever it was we were lead in virtually straight away. It appeared we were expected...

Our hoof steps clopped on the polished black floor, the hollow sound echoing around the wide open interior. Tall columns, carved in the doric style, supported the high vaulted ceiling. Lit torches ranged along the walls, their flames flickering in the breeze from the open door which banged shut behind us with a resonating boom which made my mane twitch. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to take my mind of what was to come. Unfortunately, it was a lot harder than it sounded. Even looking straight ahead I couldn’t help but notice the plethora of colourful banners that hung from polished golden chains on each of the supporting pillars. I suspected they’d been purposely placed in this manner so that anypony approaching the throne would have been left in no doubt whatsoever that this was the seat of a warrior lord. And by the gods, there was so many of them! You would have had to have been blind to have missed them, but then, that was the point wasn’t it. They were a mixture of the more typical thestral battle flags I was familiar with, and many more besides. Knowing the thestral race these were probably war trophy’s, perhaps facsimiles of the ones taken back in the mortal realm. There were many I didn’t recognise, but one in particular jumped out at me. It was a large red banner, embroidered in gold thread with a wreath and the letters ‘E.Q’ in the centre. A Equestrian banner. This one, was special. Unlike the others it was surrounded by stacks of neatly arranged spears and swords, definitely not like the ones the thestral warriors used. Beside them, bowls of incense and flickering braziers added an extra dimension to the overall theme. That theme being power. This place, this home of the thestral lord, oozed military might the likes of which I had never seen before in all of my travels.

Guards, heavily armed and armoured, watched us in absolute silence as we passed them until finally reached the long purple carpet that lead up to the foot of the stairs to the single throne. Unlike my visit to the delightful duchess’s home there were no ranks of baying minor lords and ladies here, no crowd of angry thestrals demanding my head either. Whether that was a good sign or not remained to be seen. Herath, leader of our group, stopped us with a raised hoof and the party came to a halt. And then, we waited. The absence of sound was, to use a cliche, utterly deafening. My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears along with my breathing, as all around me the thestrals stood like pieces on a chessboard: immobile, frozen in place as though awaiting the command of their master. Fortunately I didn’t have to wait too long for our audience. The two white cloaked mares reappeared from a side door and strode out to take their positions either side of the throne. And then, as I expected, the lord himself emerged. 

I could sense the tension from the guards increasing despite their silence. The tall thestral in the purple and black cloak bore his position well, and his people knew it. He was muscular for a thestral, and as his coat caught the light its scarlet undertone made him look as though he had bathed in the blood of his enemies. His impressively sharp teeth were perfectly white, curling over his top lip and really drew the eye. The stallion’s hooves were polished to a near mirror finish, his tail and mane had been interwoven with fine golden ivy and leaf designs, not too much to be vulgar, but just enough to be tasteful. As for his eyes… the blue-white was startling – two small fires of brilliance in a coat that was as dark as midnight. He ascended the steps and took to his throne with a sweep of a hoof, allowing his cloak to spill over the arm. Behind him another thestral appeared, cloaked in red and black and carrying a sword that was so long it could likely cleave a dragon in twain. By the looks of the enormous blade and the nicks in the edge, it likely had been for exactly that. I recognised the material immediately. Heaven’s steel. So, a product of Nimbus perhaps? Even from where I was standing the workponyship was mouth watering, and I could feel myself nearly drooling at the mere sight of such a magnificent weapon.

“Attend all for Lord Maul of Moon Hollows.” 

Moon Hollows, eh? It sounded almost quaint considering the surroundings. Mind you, I would have been surprised if they’d kept the same name as the ‘Beyond’ of course. Conversation would have been a bit confusing to say the least! I could see it now; ‘Fancy a coffee in Ponyville? Sure! Is that the one where the living go, or the dead? Not many in here tonight, competition a bit stiff? Yeah, it’s been dying off lately. Really? You need to liven the place up a bit.’  It would be a stand-up comedian’s paradise.

“Bow!” Somepony hissed at me, and I bobbed my head with the others.

“Well? What’s happened then?” Smoke trickled from Lord Maul’s nostrils as his gravelly voice rolled out, amplified by the echoing nature of the hall. “I was just about to take a bath and then I’m told there’s a matter that ‘demands’ my ‘immediate’ attention.” He narrowed his gaze, staring at each of us in turn. “Yes? Anyone? Don’t all rush at once now will you?”

Herath cleared his throat and stood tall. He was quite impressive in stature really, and nearly as tall as our genial host. “Glimmer of the Beyond has returned from her mate’s trial, my lord. He appears to have been killed, however when we went searching for them we found Glimmer in the company of this Celestian.”

“‘Appears’ to have been killed...” Maul muttered.

“Yes, my lord.”

Maul raised an eyebrow. “By what, exactly?”

Herath looked confused. “My lord?”

“You said he ‘appeared’ to have been killed,” Maul snorted. “By what? A cold? Terminal mange? Well? Spit it out, stallion!”

Herath closed his eyes and seemed to stiffen up as he said, “We believe he was killed by the Celestian, my lord.”

“Ah, now we’re getting somewhere!” Maul turned his gaze to me. “A Celestian, eh?” He peered at me with his intense eyes. “Well? Got a tongue in your head, boy? Speak!”

I gave myself a surreptitious shake, and perhaps a little impolitely on reflection, a step forward. “My name is Fairlight, Lord Maul. And I can assure you I am most definitely not a ‘Celestian’.” I shot a look at Herath.

“Bold words, boy, bold words.” The lord nodded to himself as if affirming something in his own mind. “Care to explain what you were doing with one of our mares in the woods?” He leaned towards one of the white cloaked hoofmaidens. “Guess he was up to no good, eh? Fancied a slimmer lass than he was used to I’ll wager!” The two maids chuckled on cue as the tall stallion turned back to me. “Well, come on then boy, out with it, out with it.”

I decided to keep things short and to the point. Maul seemed the type who preferred brevity rather than embellishments. “Glimmer is a friend of my family, Lord Maul,” I explained. “I came here to pay her a visit and was attacked by a manticore on the way. Fortunately I was saved by some passing warriors and taken to the seer’s home where my wounds were treated. I was collected firewood when I encountered Glimmer and Lance, her mate, in the woods.” I took a breath. “He challenged me to a fight. I was lucky, I caught him off guard, and later… he sacrificed himself to the goddess rather than endure returning to you in disgrace.”

“Really now?” Lord Maul took a swig of his wine and then suddenly clopped his hooves together. “Wine for our guests!” Surprisingly graciously he waited until we had all been refreshed before continuing with his questions. “So, Fairlight was it?” I nodded. “You have many thestral friends, do you? I haven’t been to the Eternal Herd in some centuries, so I expect some things have changed since I was last there. Common is it?”

“It is not common, my lord,” I replied carefully. “I have been blessed by the goddess to have friends such as Glimmer.”

“I’m sure you have been, Fairlight. Yes indeed.” The lord waved a hoof at our entourage. “The rest of you can go. Fairlight, Glimmer, you will stay here with me and we can continue our little chat in more salubrious surrounds, yes?” 

It didn’t sound like I had much choice in the matter. Mind you, part of me was screaming at me to run like hell for the door, but as I didn’t feel particularly suicidal right then I kept my brain from getting me killed and simply nodded, “Yes, Lord Maul.”

The red-black stallion clopped his hooves together, “Capital! Let us away then, equines. Girls! Food and drink to my audience chamber. The good wine if you please, and some of my brandy too I think.”

Brandy? Suddenly my position of prisoner didn’t seem so bad! Unfortunately Glimmer didn’t appear to share my optimism. She was as quiet as she had been since our first encounter with Herath and his troop, remaining uncomfortably silent as she followed the Lord and I into a side room which was as plush as the hall had been austere. The now familiar battle banners lined the walls together with paintings of, surprisingly, distinctly equestrian landscapes. Burning black braziers and sconces were noticeable by their absence, replaced instead with a large chandelier of thick candles and, surprisingly, magic lanterns. Large cushions lay around a circular rug which was embroidered with the goddess’s sigil. 

The lord flopped onto one of the cushions and waved to us, “Take a seat, both of you.”

I nearly collapsed. The hardships of everything that had happened to me since arriving in the Darklands seemed to be catching up to me all at once, and I sank into the soft cushion with a deep sigh.

“You must forgive my officers,” Lord Maul began. “They can be a little overzealous at times. Especially considering the unusual circumstances of your arrival, Fairlight. Do you mind if I call you that?”

I shook my head, “Of course not, Lord Maul.”

The thestral nodded. Leaning back, he lifted his muzzle and sniffed. “Ah, refreshments!”

True enough, several hoofmaidens filed in and arranged platters of fascinating looking snacks before us on low tables while other brought in decanters of, I noted, a decidedly fine looking brandy. 

“Smoke?”

Again I nodded, and in short order a selection of finely made pipes already packed with tobacco, a jar of tapers, and a low burning candle were brought in. Now this was more like it! Long live being a prisoner! I waited until Lord Maul had taken his pipe before taking mine and lit it with the flame from my magic. 

“May I?” he asked.

I obliged, leaning forward and hovered the flame over the stallion’s bowl until he had his pipe well lit. Glimmer followed, and the three of us sat there smoking, with a generous measure of brandy each and in especially welcome comfort.

“Lord Maul, may I ask a question?” I asked.

He nodded, “You may.”

“Am I a prisoner of yours?”

For a moment the thestral puffed on his pipe, rolling the smoke around his mouth as he thought. “Do you believe you are a prisoner?”

“Considering the circumstances, I confess I am a little unsure,” I answered honestly. “For a gaoler you are a most excellent host, my lord.”

Maul’s laughter rolled out around the room. “I should hope so!” He sighed loudly as he rolled his shoulders. “My dear fellow, freedom is a concept of ones own mind. You are as much a prisoner as I am. As we all are. The gods, are our gaolers.”

“So I am free to go whenever I please?” I asked.

“Of course.”

“And your guards wouldn’t stop me?”

“Why would they?” Lord Maul asked pleasantly. “The war ended a long time ago, Fairlight. For some of us however, the memories of that time linger, and ponies are not exactly trusted folk amongst us.”

I nodded, taking a sip of my brandy. “The wendigo live here though, don’t they?”

“Aye, they do.” Lord Maul took a pull on his pipe. “Wendigo like you, eh?”

I said nothing.

“Fairlight Loam: Lord of the four winds, slayer of the dragon of coal spike mountain, scourge of the changelings and mate of the lady Shadow of the Beyond.” Maul smiled, “Am I correct?”

He was, damn him. I kept my voice polite and neutral as I replied, “Lady Shadow slew the dragon, Lord Maul.”

“Ha! Did she now?” The ancient thestral slapped his thigh loudly, “Damn it all, I knew the girl had some of her father’s gumption about her!”

“You know her, sir?” I asked.

“Know her?” Maul huffed loudly, “I may have been dead for a while boy, but I know my own people, and I know where she came from too. Oh, yes, I know.” He leaned towards me. “You do know what she is don’t you?”

I felt my heart go cold. “I do.”

“Yes… yes I thought you would. That old soak Briar wouldn’t have been able to resist filling your head full of her tales. And I’ll bet she’d have known exactly who you were the moment you popped through the portal too.” He waved a hoof. “Oh, don’t look so surprised, boy. Briar sees everything that goes on both in the herd and here in the Darklands. She would have known about the manticore long before the beast had even had a sniff of you. In fact, I’d also bet that old crone found you herself and carted you back home rather than some ‘conveniently passing warriors’.” He shrugged, “What an imagination! In all honesty I’m surprised you didn’t end up as a sacrifice yourself, rather than poor Lance. Sad about the young lad though; he had promise that one. Couldn’t keep his old stallion in his pants though, if you know what I mean. Thought with his emotions rather than his grey matter.”

“So you believe my story?” I asked.

“Why not?” Lord Maul asked. “Do you have a reason to lie to me?”

I shook my head, “No, my lord.”

“Good lad.” The thestral turned to Glimmer and spoke to her in their hissing and clicking tongue. For several minutes the peculiar conversation flowed back and forth before he finally returned his attention to me. “My apologies for speaking to Glimmer in front of you, Lord Fairlight. I’m sure you understand that something like this is rather unusual, and I would much rather keep things cordial than have you thrown into the basilisk pit, yes?”

I nodded, “Yes, Lord Maul.” Basilisk pit?!

He chuckled and took one of the snacks, tossing it into the air before gulping it down. “Glimmer speaks highly of you, Lord Fairlight. In fact, my brothers and sisters who recently arrived from the Withers speak of your fight with the lord of the purple sands and the battle of the city of the moon.” He smiled, taking another puff on his pipe, “Ah, how I wish I could have been there! The sounds and smell of battle, the clash of axe and sword, the sight of your vanquished enemies beneath your hooves. The song of war, lord Fairlight, you know of this, yes?”

“I do,” I replied. 

“Good,” Lord Maul said, sinking back into his cushions. “Good.” The thestral took a sip of his brandy, rearranging his tail. “Now, it would seem we have something of a problem on our hooves that has to be resolved. It shouldn’t be too much of a task though, as you look like the kind of fellow who can handle himself. In fact I’m absolutely certain it’s something we can deal with without too much fuss.” I suddenly had that sinking feeling that I was about to hear something I wasn’t going to like. “Tell you what, as I’m the host here, I believe your friend Glimmer would be best placed to tell you. That is, if you aren’t already aware of it?”

“Aware of what?” I asked, glancing at Glimmer in confusion.

At Lord Maul’s urging, Glimmer licked her lips, her head held low as she began. So far, this didn’t bode well for me at all. “Fairlight...” She closed her eyes and let out a pent up sigh. “With the death of my mate at the hooves of another stallion...” A shudder ran through the mare’s body. “You can… claim me as your own.” My heart skipped a beat as she continued, “As you are already mated to… several mares, I… I do not want to...”

I placed a hoof on her foreleg. “I know, you don’t have to explain.”

“No,” Glimmer shook her head. “You don’t understand. Our laws state that by refusing to accept you as my mate, I must undergo the trial of branches to cleanse my shame and restore the honour of my lineage.”  

I frowned, casting a glance at Maul. “What’s the trial of branches?” 

Glimmer took a deep breath. “I must go out into the hinterlands for a year, living on what I can find and-”

“What?! Now just hold on a bloody minute!” I cut in. My mane bristled as my anger flared. “What the hell is going on here? What happened between Lance and I has nothing to do with you at all!” I rounded on the lord. “Lord Maul, you can’t let her go off into exile, she’s innocent! It was me who knocked out Lance, sure, but it was his choice to go and sacrifice himself. Glimmer had nothing to do with it!”

“Lance was her mate, was she not?” Lord Maul asked pleasantly.

“Well, yes, but-”

The old thestral shook his head. “It is our law, Lord Fairlight. You may not like it, but as an… ‘Equestrian’, I understand you may find such things a little unusual compared to your own customs, yes?”

“It’s bucking suicide is what it is!” I snapped. “The land here is a bloody deathtrap, and on her own she wouldn’t stand a chance!”

“Wouldn’t she?” Lord Maul let out a snort of smoke. “She is a warrior, Lord Fairlight, as are all our kin. Many of our young ones take the trial voluntarily to gain honour and a place at my table. This, however, is a matter of law, and even I am not above the law.”

“Then the law is an ass, sir!” I held my head up and swigged back the last of the brandy before banging my hoof down for emphasis. “If the law is wrong, then change it. You have the power to do that, do you not?”

“You want me to change the law? For what reason?” The tall thestral cocked his head to one side, alternating his gaze between Glimmer and myself. “You don’t believe she has the strength to survive, is that it? Do you not believe she has the skills and will to prevail?” He shook his head sadly, “You dishonour your friend by doubting her, Fairlight.”

My mane bristled with indignity. “This has nothing to do with doubting her strength, her honour, or her will, Lord Maul. This is about what is right. And what is right is that I am the one who caused this by coming here in the first place.” I slammed my hoof on the floor making the glasses rattle. “I will take her place.”

“Fairlight, no!” Glimmer barked, “For the sake of the goddess, you don’t know what-”

“Be silent!” The lord’s eyes flared like white hot suns, silencing Glimmer in an instant. He turned to me, the smoke wreathing his muzzle emphasising the intensity of his blue-white gaze. “You would voluntarily take the trial in her place? You would take the walk into the Hinterland for one year?”

I nodded, “I would.”

Glimmer looked like she was about to explode. “Fairlight, no! Don’t be a fool!”

Ignoring her, Maul locked his cold gaze onto mine. “Then I decree this: Lord Fairlight, you will undertake the trial of branches in Glimmer’s stead. However, as you are not a thestral and thus not bound by the laws of our people, I can grant you this boon: find the Roc of Alegarth Mountain, bring me one of its eggs, and I will proclaim Glimmer’s honour restored. For yourself in accepting this task, you will have earned a place at my table as a friend of our people. Of course,” he continued, “you may walk away now and that will be an end to the matter.”

I didn’t even consider it an option. “Then I accept,” I replied firmly.

“For the goddess’s sake, Fairlight, you don’t know what you’re-” Glimmer’s words were cut short by the lord banging his hoof on the rug. 

“Then we are agreed,” Lord Maul announced looking me in the eye. “You will undertake the trial and this matter will be settled. Yes?”

“Agreed.” I held out my hoof and the deal, for better or worse, was struck.   

I didn’t so much see as feel the intensity of Glimmer’s glaring eyes beside me. She was furious with me, and perhaps she had good reason to be. I didn’t doubt her strength nor her skills or abilities. This was my choice, and I would be damned if I saw a friend of mine put at risk because of a situation I had caused, no matter how inadvertently. Hopefully I’d get this out of the way quickly, collect Shade, and then get the hell out of here. I suppressed a groan. How in the goddess’s name did I keep getting myself into these situations?! I was no mountain climber that was for sure, but I’d done worse things. Hadn’t I? I snatched up my glass and refilled it. If nothing else at least it would help drown out that part of my mind that was jumping somersaults at my headstrong decision to risk myself in a venture I knew nothing about. But what of my pride? My honour? I heard so much about the honour of thestral warriors, but did anypony think about mine? Hardly! Ponies were apparently not given any consideration in the matters of honour, but I would show them. I would do what was right for my friend and, I suppose, for myself. 

For a while, Lord Maul, myself and Glimmer, talked about inconsequential things: life in the herd, in Equestria, and how the two societies differed. On the subject of his own people, Lord Maul was a little more guarded but remained was the consummate professional when it came to hosting. He told me of their histories, their laws, and, surprisingly, their mating rituals. It was worth hearing that alone just to see Glimmer blush.

“So the female chooses the strongest suitor,” I affirmed with a nod.

“Not always,” Maul said as he put down his glass. “A female may choose a male from the underclass, but this is unusual. Mating is usually kept within the classes, but exceptions are made on occasion, such as in my case.”

“You married outside your class?” I asked.

Maul grinned, “I did.” He sipped his brandy thoughtfully. “Slight is an excellent armourer. She was able to repair my armour after it had been all but destroyed during my battle with the dragon of Epis Fell. I can tell you, that damned beast nearly had me more than once! Still, a quick thrust into the things throat brought it down well enough, but not before the damned lizard had torn my armour to shreds.” He tapped the underside of his muzzle. “They have a weak spot you see, just here where the head meets the neck. One good thrust between the scales and it severs the spinal cord. Hit it right and they go down like a ton of shit, so you have to get out of the way pretty damned quick or you’ll end up flatter than a hearth cake!” Maul chuckled to himself. “Anyway, when I got home it took an hour to cut all the knackered armour off my sorry hide. Slight had been my family armourer for many years though, and by the goddess I was glad she knew her craft!” He licked his lips and took a pull on his pipe. “I tell you, Lord Fairlight, that girl was worth her weight in all the precious gems of the world. Naturally I had to express my own interest and petition her family before she agreed to take me as her own.”

“So you chose her before she chose you?” I asked.

“Exactly!” Maul’s rumble of laughter rolled around the room. “There are many ways and means to achieve one’s goals in life. One merely needs to play the game the right way to win.”

I shook my head slowly with a smile playing across my lips. Maul was a stallion after my own heart. 

“Lord Maul, forgive me for asking, but who is Herath?” I asked. “I’m still a little uncertain why I was brought here.”

“Ah, the wendigo!” Maul finished his brandy in a single gulp and poured another for himself before topping up my own. “Herath works with our search teams. When a warrior is overdue from a trial we send them out to try to find their remains. If there are any of course; the families do so like to have their armour and weapons back, plus any bits they can put on the pyre. It helps bring closure you know. In your case he apparently thought to bring you back here for some reason or other. You’d have to ask him yourself. Anyway, Herath came here with some others after they’d become disenchanted with their own afterlife in the herd. Strange lot they are, but I confess they’re certainly useful to have around. Many of our people see them as fellow warriors you know.”

“But not everypony?” I suggested.

Maul shook his head, “We have long memories, Lord Fairlight. Some of us recall when they fled the field after the second battle of River Valley.” He held up a hoof, “Not that I believe that you understand. I know the wendigo, and I also know that when the battle is lost it is the warrior who can still run who survives to fight another day. I have long held the belief that fighting to the last is a noble way to die in battle, but not if you want to win the war. The more of you that survive, the more that can rally to fight once more. Every war, every battle, won or lost, is an opportunity to learn from your enemy so that one day you can strike at their weakest point and win.” Maul smiled as he put his glass down. “And winning, Lord Fairlight, is what the game is all about.”

I couldn’t disagree with those sentiments. “Lord Maroc lost his wife in the fighting at River Valley. He hurried home to try to save what was left of his people when the Celestian forces descended upon their fortress.”

“Alas, I was not there to see such terrible things,” Maul explained. “I, like many of my own fellows, fled through the portal to the white city to save our own skins.” He shrugged. “Rather ironic that some of us blame the wendigo for doing what we did ourselves. In many respects they took the worst of the Celestian’s vengeance, nearly being wiped out to a soul by the white witch and her minions.”

“Some survived at least,” I said. “A group escaped to the northern mountains.”

“Mmm!” Maul wiped his muzzle and popped one of the crispy snacks into his mouth. “That they did! Some of them came through here recently too, saying that there’d been contact made with a group of ponies from Equestria or something. Can’t say I pay much attention to such things you understand; got my hooves full dealing with this lot as it is.” He shrugged and stretched his large leathery wings. “Sad bunch you wendigo. Lost your powers, lost your wings, and a lot of the old magic too. Damned exciting to see you in battle though. Personally I thought we made a good team; your lot for air cover and us ground sloggers doing what we do best.”

“Nightmare Moon and the Legion still lost though,” I said honestly.

“Huh! By trickery you mean,” Lord Maul huffed loudly and I had the horrible impression I’d put my hoof right in it. “That lot formally surrendered. Did you know that?” He nodded, waving a hoof at another of the familiar red and gold banners. “Their leader signed the surrender and we took our eye off the ball. Not surprising in the circumstances, but I warned them about treachery. I said they couldn’t be trusted. But did they listen? No, of course not! I even tried speaking to Colonel Fulminata. Now he was a stallion that knew his balta, I can tell you. But what could he do? If Nightmare Moon wasn’t going to listen to him she sure as eggs wasn’t going to listen to a junior officer like me now was she?” He snorted loudly, “Stupid old bat.”

Glimmer immediately sat up, radiating outrage, but Maul waved a hoof at her apologetically. “Pardon my language, Glimmer. I mean no respect to her divinity, but the truth is the truth. If she hadn’t interfered with our planning and operations we would have come down harder on the Celestians from the start and prevented any of those damned uprisings from happening. A few detachments in each town keeping an eye on things, a few examples made here and there, and they would have fallen in line soon enough.”

‘A few examples’. Public executions no doubt. I floated one of the snacks up and took a bite. “Celestia returned though, didn’t she,” I pointed out. “Her reappearance was a rallying point for the Celestian forces.”

“Well, yes,” Maul agreed. “But don’t forget that her rebel forces were already active in the field at that point, and when she came back she pretty much had a ready made army. The official surrender meant as much to that old crone as a fart in a shit storm. From there on in it was simply a matter of picking off our isolated garrisons one by one and eliminating our lines of communication. By the time we knew what was happening, it was too late. We were ill prepared, ill informed, and when those damned vessels came in to drop magical explosives on us, with no dragon cover we didn’t stand a damned chance.”

“Vessels?” I asked. “What, airships?”

“Airships?” Lord Maul frowned in thought for a moment. “Oh, you mean balloons? No,” he said with a shake of his head. “I mean ships, as in wooden sailing vessels, but flying through the air by magic. Most incredible damned things I ever did see. Armed to the teeth they were too.”

“I’ve never heard of flying ships!” I said in open mouthed amazement. “I’ve seen airships before, sure. Yaks use them a lot for trading runs, and there’s a fair few in Equestria too. But actual ships?” I shook my head. “It must have been a sight to see.”

“Not when they’re dropping bombs on your bloody head,” Maul sniffed. “Still, ingenious things. Apparently they were made by some long dead race or something.”

“Any idea who?” I asked, my interest piqued.

“Buggered if I know,” Maul replied huffily. “If I did I’d kick the crap out of them for inventing the bloody things.”

We both enjoyed a chuckle at that one. I was surprised to admit to myself that Lord Maul was a surprisingly eloquent and open sort of fellow, and as the brandy flowed I began to warm to this old warrior. “Did you know a pony by the name of Star Beard?” I asked.

“Star Beard?” Maul scratched his mane in thought. “I knew a pony by the name of Star ‘Swirl’ who swapped sides and shafted us good and proper. Where d’you think the Celestians got all that magical explosive from? Can’t say I… hang on… wait, yes! Yes, I remember now! Damn it all, how could I forget that!” Maul leaned back and laughed. “He was the alter ego of our good Colonel Fulminata. Silly old bugger.”

“I met the Colonel in the Withers,” I pointed out. “He’d had some dealings with Star Swirl the bearded after the war.”

“He did that!” Maul shook his head with a smile, “Let me tell you the story. First though, how about another glass?”

I smiled and floated the brandy bottle over to his empty glass, refilling my own and Glimmer’s. Throughout it all she barely said a word unless asked. Her glass, I noticed, only once needed to be filled.