//------------------------------// // Chapter 60: Tessa Andemax, Part Two // Story: Princess Essenta // by Pone_Heap //------------------------------// Antecedence Arc … … … Pirates… The thunder rumbled outside, giving all the more power to Anselme’s terrifying statement. “Pirates?!” Gunnhildr’s voice was a shaky whisper. Chioma, still too drunk to know which end the shit comes out of, blinked dumbly. But his wife, Retha, surely understood, as did the young ones. The tearful Tessa pulled her now-quivering friend, Berhane, close, “Pirates?!” “Everypony be quiet!” Anselme checked the windows, seeing the curtains were shut and dimmed the one candle in the kitchen. “Come in here with me.” The four able-bodied ponies went straightaway, though Retha had to lead her husband, and Anselme went back to help his wife into her chair. She protested, “There’s no time for that! I can crawl to the kitchen…” He thought differently, “We may need it…” Gunnhildr was quick to note the intense mixture of fear and firmness in his eyes. She got his message, “Okay…” Tessa also got the message. Run? The idea of leaving the house terrified the tearful filly but living where they did—though nothing had happened in her town in her lifetime—coast-dwellers knew plenty about pirate attacks. Rape. Kill. Pillage. Burn. Pirates on the east coast were known to do all these. And not always in that order, though it made the most sense; Tessa was too young to consider such logistics. “Shh…” Anselme advised them, helping Gunnhildr into her chair. “Kitchen… now.” They obeyed. Tessa blew out the remaining candles in the kitchen and huddled up next to Berhane and the six ponies sat in the dark. The loudest sound was Retha’s raspy breathing; she was good and scared alright… They were all afraid. And they sat, waiting. Wrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr…! The siren's racket continued outside. And still they waited. Chioma was too drunk to stay awake but was thankfully quiet about it, not snorking or snoring. Even Retha had quieted down. Tessa quivered, feeling the same off Berhane; she wished to be closer to her mother but dared not move, not that it would’ve made much noise. It seemed almost silly, maintaining silence, considering the cacophony of noise outside. But the best course was to stay put. Unless Anselme knew something he wasn’t saying they didn’t know what the pirates were after. It wasn’t a sure thing their home would be burned or rummaged through. And the burning part usually didn’t happen until the houses had been pilfered of their valuables. Tessa was too young and frightened to think much on it but times like this had more experienced ponies wishing their town had more to offer. Not only were pirates sometimes “kinder” to towns of substance—just taking supplies and not raping the populace or burning the community—but towns of value were better protected. Gitano had next to nothing of value unless you count the emperor’s two master-gardeners residing there. Besides being a very minor port Gitano was known for one thing: salt. The town exported salt to the inland… and there was plenty of salt “harvested” on the coast. Gitano didn’t have even one soldier on hoof and their police force was smaller than the group of ponies crowded in the Andemax’s kitchen. Wrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr…rrrrrr…rrr… … … Anselme clenched, “The siren…” Somepony had quelled the siren. This meant the watchpony operating the siren—it was manually spun, after all—had either abandoned his post or was dead. The wonder of the siren cutting off gave way to the other noises it uncovered. The ponies in the kitchen could hear it coming down the street… one scream in particular was drowning out the others heard. “Aaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!” came a mare’s voice. “Come back here, bitch!” a gruff voice yelled. Something crashed against the front door. “Help me!” came the female voice. Anselme sat up, his face dropping, “No…” Tessa had seen a lot out of her father but never the dread she saw on his face in the dim moonlight and heard in his voice. The mare outside began to pound on the door, “Help me! Captain Andemax!” Tessa, her blood already running cold, felt it freeze. It was Felicia, their neighbor. She was a mare, 19-years-old, whom Anselme had befriended some years ago. Her father’s influence—or his impressiveness or something else—had inspired her to join the Albin army. Anselme never encouraged ponies to join the military—he knew the cost of it—but he wholly supported those that desired to do good and those that would make soldiers. She was home for a week after a successful bout of basic training. But she was no soldier… Not yet, anyway. All she’d gone through hadn’t prepared her for what was going on outside, though there was little she or anypony else could’ve done. “Hold still, filly!” the pirate’s voice depicted a struggle. “Noooooooo!” Felicia squealed. Schink! Felicia’s voice was silenced in an instant. Tessa saw her father more than wince at the death of his younger friend. A cry almost escaped his throat but Gunnhildr pulled his face into her chest. He weakly struggled against her, more than half-heartedly wishing to do something about it. “No, dear… No…” she soothed. With Felicia gone, more screaming could be better perceived somewhere outside. Tessa’s mind swam and she felt a strange warmth flood through her body, replacing the cold. That was the second time she was privy to a pony dying violently. Those watching the door didn’t miss the blackness pooling under the front door from the other side. So much blood… Tessa saw the blood and was under no impression it was anything other than that. All she could think—as her father was silently weeping and seething into Gunnhildr’s embrace—was that she wished that whatever was outside would just go away. But it didn’t go away. And Tessa heard a squeak from her new friend as somepony began to rifle around with the front door. The two families—minus the sloshed Chioma—tensed. The door and its knob shook but to no avail. “Shit…” the pirate’s voice could be heard. “What is it?” another apparent pirate showed up. “Barricade.” “Well, skip it! We’re in a hurry, here.” “But boss! This might be important!” “And why did you gut this gorgeous filly?! We could’ve gotten a few pounds of gold for that kind of physique!” “I got caught up!” “You cocksucker! You ever do this again and I’ll pull your intestines out!” The knowledge the Andemax family shared of Felicia on their doorstep, dead and disemboweled, took a very abrupt backseat to what they knew the pirates were there for: they were slave-hunting. The “boss” went on, “The ship’s captain is paying us a lot for each good prospect so don’t fuck up again!” “Yes, boss!” “Now… What’s important?” The murdering pirate—the one that murdered Felicia, at least—sounded afraid, “We were told there was no army in town but this here filly was beating on the door and calling for somepony called ‘Captain Andemax’.” “You idiot!” the other lowered his voice. “Get away from the door!” A scramble of hooves clattered away but the ponies in the house could still hear. They were wise to move away; a better prepared household might’ve seen them both dead. Now a distance away, the pirate said, “Sorry, boss… Like I said I got caught up.” The “boss” immediately responded, “Go gather up the boys—you know which ones—and bring them here. You and you! Come here!” As one set of hooves ran off, two more sets came over. Even with all the noise outside it was still audible. The roar of flames could be heard, mingled with the screaming. It seemed the pirates had no qualms about setting the town alight. “Yes, boss?” a new voice asked. “We might have a military presence here. It could just be the police chief but I’m not taking chances. You… spread the word. You, stay with me.” Another voice—the newest—seemed to blow it off, “Even if there’s a few soldiers around there’s a hundred of us! We can deal with a few sleepy sold-” The “boss” snapped, “Do as you’re told! I’m not losing anypony if it can be avoided. Warn the lads!” “Yes, boss!” one of the stallions galloped away. “And you! Go around and watch the back door. Keep your distance.” The pirate who’d been ordered to stay only responded by running. Anselme and the others could hear him rounding the house. “Shit…” Anselme hissed. Tessa and Berhane were too afraid to make a peep; they knew they were surrounded. Retha halfway supported her husband, his head hanging in his stupor; she whispered, “What do we do…?” A few seconds of silence ensued. Then Anselme stood up. Gunnhildr knew the look pasted to his countenance; she’d already let him go, “I… can’t imagine I’d be able to talk you out of it. After all, it’s…” Anselme pulled her hoof to his mouth, kissing it, “It’s the only way.” On her father's face Tessa saw another aspect of him she’d never seen; it… jarred her, “Daddy?” Tessa watched as her father pulled in her mother, kissing her like he’d never kiss her again, “You know what to do, Hilde…” Gunnhildr swallowed hard, her voice choked with emotion, “Yes… We may have to improvise… with Chioma the way he is... and me.” Anselme nodded, “Yes… but I trust you… with whatever you decide to do.” Gunnhildr only nodded, eyes shut tightly as she pressed her cheek to his shoulder. Retha almost dropped her inebriated husband, “What’s… going on?” Berhane felt the same confusion, seeing all this. But Tessa had a better grasp; she felt her eyes welling up again, “Daddy?” Father turned attention to daughter, “Tess…” He broke off the embrace with his wife and knelt before Tessa. Tessa felt numb. Even if she knew this was the last time she’d be seeing her father she probably wouldn’t have been able to say anything else. “Daddy…” choked the little Pegasus. “Please don’t go.” Tessa didn’t know what was about to happen; something in her gut told her what her mind hadn’t made sense of yet. Anselme embraced her, “Tess… Will you listen to your mom?” Tessa tried to stifle a sob as she forced herself to nod. Berhane had joined her parents; she clung to them and her mother to her. Anselme firmly hoofed Tessa, looking her in the eyes, “Tessa Andemax… Will you do whatever your mom tells you?” Tessa had been addressed by her parents to her face only a few times with her full name; the significance wasn’t lost on her, but she wasn’t able to respond, dread clouding her everything. Anselme jostled her, none too roughly, “Tess…! Answer me…!” She did so, a quiet sob escaping, “I will, Dad.” He hugged her tightly and she returned it with all she had. “I love you, Tess,” he grimaced. “Daddy…” she buried her face in his chest. Anselme couldn’t raise a hoof to push her away. Gunnhildr pulled her away and Tessa only refused briefly. “I love you, Hilde…” his face twisted painfully. “You too…” she said, tight-faced. Anselme turned to the other family, “Retha… please trust my wife.” Retha unhappily acknowledged, “Yes…” Anselme wanted to say something to Berhane but found no words; he quickly turned away, back to his wife. “Give me one minute, Hilde…” he glanced at the back door. “That enough?” She said, “It is.” “Good…” he took a deep breath, fluffed his wings, and moved to the back door. They watched as he quietly undid the barricade. Once he was done, he took another deep, calming breath. Anselme chanced one last look to his daughter, who looked at him in a way that almost broke his conviction, “Listen to your mom…” Before anypony could respond, Anselme mule-kicked the door with a bellow that could be heard on the beach and tore outside. The pirate outside barely knew what hit him, “What the fu-?” Crunch! The pirate let out a blood-curdling cry. The ponies inside couldn’t see what had happened but that was for the best. By the time they’d registered Anselme had done something awful they could already hear him howling as he rounded the house. They didn’t wait to hear what Anselme might do to the “boss” up front in his distraction. Gunnhildr rolled over to the living room floor and tore back the rug. Tessa watched in surprise as Gunnhildr pried loose a plank… and another. She’d seen the bare floor a hundred times—beating the rugs and sweeping the floor were part of her chores but she’d never imagined the house had a space below. The floor was… crooked, sure, but she figured her father just never bothered to fix the crappy-looking seams. A tunnel…? Then why had her father left? Gunnhildr ordered Retha, “Lower Chioma in.” Retha did so, Berhane looking worried. Retha began to move to enter, pushing Berhane ahead of her. “No!” Gunnhildr’s voice halted them both. Something was wrong. Tessa watched, stunned as her mother unbuckled her wheelchair. The little Pegasus felt faint, seeing her mother fall to her flank as she heaved the wheelchair into the cavity. And she herself went after. Retha exclaimed, “What is this?!” Berhane cowered, clinging to Retha’s leg. “Mom!” Tessa moved to the edge; what she saw shocked her. There was no way out down there; it was a simple hole. Tessa hadn’t imagined she’d be leaving her mother behind… and the awful realization crept up on her. “Mom!” Gunnhildr held her at bay; she knew Tessa wouldn’t have let go… and she might’ve been unable to as well, “Tess…” The sharpness in her mother’s voice was unsettling, to say the least; Tessa backed off, “Mom?” “Get back!” Gunnhildr pulled a plank to her, ignoring her daughter’s hurt face. Tessa jumped back, freezing. Gunnhildr was beginning to close the hole, “We’d only slow you down.” Berhane squeaked, realizing things herself; she was going to be leaving behind her father. “Retha?” The unicorn mare had herself understood what was happening; she didn’t like it but she gave into it, “Yes?” “If the flames don't reach here, we may be okay... and with any luck, they won’t find us… But if they move the rug… you can’t be here!” Retha nodded, mostly involuntarily. Gunnhildr pulled another board, leaving only a thin crevice, “I told you about the garden path? Wait about 20 seconds and take the fillies and follow it until you’re in the hills. You come across anypony not running for their life, kill them—your lives depend on it.” Retha understood, prying Berhane from her leg, “Yes.” Tessa’s knees gave out, gawking at her mother’s stern face, “Mom…” It was the most painful thing Gunnhildr ever felt, pushing her daughter away. It hurt worse than when they’d dug her out of that collapsed building when she was crippled… It hurt worse than learning to walk again… But she couldn’t conjure up another way to ensure her daughter a chance; pushing her away saved precious moments—even seconds—that would have been wasted in their escape. All Gunhildr said as she pulled the last plank into place was, “Put the rug back and follow Retha.” Tessa couldn’t move but Retha could. The unicorn mare shifted the rug over the poorly-concealed door and jostled both fillies. “Follow me and don’t stop!” she hissed. Berhane obeyed at once, ready to follow her mother. Tessa froze. Retha cuffed her on the mouth, jumpstarting her, “Tessa! Move!” Without even thinking about it, vaguely tasting blood on her lip, Tessa became as a shadow and followed Retha. … … … Early winter in the desert didn’t make for pleasant conditions. Bracing against the cold wind, Delia had slept a while and had taken up point to lead the way the rest of the night. The former maid pulled her scarf tighter around her ears; it was cold, “I can barely see the stars for the moon…” Nopony else heard Delia mutter; it was for herself. The waxing moon certainly lit up their way across the desert… not that there was much to see. It was still too dark to see beyond a sand dune or two and the whipping winds weren’t helping with visibility, the hypnotizing sands threatening nausea and potentially straying their direction. Essenta and Zyra had kept them on course just fine, Delia was glad to say; Delia called back to the girls, “Everypony good?” Loress called from the rear, still holding it up, “All’s good back here.” The beautiful mare sounded tired. Essenta turned back to say, “Need to switch? Or ride for a while?” Loress shook her head, “No… I’m fine.” Loress had made a deal with the girls: she would stay on her hooves the whole night on the condition she didn’t have to keep watch during the day. Ama had volunteered to pull the wagon all night—the minute challenge it was—and could do the same, able to rest the whole day other than eat and keep an eye on their debilitated friends. Essenta said to Zyra, “The girls okay?” Zyra had taken to riding in the wagon. The mage wasn’t overly tired but somepony needed to keep an eye on their three friends; she huddled up at the cold, “They’re fine… Snug as bugs in rugs.” Dechaa, Wilka, and Orni were still out cold but certainly alive; they’d wake up when they did. Zyra clapped her hooves around herself, trying to warm up her legs, “Cap?” Essenta could hear the quavering in Zyra’s voice; she almost smiled, knowing her friend so well, “Wanna switch?” Zyra practically jumped from the wagon, glad to be moving, “Yes!” Ama halted, glaring at Zyra, “Do not jump when we are moving… The last thing we need is another injury!” But Zyra was already behind Delia, “Thanks, Cap…” Essenta paddled back and began to clamber into the wagon, “It’s fine… Third shift, after all… We would’ve switched soon.” Delia grumbled, “If everypony’s good, let’s friggin’ move… We have a windbreak coming up.” And that they did. The five mares awake for it got a little relief from the icy blast plaguing them. Zyra, with little other than Delia’s ass to look at, began to daydream. She thought of better times and warmth and being carefree but leaving the windbreak behind she came right back to their current situation, her eyelids blown back by the stinging winds. The mage’s wandering mind didn’t go unnoticed; Ama voiced concern, “Focus, friend… You were beginning to stray.” Zyra didn’t need telling; she knew, blinking away tears of irritation, “Yeah…” Delia’s mind was clear as a bell, topping another dune, “I see our next landmark…” The others could see it too, right in front of them. Still on top of the rocky ridge they’d elected to follow it rose into the darkness, appearing as a miniature mountain range. They’d never seen it before, having taken a different route on the way in. “So that’s Cloudy Top…” Zyra considered the tallest geographical formation in the desert. “No idea why it’s called that…” Delia drawled sarcastically. “But it means we’ve already made 32 miles… Not bad time.” This wasn’t terrible news. If they were right—and the map was reliable—their chosen destination for stopping was 10 miles ahead. They could’ve followed the ridge further but had chosen to hook north at Cloudy Top; it had a better-established route to their next stopover if the dune activity was predictable. Delia could better see the stars, a single cloud momentarily obscuring the moon; their path was easy enough to follow, if not get them started in the correct direction, “Follow me.” Leaving the more stable terrain behind, the mares headed north into the sea of sand. … … … Despite the more difficult terrain the company made their next destination a little after dawn. They’d been a bit hesitant to stop at an established oasis nearby, so they chose to rest in an old copper mine, centuries abandoned, within easy walking distance of the known water source. They placed the wagon in the entrance to a shaft that appeared stable. Laying down Dechaa, Wilka, and Orni the other mares took breakfast. Still not in the mood to disclose the entire story of the last few days—they’d agreed to lay off it until everypony was awake and stabilized—four of them listened to their eighth member as they ate. It wasn’t the best meal conversation imaginable, explaining what had happened to Cassia. “I don’t know if she was caught off-guard or if they overpowered her or what, but they beat her… they raped her…” Delia shivered at the thought of her short-term friend violated and broken. Essenta grimaced at the image; she’d never properly met Cassia, the same as Orni. Ama’s opinion of Cassia hadn’t changed much; she was aghast at what happened but could at least begin to understand, “As you say, Delia… Cassia lost all she loved in so short a time… Perhaps there was no avoiding such an outcome.” Sure, there was… Delia thought bitterly. Zyra patted Delia’s shoulder, “There was nothing you could’ve done to change any of this.” Loress agreed, “We can be thankful we’re all here… together.” Essenta found some words, having less to do with the mare herself, but with Cassia’s actions and where it had led them, “When should we start worrying about the three?” Zyra answered as the question was meant for her, “It’s been almost two days, come this afternoon. If they’re not up in a few hours… we might have to do something about it.” The girls were tired and as much as they cared about their three friends, still out like lights, they didn’t want to think about it much… what they’d have to do. Not that more than a couple of them knew. Ama asked, “What might we do?” Zyra took a bite of dried mango, “We’ll need to rehydrate them… get some fresh fluid into them.” Loress balked, “You can’t mean…!” Delia shrugged, “Hey, we have the means to do it. We can’t force that much down their throats—even coaxing it along magically—as they might aspirate. We need to go straight for the bloodstream. But don’t worry yet. Wilka and Orni are beginning to show signs they’re close to waking.” Essenta spat out a seed she’d been sucking on, “Just relax, Loress… Once we’ve eaten you can take rest. You too, Ama.” Loress nodded. Ama sighed, “It would be heavenly… but I am fine.” Essenta said firmly, “Ama, you’re to rest. It’s what we agreed on. I know you’re tired.” There was no hiding it; Ama yawned, “Guilty…” Zyra snorked, almost inhaling a mouthful of water, at Ama’s little admission and choice of words. Delia permitted herself a little smile, “Yes… we’re out of the elements, safe enough, and have the day. I’ll take watch if nopony else wants it.” The girls were finished with breakfast and none disagreed; they could all do with some sleep. Loress scratched herself in a way most uncharacteristic of her girlish manner, “Fine. I’m not keeping watch today, I guess, but I’ll fix lunch.” “I’ll do dinner,” Zyra volunteered. Essenta nodded, “Good. Delia keeps watch for now and everypony else rests.” It was agreeable and they did just that.