//------------------------------// // 15 - Fire With Fire and Fire // Story: Hinterlands // by Rambling Writer //------------------------------// Was it Artemis? Or Circe? As Catskill’s legs trotted her after Trace, she focused on this singular item. It was the only thing she could. She couldn’t remember the name of her mas- her captor. Her slaver. She couldn’t remember the name of the pony who controlled her. Her memories kept telling her “Artemis”, but whenever she tried thinking about it, her mind spat out “Circe” from… somewhere. She wasn’t sure where, but it seemed ri- No. It wasn’t right. Her ma- Her slaver’s name was Artemis. Her mental strength was failing. Events slipped away from her. One second, she was leaving Mystic, another, she was miles away, stumbling down a pile of rocks after Circe. She remembered the actual journey in between, but it was like it belonged in somepony else’s memories. She hadn’t done that. Holes like that peppered her experience the whole way, always growing larger and larger and larger. Her ears heard events, but somepony else processed them. Gale reporting to Artemis that she’d spotted Amanita and Bitterroot and where. Trace telling Circe that she’d found their tracks. Artemis laughing and ordering Trace to lead on. It blurred together in a sleep-deprivation-like haze. Catskill had given up trying to resist herself. It was too difficult, too pointless. She wanted to just roll over and die, but her own body wouldn’t let her. She let herself get dragged on, forcibly awake no matter how tired she felt. She couldn’t even think that much about resting; whenever her mind wandered, another hook was jammed into her thoughts and pulled them back. “ ’Ey,” said Circe, and Catskill’s attention was forced on her. “Catskill, was it?” “Yes, ma’am,” Catskill’s voice said. Part of her was desperate for any sort of attention, and it revolted her. “Y’know th’ land ’round ’ere?” Artemis asked. “Yes, ma’am,” said Catskill’s voice. “There’s…” It took a while for her to recall her memories; they felt so far away. “There’s not much to talk about, except for some scrubland not too far to the south. They might be headed that way.” “Huh.” Circe looked downriver and licked her lips. “Is it easy t’ide in there?” “That depends,” said Catskill’s voice. “The bushes are large, taller than most ponies, and hard to see through. But they are easy to push aside. Vision is hard, navigation is trivial.” Artemis nodded a few times. “Uh-huh. They far? Assumin’ that’s where our ponies’re goin’.” “No, ma’am,” said Catskill’s voice. “Maybe half an hour.” “Uh-huh,” Circe said again. “Trace! What’s up wi’ the trail?” “Still clear, ma’am,” said Trace from up ahead. Her voice was a wet, sloppy mess after eating glass, teetering on the edge of incomprehensibility, yet Catskill’s ears heard her words just fine. “They must know that we’re following them, as their tracks are wild and indicate they’re running. They’re certainly visible, in any case.” Artemis laughed. “Well, I ain’t complainin’. Lead on!” They trotted. The forest began thinning, and suddenly the scrubland was spread out beneath them. Large, woody bushes with scraggly branches jockeyed for space in the foothills of the Crystal Mountains. Seen from above, they nearly blotted out the ground below them. Trees were few and far between. There were enough branches to make seeing through the brush near impossible, yet not so many that actual traversal was difficult. A decent place to hide, if not for the snow on the snow on the ground clearly marking where they’d gone. They were about to enter the maze when Trace spoke up. “Ma’am? One of the sets of tracks disappeared.” For a second, Circe was terrified, and Catskill’s mind with her. But then she smiled. “Bitterroot musta ’ad enough o’ Amanita an’ took off. Can’t blame ’er, really. Jus’ surprised it took ’er this long.” Trace lead them blindly through the scrub, pushing through the bushes. Catskill’s mind didn’t know which way they were going. She hadn’t been inside the scrub for this exact reason: it was too easy to get lost. The branches tugged at the blunderbuss at her side, forcing her body to keep yanking it away. Every single collection of bushes looked exactly the same as every other collection. Catskill’s mind wondered if they were even following Amanita and Bitterroot anymore, or if they’d accidentally doubled back on themselves somehow. They walked. The bushes clawed at them. Catskill’s mind knew something was wrong, but she couldn’t say what. It was all too easy. Right? Clear tracks going straight to the obvious hiding spot that it was easy to get lost in. It was too nice. This was a trap. Right? No, they were just too terrified of Artemis, her mind said, and fled in here in a panic. That was the logical thing. Nopony could ever hope to outsmart Circe. Finally, they reached a space that was relatively clear. Sitting in the center, inside a shield not much bigger than herself, was Amanita. She was shaking, badly, and not from the cold. Artems waved a hoof; Catskill’s body, Trace, and Gale spread out to three “corners” of the shield, Circe taking up the last one. “ ’Ello, Amanita,” said Circe, smiling. Meaning she was showing an awful lot of teeth. “Hello, Circe,” whispered Amanita. “Y’got somethin’ o’ mine.” Circe’s smile vanished like smoke. “Give it t’me an’ mebbe I’ll let you die after a cent’ry.” “No,” said Amanita. Anger washed through Catskill’s mind. That wasn’t right. Circe deserved every ounce of respect in the world. She was- She was a monster and a slaver, not somepony who- not somepony who others should look at with anything less than- with anything less than disgust, hatred, abhorrence, not this forced awe or respect- awe or respect. It was only fitting. Catskill’s hooves twitched as her body wanted to take a step forward. But Circe waved her down and her anger abated. For now. Circe chuckled. “Why did I know you’d say that?” she asked. She walked forward and rapped on the shield. “Oi. Y’little eedjit. Y’ear me? ’Ow’re y’gettin’ ’way from ’ere? We got y’s’rrounded. Gimme back my soul jar.” Amanita was still shaking, but she raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you hear me? No.” Against all odds, her voice sounded calmer. Catskill’s mind felt anger again, but that was nothing compared to the fury that Circe’s face twisted into. “You’re makin’ a big mistake,” she hissed, planting both front hooves on the shield. “We’re gettin’ through t’you. An’ I’m gonna make sure you suffer. I want. My soul!” “Then perhaps you shouldn’t have removed it,” replied Amanita. “You’re breaking the law and whining about being arrested. You’re jumping into the fire and complaining about being burned. You’re going swimming and complaining about being wet. You’re-” “You stole it!” screamed Circe. She brought both hooves down on the shield. It shimmered slightly and Amanita spasmed, but it didn’t come close to collapsing it. “I taught you ev’rythin’ I knew, y’ungrateful pissant!” Another blow. The shield shook and didn’t fall. “An’ this is ’ow y’repay me?” Again. The shield rang and didn’t vanish. “I shoulda let y’wallow in your own mis’ry!” “You’re an idiot, then, because you should’ve!” yelled Amanita, standing up. She pointed at Circe with a steady hoof. “If you’d left me alone, then I would’ve learned to move on, and I wouldn’t have any deaths on my hooves! I wouldn’t- Catskill-” She turned to Catskill. “Catskill, if you’re still in there-” “Death don’t matter,” said Circe, shrugging. “It’s a tool. Nothin’ more. If other ponies wanted t’use it, they could.” “-Catskill, I’m sorry,” said Amanita. Her eyes were shining. “I should’ve told you, I- I was scared you’d-” “You’re feelin’ sorry for a thrall?” gaped Circe. She tilted her head to look at Catskill. “She can’t answer you. She ain’t even a good one! Quit wastin’ your breath.” “-scared you’d hate me,” continued Amanita, her voice slipping a little, “-and I- I told you I was fine traveling on my own- and-” A sob wracked her and her entire body shook. “Catskill, I’m s-sorry…” “Ooo, lookie ’ere,” sneered Circe. “See, this’s why y’shouldn’t care ’bout ponies. It’s too easy t’get t’you.” She glanced at Catskill, nudged her, and smiled. “Well? Why don’tcha tell Amanita whatcha think?” Catskill’s mind and voice wanted to spew bile at Amanita, but she refused to let them. The first thing she’d managed to do herself in hours. She’d run out of bile back in Mystic. She almost felt Amanita’s grief herself. It was strange, how attached she’d grown to Amanita in the past day. Maybe it was finally having some company after so long in the unforgiving North. Maybe it was the knowledge that Amanita had saved her life, if in a roundabout way. Whatever the cause was, Catskill managed to refuse to let any of the hate welling up within her out. Her real self had so many things she wanted to say. But she couldn’t. “Oh, Celestia… I’m so sorry…” whispered Amanita. “Alright, ’appy fun ’motion time’s over!” Circe said suddenly. “Catskill, get ready t’shoot ’er.” Catskill’s hoof pulled her blunderbuss forward into position and she wrapped her teeth around her trigger bit. Could a blunderbuss shot break through a shield, her mind wondered. Probably. Amanita hadn’t been the greatest at shields, as the bear had demonstrated. Maybe now, Circe could be vindicated. “Las’ chance,” whispered Circe. “Give. Me. My. Soul. Jar. It’s your only option. Don’t, an’ you’ll beg for death. I’ll give it t’you. An’ then I’ll take it away.” A bead of sweat ran down Amanita’s face as she eyed the blunderbuss, but she held her head high. “To be fair,” she said, almost guiltily, “it’s not my only option.” Circe snorted. “Really. What is there? Y’can’t run. Y’can’t ’ide.” “Well, no, I can’t,” admitted Amanita. “But there is this.” Her horn sparked. A shoot at her hooves started burning. And the scrubland around them ignited a ring of fire. “You want to what?!” Amanita gasped as she and Bitterroot galloped. “Lure them into the scrub and burn them,” repeated Bitterroot. Talking while running was surprisingly easy, now that her muscles didn’t need oxygen. “It’ll take them all out at once, hurt Circe so bad it’ll be like she was dead, we’ll be safe and sound in the shield-” “You’ll be starting a forest fire!” screamed Amanita. “Do- you just- not get what you’re doing?!” “One of the only things I can do!” yelled Bitterroot. “You said it yourself: they’ll run us down and corner us sooner or later. At least now, we can decide where we’ll be cornered and use that to our advantage! And if worst comes to worst, I’ll kick a few clouds and douse the fire with rain.” “You’re crazy,” panted Amanita. “You. Are. Crazy.” “I was tricked by a lich into chasing down her apprentice to get her phylactery back. It’s been a couple of crazy days.” Amanita snorted. “So, got any plans for starting a big fire quickly?” “Sure,” Amanita grunted. “Take a bunch of plants, bind them together with a spell, scatter them around the area. Ignite one and you’ll ignite them all. Instant environmental destruction.” “If you’ve got any better ideas, I would love to hear them.” Silence. “That’s what I thought.” Adrenaline meant not even Amanita faltered in her galloping, and the miles seemed to flash by as they ironed out their plan (such as it was). They were at the scrublands in no time. The massive carpet of bushes looked the same way it’d looked from above: dense and the perfect place to hide something. Bitterroot took to the air as they approached, saying, “I’ll find a good spot for us to lure them to.” A quick skim over the terrain found one of the few clearings, so Bitterroot led Amanita through the scrub. “It’ll do,” Amanita muttered when she saw the clearing. “Get a bunch of bush clippings, preferably from the same plant, and bring them to me.” Borrowing Amanita’s knife, Bitterroot flew a ways off, cut a bunch of branches from one of the bushes, and flew them back to Amanita. As Amanita worked her magic, Bitterroot took her saddlebags and flew them to a rock formation so they wouldn’t get caught up in any fire. As she was flying, she glanced upriver. Nothing. She landed next to Amanita. “I didn’t see Circe yet,” she said, “so I don’t know how much longer they’ll be.” “So we’re just gonna have to wait,” mumbled Amanita. Sparks jumped from branch to branch as they hovered around her. “Great.” A circle pulsed through each of the branches and they flashed in unison. Amanita moved them into a single bundle. “Spread these out,” she said, handing it to Bitterroot. “Just laying them on the ground or standing them up is fine. Try not to get them too close together or the magic won’t be as powerful.” Bitterroot scattered the branches around the scrubland in a semi-haphazard circle. And really, that was all there was to it. Once the fire started, she and Amanita would huddle together under a shield until the fire burned out enough for Bitterroot to carry Amanita away. She flew back to Amanita, who was still sulking about the plan. After one last check (nopony coming yet), she plopped herself down next to Amanita and they waited. And waited. And waited. They didn’t know where Circe and her entourage were, and they couldn’t risk Bitterroot scouting them out and being seen, so all they had to do was wait. Amanita remained angry about the plan (“too dangerous” was her most common phrase) and Bitterroot ran out of reassuring platitudes about it. Her own confidence in the plan never wavered, though; desperate times, desperate measures and all. When Bitterroot stopped trying to talk to Amanita, her mind started to wander. Then she realized that, if the fire took too long to kill all of the thralls, they might have a problem. “Even if her thralls ‘die’, Circe won’t be able to re-resurrect anypony, right?” she asked Amanita. “Because of the fire? Or do I have that wrong?” “She won’t have any supplies or time for that,” said Amanita, idly drawing something in the snow. “She might be able to do it if she had those, but it’d take much longer than usual. Fire and necromancy don’t play well together. It’s…” She wiped out her drawing and started over. “It’s complicated.” “Right.” Bitterroot popped up again. Nopony. She fell back down. “Since we’ve got the time, is there any way you can, y’know, kill yourself?” Amanita looked incensed. Then she twitched and said, “Assuming you want me to come back, no. Not without something to guide the process. It’d be like trying to be inside a door while turning the key from the outside.” “Bummer. I thought necromancers were supposed to come back from the dead easily.” Bitterroot chanced a nibble at one of the bushes. It was decent, but not all that great. “The sources of those stories were all liches, who can’t die in the first place.” Amanita squinted into the bushes. “Not that I’d say no to an automated resurrection spell that didn’t harm others, mind.” “Me neither.” They fell into silence again. Technical silence, anyway; the wind rustled the bushes all around them. It was almost like sitting in a very quiet blender. And in spite of the lack of visibility, Bitterroot began feeling exposed. No, not in spite of it; because of it. There could be somepony just five yards away and she couldn’t see them. And here she was, just sitting in the open. She began rustling her wings, pushing at the ground- “I’m gonna go check again,” she said quickly to Amanita. She took off before she could get a response. Only a few seconds in the air, and Bitterroot felt better. She could see all around her, see everything for miles, and it was impossible to sneak up on her. She sniffed at the air. She still had that sense, at least. Then she began rotating, looking for- Yep, there they were. Four ponies coming down the river, aiming for the scrub. They’d be here in about… ten minutes, Bitterroot guessed. Perfect. She fell back down to earth. “Saw them,” she said to Amanita. “Ten minutes away.” Amanita swallowed. “Get, get close to me, then.” Bitterroot scooched up next to Amanita and an iridescent shield surrounded them both. Bitterroot pulled her head back a little. That was close. There was barely enough room in here for her and Amanita at the same time. She edged back and bumped into Amanita. With a quick “sorry”, she edged forward and bumped into the shield. “You, ehm, alright?” she asked Amanita. She was a tad surprised her breath didn’t fog up the shield. After a moment, Amanita coughed. “Um, no offense, but I, I think you need to leave.” Bitterroot squirmed a little, trying and failing to get into a more comfortable position. “Why?” “I can’t hold a shield like this up for long when you’re that close. I’m… not the greatest at shields. It’s, it’s why it’s so small to begin with.” Part of Bitterroot wanted to chew Amanita out for not mentioning that earlier, but the rest of her was chewing herself out for not asking about that earlier. “Alright. I’ll wait outside the circle. Once it goes up, I’ll hover overhead, see what happens. If you think it’s going to go bad-” “I already think that!” Amanita protested, pushing Bitterroot away. “This is a bad idea!” “If you think it’s going to go worse, give me a holler and I’ll swoop down and grab you.” “Fine. That’s fine.” Amanita ran a hoof through her mane and shivered as the shield vanished. “Celestia, I hope this works.” “You’ll be fine,” said Bitterroot, flaring her wings. “You’ve got a shield.” “And you’ve got wings,” grumbled Amanita. “You can just-” “Bye!” Bitterroot skimmed the upper edge of the bushes, trying to stay out of sight. She looked over her shoulder; she couldn’t see Circe or the others near the river. She risked a slight climb and spotted some of the bushes on the other side of the scrubland rustling in a way that didn’t quite match the wind. They were in. It was only a matter of time. She remembered where she’d put the firestarters. She flew past them, flew to where she thought was a safe distance, and flew another few dozen yards out and up. Better safe than sorry. She pivoted in the air. The rustling was closer to the clearing where Amanita was waiting. Her hovering faltered a little as her wings twitched — she wanted to be there, to help Amanita — but surprise was key. The rustling reached the clearing. Nothing happened. Bitterroot strained her hearing, but even her pegasus ears couldn’t hear anything. But they had to be talking, right? She almost moved closer, but she wanted to stay out of the range of- The branches she’d laid out suddenly burst into enormous flame, sending out a wave of heat so intense it almost physically bowled her over. Bitterroot quickly backflapped and flew upwards, riding the sudden updraft like surfers rode waves. All around her, the bushes were catching fire and ever-thickening smoke was curling up. The bottoms of the clouds above glowed a soft orange. Bitterroot stared down. The smoke didn’t sting her eyes, but she blinked anyway. She swallowed nervously. The fire spreading fast, faster than she’d expected. The space inside the ring was contracting like a noose, while outside, it was slowly but steadily sweeping across the scrublands, even as the melting snow dampened the bushes and made burning more difficult. At least there were clouds, and lots of them. They were sticky and didn’t feel like Equestria’s clouds, but she could gather them if the need arose. Bitterroot darted up, gripped a particularly large one- She heard a scream below her. Amanita’s. It didn’t sound pained or scared, just loud and attention-grabbing. Bitterroot folded her wings and dropped. “Amanita?” she called out as she circled through the smoke. Another scream, a bit quieter. Forced? Bitterroot had to go in. She dropped to a few yards above the flames and flew through twisting ash clouds. She felt something strange as she rode the heat wave. A burning feeling that she just wanted to pull away from. The closer she flew, the worse it got. And when she coasted into the interior of the ring, the feeling went away. It wasn’t heat, though it felt like it. What was it? It took Bitterroot a few seconds to realize what was wrong: the fire was hurting her. Normally, a no-brainer. But she hadn’t felt any pain once she’d died and she’d gotten used to that lack of pain. So to feel it now? Her blood would’ve run cold if it hadn’t already been cold. Her dead senses told her there was something wrong with that fire. “Amanita?” yelled Bitterroot, skimming the tops of the bushes. She looked for that telltale rustle, but with the fire’s updraft, every bush was rustling. “Amanita?” Somepony moaned. It was hard to tell from where. “Hold tight, Amanita!” Bitterroot yelled. “I’m coming!” She wasn’t sure she believed herself. She angled into a tightening spiral, starting from the fire wall and moving in. It was hard to spot anything; the air itself shimmered from the heat. She saw a few dark shapes scurrying around her and there in the bushes, but no- All of a sudden, Gale lunged from the scrub and tackled Bitterroot. They tumbled into the bushes, getting yanked apart as they rolled; Gale vanishing into the bushes. With a twitch of her wings, Bitterroot was on her hooves in a moment. “I know you’re out there!” She spun around, looking for Gale, branches whipping at her face. “Show yourself!” Nothing. The fire crackled. Heat washed over Bitterroot. Smoke scorched her throat. None of it hurt, but she couldn’t stick around and look for Gale. She pushed through the bushes away from the fire, yelling, “Amani-” Something rustled behind her. She ducked, but Gale came at her from above and drove her into the ground on her stomach. Before Bitterroot could get up, Gale hit her in the head: once, twice, thrice. They were strong hits, and any one of them probably would’ve knocked Bitterroot out had she been alive. “I found Bitterroot! She’s over here!” Gale yelled, pressing Bitterroot’s head into the ground. “She’s ov-” Bitterroot pushed up with her rear legs and flapped downwards at the same time. It was enough to do a clumsy somersault; she landed on her back, Gale between her and the ground. An awkward one-winged flap, and she rolled onto her feet. Gale’s wings were splayed out. “Sorry,” said Bitterroot, and stomped on the joints of one. Even over the roaring fire, the bones snapping was audible. Gale was groundbound. Bitterroot wanted to drag Gale to the ring and throw her into the fire, but Amanita was still out there. Bitterroot took to the air again and continued her search. She heard a strangled yell quickly, not too far away. She aimed toward it, spotted Amanita, and landed next to her. Amanita was almost dragging herself on the ground, like she was choking. Her tongue was hanging out of her mouth and her motions were slow and forced. She pulled herself to Bitterroot, wheezing, barely able to even stand. “What’s wrong?” asked Bitterroot. “Can’t… breathe…” gasped Amanita. “Fire… Oxygen… Carry-” Bitterroot immediately wrapped her front legs around Amanita’s trunk and hauled her into the sky. As they moved out of the oxygen-deprived air of the fire, Amanita’s breaths became stronger, then steadier. “Thanks,” she gasped, and coughed. “Sure,” said Bitterroot. She surveyed the scrublands and swallowed. The fire was still spreading and the smoke was inky black. It mingled with the clouds, darkening them. The crackling of flames merged together into a roar. Snow was already melting at the edges of the scrub. And the blaze showed no sign of stopping. Had she called up something she couldn’t put down? Amanita wiggled. “Can, can you find a space to, I don’t know, put me down?” She pulled herself further up into Bitterroot’s grip. “I like my hooves on the ground, thanks.” “Sorry.” Bitterroot flew them over the flames, over the outside scrub. “I don’t know what-” An arcane bolt zipped out of the smoke and singed Bitterroot’s feathers. She didn’t feel anything, but it was enough to make her twitch. Amanita slipped a foot as her grip loosened. Amanita tightened her own grip on Bitterroot’s legs. “Don’t drop me don’t drop me don’t drop me!” she squealed. She didn’t get any further; Bitterroot dove for the ground. She was hovering just above the bushes before Amanita even had time to scream. She lowered them down and let go of Amanita, who crawled over to a bush and hugged it. “Oh Celestia oh Celestia…” “I broke Gale’s wing, so she’s not flying out,” said Bitterroot, “but I didn’t see any of the others. Do you think they got out?” “How should I know? It’s your plan!” said Amanita, releasing the bush. “Yeah…” Bitterroot rustled her wings and grinned sheepishly at Amanita. “Not exactly the best plan, was it?” Amanita pursed her lips. “That’s…” A particularly large plume of flame spiraled into the sky. A small gust of wind from the expanding air blew their manes and the bushes back. “…one way to put it.” Bitterroot’s grin withered and died as she watched the fire. Had she gone too far? Been too quick in accepting “crazy”? Earth ponies valued the land, yet here she was, having acres burned down just to kill… what, three ponies? It already seemed laughable that this was a good idea, presence of a lich or not. If this fire got out of control, it would be her fault. She stood up, flicking her tail to get the snow off her rump. “I’ll do a flyover, see if I can spot anypony,” she said. “And I’ll get some clouds into position to make it rain.” Amanita also got up. “I’ll walk around the borders to see if any of them escaped. Good luck.” She pushed her way out of the bushes. Bitterroot took a deep breath — although she wasn’t sure why — and climbed into the skies again. There was no significant change in the inferno, although the unburned circle was smaller and it looked like parts of the ring itself were burning lower as the bushes were consumed. By now, the smoke was so dense it was nearly impossible to see through. Bitterroot descended through the miasma, careful not to go too quickly. Visibility was even worse than the blizzard. Above the fire, its own glow bounded and rebounded off the smoke to create a bright orange fog. When she wasn’t above the fire, Bitterroot had to practically skim the bushes to see them. Winds from the blaze rolled the smoke every which way and made flying tricky. The sound of burning wood made it hard to hear anything else. And to top it all off, the death of her reflexes meant she wasn’t blinking as much. Smoke got in her eyes and fogged her vision. Bitterroot forced herself to blink and get the particles away, even though it felt like hot sand was scouring her corneas. She came to a midair stop as something grabbed her tail. She looked over her shoulder and barely had time to register before she was yanked down through the smoke.