Chapter 3: The Witch Doctor's Curse
Lock Love meandered down the steps in a good mood, a smile printed on his face. With a new spell under his belt, taught to him by Mrs. Melody, we would be even more helpful than before. He didn’t even mind the protesting shrieks from the ancient wooden steps as he made his way to the ground floor. There waiting for him, looking incredibly concerned, were Lock’s latest masters. Both of them looked ready to spring forward at a second’s notice.
“Lock? Are you okay?!” Gyle said, looking every bit concerned as Lock reached the cracked tiles of the ground floor. “We were worried sick about you!”
The idea that Lock was in some sort of immediate danger was rather baffling to him. Of course, Lock was in too high of spirits to express his confusion. He kept on smiling, letting his masters know that everything was just great! “Mrs. Melody was very kind to me! She taught me new magic!”
Cann smacked one hoof upside his own head. “Dybil! That is not what Gryphon means. You move down steps, and there is such a racket that-” Just then pile of the wooden steps from the staircase chose this moment to crash down around the coal black stallion, finally having giving way to the abuse of time and recent use. Dust billowed out blinding the trio until the debri had fully settled.
There and surrounded by crushed wood in a neat circle stood Lock Love, completely untouched, with a smile on his face. The hallway echoed with laughter as Lock looked around at the ridiculous position he found himself in. It was just so funny! He had never had a day like this, and thought it should be impossible. Compliments, care, respect, and even a whole magic lesson from an expert! To top it all off; instead of having it all ripped away from him, like what was cosmically correct, a death trap that he had completely ignored just crumpled around him leaving him in perfect health! The irony that all this was happening to a slave was just all too much! Lock bent over, tears forming in his eyes as he laughed the ridiculousness of it all away.
Of course, being in the middle of it and watching it were too different things. While Lock laughed up a storm, Gyle and Cann looked on at Lock with ever deepening concern. “He almost dies and keeps to the laughing. Reminding of Canns favorite Pink Pony.” He started rifling through his saddlebags looking for something that was clearly quite small. “Slave pony Lock Love.” He said, just loud enough to get Lock’s attention. “Here, found this in other room. Mislabeled package with precious toy.” He pulled out a small statuette of a pronking pink pony with poofy pink mane and tail. An inscription at the base read ‘Awareness! It was under “E”!’. “Cann was going to keep it for fan-filly reasons. He is guessing this is more fitting.”
It was all overwhelming! First a book, now a toy!? Lock had always wanted a toy. He began reaching out for, one tentative hoof pausing in front of the tiny statuette. He looked to Cann, feeling like colt who might be looking up to a praising father figure, his wide smile unbreakable at this point. “I can really have this?”
Cann’s bushy beard shifted, a smirk showing through the fuzz. “Mhm, Pink pony is very strong. At all times she smiles. Makes the joy and laughing. Cann grows up in Stalliongrad, loving her many posters and her always watching. Makes Cann feel safer. There is that same smile here. Lock Love has power to laugh at danger and smile in sad place such as this.” He pressed the toy into Locks’ hoof. “Cann believes this. You will make this Wasteland smile too.”
Lock love felt a certain warmth in his chest as he held onto the pink pony statuette, a song ringing in his heart. He look the time to look over every detail, from top to bottom and even the detail placed in the inscriptions. After over 200 years absolutely no detail had been lost, no paint flaking off, and no scratches of any kind. The statuette was in perfect condition, and it had been entrusted to him along with the belief of his master! This was truly the best day of Lock Love’s life.
After a couple of minutes, Lock felt a tugging in his mind that urged him to look away from the small toy. Gyle and Cann were halfway down the hallway, heading for the exit. Wait, when did that happen!? He carefully placed his statuette into his saddle bags alongside his book and Spider-Mare bags and hurried down the hallway to catch up.
Gyle pushed the school doors opened, holding it for the rest of the group to exit the building. “So, Lock. What’s the game plan?”
Following Cann out onto the road, Lock looked back to Gyle a tad confused. “May I ask what you mean master?”
The leather bound gryphon released the schoolhouse door and leaned against the wall with his forelegs crossed, preferring to stand on his rear legs at the moment. “Well you’re the pony with all the information right now. You watched that orb, you spoke with the ghoul in the tower. The way I see it you’re holding all the cards until we figure this mega-ant thing out. Plus, you’re probably the smartest one here.” He chuckled at that last statement, lighting a cigarette that he pulled out of his feathers and popping it into his mouth. “Taking a wild fucking guess at that one.” He said, putting as much sarcasm as he could into it.
As confusing as this statement was to Lock, Cann seemed to just grunt in acknowledgment. Putting the idea that he was somehow smarter than a master aside for the moment he did have to admit that he did have the information Gyle had mentioned. In all honesty he had almost forgotten about the damaged memory orb, then again remembering it was rather painful in every aspect. “If it helps, I can try to think of something for you.” He offered, trying his best to be ever helpful.
Gyle simply nodded, waiting for a response as he took a long drawl on his drug of choice.
When it came down to the details, Lock realized, he actually had quite a bit that seemed to match up. There was the information from the orb, the ability to access the mines under the town. The sonar from Mrs. Melody show ants moving through tunnels that Lock assumed were simply expanded on from the original mine. And then there was the emptied out bombshell, which probably fueled the mutation of these over sized ants. Of course there was just one thing still missing, Why were the ants only just now attacking? Clearly the Zebras had been living here for some time before these troubles began. If he could find out why, maybe they could stop the ants and then Masters Gyle and Cann could collect their rewards.
Lock looked up to Gyle after a moment of Contemplation. “When I think about the information I’ve gathered so far. I think the last thing I would need to know to give you an answer is why the ants are attacking to begin with. I should be able to figure that out if I can learn what happened before the first attack.” He said, hoping that his answer was sufficient to appease his masters.
Before Gyle could answer, Cann bellowed out a laugh. “Yes good! We go to see the Zebras then. Learn from their stories. Come comrades!” Cann marched off happily, glad to have found a direct to point himself in. In many ways, Lock could relate to his straight forward approach. Direction was a very good thing for making decisions!
The Zebras were more than happy to see the trio return, believing that their troubles were over. They were stomping on the ground in applause before Gyle had to cut them off. “Please please, hold your applause! We’re not done here quite yet.”
“Ants will still be coming.” Cann chimed in, cutting off the chieftain before he could ask any questions. “We make answers for this problem. But first comes the questions. Who knows about first ant attack?!” His voice boomed through the long house, carrying a slight menace. Whether he was aware of it or not, he sounded both angry and disappointed as though he were a father who recently learned of his foal misbehaving in class.
The Zebras looked around at each other aimlessly but fearful of not having an answer for the heavily armed earth pony. After what seemed like an eternity of silence, one mare pushed her way through the throng of stunned zebras. “I know bout dem first attacks.” Came the red striped Nephita. As she stepped forward, the Chieftain moved to stop her. A single pressed hoof from Nephita to the Chieftain’s chest was enough to have him sit back down. “We be talkin in meh shack. Don’ ya worry now. No Ants be gettin in dere.” She motioned for the door, which Cann and Gyle made for without much pause. Lock Love waited to follow after the nice Zebra mare.
It was a little concerning to Lock, regarding what had just happened. Why had Cann acted so angry? More than that, why had the Zebras acted like they were guilty? Lock realized he was missing something important here that only masters would understand, but feared that not understanding it might put either him or his masters in danger. It would be wrong for a slave to let harm come to their masters right? It would be better if he asked. He decided it would be best to ask whenever he got the chance. The Zebra mare, Nephita, seemed nice enough to ask.
Nephita’s shack was actually a run down medical clinic that had tribal masks and strange herbs hanging from it’s walls both inside and out. From the appearance of these items and the furniture inside, Lock assumed that this place had been dressed similarly before the bombs even fell. There were ancient paints on the walls depicting the vast yellow fields of the Zebra homelands and various Mares and Stallions from their past. The masks and herb hooks all seemed to have been placed where the mural would emphasize their importance.
Though most of the clinic’s lobby area was decorated much like it had most likely been in the past, the clerk’s desk that can usually be found in the lobby had been completely removed in favor of a rather comfortable set of living room furniture that had been weaved from more wastelandish materials. Lock actually spotted the pole of a stop sign that had been bent to support something that greatly resembled a couch.
“Okay. Sit an’ I be talkin wichu about dem ants. Tea?” Asked Nephita gesturing to the furniture in front of her.
Though Cann was more than ready to step on over and listen to the story, Gyle pulled Cann over to the side to speak with him first. Lock wasn’t able to hear anything but his eyes kept darting from Lock to Nephita has he whispered into his companion’s ear. After a few seconds Cann just nodded in agreement letting out a light grunt. “Cann and Gryphon will be no good for listening. You tell to him.” He said, pointing over to Lock.
Wait what!? No that’s not right, this was important stuff that they needed to hear. Sure Lock was putting the answer together for them but why would they intentionally let valuable information go? He had to shake of the surprise, of course he was doing this ‘for’ them. He was providing a service. Sure it was a new service, but a service nonetheless. He resolved to see this through to the end.
Nephita smiled, seemingly put at some ease by this decision. “Yes ah’ see. Come den Tall’n Dark. Dis story for yor ears.” She began walking into the back of her hut, brushing aside a curtain of strange beads to reveal a short dark hallway. There didn’t seem to be any light behind the curtain and Lock was being lead away from his masters. It was enough to get him to question what was going on again.
Lock looked back to his masters, who just waived him forward, with a deal of worry on his face. They didn’t seemed too concerned and Masters know best. He pressed forward into the darkened hallway, heart in his throat. Inside the hallway he could see strange shapes that were just obscured enough to not be identified, and two piercing blue lights all the way at the end that floated about like lost spirits that had been forever trapped in this mare’s home. He was beginning to have third thoughts until he felt Nephita at his tail. “Go to dem dere lights an’ we ben on deh lef.” She gave him a light push, telling him where to go.
Though hesitant, Lock was more scared of disobeying than he was of the creepy lights in the distance. He moved forward as commanded. As he passed by the strange shapes in the dark, thin paper-like tendrils brushed against his coat, sending shivers down his spine. His imagination filled the darkness with stories of wasteland horrors; Dog monsters with knives for hands, plants that could flay a pony’s flesh in an instant, strange mutants infected with radioactive magical run off. All of this was put at bay as he approached the two blue spirits in the far back, ghosts of the long since deceased buzzing and humming as they grasped every wisp of magic just to stay alive.
“Byutiful, no?” Came Nephita’s voice from behind, snapping Lock out of his dread. She brushed passed the scared slave and gave the jars containing the wispy blue lights a light tap with her hoof. What was at first creepy little blue motes of light, filling out the jars, bloomed to light up the hallway in a gently electric blue. “Thunde’ Mites. Deh make natural lightnin and glow pretty nice too.”
The thunder mites buzzed about the jars quite happily, occasionally landing on fruit preservatives that had been placed inside. Lock looked behind him, filling the hall were herbs and flowers placed to make the hallway prettier in the blue light. He smiled, feeling blood rush to his cheeks. A small joyful voice in the back of his head just laughed as though nothing in the world could have ever been wrong. ‘Ha, Ha, HA!’ He felt a giggle build up in his throat but suppressed it to a snort. “Yes, Beautiful. Sorry I hadn’t seen them before and thought they were ghosts.”
This brought out a short bout of laughter from Nephita. “Oh no no. Dere be no ghosts ‘roun ‘ere.” She continued to the left, leading him into a room that had no door attached to it. The The blue of the hallway gave way to a warmer orange light, followed by a heat that seemed to radiate off of four large flowers in each corner of the room. The room was small but contained a large assortment of vials, jars, and bowls resting on a desk and several opened cabinets. Taking up the majority of the room was a large metal bed that was bolted into the floor. A cursory look would tell most anypony that the bed had been there since even before the war began.
Lock was motioned to sit up on the bed while Nephita starting mixing materials into a wide and shallow bowl. “You have an interesting home.” Lock stated idly, looking about. He was a tad nervous, being surrounded completely by a different culture, and took to fiddling with his bomb collar. He wished the pretty red light was still working, but found it was much easier to wiggle the collar around now that it had broken.
“Tanks, Tall and Dark. Dis ere’ buildin was fix’t up by meh ancestors. Eh keep ‘t all tugetha. Dis rooms’ bin mine since I was jus’ a foal. Bron ‘ere Figure I die ‘ere too!” She laughed at that, dropping something into her bowl that cause a large puff of smoke to billow out. For just a brief second, Lock could see where those stories of evil witchdoctors making witches brews came from. The laughing mixed with tiny explosions was enough to put Lock’s coat hairs on end. Though, knowing how nice she was in real life made all the fear seem rather silly. “Now look ‘ere.” Nephita continued placing the bowl on the bed and climbing up to sit opposite Lock. “Wit’in dis bowl is meh story. Listen well-” Lock suddenly felt a little dizzy as the smoke rising from the bowl billowed out and Nephita’s words began to distort and wobble. Somehow he was able to undertand it all much better than before. “- an’ yu too will undeh stand how this all began. But for it all to make sense, you must hear things as I did.”
Everything that was Lock’s vision slowly faded along with Nephita’s words, as she began telling her story, replaced with images and sounds that could be seen through the water in the bowl. After just a short period of time lock was watching and hearing events play out from the perspective of Nephita.
000---000
“Nephita!” Came the voice of the Village Elder, he sounded worried and excited. Nephita deftly packed her medical kit, filling it with herbs and freshly cleaned tools. Throwing the small yellow medical tin onto her back, she rushed through her shack with all the urgency of a medical professional.
Bursting through the beaded curtain, Nephita took stock of her living area. “N’Batu! I’m here! Who is hurt!?” She looked at the floor, seating areas, and even the backs of her two visitors for any zebra that might have been hurt. Seeing nothing, she took a cautious stance as she looked over to her Elder.
N’Batu, looking panic stricken, trotted up to Nephita. “Oh no, this is much worse than an infection, cuts, or sickness! The end of our village is what we now witness!” N’Batu motion to Nephita’s other guest, a Zebra wearing some sort of skin-tight armor with cloak and bat talisman. He was hard to focus on, as though the world intentionally wanted him to be easy to miss.
“Kwebiqu? What are doing here?” Nephita asked the other Zebra. She sounded rather puzzled that he would even show his face, insulted even. “Are you bringing the news that is scaring N’Batu? You know he is a storyteller, his imagination runs wild with troubles.” She colded.
The hard to see guest, Kwebiqu, just held up a hoof in solidarity. “Please be at ease sister. I meant no harm. What he states is true though. A huge band of Raiders moved into our scavenging area. We are completely cut off from food and trading supplies. We have nothing left to sustain our people. And you know very well that our little tribe can’t wander out into the wasteland. The pony folk will pick us off as quick as they can. Unless we find something new to trade within the next week, we will not have enough food to feed the foals” He said, pleading Nephita to listen to him.
Nephita, hesitated looking from one stallion’s face to the next seeing the grief written on them. “You’ve seen this with your own eyes?” She asked, holding a tone that indicated she was ready to make a decision. Kwebiqu nodded, hardening his gaze. “Then I suppose you want me to finish Mother’s work?” Once again Kwebiqu nodded.
The images in the bowl gave way to a cloud of swirling smoke before parting again to reveal a new scene. Nephita was standing amongst a group of ants that were just a little taller than her knees. The ants seemed docile, even friendly. She was mixing a series of strange ingredients together and distilling various fluids on a rather elaborate chemistry table deep within a hollowed out cavern. “Just a tad more little queen.” She said to a larger ant with an over swollen abdomen. The Ant Queen clicked at her as though in understanding. Meanwhile, Nephita fixed a fiery green substance with something that resembled honey. “All of your stillborns will come to us, and I will keep you healthy. We can help each other, like mother said.”
Once again the images swirled away into another scene. This time Nephita was slamming open a door in anger. “You what!?” The room looked like a shop, where a zebra was trying to sell large slabs of ant meat to a pony trader. “Do you know what you’ve done!? We had a deal with the queen and it has been broken for caps!? She will wage war on us!” The pony shrank back, clearly not understanding what was going on.
The shopkeeper waive to her in surrender. “No! You don’t understand Nephita! Please listen!” He began shielding his face as Nephita wound up to punch him in the face. “It was Kwebiqu! He brought the meat to me. I just sell it!”
“Kwebiqu! Why?” The images shifted again, more rapidly to reveal Kwebiqu at the entrance to the mines, carrying a bandolier of chems and a disturbingly happy grin from ear to ear.
He responded, pulling out a toy pop gun and aiming it at Nephita. “HAHAHA! It’s so Funny! Isn’t it? Oh the irony! Now the only thing keeping you alive is the same thing that’s going to kill you! Same thing for me. Same thing for sister!”
Nephita seemed hesitant to move with the Pop Gun pointed at her for some reason. “With those raiders, the ants were our last option! These people were your family once!”
That prompted another laugh from Kwebiqu. “THOSE raiders are MY raiders! They’re Risio’s Raiders! I put them there! HAHAHA!” The Newly dubbed Risio Swung the Pop Gun over his shoulder, whipping out a vicious looking machete and charged for Nephita. Before the battle could continue, the images swirled away for the last time, leaving a near empty bowl with just a drop of water left inside.
000---000
Lock shook his head, clearing the slight fog that had formed in his mind from the vision bowl. He looked up to Nephita, concern and disbelief painting his face. “You knew?”