//------------------------------// // Chapter 28 // Story: The Dusk Guard Saga: Hunter/Hunted // by Viking ZX //------------------------------// “You’re very lucky, you know,” the Royal Guard medic said, speaking almost nonchalantly as she tended to Sabra’s rear hoof. “You’re injured, but I’ve seen worse. Looks like that fancy armor of yours works like it claims.” The medic had a slight twang to her voice that reminded him of the more countried parts of Equestria he’d traveled. A sharp sudden spear of pain lanced up his rear leg from his hoof, and he twitched. “I think you owe whoever made it for you.” “I do,” he said, holding his breath as another jolt of pain shot up his leg. “Sorry,” the medic said. Apparently he hadn’t held still enough. “I know it’s tender.” Part of him wanted to look, but he held his eyes forward, fighting the temptation and instead focusing on the rest of the palace around him. The Royal Guard had been hard at work removing the trappings of the Order, focusing first on the members themselves and then on breaking down the barricades and other elements. A trio of pegasi had already removed most of the banners, while several unicorns and earth ponies—combat engineers, if his recollection of Captain Song’s coaching on their emblage was correct—were almost done breaking down the defensive fortifications and casting mending spells on what they could across the former battlefield. Already it was starting to look as though a battle had never taken place, though there were definite signs if one knew where to look. Another jolt of pain shot up his leg, making him grit his teeth. The ponies that had been involved in the battle, however … that was another matter. Most of the Order had already been taken away under heavy guard, kept forcibly unconscious while their horns and legs were bound and their bodies thrown into the same prison cells that they had once overseen. Additional Guard had taken control of the former Order centers, and already were working with the crystal ponies to restore a semblance of stability and distribute medical supplies and food. Which was why his initial examination was being done by a member of the Royal Guard, and not Dawn. She was over by the door, lying on a cot and conferring with several Guard lieutenants to help guide those same relief efforts and point them toward what she’d already been able to set up. As she spoke, a second medic was shadowing her, treating her injuries—the stab wound to the side of her barrel being of particular concern. “Hold still please.” He complied, holding his breath and locking his muscles despite the pain it caused in his side. A gentle, soft-green glow slipped over him moving slowly from one end of his body to the other, and the medic let out a gentle “Hmmm.” He opened his mouth to speak, but then snapped it shut again. She requested that I hold still. Captain Song hadn’t been treated yet either. The battered earth pony was still conferring with Captain Armor, their conversation inaudible over the clamour of the rest of the Guard from his position. No doubt the captain was explaining which areas of the city they’d secured and who Captain Armor could get in touch with to speak about the local populace. Everypony was busy assisting the Guard but him. And when he’d stated that fact to Captain Song, he’d been met with a quick, blunt rebuttal of “benefits of the rank.” The sarcastic tone in the captain’s voice had made it questionable exactly who he felt was getting the benefit. “All right, you can relax,” the medic said. A touch quickly, he noted as he let himself ease slightly, the pain in his side fading. There was an itch along his left foreleg, and he scratched idly at it with one hoof. “I’m going to examine your side now, if you don’t mind,” the medic said, moving to look at the gash he’d taken during the fight. There was an ugly, bloody bandage plastered over it; the wound had begun bleeding again the moment he’d peeled his undersuit off. It was lying on the floor nearby, alongside his battered armor. “This might feel a little uncomfortable, but I need to know if there’s a chance of internal infection or organ damage.” “Proceed.” He swallowed as the mare’s horn lit, the same blue glow peeling back the bandage and then pushing into his side, an uncomfortable pressure building inside his gut as the medic went to work. Several awkward seconds passed as he fought the urge to move to one side, away from the growing pressure in his insides, but then mercifully it faded. “You’re in luck,” the medic said, horn no longer glowing. “No damage to any vital organs, only surface damage to the abdominal wall and muscles. Whatever blade you were cut with was not poisoned, and furthermore was in good condition: the incision is clean. With some stitches and rest, you should be fine in a week.” “I don’t believe we have a week,” he said, looking at the medic as she moved to check the cut on his foreleg. “The other half of our team is still out there.” “Well,” the mare said. He couldn’t remember her name, though he was sure she’d mentioned it at some point. “I wouldn’t recommend it. Your own doctor will be the one to make the final decision, of course.” He nodded, silent. There wasn’t much to say. He already knew what Dawn’s decision would be. The fact that both she and Steel were at work despite their own injuries was proof enough of that. And we are Dusk Guard, he thought. We charge when others would falter. “All right. This cut on your leg is mostly the same. Very clean. Not nearly as deep, naturally, or you’d be having trouble walking on it. A little bit of magic, though, and it’ll be good for you to move around on, as long as you don’t tear it open from overexertion. Which …” The mare’s blue eyes rolled up and down his body. Blue. Like Sky Bolt’s mane. “… I’m guessing is something that may be an issue, given your commanders and what I’ve seen and heard regarding you ponies. Still considering what happened in here, I’d say you’re both lucky and skilled to have come out of it as lightly as you did. And you know, not dead?” She gave him a weak smile. Dead. His gaze, which had slipped aside somewhere in the last few moments, moved back to her. “Would it be possible for you to reattach the bandage on my side?” he asked carefully. “I need to use the restroom.” “It’ll hold only temporarily with a sticking spell,” the medic warned. “But yes. Just … don’t attempt to wash it?” She gave him a little smile, and he nodded. “Of course not,” he said, watching as her magic enveloped the bandage and applied it to his side once more. “Good,” she said, her magic pressing against his side a final time and then vanishing. “I’ll go speak with your lieutenant. The nearest restroom is right over there—” She pointed at a door partway across the hall with one hoof. “—and we already checked to make sure it works. Just be careful, and don’t wander off anywhere else, okay?” “Naelewa,” he said with another nod as he rose to his hooves, stepping off of the bench the medic had been using as an examination table. Or was it a “stretcher?” Sky Bolt would know. So would Dawn. He trotted across the hall slowly, taking his time as to not interfere with the Royal Guard ponies moving in all directions. Under Captain Armor and Captain Song’s direction, the Guard was swiftly putting the palace back together. A unicorn trotted past him, one of the Order’s red banners rolled up and held in his magic. They were being taken down all across the city and passed over to a temporary council of crystal ponies to use as proof of the Order’s fall. Not, he’d overheard, that many of them accepted it yet. Too many had simply barricaded their doors and locked themselves inside their homes even as the banners came down, fearful that it was all an illusion, and that Sombra would return at any moment. He’d overheard some of the Guard had express incredulity at the mindset, but they just didn’t understand. He was hardly sure he did himself. But after the last few days? Even peering into the world that the crystal ponies had lived under had made him feel ill. To have lived under it? It’s no wonder they don’t believe us, he thought as he pressed the door to the bathroom open. He ruled over them for years, everything goes strange, and now a bunch of ponies they don’t know and recognize say that a millennium has passed, and the world is different, and everything is fine. The bathroom was … odd. Strange, at least to his eyes, though he had no doubt that a number of the Royal Guard would find it as perplexing yet familiar as he did. Still, it wasn’t too hard to figure out how the toilet operated, nor to identify the sink, though it was more of a broad basin that multiple ponies could use at once situated below a reflective mirror that looked … odd. He wasn’t quite sure how to put it. Old maybe. The image of himself in its depths didn’t seem quite as clear or sharp as the mirrors he was familiar with. Perhaps the glass was in fact crystal. He stared at himself in the mirror for a moment, hooves damp with cool water, and then threw up. He wasn’t sure how much time passed before his heavings ceased. Far longer than there had been any content in his stomach to remove, the foul-smelling sludge sitting in the basin having entirely exited his body in the first few moments. Every moment after that had seen his stomach clench, dry gags coming from his mouth as he’d tried to expel what he didn’t have. Each jerk of his sides had seen the cut to the same send out waves of stabbing pain, but his body had refused to answer them, instead delivering another heave that had felt like a kick to the gut. He was shaking now, his whole body trembling and quivering. A bit of ichor had dribbled down his chin, and he activated the water once more, wiping it away and slowly washing the residue of his insides down the sink. Suddenly he was unbearably thirsty, his mouth dry. He took a deep breath, drawing it in and holding it before letting it out as slowly as he could. Gradually the shaking weakness in his limbs went away, leaving only a slight trembling in his ears and tail and a lingering pain in his side where his wounded muscles loudly complained about his actions. He waited a moment longer, washing down the sink to remove all traces of his vomit and then smoothed his own muzzle down, washing his face and finding a red cloth towel to dry his coat with. Then, satisfied that his appearance was somewhat satisfactory, he headed back out into the main entry hall, walking quietly back to the bench by his gear while the Royal Guard rushed around him. A series of cascading cracks in the floor caught his eye as he walked, a brief memory flashing back to him, and he looked up, eyeing the distant balcony he’d thrown himself off of during the fight. It was, he realized, a lot further up than it had felt like at the time. Sky Bolt’s mod likely saved my life. As had her armor, multiple times. He swallowed again, his mouth dry as he continued to the bench, searching for signs of the rest of the team. Dawn was deep in a discussion with the medic who had treated him, while Captain Song … There was no sign of the captain. Or of his counterpart in the Royal Guard. Which likely meant that one or both of them was dealing with something. He let his body drop back onto the bench, staring at Lieutenant Triage as she carried on a conversation with the Guard medic. An animated conversation. Apparently they were in disagreement about something. Probably my injuries. A moment later the medic made a gesture in his direction, solidifying the theory. He twitched his ears forward, but one of them must have been using magic to muffle their debate, because he couldn’t pick up any of the discussion. Judging by their expressions, however, Dawn was going to have the final word. As he watched, the medic threw her hooves up with a shake of her head and stormed off, the sound of her hoofsteps suddenly adding to the mixture as Dawn turned to look at him before slowly, and with some stiffness, rising from her cot to trot over. She healed her injury already? He couldn’t see the site of the stab wound she’d taken from his current position, but he remembered where it was quite clearly. Granted, there was a bandage in the way, a fresh one, but she was moving around under her own power. “Sabra,” Dawn said as she came close. Then her nose wrinkled, and she stopped. “Wow … please don’t take this improperly but … you don’t exactly smell wonderful at the moment.” Her horn glowed, an orange glow rushing over him. She turned a sideways glance at his battered armor and still-bloodied undersuit as well. “I can get to those in a moment,” she said, stepping up close to him once more. “How are you feeling?” “My side hurts.” “I’m aware,” Dawn said, her horn glowing and peeling the bandage back from his side. “And before you ask, I can treat it, though I’ll need something from my saddlebags. But I didn’t ask about your injuries. I asked how you felt.” “I … I am afraid I do not understand.” Dawn let out a soft sigh, even as her horn glowed brighter, summoning her saddlebags from near where she’d been lying on her cot. “Sabra, you clearly threw up not minutes ago, and I know from the medic who triaged you that it was not because of an internal injury. Not a physical one anyway. You’re having an emotional reaction to everything we’ve just gone through. A completely understandable one. I …” Her voice faltered, and she cleared it quietly before speaking again. “I know at times I can seem cold and impassive because I’m focused on my work, and for that I apologize. But right now I don’t need to know how your injuries feel. Unless I do something wrong, of course,” she added quickly as her saddlebags arrived. She set them to one side, her magic glowing as she began to pull out instruments and gauze. “What I need to know, Sabra,” she said, looking him in the eyes. “Is how you feel.” A wad of cotton cloth doused with something moved to his side, and he felt a faint sting as she went to work. “I know the captain talks about how we’re the Dusk Guard, the best and the toughest, and he isn’t wrong. Each of us is exemplary. But that doesn’t mean we’re immune to the trials of our work. Take, for example, one of my tools.” A thermometer floated up in front of his face, and by reflex he opened his mouth. Dawn smiled. “Not today, Sabra. I bring it out only to illustrate a point. This thermometer is far hardier than an ordinary thermometer one would find in a doctor’s office. But it doesn’t mean that dropping it to the ground would be any less of an impact on it than that regular thermometer. What I’m saying is …” She paused, floating the thermometer back into her bags. “Well, what I’m saying is that while we may indeed be the best of the Guard, that doesn’t make the wounds we take any less severe. Be they physical or emotional.” He nodded. “I …” His voice cracked, throat dry, and suddenly there was a small metal cup in front of him, filling from a canteen. “Asante,” he said as he took it. Dawn nodded but didn’t speak, waiting as he drank and refilling the cup twice before he waved it away. The cool water felt good against his throat, like it was washing away something harsh and sticky. “Asante,” he said again as she floated the cup away. “I feel …” Words died in his throat. “I feel now like I understand some of the histories of my people I read growing up. Words that I studied and learned. I could understand them, but I couldn’t. Now I understand.” Dawn nodded as he finished speaking, carefully cleaning his wound. He waited for a moment, but she didn’t speak, and more words came to mind, drifting out of the currents of his head. “I feel … empty,” he said at last. “I know we did something good, something that had to be done. We stood up to something evil and aided those caught beneath its hoof. We’ve done that before, with golems. But these weren’t golems … These were ponies. Living beings. Not creatures without capacity for rational thought, but ponies with living, breathing aspirations. Who then used their talents and skills for evil.” A memory of the torture chamber he’d seen flashed through his mind, sending a shudder down his body. “I’ve never taken a life before this mission. I never had to.” “How do I feel?” He lifted a hoof and stared at it for a moment before lowering it down once more and looking at Dawn. “I can’t quite explain it. Even in my native tongue, I fear I wouldn’t be able to find the words.” “Haunted?” He rolled the term around his mind. “In part. I suppose that could suffice for some of it. Perhaps sad as well, yet understanding.” “How so?” There was a flash of heat from his side in time with a bright glow from her horn. “There was no other path forward,” he said, shifting slightly and setting his shoulders. “Argent and the rest of the Order were evil. I don’t believe I’m feeling the way I am because I believe what we did was wrong. No,” he corrected quickly. “I know it wasn’t. Somepony had to stop them, stand up to them. We were those ponies.” The words stopped for a moment, but Dawn didn’t say anything. “I suppose,” he said after a moment. “That it is much like when I was a colt and was first admitted to the monastery. I knew it was a good thing, I knew that my parents were proud of me and loved me. But each night, until I grew used to being apart, I missed them, alone in my room. But I could not stay with them forever, even if I had left the monastery and gone home. Eventually, our lives must have discomfort in order to move forward.” He paused and let out a hiss as another flash of pain rolled through his side. “Sorry,” Dawn said. “I want to make certain that this is clean.” “It is fine,” he said, the pain already fading as Dawn swept an orange glow across his side. “In any case, I believe that what I’m saying is that this was like that. Someone had to stop the Order, experience the discomfort. And now I have, and am, but there is little I can do but bow my head and move forward, accepting it.” “Hmm …” Dawn pulled her head back, looking right at him. “I would disagree with the last bit of your statement. About what you can do.” “What can I do?” “Sabra,” Dawn said, setting her tools down. “We are the Dusk Guard. Not Steel, or Hunter, nor Sky Bolt or Nova or I or you. We. That doesn’t just mean we share training and accomplishments, it means we share the hardships too. Especially ones like these, that we’ve gone through together.” She placed a hoof on his shoulder, her blue eyes staring into his. “So there’s more that you can do than bow your head and push forward. You can lock your limbs with ours, and we can all move forward. Together. You don’t have to hide that you threw up in the bathroom. When I was your age—well, a little older—and in the Rangers, I too threw up once after a close call with a chimera. We’ve been under a great amount of stress these last few days, and seen many things that would see normal ponies in shock. Quite frankly, I’d be more surprised if you hadn’t shown signs of stress. And worried.” “I … That does make me feel a little better. Thank you.” “You’re welcome,” Dawn said, pulling her hoof away. “That said, I know that us simply being here for you isn’t enough to be a surefire cure-all. Your heart is your own, and while we can help as best we can, we cannot force it to heal, no more than I can simply magic your side back together. Well, not without a lot of magic and several risky spells that can come with dangerous side-effects. We’re working on countering those.” “What I’m getting at is that how you feel is ultimately your call to make,” she continued as she went back to looking at his side. “We are a team, and we—and I—will back you every step of the way. If you wish to talk about something, we are here for you. Never forget that. There is no burden that you have to shoulder alone. If you need time to understand how to best shoulder that burden first, whether it’s carried alone or among all of us, then we will abide and respect that as well.” “But,” she said, eyes darting to his for a bare moment. “You never have to be alone if you do not wish it. Acceptance is one thing. But alone?” She shook her head. “Now, I’m numbing the pain with my magic, but even with that, this next bit is going to hurt. Are you ready?” He nodded, only to let out a gasp a moment later as flames rolled up his side and deep into his gut. “There,” Dawn said, a second, lighter wave of pain following that almost made him feel faint. “I apologize for the pain, Sabra, but there is only so much magic can do. Now, I also need to look at your foreleg and your hind leg.” He nodded mutely and held the wounded forelimb up for her to look at. Her magic rolled over it, and a moment later she was tending to the injury with a salve from her bag. The same salve went on his side a moment later, followed by a thin, tough-looking bandage that she assured him wouldn’t come off unless he cut it free. “The sticking charm is a powerful one,” she said, pressing it into place against his side. “Similar to the one holding some of your severed muscle fibers together right now. It will fade away fairly quickly, but not before your body’s own healing as well as the healing spells take effect and began to work things back together.” “The injury to your forelimb is light, and won’t prove a problem provided it doesn’t get infected. You’ll want to apply a bandage over it as well before putting your undersuit back on. Carefully, so that the suit doesn’t peel the bandage back.” “As for your left hind leg, you seem to have come extremely close to frostbite, but there doesn’t appear to be any permanent damage. Keep it dry and warm, and you should be fine. Your internals however …” She pulled back slightly, letting down his rear hoof. “You’ve nearly cracked several bones, and have strained numerous muscles. I can speed the healing with my magic, but you’ll want to rest for at least a day before doing anything strenuous to avoid causing further injury.” “That said …” She took a step back, rolling up a batch of blood-stained gauze tightly in her magic. “How do you feel?” “I …” He fell inward for a moment, shutting his eyes. “I feel better,” he said after a moment. “But not whole.” Dawn nodded. “I understand. Do you need time, or …?” “Time, I think,” he said, returning her nod. “And perhaps …” His stomach let out a small rumble. “Some food?” “Well, appetite is a good sign, especially after a magical healing,” Dawn said. “I’ll have some food brought to you.” “And … I think I’d like to go outside.” Dawn nodded. “Just don’t run there. I’ll see to your armor. Especially the cleaning,” she said, eyeing his undersuit. “If you wish to talk, Steel and I will listen.” “Asante,” he said, rising and feeling a faint stiffness in his side where the bandage was. “I will be by the front steps.” He took his time moving across the main hall, stopping occasionally as Royal Guard rushed past on some mission or another. I am glad they arrived when they did, he thought as he came to a rest by the door, waiting and letting the dull warmth in his side fade. If they hadn’t … A faint chill ran through him. Each of them would have died. If Captain Armor hadn’t concluded from his scouts that there was a battle going on in the palace and taken his best forces straight to it, or had he arrived a moment too late … But he hadn’t, and instead had been able to take full advantage of Argent’s focus to set up a perfect ambush. Sabra slipped through the front doors and out onto the main steps, the air cool, but not so cool that he immediately wanted for a blanket. It was still early morning, the sky pink, and he glanced at the horizon, shading his eyes with one limb. He felt … tired. His last rest had been that morning, but it felt as though a week had passed since then. One without sleep, yet still with its own brand of nightmares. He moved off to the side, away from the traffic moving in and out of the doors, and carefully lowered himself to the ground. The streets around him were mostly empty, and the few ponies he could see were clad in the golden armor of the royal guard. For the most part. Here and there he could see a crystal pony moving about. But their heads were lowered, their glances furtive. Too many of them lived for so long under the Order. He watched as a pair of Royal Guard rushed past, and one of the crystal ponies all but hid. The Order. His stomach made a small flip as the memories of the morning rushed back in. The feeling of bone cracking beneath his Fimbo, the horror as more of them came at him. A slow, cold shiver worked its way down his back, and he shut his eyes against the world as more images flashed across his mind. The mare with the rapier. The stallion with the orbs. Argent. His hooves lashing out, breaking bone and horn beneath his blows. I did that, he thought, his stomach clenching. I did— Laughter echoed through the air, and his memories came to a crashing halt. For a moment he lay frozen, but then the sound echoed again, and he opened his eyes, looking out over the city. A small crystal pony colt was running back and forth across the street, eyes wide and a smile on their muzzle as they watched the Guard move around them. From a nearby home came an alarmed cry, a mother warning the child to come back inside, but the colt laughed, darting further across the street and waving at the Guard. Several of them waved back, and he laughed again, his coat shimmering under the sun. His mother—or maybe older sister, he wasn’t sure—bolted out of the house and caught him, pulling him back toward the house with worried glances at the Guard, but it didn’t take away the colt’s smile. Nor the shout of “No more Sombra!” echoing across the street. A few of the Guard smiled and echoed his cry with their own, just before the mare pulled the colt back inside. Moments later, however, Sabra caught sight of the colt’s eyes at the nearest window, poking out from beneath the heavy curtains, watching as the Guard continued onward with a wide smile. He’s free, Sabra thought as the colt watched. And he knows it. The city is no longer the Order’s. The twist in his gut eased, the chill gone. Because of us. A faint warmth began to move through him, like the heat from a lit match. We did that, he thought as he watched the wide-eyed colt cheer from inside his home. He looked up, tilting his head back, and noting that somepony had removed the red-and-black banners from the palace tower, leaving its surface clear and polished, a single solid spear of crystal pointing up into the sky. “Specialist?” A Guard by the door pulled his attention away from the spire above them scant moments before a warm scent caught his nose, his stomach growling. “Your lieutenant said you needed some food? Hot food, preferably? I wasn’t sure if she meant spicy or warm, but the kitchen was well stocked, so I just grabbed a platter—” “Thank you.” A sudden, gnawing hunger was clawing at his inside, and he reached to take the platter, inhaling deeply and feeling his mouth water. “You’re Sabra, right?” He looked up from the platter, mouth already burning with a hot potato. “Yes.” The word came out muffled but inteligible enough. “I thought so.” The Guard waved one hoof. “You’ve faced me on the training field before. Well, me and like, four other guys. Never won any bits off of you. You guys are good. Like, the best.” He swallowed, hardly tasting whatever he’d just had a bite of. “Thank you.” “No, thank you,” the Guard said. “If it hadn’t been for you guys, who knows how many of us might not have made it if we’d just come in here and gone hoof-to-hoof with them. I mean, yeah, we had to come in and help out at the end, but we didn’t lose anyone. It’s not that I’m not willing to get hurt or die for Equestria, I just … Because of you guys, none of us did. And you didn’t even lose anyone. So … thanks. For being so good.” “Anyway …” He rubbed at the back of his head with one hoof. “I should get back to my duties. I just wanted to say thanks. Are you going to want more, or …?” Sabra shook his head. “No, but thank you. And …” He thought for a moment. “You’re welcome.” “Hey, you need anything, just let one of us know. I heard about some of what was getting thrown around. Our armor isn’t built for that kind of fight. We’re all about numbers. But seriously, grab any of us if you need more food. All of us owe you guys, as far as we’re concerned.” The Guard gave him a nod and then ducked back through the front doors. A few other Guards rushed out and took wing a moment later, flying off to different parts of the city. Messengers. He set the tray on the ground and took a bite out of an unfamiliar-looking vegetable that had a sweet taste to it. Maybe it was the food, or maybe it was the fresh air. The colt’s laughter, perhaps. Or Dawn’s words, or those of the Guard. Maybe all of them. But he felt a little better all the same. Still, he frowned for a moment as he stared at the sky, eyeing the pink early morning light. The sun rises in the east … so where is it? He couldn’t see any sign of it save … Above the storm, he thought, turning his gaze up. A look the the west showed no sign of the sun coming down to tint the sky either. So why …? Dakika Moja. He narrowed his eyes, staring up at the storm and the faint blue shades amidst the grey. The dome over the city is blue. He shook his head. Blue … would imply that Princess Cadance is already in the city, would it not? But since he hadn’t seen her, that probably meant that she’d been brought in stealthily. A wise idea, he thought pulling his gaze away from the storm outside and taking another bit of his meal. Just in case there are still Order members or collaborators out there who would relish a target of opportunity. Not that he imagined Captain Armor would travel too far from his wife’s side without leaving her a heavy guard. Not until the city was cleared and all threats had been accounted for. A set of heavy hoofsteps slowing behind him alerted him to Captain Song’s presence, and he moved to rise. “Don’t, Sabra,” Steel said, catching him halfway through the motion. “At ease.” There was a soft chuckle, and Steel stepped into view next to him, his olive green coat matted. “By Celestia’s beard, we trained you too well.” Then he dropped to his belly, not quite out of the way of the main body of ponies passing by … But then as a captain he probably didn’t need to bother if he didn’t feel like it. “So …” Steel said, looking at him and then turning his attention back to the city spread out before them. “Dawn just read me the riot act, and you can probably guess why.” He stared for a moment before making a guess. “Your injuries?” Steel let out a loud laugh. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “Because I hadn’t come to check on you yet. And …” He shrugged. “She’s not wrong. And for that I apologize, Sabra. You were in good hooves, but you’re my private.” “You had things to do,” Sabra replied, before taking another bite of his meal. “You are a captain. The Royal Guard needed your instruction.” “Doesn’t mean I couldn’t have spared a moment to check on my team,” Steel said, his voice low, almost tired. “Instead, once I heard you were all right, I went right to work. I was wrong, so I’m apologizing.” “Well, then I accept your apology, captain.” Steel nodded, looking at him once more. “So … what was the final tally?” “Sir?” “Injuries.” “Ah.” He motioned toward the bandages on his side. “A cut on my side that tore some muscle. Dawn has already pushed it back together, but it will need time to heal.” Steel nodded but said nothing. “A cut on my foreleg, not serious. And a close case of near frostbite on my rear hoof. My Fimbo, unfortunately, no longer functions, my undersuit has several holes, and there are multiple deep cracks on my armor.” Steel waited until it was clear he’d finished speaking to respond. “Well, it could be worse. Sky Bolt’s armor did its job, keeping us alive. Having to replace a few pieces or even a whole suit isn’t much compared to what we did here today.” He turned away, looking out over the city, and Sabra took advantage of the distraction to take another bite of his food. “But there’s more to us than our armor,” Steel said, turning back toward him. “Though I am sorry about your Fimbo. I’ll make sure Sky Bolt has the funds for a new one.” “Maybe a better one,” he said through a mouthful of food, stomach clawing for more. “Knowing her, I’d be surprised if it wasn’t. Especially if you tell her what did in this one. But aside from that, I was wondering how you were doing. Emotionally, not physically, unless the two intertwine.” “Ah.” He nodded, then bit into another potato. “I was … doing worse, not long ago. But I needed to clear my head. Looking over this …” He couldn’t suppress a shiver, though whether it was from the cold or his own tangled emotions he couldn’t tell. “It has given me a sense of purpose to what we’ve gone through.” Steel—more Captain Song now—nodded. “It’s not easy, sometimes. I’m glad to hear that you’re dealing with it.” He let out a small sigh. “So you’re doing all right?” “I … believe so.” He shook his head. “It’s confusing, new, and terrible, and good. I feel as though I haven’t slept, and my life was a sequence of events in the last day some of which seem horrible while at the same time being impressive. I would be in awe at the telling had I not been there. I broke bone, on purpose. Meaning it. But had I not? Far more harm would have come from it. I think …” He paused, thinking. “I think now I understand. It is easy to think of our great calling when we train or fight a golem. But against true foes? It is … How does the Lieutenant put it? ‘Another thing entirely?’ There were beings from my homelands that have done similar, ancient heroes that faced the darker shadows of the world and held them at bay. I think … we did the right thing. Someone must be the one to stand against evil, to drive it back. There’s a brutality to it that can only be experienced to understand, but I would not take back what we did here today. After all, there’s a smiling colt in one of the houses down there who is glad to see the Order gone. He was smiling at the Guard until his family member dragged him indoors.” Captain Song nodded. “And our near-loss?” “I hadn’t thought of it like that, though I’ll admit that in the moment I was truly terrified. But …” He paused. “Actually, captain, there was an old general from the Plainslands who once said something you may enjoy. In Equestria, I suppose you would call him a captain, but among my people, he was a general.” Steel nodded. “We don’t have anyone ranked above captain during peacetime as part of our reduced military status agreement with other nations. We had generals once.” “Ah, well, he was General Jabari.” “I’ve heard of him.” “He was very famous.” There was a faint sense of pride swelling in his chest. “He fought against the jackals, and against their immortal, Anubis. Broke them. But not before he suffered a series of defeats, battles that were lost. Many other commanders called for his removal, declaring that a general that could not win battles was of no use to our people.” “His response,” he continued, “was that none of them would be appropriate for the task either, as a general who could not handle a single defeat could never win a war. He held that one must learn to accept defeat as well as success, or one would never win. He then went on to use the lessons of his losses to crush the jackals completely and force Anubis to flee the Plainslands.” “So, captain, if you ask that I am bothered that we lost, and that we almost perished … Well, in truth the latter one is alarming. I’m sure it will be on my mind in the days to come. But we only lost near the end, and we still emerged victorious. What lessons we take from it are ours to dwell upon and grow with.” He stopped speaking, and for a moment the air between them was silent. He took advantage of the pause to take another bite. His food was cooling; perhaps the air outside was colder than he’d guessed. Steel seemed to be digesting everything Sabra had just said, with a somewhat distant look on his face that spoke of deep thought. After a few more seconds, he spoke. “You know what Sabra?” He leaned over and wrapped a hoof around his shoulder. “With as much wisdom as that in your head, I’d be surprised if you didn’t come out of this better than any of us. Me? I’ll go home from this and see Cappy and go back to running things. But you?” He locked eyes with him, a small, faint smile on his muzzle. “You’re right. You’re going to be fine. Some adjustment, some thought … Who knows, maybe hundreds of years from now some young colt somewhere will be reading about your words of advice in a history book.” “Provided they’re not last words like ‘that was a mistake’ I may be all right with that.” Steel’s eyes widened in surprise, and Sabra smiled. “As amusing as ironic deaths are, I would prefer a happy, long retirement to pass on my advice on not dying.” Steel let out a scoff. “A joke? From you?” He shook his head. “You’re either better or worse than I thought, and now I’m not sure which.” “Then you’ll have to …” Sabra paused, waiting for the phrase to come to him. “Play it by ear?” “I will. But I think you’re right, Sabra. You’re going to be all right.” He let out a yawn and then rose. “While I’m here, where’d you get that food?” “One of the Royal Guard brought it to me on Dawn’s orders,” Sabra began. “Well, I guess I should figure out who she shouted at then,” Steel said, turning. “But first … Captain?” Steel paused at his words and looked back. “Yes?” “How are you doing?” Steel smiled. “Checking up on me, Sabra?” “It seemed only fair, captain. We are, after all, a team.” Steel nodded. “Well, my pride isn’t bruised. I’ve been on the receiving end of a battering like that before. But I’ll be stiff and tender for a while. Almost cracked a few bones. Plus I think my helmet’s going to be a total loss. Maybe not, but that last hit did a number on it. There’s a jagged crack across the visor. And I’ve got a light concussion, but the Guard medics already went over it, so I should be fine in a few hours. So …” He shrugged. “I’ve been a lot worse. Would have been if Armor and his ponies hadn’t shown up when they did.” “You looked … burnt … earlier.” Steel nodded. “Yeah, turns out that armor’s pretty good at stopping heat. Not perfect, but good at it. My mane and tail got a little crispy—” He motioned, and for the first time Sabra noticed that part of Steel’s grey mane was missing. “—but it beats the alternative. Didn’t do the color job any favors.” “Anyway,” he continued with a tone of finality. “You sit tight and relax. The dome’s been augmented by the princess for more than an hour now, so Sky Bolt should be on her way with The Hummingbird. Get some sleep, freshen up, whatever you need.” “My armor?” “Taken care of. We won’t go anywhere without it. I promise.” The captain gave him a nod rather than a salute, then turned and walked back into the palace. Sabra sat for a while longer, finishing his meal one bite at a time and looking out over the city. With the red banners gone it looked better, and as he watched the first of the Order towers began to come down, though he couldn’t see who was behind it at his distance. With hope, as the trappings of their enslavement vanish, so will their spirit return. The streets were still mostly empty, many of the inhabitants preferring to stay inside and wait things out. He couldn’t hold it against them. The few horrors he’d seen had been striking. To live under them for some time would take more than a single morning to recover from. Especially if many of them believe that Sombra himself will simply return and bring it all back, he thought, another shiver running through his body. One that was from the cold, rather than from his choice of thoughts. More followed in quick succession, and he pushed himself up from the steps, collecting his plate and returning back to the interior of the palace where the air was warmer. He searched for a moment for the Guard that had brought him his meal, looking for someone to return the plate to, but couldn’t pick them out from the number readying and fixing up the palace. There did seem to be fewer than before, however. Spreading out throughout the city, he thought. Taking care of— He yawned. Of things. His whole body felt weary, like it’d been drained of energy. Even his bruises and injuries felt dampened. Guess what little sleep I got after the battle wasn’t enough. He took another look around the grand hall—shaft? Entryway?—but saw no sign of Steel or Dawn. Probably dealing with relief efforts across the city, or taking care of the Order. There was a bench nearby with a sparkling cushion—Everything here seems to do that. How?—and he trotted over to it, yawning again as he lowered himself down atop it. The shining surface was soft and warm. Maybe a quick meditation, he thought, setting the crystalline plate on the floor next to the bench. He shut his eyes, settling into a relaxed position. Just … a little bit … to clear … He hadn’t even begun to regulate his breathing when he drifted off to sleep. * * * He didn’t dream. Not that he remembered. Here and there were faint flashes of awareness, of color and emotion that lashed out at him before fading into the endless void of a deep sleep. But when the world began to return to him, the first thing he noticed was that he felt warm. Not cool but taking in what warmth he could, but real warmth, his body pleasantly heated. The second thing Sabra noticed was deep, rumbling drone, not unlike a large swarm of moto nyuchi. But more even, less … wild. And familiar. Propellers. From an airship. The third thing that came to his awareness was that he was no longer lying on the bench he’d fallen asleep on. There was a sheet beneath him, and a blanket over his back. Lastly, there was a comforting, familiar scent emanating from it, one his still-not-quite-awake mind couldn’t place but made him feel content. The Hummingbird, he thought, shifting slightly. I’m aboard The Hummingbird. He shifted again, then opened his eyes slowly, wincing as bright light spilled over him. Sunlight. Well, mostly sunlight. He was lying in his bunk aboard the airship, and there was light spilling through the window, but it was a single ray that had broken through the edges of the storm. The rest of the light was coming from the cabin, not nearly as bright, but enough with the momentary ray that he blinked a few times before adjusting. A faint chill slid across his coat as he rose, the heavy blankets slipping down his back, and after a moment he ducked back down, wrapping them around his shoulders before rising again, this time taking them with him in a tight bundle. Even through the fog of having recently awoken, it felt good to be back on the airship once more, stepping lightly to offset its gentle swaying cadence, dropping his center of gravity as it jostled in a sudden gust, and feeling the soft, rubbery mats beneath his bare hooves. How things change, he thought as he tucked the blankets tight around his body. A week or so ago I was a bystander. Now I am a resident. Or perhaps crewmember in good standing. Two of the other bunks, he realized as he looked around the room, were occupied as his had been. Dawn was fast asleep in one, lying atop the blankets with her head tucked across her hooves, while Captain Song was spread out across his own bunk. Both appeared dead to the world, fatigue etched across their features even through the embrace of rest. Well-earned rest, he thought moving quietly across the room toward his locker on the far wall. It still looked as bland as ever, but more telling was the dirty appearance of the other metal around it. In fact, the same could be said for the floor, and he hiked the blankets up with his teeth, keeping them from trailing across the streaks of dried dirt. What has become of Sky, Hunter, and Nova’s mission? he wondered, pausing for a moment to stare at the dirt on the floor. There was no sign of any of them in the main cabin, which meant … A small yawn worked its way free from his throat, and he paused. It likely means that they have been busy, he thought. Though since I do not see any of them … He let the thought lie for a moment and quietly opened his locker, checking to see what was inside. There, carefully secured, was his armor and undersuit, both looking far cleaner than last he had seen them. Content that his equipment was nearby, but not seeing any reason to put it on at the moment, he gently closed the locker door and moved to the hatch. Without any sign of Hunter or Nova, it was highly likely both had been left on the ground east of the empire. He moved to the cockpit hatch and, quietly as he could manage, released the latch, sliding it to one side. Sky Bolt turned toward him as he stepped in, her flame-red eyes lighting like embers as she saw him, growing wide as her mouth opened— And then closed again as he held up a hoof in front of his lips, nodding toward the door. He closed it, giving her a soft smile—and then the second the latch clicked she almost exploded out of her seat, forelegs and wings wrapping around him in a warm hug. “I’m glad you’re alright,” she said, squeezing him tightly—but not too tightly, he noticed. At least not on his injured side. Even so, he felt an electric tingle run through his body, and he hugged her back. “When I saw the medics carrying you out in a bubble …” She pulled back and gave him another smile, but the expression didn’t stretch to her eyes. “I believe Dawn felt I needed a nap more than I needed to be awake,” he said as her limbs finally loosened their hold on him. “Which, I might add, was thanks to your armor. For all of us.” His words brought the smile back to her eyes, though not without a faint flash of a look he recognized as Sky’s mind going to work. “I still have some work to do,” she said. “And repairs. The undersuit needs to resist cutting more than it already does, but I can’t have it growing stiff, or …” She trailed off and shook her head, focusing on him once more. “I’m just glad you’re all right.” “As am I. About you,” he added quickly. “I mean, I am grateful to have survived the city, and for your armor, but also that you are still in good health as well.” He snapped his jaw shut, aware that he’d started to ramble slightly. Sky didn’t seem to mind. She even looked slightly reluctant as she finally pulled herself fully back into her seat. If he was honest, the sudden cold chill left by her no longer close proximity disappointed him as well. “Yeah, well, I’ve spent most of our mission flying The Hummingbird, so there hasn’t been much danger on my side. With the weather being what it is, I’ve had to keep piloting. Hunter and Nova have been the ones facing most of the danger. Somepony has to fly the ship though, so …” “You look tired,” he said, moving across the bridge and dropping down atop her bunk. “Just tired?” she asked, giving him a quick glance. Then her eyes widened slightly, cheeks reddening. “I mean, yes, I am.” Her words came out quickly. “I’ve been running on short-shifts of sleep keeping The Hummingbird in the air, so …” She shook her head. “I got some sleep when Hunter took over, before the dome went up, but …” She fanned her wings slightly. “As much as I love my baby, she definitely needs a more advanced autopilot.” “And if there isn’t one?” The question was a ploy, and an obvious one, and she likely knew it, but at the same time … “Then I’ll make one,” Sky said, her eyes lighting up again. “I’ll bet with enough crystals I could build a system that could cast some sort of distance-gauging magic, maybe. To figure out the distance to nearby objects and whether or not they’re moving. But to accurately estimate momentum I’d need …” Her voice trailed off, and then she shook her head. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” she asked, giving him a coy smile. “Did what?” he asked, holding his face carefully steady. “I just asked a question.” Sky rolled her eyes and batted at him with a wing. He ducked back, the tips of her primaries just tickling the tips of his ears. Then her expression was serious once more, eyes turning to her controls just to check on things before coming back to him. “Sabra,” she said quietly. “What did happen in the city? Steel was too tired to give me details, but Dawn said I needed to talk with you—” A wise observation. He would need to thank the doctor later. He’d wanted to speak with Sky anyway, but broaching the subject … “—but she wouldn’t say why, which only made me worry more. Steel said something about some battles and all of you almost dying and—” Her voice, which had been rising in pitch, cut off as she snapped her jaw shut. “And I’m rambling,” she said, her voice quiet. “I’m sorry, I just—” “Don’t be,” he said with a shake of his head. “We are both tired, though I have the advantage of having just woken up. You speak with great speed because you care, and you were worried.” For the barest moment he was still, but then he reached out with one hoof and put it atop her own. “Thank you.” “For rambling?” “For caring. You only ramble when you care.” He wasn’t sure how long they sat there, staring at one another, something unspoken but powerful passing between them. All he knew was that in that moment, for that brief instant, he understood some of what the great sages of old had spoken of. Like any colt, there had been that period in his life where he’d tried to understand one of the greatest powers of all, when he’d read scrolls and books on the subject, then sought it on his own. Only to stumble and fall more times than he could account, each time realizing how little he understood. And now? Whatever was passing between them, at this moment. He felt that perhaps he understood, in the faintest sense, what those great minds had spoken of. And then it was gone, but still there. Like the lingering embers of a campfire after the flames had gone, glowing within him as Sky Bolt smiled. “Thank you,” she said quietly, her voice soft, and he understood what was behind those words. In her own way, she’d felt it too. His next meditation, he knew, would be tumultuous. “So,” Sky said, pulling her hoof way from his with no small amount of hesitation. Her eyes pulled away even slower, turning back to the controls with almost tangible regret. “What … did happen in the city?” He nodded and took a deep breath, pulling his thoughts back together. She has trusted you with her fears after the golems. Return that trust. He told her everything. Halting at first, his words stumbling over one another occasionally, and sometimes switching to his native tongue when he couldn’t find the word he needed, but over a passage of time he didn’t bother to account for, he told her everything. The Order, their battles, his blows, the cells … even the loss of his Fimbo. Sky listened through it all, pulling her attention away only when necessary. And at last, when he’d finished with how he’d fallen asleep and woken up aboard The Hummingbird, she didn’t speak. She simply checked the controls, moved from the pilot’s seat, and wrapper her forelegs and wings around him in another hug. Again that powerful, unspoken force swelled. And he knew, in some small way. There would still be challenges. Moments of fear. His next meditation would likely be a jumbled mess. But everything, in the end, was going to be all right. No, he realized as he held Sky close. It wouldn’t just be all right. It will be even better.