Sundance’s sense of direction failed him. He flew toward an uncertain future, which just so happened to be to the north. Below him, the old riverbed widened, narrowed, widened, and narrowed, and did so in such a way that it formed a randomised pattern of sorts. Even though each section was different, unique in its own way, you could count on the riverbed to be wide or narrow.
Whatever he was about to do, he had no guarantee that he wouldn’t make things somehow worse. There was no reassuring little voice in the back of his mind that told him what was right and what was wrong. Not that long ago, it had felt oh-so-very right to rain fiery death and destruction upon the spider colony. Within a half-an-hour or thereabouts of doing so, he’d learned more about the situation as a whole and it was then, and only then, that he had awareness that a mistake had been made.
Life had been simple once. All the moral guidance he needed, he got from his mother. Sometimes his father said something helpful, but most of the time his father was silent. Quiet. His father could say more with a nod or a shake of his head than a pony with an army of well-paid speechwriters. The world had once been black and white. It made sense. White was good and black was bad. Princess Celestia was white; she was good, pure, and wholesome. Anything black was somehow the opposite of Princess Celestia, and therefore, by logical extension, not good.
At the moment, Sundance was pretty darn black.
He’d been reborn in smoke and flame, though perhaps not for the better. Some part of him had changed, though he did not understand what it was, or even what had changed. In a metaphorical sense, he’d tasted blood… and wanted more. Unfurling pillars of fire and raining down destruction were frowned upon; bad ponies did that. Unless of course it was done to protect others. That made it moral. Made it right. Extreme catastrophic violence was somehow justified when done to protect your own. He’d brought ruination down upon his enemies, and it felt good. If given the chance, he’d do it again. Oh how he wanted to do it again—all he needed was an excuse.
If necessary, excuses would be made.
Elevated above the Crags was a basin of land wedged between two mountains and within this basin of land was a lake. Not a natural lake by the looks of things, either. Hennessy had spotted beaver dams, many of them, some of them partially submerged. These stretched between massive outcroppings of stone, boulders, and such. Some water flowed down from this basin and into the Crags, but from the looks of things, most of the lake seemed to drain off to the east, where it poured into a massive earthen maw to be consumed by the darkness within.
A quick flyover suggested that if the dams that stretched between the stones were broken up, the lake would flow off of the southern edge of the basin valley, into the Crags, and then down into the ravines. But there were more dams that could be seen. This lake had grown over time; the flowing river had no doubt been dammed, a pond had formed, and then with the passing of many seasons, the pond grew larger, with dams spreading ever-outward to collect more water until it became the lake that Sundance saw now.
“Is that… is that a ship?” asked Hennessy. “I thought it was a beaver lodge, but look at it. You can see straight lines and smooth timber. That’s not a beaver lodge in the middle of the lake.”
“What’s a boat doing up here?” was Paradox’s befuddled reply.
“I do believe that is the hull of an old airship,” Hennessy said, “and it is now a beaver castle. Look, you can see the keel as we fly over. And I think that’s the bow of the ship. It landed deck-side down. Probably crashed.”
“There’s not much to see,” said Paradox as they circled.
“If we drain the lake, there will be,” Hennessy replied.
“Should we drain the lake though?” She allowed a moment for her question to sink in and then Paradox spoke again: “Would it be a mistake to destroy this lake? I mean, it’s huge. There’s fish swimming it in it. It’s existed long enough to become an ecosystem of its own.”
Even with his own uncertainty, Sundance shared his thoughts with a terse answer. “We need the water.”
“If we take out the beaver dams, water will flow southward again,” Hennessy said as Sundance flew in closer to the overturned hull in the middle of the lake. “But we won’t know what else might happen. There might be unforeseen consequences.”
“It’s all so huge.” There was a prolonged pause from Hennessy and then he added, “And we’re so tiny. This lake has to be almost as large as Canterlot, if not larger. There’s no telling how long this has been here, slowly growing over time. If you look over there, you can see where the rivers run down the two mountains and meet in the middle. There’s a rather majestic waterfall. You can see where the river once flowed. These rocks are old and have stories to tell.”
The peaks of the mountains were obscured by clouds. As Hennessy had stated, they were enormous. Off to the west was the barony, which was at a considerably lower elevation than where they were right now. The horizon stretched in all directions, but was obscured by ancient guardians that held up the sky. Hundreds, maybe thousands of streams and trickles of flowing water could be seen. These rivulets would meet up at a fork, and then the two bodies would flow together as one until this body too, met another and merged. The blood of the mountains flowed through exposed stony arteries. Insignificant trickles became roaring, raging torrents.
A tiny speck among the giants, Sundance saw how everything flowed together. It was humbling. He was a steward to this land and the sheer immensity of it all made him feel small and inconsequential. Even the crashed ship in the middle of the lake was just a tiny thing really, just one more gnat among many. He saw another distant marsh in a secluded nook and wondered if that too, was the work of beavers.
He thought of the shaped riverbed in the plateau above the barony and then wondered if that were true here as well. What if this had once been directed somehow? Those stone blocks in the Crags indicated that there had once been some immense structure there. The water here poured into the Crags—which may not have been the Crags but something else. Whatever water poured into that area would have to be directed somehow, channeled, otherwise whatever structure had existed there would have been flooded.
With careful thought and consideration, he’d answered his own question, or at least he thought he did. Whatever had once stood where the Crags now existed would necessitate the controlled flow of water, which was then channeled down into the orchard ravine and the bunny burrow gorge. Afterall, all of this had once been farmland, which fed not only a great city, but all of Equestria.
The beavers had assumed stewardship of the land and decided the fate and flow of the water. If he wanted to truly restore the orchard, the water would have to flow once again, unrestricted and free. With the water flowing once more, he would have irrigated land—the sort of land that might appeal to homesteaders. Access to water was important, though he only understood its importance in a vague sense.
“Paradox, how do you feel about blowing apart some beaver dams?” he asked.
“I’ll do it if you think it’s right,” she replied. “Whatever the right thing is, it’s beyond me. But I’ll trust your judgement.”
“Hennessy?”
At first, there was no response from the unmasked earth pony, only silence. But after some time spent in careful thought and consideration, he said, “I bet if we drained the lake, there’d be a lot of soil up here. Good soil. All that silt and muck. I bet this shelf of land would be a good spot for a second settlement. They’d have access to fresh water, quite a bit of space, and fertile ground. Sundance, a lot could be done with land like this.”
Though he found himself in agreement, there were a few problems, the worst of which being that there was no easy way to get up here. This shelf of land was inaccessible for the most part, save for flying. Then again, Canterlot was also inaccessible, a city built atop a mountain. Whatever had once stood where the Crags now existed would have also been difficult to reach—a naturally secure space.
“Paradox, I want you to take out the beaver dams. Nothing drastic, just bust some openings and we’ll allow things to drain out slowly. We’ll make a few careful strikes today, see how it goes, and then head back home. After a few days, we’ll come back out, see how things are developing, and take out more dam sections. Just a little at a time. We want to restore the natural flow of water, whatever that might be. Hennessy is right… this would be an excellent spot for a second settlement. If we want others to come and live here, we’ll need to clear land.”
“I… agree,” was Paradox’s hesitant somewhat halting response. “Somepony will see this land as a prize to be claimed. A patch of land like this would be desirable. This is just the sort of carrot we need to lure somepony in.”
Sundance found himself in agreement. “Yes, a carrot.”
“The beavers don’t have much of a future here anyway,” said Hennessy. “Look around you. Tell me, what don’t you see? There’s hardly any trees left on this shelf of land. The lake has grown so large that there’s hardly any place for the trees to grow. The trees that are left are on the steep slopes of the mountainsides and aren’t easily accessible. If you look around, you’ll see that the beavers ruined their own paradise.”
“That makes things easier,” Paradox said to Hennessy. “You’re right. The trees are just about done for. Sundance, bring me around. I’ll try to use some finesse this time rather than brute force. Go slow, if you can. I really need to concentrate if I want to be in control.”
Angling his wings, Sundance then pushed his face into the current…
Destruction could be restorative. Today was a day of lessons, and Sundance was oddly calm as the first of the dams was blasted open. First the water poured out in a trickle, but the dam began to break apart bit by bit. It shuddered and shook, the whole structure quivered, and then as the flowing water picked up speed, larger pieces of the dam gave way. Sundance watched it, but he was distracted by his own thoughts.
Life was about accepting the consequences of your actions, good or bad, and making the most of them. Today, a mistake might have been made. In killing the spiders, he might have inadvertently removed the one thing that held the rabbits in check. Now he took another drastic action without fully knowing the outcome and its consequences. But this was done in a far more rational state of mind. Perhaps this was done for better reasons, but that remained to be seen.
“If you look closely, you can see the inner-rings of dams,” Hennessy said as more of the outer dams gave way. “With each generation of beavers, this lake grew larger. It’s impressive really. I almost feel bad destroying this… but I understand that it needs to be done.”
“All those stone blocks down there in the Crags… do you think that might have been a castle?”
“Might have been, Paradox. Would have been a mighty castle with the size of some of those blocks. I can’t even imagine a unicorn lifting those. Would have taken an alicorn.” Hennessy clucked his tongue once, twice, thrice, and then went silent.
“Castles need moats. I mean, classical castles had moats. Most of them. I would imagine that anything that flowed down from up here must have flowed in a moat around the castle. If there was a castle, that is. And then that moat water flowed down into those rivers to irrigate the land down below.”
To which Hennessy responded, “Maybe, Paradox. We can only guess.”
“Or we could ask Princess Celestia,” Sundance suggested.
Each beat of his wings caused his tendons to creak. He was fatigued, exhausted, and in need of rest. The ache in his spine grew worse with every stroke that kept him airborne. He’d pulled something, that much was for certain. But the fight was over and he could take it easy now. Soon, he’d be home. A cool shower was in order, or maybe a bath. Yes, a long soak sounded good. After his soak, maybe he’d ask Corduroy if she had any ointment for sore backs. Maybe, just maybe, if he was lucky, he’d get a backrub. That would be fantastic.
A whole section of dam gave way all at once, which released a terrific torrent.
The future, though uncertain, seemed promising.