Encounters…
Sometimes, we do dream of ordeals, epoch-making deeds and heroic sacrifices. We dream, unaware of the truth that our wishes are impossible promises. We imagine and magnify a flow that would carry us away from the mourning and dull reality. We ask for a change. We beg for it. We plead for somepony to thrust us in its irresistible rapids. We pray and worship beings and ideas we don’t clearly understand, only to wait for something which may never come.
But sometimes, it does occur.
For the ponies that get lucky enough, something might come and knock loudly at the gate. Call it fate; call it luck; call it destiny; call it whatever you want. But in this world, there are no mighty gods which will ever glance at us and take part in our daily misery. Thus, none of them will ever stretch his hoof in our direction. So, what is fate all about?
Encounters…
They are the true evidence of fate. However minuscule, meaningless and short they can be, they will always influence us. Like an obstacle on a road they will force us to drift and change the way we behave and step forward… for the better, or for the worse… over and over again until the moment we are swept from the surface of this world.
We are the product of these encounters.
With them we grow, we evolve and we die.
Never underestimate the strength of a meeting; because in the end, everything will be linked together and will unfold in front of our eyes.
Candelabra
The falling shard had wiped out the north-western blocks of Murmanesk, setting upon it a lid of dust. The sun was shining weakly behind this cover, plunging the place in a chiaroscuro light. Only ruins erected from the ground, pricking up into the air like the ribs of a skeleton. The silence was overwhelming. Everything was dead. The air was swamped with an excessive stench-ridden fog and seeing through it was an ordeal.
In the wake of the shardfall, the Direction had made sure the access to the area would be restricted to a few privileged. Alone, two silhouettes were laboriously walking inside the smog, coughing. Their lungs ached under the assault of the specks of dirt burying the devastated quarters. They often passed by a puddle of dark red, adding to the taste of mud floating in the air a darting odour of blood.
One of the shadows toddled.
“Ah! I bumped my claw again,” Argen cawed in a complaint. “Those cities aren’t made for me.”
“You’re not supposed to live in a pony town, Master. You quite outmatch a lot of standards,” a squeaking voice responded.
The little buck stretched his body and shook himself, splattering grime on his custodian’s feathers. Dust had washed over him, gluing his orange fur and blue mane together. His white kerchief had turned brownish. The little colt was not pleased at all. This fine layer itched horribly and he was having a hard time getting rid of it. Argen had not been spared from this care too.
To the scruffy foal’s surprise, a talon closed on his back. The sharp claws swept all the greyish soot off the tiny pony. He could not hold back a snort. Feeling the edges running on his skin was tickling. Yet he started complaining, pouting. Being treated like a child was the last think he wanted to; he hated it. The young pony loved pretending he was older than he really was. He deeply desired to be bigger, to be a grown-up. And, more than anything else, he poured out this opinion to whoever gave him an attentive ear.
Hence, the small buck complained loudly, ashamed he had enjoyed his guardian’s rub and showed so. Argen responded with an amused smirk. However, the gigantic bird’s humour went short-lived.
“Shush little one. Now is time to work,” Argen instructed.
The foal sighed.
“I still don’t understand, Master. Why do we… you have to come here? A shard crashed into another one, end of the story,” he vented. “I…”
Argen closed the foal’s mouth with the picky embrace of his claws.
“Hush now, I said. You’re getting annoying.”
All the pony’s nerves were itching to answer back. But for once in a lifetime, his reasoning got in the way. The foal backpedalled and shovel down his opinion. He slowed his pace and let Argen take the lead. It was useless to argue and it would bring nothing but a load of troubles. The child lowered his head in a sign of surrender. Imperturbable, Argen paved the way with the intimidating rattling of his talons.
The investigator and his protégé moved forward, cutting through the haze. They focused on recording each anomaly they could evidence around them. But they had to admit they had drawn a blank so far. Argen’s assistant sniggered.
“I told you, end of the –“He bumped into his master’s tail, slightly creasing his feathers.
The small pony’s head span. Queasy, he tilted his head from behind his master.
Argen was standing silently in front of a cadaver. It was a mare. Her legs were crushed under a chunk of rock. It was blatant she had died from exhaustion and blood loss. The foal winced, shocked; the mare’s face was contracted, awestruck. Her glassy eyes were petrified, staring at something long gone now, something atrociously scary.
The young colt was used to death; he was the assistant of an inspector after all. But the mare’s expression of despair was something he did not witness on a daily basis.
“May Death have pity on your miserable existence on this soil,” Argen whispered.
Forcing on the boulder with his talon, Argen pushed it away. A skanky noise of breaking bones and tearing flesh cracked in the air. The foal hid his eyes behind his hoof and nearly stripped his tightly wrapped bandana.
“Move along, little one,” Argen forewarned. “I have business with this pony.”
Following the order without any enthusiasm, he trotted away from Argen until his shape had vanished in the fog.
“Blah blah blah… I’m an inspector, I know better, go play away you little pony,” the foal muttered dryly. Again, he felt thrown away like an unwanted doll. Anger died slowly in his heart, replaced with sadness. He wanted Argen to be proud of him.
After a moment, the knee-high pony tried to distinguish the features of the neighbourhood he was in. He grumbled; seeing through a wall would be easier. He let out a deep breath of disappointment, and anxiety started bathing him. He hated being trapped.
The young colt turned the content of his saddle bag upside down until he found the wanted object. It was a small sphere of fired clay, sculpted with four rectangular loopholes. To each of the embrasures was riveted a thin and sealed piece of glass. The globe was half-filled with a dark liquid and on one of its extremities was screwed a thong of wreathed hemp.
He bit in the lash and shook his head. The sphere wobbled in the air, jolting. Its contents gurgled and a strange chemical reaction occurred. Four bleak shafts of turquoise light burst out of the object as the component inside sparked with electricity. It was not perfectly luminescent but the liquid was brighter enough to cast an outlining light around the pony’s hooves. Still, the brightness of the lamp reflected on the airborne particles, burning slightly his eyes like thousands of minuscule suns hovering around him.
A muffled crack erupted far behind the foal. He swivelled to face it, startled.
“Master?” he asked shyly.
No response echoed back.
Anxious, the little pony chose to move on, following the path the gleam his strangely shaped torch drew in front of his hooves. A reflection caught his attention. His curiosity aroused, he trotted to the object that was shining a few yards away from him.
It was a shard of broken glass. And it was certainly not alone. Thousands were scattered all around, making the ground uneasy to wander on, nearly painful. Each one glowed in the beam of the foal’s torch like the pieces of a stained glass. Sometimes the transient colours of the rainbow reflected on the morsels.
The spectacle was surprising if not eerie. It required an important dose of self-control not to venture deeper on this field; a large esplanade, the limits of which were hidden beyond the fog.
The foal found the nearest building and stabilized his lamp on its threshold. The wall was what remained of a colliers’ cottage, the rest had been devastated to its foundations. He took his pencil in his mouth and started drawing a sketch of the spectacle on his notebook. He had to be as precise as possible. Argen would be proud. He became absorbed in his task, picturing a forthcoming stare of approval from his guardian.
Concentrating, the little pony had slipped into his own bubble, forgetting about his surroundings. He did not remark drops of sweat dripping off his face and falling, turning muddy once they reached the ground.
“You draw super well!”
The lead of the pencil broke and ripped on the sheet, tracing a long and ugly mark on the drawing. The foal blinked, multiple times, in silence. He forced his mouth closed, chewing the empty space between his teeth. He blinked again, fixing the crossing-out striking his assiduous work. He turned his head, very slowly. His cheeks were swelled as if he was holding back a scream of rage.
A colt, older than him, was smiling awkwardly. He was wearing a dusty pair of goggles, and even if the dirt covering him was thick and nasty, one could easily guess his fur was dark, probably blue and his mane was somehow greenish.
“Name’s Fire, and you?”
Oh god, the foal hated that childish, stupid, smile casted on that so-called Fire. He gazed bluntly at this impromptu troublemaker. This… Fire was standing right next to the glowing lamp, his both hooves lying on the frame of the window.
The foal turned his head and started drifting away.
“Oh come one,” Fire pleaded. “Don’t make me use the long face.
Fire jumped out of the window and laughed, unnerving once more his younger peer. They wandered silently for a short spell of time before the foal finally stopped.
“Little One,” he responded as if these words had been squeezed out of him.
“That’s not a name,” Fire claimed.
“It will be enough for you.”
Fire smirked. The foal who called himself Little One wasn’t really helpful.
“You’ve got a stick up your arse, don’t you?” Fire slithered.
Little One shot a death glare at him. Fire answered with a new laughter.
“So, that’s a yes.”
Little One facehooved.
“Do all the savages from this city act like you?”
“Hey, why are you so mean?” Fire replied. “We’re good guys!”
Little One scanned the colt from muzzle to tail.
“More like the nasty ones,” he sniggered. “I wonder how you passed the cordon.”
“The pegasi are easy to kid around,” Fire bragged before clearing his throat. “And you forgot your… light thing back at the ruin.”
Little One grumbled and turned on his hooves, flogging Fire’s nose with his tail when he passed him. Little One struggled finding his way back to the ravaged house and the glass field, but the sphere had not moved at all. Of course, hooves were not going to sprout out of it only to run away, weren’t they?
Fire sneezed and complained, rubbing the tip of his face. Then he raised his head in Little One’s direction and smiled. He leaped straight forward, bumping at Little One on the way.
“You want it?” Fire’s voice shouted. “You’re going to chase me to get it back.”
Little One’s hooves pressing on his forehead was not enough to express his level of disappointment. Fire jumped where the shards of glasses were scattered, causing Little One to twitch. The foal looked behind him, hoping to see the massive and reassuring shadow of Argen bathing him. It was hopeless. Little One turned back to Fire, glaring daggers at him.
“This place is absolutely crucial to my master’s work. Don’t you dare walk on evidence,” he cautioned.
Fire looked down at the shards beneath him with a criminal smile on his face. In
Fire’s eye, the foal was an amusement stock. He was talking quite posh and seemed to respect a lot authority. Fire hatched a plan to spread a bit of fun in the air.
“Well, you’re gonna have to follow me if you want to get your gadget back.” Fire dashed in the smog, the beams of the lamp spotting him through it. “Catch me if you can,” Fire cackled.
“Wait!” Little One called again, sighed then paused. “Oh, those stupid colliers!”
He ran in Fire’s tow.
“Give me back my lamp!” Little One shrieked with a high pitched voice.
Argen put down the emptied bone he had chewed in his teethed beak. He breathed in relief.
“It’s been a long time,” he shuddered to himself with a pinch of thrill. “Good old instincts are always sweet.”
He withdrew his claws on the empty skull of a pony right beneath him and lifted it gently to his ventral satchel.
“You can join my collection,” he whispered to the macabre item as it slid inside the leather bag.
Argen pounced to a large and steep rock at a cable length from him, eager to take a rest. He jumped and perched himself on his top, balancing on one talon. With the other one, he reached a small pocket of his bag and drew out an antique silver necklace. A small translucent tube was dangling at the bottom, empty.
Argen rustled his black feather, uncurling the ones that had suffered from his errant feed. Satisfied, he then blew on the surface of the medallion. The void inside began to glow a melange of golden white and bluish black. Both taints were fighting each other in a silent war. A battle for space raged yet always seemed to end in a draw. The dark and lighting gleams kept thrusting themselves at each other endlessly. Argen’s voice rose, loud and stern like the rumble coming from the depths of a thunderstorm.
“Our Sun who art in the day sky; Thy time is over and thy wisdom is lost; Yet thy memories are still struggling within; The heart of the true and bygone watchers.
Give me the strength to fight the shadows; Unveiling my eyes and thy ravaged land; Depraved under thy malicious usurper; That they shall be all thine once again.
Tears have fallen on thy grave now forgotten; And drops of sorrow are shed upon emptiness; That groweth and blacken our errant souls.
I see no escape and plead thee; That thou seeth the future of this land; Forever forgotten, forever forsaken; I plead you, lead, forgive and deliver us.”
Argen paused in his liturgy and wiped a tear off his cheek before tightening the pressure of his talon onto the necklace. The gold wisp within the recipient overwhelmed its sibling until it was nothing but a black point cornered at the bottom of the tube. Argen cleared his throat and resumed his prayer. His voice was deeper than before, betraying a hidden anger.
”Our Moon who art in the night sky; Thy shiny stars have left this grim world; And gave away their space to the great deceiver; That tells itself thy own beaming sister.
The time of everlasting despair hath come; And no more pure sparks will ever arise; Nor under thy resting gleam or thy sister’s care; Without bathing in Dusk’s depravity.
We await thy return as night bringer; On thy sister’s ravaged and dried lands; But for now we away from the dull light.
That thy return means the end; Or that thou mean a new glorious era; We will await with hope thy return; With thee comforting sister.
Celestia and Luna, Let our prayer be heard; That this kingdom be yours once again.”
Again, he strengthened the embrace of his talon upon the necklace, printing the mark of his claws on its old ragged chain. Within the tube, the speck of dark burst out and enveloped the golden and hopeful light. Blackness swallowed all the space and disappeared, letting nothing but transparent emptiness inside the cylinder. Silence settled over the gigantic bird and he felt himself slipping away.
The catnap was cut short. Behind the curtain of dust, Argen spotted a dull light dancing agitatedly far away from his position. Muffled shouts were audible. After a sigh, Argen dropped off his perch and landed heavily. He tracked down the trail Little One had left behind him. The majestic and imposing bird did not hurry. He even chose to slow his pace.
He wanted to dry his tears before joining his protégé. He also wished to take his time gathering his rational mind. He too wanted to be strong. Moreover, he aspired to look inflexible like a stoic stone, careless about what life could throw at him.
“Give it back to me,” Little One panted.
The foal had a hard time following Fire. The shattered shards formed an endless rug of glass thorns and his small hooves had started bleeding from walking on this sharp blanket. On his own, Fire whirled and dashed with the sheerness of an excited youngling.
“Nope,” Fire snickered, the lash of the torch impeding his elocution.
Fire gradually slowed his pace, witnessing Little One suffering in silence. The broken shards were pruning slightly the soft part of the foal’s hooves. Fire could not keep this petty game going on forever. He decided he had enough amusement from Little One’s cute attempt to retrieve his lamp.
Fire turned left and headed toward a massive ruin. Lying on its side, it formed a steep slope of dark red bricks. Small arrow slits cut through its façade in dark and unfathomable mouths. Hawk-eyes would not be enough to pierce the darkness dwelling inside the building. Jumping over one, Fire gulped. A second, he feared a monstrous and disincarnated hoof would surge from the opening, catch him in the air and drag him in only to devour his soul. He had read too much of the comics he had stolen from the municipal library. Fire avoided the next hole, drawing a large circle around it.
Little One was not that careful. Narrowing the space Fire had cleared between them during the pursuit, he leaped. Fire dashed away and ran until he stopped at the top of the slump tower. He stood on the safety barrier of the roof, now inclined nearly horizontally. Emptiness welcomed his hooves.
The roof itself displayed a glasshouse. Through the dark, Fire could not see the inside. Jumping on the glass walls was not a clever idea. Fire knew it would either break his legs, or the wall would shatter under his weight and it would be a last mighty fall. Little One disagreed totally with this statement and skipped on his target.
After a short fight, Little One succeeded in snatching the lamp from Fire’s mouth and pushed him off the cliff. Fire yelped and fell over, rapidly followed by Little One who had lost his balance. Both went through the wall of the greenhouse which broke in thousands of parts. Inside, a second guardrail caught Fire and Little One in their fall. Fire gargled under the foal’s weight on his thorax. Being a runway was not easy.
“I’ve won!” Little One scolded with his small laugh as he pounded Fire’s chest.
“I– I surrender,” Fire hissed. “Get off me… please.”
With a smirk, Little One stepped off the colt. Fire panted trying to catch his breath. He coughed and turned on his back. The bars of the rail were stinging his sides. Beneath, emptiness was awaiting both ponies to fall. Fire looked at Little One askance. He was balancing himself on the rail.
“Well,” Little One broke in. “Now we’re trapped inside.”
Fire gave a look at the surroundings and realised; they were in the top of the lighthouse he had seen crashing on Murmanesk. The gigantic edifice had left scraps behind and its nearly intact head had survived. The beacon inside the glasshouse had been smashed and only its base was still present. When the tower had broken on the ground, the beacon had been catapulted out of its position, piercing the ceiling of the greenhouse with an incommensurable strength. The shards of glass he had seen earlier below were the last remains of it. Right now, the shattered walls of the room were still standing, menacing to slide off their rivets.
“Hey, look,” Little One called.
He was pointing with his hoof at the entrance of a spiral staircase, located above them. Fire gained momentum and jumped. He reached the opening with ease. The rail he had stood on shook and nearly jettisoned Little One.
“Be careful, stupid!” the orange-coated pony shouted back with exasperation. “I nearly…”
A noisy crack echoed and the rack bent dangerously. Little One shrieked. He stood on his two hindlegs, trying to reach the staircases with his forehooves. He was too small. The Lamp fidgeted on its lash still tightened in his mouth. The torch cast weird shadows on his wielder.
“Help me!” Little One cried.
Fire panicked. He had no rope to help Little One, nothing to reach him. He turned about for seconds when a second load of rivets snapped under the foal’s mass. The crack was louder this time. Fire thought quickly.
“Grab this,” he ordered.
Fire presented his bum to Little One.
The foal stared stoically at this moon, not really amused of this cynical joke.
“Are you kidding me, you sick…”
Fire’s tail fell flat on Little One’s face. The foal suddenly understood. He bit in the lock with all of his strength. The barrier unhooked and hurtled down in a metallic cacophony of scrap metal. Fire shed a tear of pain and yapped, trying to pull the foal over. On his own, Little One was suspended at the tip of Fire’s green tail.
It took a few minutes for Fire to haul Little One over.
The latter coughed, spitting the hairs stuck in his mouth. Still having his glowing lamp, he massaged his aching jaw. Fire was holding the dock of his tail and the bottom of his croup, small drops of blood dripped off them. He sobbed silently.
“Well… I owe you thanks," Little One conceded.
He stretched his hoof and wait for Fire to shake it.
“Lose some weight next time,” Fire sniggered. “It hurts like hell.”
Little One sniggered as Fire caught his hoof and shook it fiercely. After that, Fire poked Little One’s shoulder with his hoof, showing a large smile.
“That was fun!”
Surprised, the foal let the lamp slip out of his mouth. Both ponies stared the globe of clay rolling down the staircase. The ball bounced endlessly and disappeared in a corner, only the sound of the repeated hits of the lamp on the floor echoed. Its light faded away.
“I’m afraid of the dark,” Fire confessed.
“Me too.”
Both were petrified as the darkness enshrouded them. Something cracked behind their back, and they felt their heart leaping out of their chests. Screaming, they ran down the staircase.
They fell and landed in a large room inside the ruin of the lighthouse. Its former furniture had been shattered and piled up in a corner. Little One’s lamp had pounced out of the stairs and crashed on a plaque of metal, cracking it open. Its content was leaking out, printing a large glowing puddle of blue. The sticky goo cast a strange atmosphere on the walls and small arcs of electricity sparked off its surface. Both Fire and Little One stared in awe where the ball of clay had broken out. The plaque of metal was a shield tightly held in the hoof of a dead pegasus.
Little One inspected him, mimicking Argen. The pegasus was apparently long dead and his flesh had dried, giving him the aspect of a mummy. His mane was straw-coloured and his fur should have been indigo once. Its fur fallen, the corpse was buck naked. The pegasus was not a soldier of the Direction. He was not wearing the typical armour. Apart of his shield he displayed no piece of protection at all. Its only possession was a dangling necklace around his neck, and a long band of metal blocked under a tensed hoof.
With a quasi-religious silence, Little One and Fire approached the body. They inspected it from a safe distant, fearing it might come back to life and hunt them down. Zombie ponies did not exist, did they? The body was perfectly immobile and the two little ponies would not be stupid enough to disturb the rest of the pegasus.
“You think he was killed?” Fire asked in an undertone.
“There is only one way to know,” Little One responded with a shiver.
He walked past Fire and scanned the cadaver without touching it. The foal rubbed his bare chin like a philosopher.
“I see nothing that indicates so,” he pouted.
Little One wanted to find a clue, something that showed the opposite. Boring, he thought; it was nothing but a boring dead pony… a boring case in the end. It reminded him he was unaware of the reason that attracted Argen in this affair. Little One was clueless.
“What are you doing?” Fire asked.
Fire was looking at Little One with wide eyes. The foal raised an eyebrow.
“What? You’ve never seen a dead pony?”
“Well…”
Fire paused, a bit shaken by the question. Of course he had seen some. He had even seen somepony dying. He remembered very well the pegasus soldier after the shardfall. The memories were fresh. He had been struck at the moment. His train of thought had gone blurred and soaked with fear. But then, he had shovelled the thought inside his brain where he could not keep banging on about it. When it occurred, Candel had been at the centre of his attention.
But now Fire was perfectly aware, nearly worriless. The image of the dying pegasus rushed back into his mind. He remembered that hissing and broken corpse crying for help in a horrible silent. Fire bit his bottom lip and sat down, his eyes lost in that image.
“I– I…” He stopped. “He was a soldier, I shouldn’t feel… should feel nothing about him.”
Fire looked at the cadaver. Now he was picturing the dying soldier, his image glued onto the mummy corpse. Fire was just waiting for the cadaver to call for his help. He held back a gag of disgust.
“I feel bad,” Fire whispered.
“For something you did not do?”
“No, for… I don’t know. That’s sick. I let that guy die because I hate the Direction. I hate Pegasuses.”
“Pegasi,” Little One corrected.
Fire paid no attention. He felt guilty over the fresh memories of the shardfall he had cast away so easily. He had done so for only one pony he held dear into his heart…
“That’s stupid,” Little One sniggered. “And you know that I work for the Direction.”
Little One got the reaction he wanted. Fire gave him a stare betraying that he did not agree.
“You’re not, the big bird works for them. You’re just a kind of sidekick.”
“No, that’s not true,” Little One countered, vexed. “And the ‘big bird’ is called Argen.”
The foal turned back to the pegasus.
“Look, there is nothing to fear.”
With his hoof, Little One prodded the body. It was surprisingly squishy and left in Little One’s hoof an unsettling impression. The body slumped with a sound of tearing flesh and suction. Fire and Little One jumped away from the pegasus with a wince. The reek hit them like a hoof in the bowel, forcing its way into their muzzles. Fire threw up.
The pegasus had the look of a mummy indeed, as if somepony had suck out all the water his body could contain. Nothing was left but a dry and empty shell. But it was only the visible part of the cadaver. The body’s back had melt and liquefied under an undisclosed force. Drying, it had coagulated against the armoire it was pressing on. When the lighthouse had crashed, both had been thrust in a corner, packing up with the rest of the furniture. The joint of flesh between the corpse and the cabinet had been damaged. The swift and disrespectful poke of Little One’s hoof had been enough to untie them. And the hidden face of the scene was now revealed.
The pegasus was rotting on the inside. Seared and putrefied tatters of flesh dripped on the floor. His ribs were visible and beyond them his ravaged internal organs. His lungs were pierced from end to end and his heart was crushed. A section of his intestine was still glued to the armoire. With the body sliding slowly on its side, the intestine crept out of the pegasus’s ribcage like a monstrous worm.
Both Fire and Little One held back a gag. Stunned, it took time before they backed away from the corpse. Little One was undoubtedly shocked. Being Argen’s assistant had him immune to the sight of dead bodies. But this… this was too much. Fire threw up loudly.
The pegasus wreck finally collapsed with a fleshy thump, his neck cracking on the impact. A muffled clatter followed. Lit up with the phosphorescent liquid, the pegasus’s necklace shined on the floor.
After having calmed themselves, both ponies looked at the cadaver again, a new knot tied in their stomach. And both saw the necklace. Fire snatched it before Little One could even react. The foal, also interested in the jewel, whined.
It was a medallion. Made of oxidized silver, it was sporting a small diamond-shaped black symbol. Its contours had been sunken in several spot. Fire and Little One shivered. The symbol exhaled an aura of creepiness. With curiosity, Fire forced open the object. A small folded piece of paper fell, swinging in the air like a feather.
Fire caught the tiny sheet in his hooves. Little One tilted his head over his shoulder. A quote was written inside. Fire deciphered the message. It was poorly written, as if the writer had been in a hurry. The ink had leaked in small drops on the sheet.
‘There is a hero in everypony’
The words echoed with the voices of Fire and Little One in unison.
“What does that mean?” Little One asked.
“Bah! Everypony can be a hero,” Fire replied sarcastically.
“No, I mean, that’s stupid. Argen told me that heroes die quickly.”
“I’d like to be a hero,” Fire snickered.
At least, Fire thought, it would be worth it. He wanted so desperately somepony’s attention.
“Candel…” he sighed.
“Who?”
Fire remained silent, confusing the foal. Little One saw tears coming in Fire’s eyes.
“Everything’s okay?” Little One asked gently.
“Yeah. Yes, it’s just…” he hesitated. “I have a friend I like a lot and she is getting hurt every day.”
Fire lacked of convenient words to describe Candel’s plight. His cluelessness about his dearest friend’s daily suffering engulfed him with sadness. Fire was aware of his condition. He was a colt, an earthbound and a collier’s son. He could not be proud of feats he never did, or hope doing an exploit worth the sacrifice.
He was chained to his monotone and short life of Murmanesk’s worker.
The sudden realisation strengthened his feeling he was being held, trapped here. He was just Murmanesk’s worker. Yes, he was just an outcast among the pariahs. He could not even picture himself standing still against anypony. Fighting the Direction was a sweet dream. The pegasi imperiously commanded the pit and the city, only to fulfil deadlines. Hell, he was not even aware of who he was working for, for who so many ponies died every day.
Fire felt minuscule and miserable, bound to some chains in a remote place of the world. Was he nothing but speck among an overwhelming mass of faceless ponies? His body cried for freedom. But there was no ear to listen. Joy flew away from Fire’s face. His eyes darkened and he remained silent.
Little One stared at Fire. He was immobile, lost in his thought, his eyes watery and transfixed on the corpse.
“You okay?” Little One asked again.
Fire nodded. He folded the piece of paper and put it back in the medallion. The necklace slid in his saddlebag.
“Can we go?” Fire asked, depressed.
They passed by the cadaver and left the room, taking with them the shield splattered with the glowing goo. Fire casted a last glance to the soundless corpse and swivelled on his hooves. Little One and He went down the whole staircase, and reached the exit. The fog bathed them and suffocation plagued their lungs once more.
Argen was waiting. His dim shadow covered the two ponies; his two yellow eyes pierced them with disappointment.
“You’re late,” the massive bird berated.
Little One trotted to his guardian and placed his cheek on Argen’s talon, giving him a family embrace. Argen raised his eyes to the sky and posed the tip of his wings on Little One’s shoulders. Then his attention drifted on Fire. The colt was petrified in the hole of the lighthouse.
“Don’t tell the Direction I was here!” Fire blurted in fear.
Argen narrowed his eyes.
“You were on the harbour when we landed,” he asked.
Fire nodded, ill-at-ease.
“Well... Apart from being in a restricted area I don’t see what you did wrong. You’ll just get punished by your schoolmaster for missing school,” he replied ironically.
“Are you crazy,” Fire erupted, spooked. “They will kill me if they learn.”
Fire cringed on his hooves, a dash of fear numbing his mind. He mumbled inaudibly, begging for the bird to spare him. Argen sighed in response.
“I know, stupid. I’ve been in the Direction’s good books for a long time. I understand they aren’t really lenient with the earthbounds.”
Fire was looking at him with puppy’s eyes. Argen grumbled, “Okay, I won’t tell.”
The colt’s eyes burst with joy and he covered the inspector with thanks.
“But it won’t be cheap,” Argen added with a smile.
“Everything you want!” Fire burst out.
“You’ll owe me a service.”
Fire’s relief crumbled. A knot birthed in his stomach.
“I don’t know the terms yet,” Argen continued. “But do you agree with my proposition?”
“Like I had a choice,” Fire whined hesitantly, kicking away a small pebble of coal.
Argen turned and faced his assistant, Little One.
“Can you present me your friend?”
Little One frowned.
“He isn’t my friend! He bullied me and broke my lamp!” the foal interjected.
“Hey that’s fake, it broke in the ruin,” Fire blurted.
“It’s true!”
“It’s not!”
“Silence,” Argen ordered as he facehooved, or rather… facetaloned. He stared at the two combative ponies through his claws.
“You’re giving me a headache. Explain, one at a time.”
Little One took a deep breath.
“I…”
“I wanted to play and I took Little’s lamp,” Fire cut him off. “And we climbed on the façade of the ruin.”
The blue-coated colt pointed the lowered scraps of the lighthouse.
“We fell inside and we broke the lamp,” he continued. “And there was the pegasus.”
“The pegasus?” Argen asked for details.
Little One and Fire narrated their short adventure within the lighthouse. When they broached the dead pegasus, both shivered.
“So, it was a mummy in the open air but his back was rotting?” Argen asked, hardly comprehending. Both ponies acquiesced.
“Yeah, he looked like a dried fruit,” Fire pointed out, jabbing Little One’s side with his elbow. Both laughed cynically.
“Well that’s new,” Argen alleged.
An idea popped in Little One’s mind. He dashed under Argen.
“Hey, what are you…”
Argen looked beneath him, intrigued.
Little One was digging in Argen’s ventral satchel. He muffled in victory and showed to his peers the strange shaped object he had found. It was a black cube hollowed in its middle with a cylinder-shaped hole. At the bottom of the opening, a circular receptacle surrounded a green gem. Finally, a crank handle sprouted from its side.
The box was half the size of Little One. Yet, it was undoubtedly light; the foal moved it with a surprising easiness.
“I’ve found this next to the pegasus,” Little One bragged after having the box set.
He showed the long strip of curled metal to his protector. Fire gasped, he had completely forgotten about it. He could not even remember when the foal had taken it from the pegasus. Another question galloped in his mind.
“What is that thing?”
Two bemused stares set upon the Murmanesk’s inhabitant.
“You’ve never seen a caster before?” Argen asked.
Argen believed it was a joke but Fire denied that altogether.
“We ain’t rich in Murmanesk,” Fire defended himself.
“Maybe…” Little One protested. “But you seriously never heard of it?”
Fire shook his head again.
“Well,” Argen stated. “Give him a taste of it Little One.”
Respectfully silent, Fire approached. Little One placed the band of metal inside the receptacle and pressed on it. The foal got back a click and smiled. Then, he put his hoof on the handle and gave it a couple of turns. It released a sudden backslash and a noise of static cracked in the air.
A greenish monochrome image burst out of the hollowed box. Fire had seen shadow theatres before. This was far beyond his understanding. It was a picture projected right into the air, and it was moving. Fire was taken aback, his jaw open wide. He stammered.
“How is that…?”
The image focused. The sorry face of a pony sprung up in the projection. He was a pegasus. His straw-blond mane was ruffled and some cuts appeared on his indigo fur. He was utterly panicked.
“My name is… Oh for the Direction’s sake, it doesn’t matter anymore.” A voice intoned from the box. “I’m the scrivener of Hoofston. I… oh screw this… I’ve been hired two months ago to keep tracks of the events of the Eastern Horizon. Yeah…. those monstrous hurricanes and lightning…”
The sound of an explosion boomed in the record. The pegasus gulped and cast a glance behind.
“I need to record this… Focus… Focus”
The pegasus took several deep breaths.
“One week ago, the Direction sent us a new contingent of inmates… Like the ones before and the ones before those ones… We know what’s next… They were told that if they go to the East and come back alive with some evidence… something relevant, they would be freed.”
The pegasus’s features were marked with disgust.
“They were all rapists, murderers and old renegades, all pegasus of course. I would like to see an earthbound trying to fly.” The pegasus gave a weak laugh. “Nopony ever came back from the East. The Direction should have them executed instead of sending all of them there. It would have spared us hoping for nothing;”
Another rumbled roared, closer this time.
“Or technically, nopony ever came back… until now. Twelve hours ago, a pegasus made his way back to Hoofston. He was elusive… completely insane! He kept repeating the same words.
It beckons
He convulsed repeatedly. That… That was horrible. His hooves were broken and he was covered in blood. And then it happened. I… Everypony… Everypony’s dead now and I’m trapped in the lighthouse. I can’t go out. I… I just want to go home.”
Something, probably a door, burst open behind the pegasus. The recorded tape failed to show the background scene. The pegasus leaped in front of the recording device he had used and bumped it over. A scream followed and the movie went black.
Argen’s caster clicked and the same greenish image of the scared Pegasus reappeared.
“My name is…”
Little One shut it down.
“What was that?” Fire breathed heavily.
“The last words of our pegasus,” Little One belittled.
“No, that… thing.”
Fire pointed the box.
“It’s a caster, also called pictograph,” Argen explained. “It’s a mechanical and magical device who can record and show sounds, images and, for some of them, even smells.”
Fire struggled accepting such a technology existed. And magic… it was the first time he heard this word. Magic should
“Have you ever used a punched card?” Argen asked.
“Yes. The Direction gave one to each worker for identification,” Fire explained.
Argen took out the strip of metal from the pictograph and exposed it.
“Well. This is quite the same, but the technology is far more advanced. The video is engraved in this small strip Little One had found, with a magic gem as a catalyst. That’s pretty simple to understand.”
Fire was lost in his thoughts. This invention was marvellous, he had to tell Candel.
“And no,” Argen clarified. “You won’t disclose to anypony what you’ve seen.”
He shot a disappointed stare at Little One, who lowered his eyes. “Thanks to my assistant’s hurry, you’ve seen something you should have not to.”
Fire tried to protest but Argen was unyielding. He grabbed the colt with his talon and lifted him to his face.
“Don’t misunderstand me. I’m not a good guy. That’s my last case before my retirement. I’m not going to let a brat like you endangered it.” With his beak Argen picked in Fire’s saddlebag and took out his punched card to read it. “I know where you live.”
Fire struggled, constricted in Argen’s claw, but gave up easily.
“Good,” Argen stated. “Now, you two, into my bag.”
Little One jumped in the satchel and Argen pushed Fire in, closing the bag afterwards.
“What was the pegasus afraid of?” Little One broke the silence with a whisper.
“I don’t know, maybe a monster?”
“There is no monster in the East,” Little One deadpanned. “Just nothing. Everypony, even a collier knows that.”
“Hey, I’m not a miner,” Fire protested.
“Yeah? So what’s your job?”
“I’m… eh… I.”
“Silence,” Argen cut through the muffled discussion. “We’re approaching the Direction’s cordon and I don’t want them to find you… Fire is that it?”
“Eeyup!”
A couple of voices welcomed Argen when he arrived at the checkpoint. The pegasi stood at attention.
“At rest,” Argen stated.
“Hello, Sir Tavis. You know the procedure… Have you anything to declare?”
“I’ve found a dead mare in the block.”
Fire swallowed silently. He saw Little One’s eyes were riveted on an object jabbing his flank. Fire looked at it. It was a perfectly cleaned skull. He bit his lips, shovelling down a cry of surprise.
“And also…” Argen gave a knock on his satchel. Fire tensed in stupor. “I went with my assistant Little One. Show yourself.”
Little One’s head emerged from the bag. The pegasi around jumped back with surprise.
“Hi, misters,” the foal welcomed with a fake smile. “How do you do?”
One of the soldiers pushed the colt back inside with his hoof.
“Sir, we have to warn you the Pit is momentarily closed. Something happened there and security law enforcement is currently in application. Even you can’t go there,” A well-shaped stallion explained.
Argen felt somepony move slightly in his satchel.
“A burst of gas?” he asked.
“Not this time, the Direction closed everything and a special team has been called. There is a whole wing of the tunnels which isn’t responding. There was an explosion, but it was scheduled.”
The soldier paused and gave a look at his stooges. Well, they were talking to Argen, an emissary who had a load of security clearance. They could tell him. The pegasus took a deep breath.
“Some ponies heard screams a few minutes after the incident. The tunnels have been silent since.”
He signalled to Argen he could pass. The bird took away from the checkpoint and turned in a narrow street. Nopony was there to spot his massive shadow.
“It’s okay, you can go out.”
Fire dashed out of the pocket and tried to flee. A talon caught him in motion.
“Let me go!” Fire cried, struggling with violence. “A friend is down there.”
Fire bit in a soft spot of Argen’s talon. The inspector yelped and released his grasp. Fire fell with a thump on the ground. A little dizzy, he leaped in the next corner and disappeared. Argen looked at his protégé.
“Follow him.”
“Why?” Little One complained.
“You’re small, you can go unnoticed. And there is too much problems in this city to believe it’s just a coincidence,” Argen croaked. “And I must pay a visit to the Duma. I have some unanswered questions. Now go.”
Argen flicked him away, and Little One raced in Fire’s stead.
“What did I put my talon in?” he grumbled.
The security barrier around the pit was impassable. Pegasi were patrolling on the ground and high in the sky, keeping an open-wide eye on any suspect movement. Everypony had been evacuated. Some speakers claimed intruders would be shot on sight. A stallion had tried and his body was now seared right out the street. Nopony was giving the dead any attention. The closest neighbourhoods were under curfew and every door was guarded by a pegasus armed to the teeth.
“Well, end of the story,” Little One sniggered.
Fire grumbled from the shadows. Both Little One and he were hiding from the patrols, walking in rounds like clockwork. Filled with coal, a cart had been abandoned in the middle of its way. Fire found it unusual. Even with a curfew on, the Direction would have made sure that the tasks in progress would be done before escorting the workers to their cottages.
“I’ve got an idea,” Fire finally affirmed. “Are you claustrophobic?”
“Eh, I don’t think so…” Little One hesitated. “Why?”
Fire smiled and dragged the foal with him to the next street. They waited a patrol to pass by and crept out of their hiding spot.
“Hide and seek,” Fire explained to his new found friend. “And why did you come with me?”
“I have to make sure you won’t get killed,” Little One lied poorly.
“Yeah sure,” Fire jeered. “Well follow me, it’s gonna be fun!”
Little One was not so sure. They turned at the next corner.
“Ouch,” Fire yelped. Rubbing his forehead, Fire raised his head. A dash of fear struck his brain.
“What are you doing here, earthbound?” a voice barked in front of him.
Fire was gazing at a pegasus, a sparkling spear separating them. The colt ran with sweat and the electricity bouncing off the tip of the weapon tickled his muzzle. Fire backed slowly, avoiding any stupid move. The colt looked behind him, Little One had disappeared. He was alone, abandoned.
“I repeat…”
The pegasus was not given the time to finish. A brick indented the top of his helmet, knocking the soldier out who fell on the ground. Little One appeared behind him, one of his hindlegs stretched in the air, a pile of bricks at his hooves. He was panting, unsure about what he had done.
“Are you crazy,” Fire panicked. “They’ll kill us now.”
“I...Argen wants me to follow you. If you get caught there is nopony to follow,” Little One hissed. The foal scored a point.
“At least it was a really good move,” Fire assented with a wavering laugh.
The two young ponies skirted around the unconscious soldier and ran away, their hearts pounding wildly. They refused to slow down until they reached the border of Murmanesk. The city’s forest sprawled in front of them.
“The forest?” Little One deadpanned. “We’re not going into the mine anymore?”
Fire remained silent, running straight forward, forcing Little One to follow. Fire wandered randomly and stopped in a screech of hooves. Before their eyes, two huge blocks of granite dwelled in a clearing, bracing themselves over a tiny hole dug into the ground. Fire could still see the mark of Candel’s body in the dirt. Fire figured he ought to give an explanation to Little One.
“My friend, Candel, escaped from an outburst with an old evacuation pipe or something like this. It must be around here.”
He lifted up a branch and looked under a bush.
“We just have to find it and we go save her,” Fire reassured.
Little One grunted.
“We’re risking our life for a girl?” He frowned.
“You don’t understand.”
“Yes, I definitely don’t,” Little One sniggered with his childish snort.
Getting no answer from the Fire, he joined the search and started probing the ground, each bush and shrub. After half an hour they finally found it. It was a tiny entrance, enough to let a stallion crawl inside. For Little One and Fire’s situation it was easier to venture inside. But it was a pitch-black tunnel.
“You got any light?” Fire asked.
“Definitely, no.”
“I know these pipes go straight to the bottom of the mine. Think about it like a slide.”
“And how will we come back?” Little One replied, unconvinced. “Because I don’t know you but in my opinion it’s dangerous to go there.”
“Chicken!” Fire cackled and jumped head first in the pipe. Little One facehooved before leaping after him.
The pipe was muddied. A horrible stench plagued the air. During the descent some indents left cuts on Fire and Little One’s furs. Their heads reeled, the dark was not helping. At least one was enjoying the ride. Fire let out a cry of amusement during the whole sliding.
They fell flat inside a tunnel. Its walls were lit up with arc lanterns, bathing them with a flickering light. The mine was emptied of its workers and a deafening silence assaulted the two little ponies.
“This mine is creepy,” Little One remarked.
Everypony had left their tools on their working spot, abandoning everything they were doing. It was like the colliers had vanished during their shift. Explosives were spread on the ground. Pickaxes were hammered in the wall and the trolleys were on their way to the surface, filled to overflowing. Again, the silence was oppressive. They could even hear the dirt falling from the ceiling, the cracking of the restraining structure and the distant rumble of an uncertain origin.
They walked up to the surface, and reached the exit. The tunnel was short and should have been opened recently. Out, they were at the bottom of the pit. Pegasi flew in the sky and curiously nopony was looking at them. Nopony would have thought the intruders would come from beneath, at leat no pegasi.
At the edges of the open-cast pit, they could see a team of pegasi being prepared to a descent. They wore a light armour and had a sparkling pick under their wings instead of spears.
“Come, we must find Candel before they do,” Fire pressed his friend.
“I’m not sure. I don’t even know her.”
“You signed for it,” Fire grinned, and pushed Little One forward.
They penetrated the north wing. The smell of death swamped Fire and Little One’s nostrils. Even though light showered from the lanterns, an eerie atmosphere was flying around. Fire felt something wrong growing in his heart, a crude fear of the unknown.
The lift of the north wing was broken midway, forcing the two apprentice adventurers to use the security staircase. When they passed the cage of metal, nopony was inside. Little One spotted the massive layer of dust blanketing the stairs. Inevitably, a small unsettling idea germinated in their mind; that the miners could still be trapped beneath them.
The last set of staircase showed up. The reek had gradually gained in strength and the tunnel appearing underneath was illuminated by a thousand of biased lights.
“You’re ready?” Little One asked.
The foal’s voice was hesitant, he wanted to be reassured. Fire passed him and hurdled down the stairs, crying.
“Candel!”
Afraid, Little One ended the descent without any urge. He found Fire stuck in motion, awestruck. Little One focused on the inside of the tunnel and gasped.
Words could not disclose what was lying before them.
“It is when we stand on the brink of the end
When there is no weeping soul that can be mend
That we rise, that we fight against a grim destiny
I see dripping tears on you my little pony
Please stop and smile, please come and join me
That we do not pass this last moment lonely
We wandered on the earth that we call dreary
We roamed on a ground that we fear deadly
With all our burdens that we refuse to deny
Listen to the stars, twinkling high in the sky
Listen to the birds, chirping today nearby,
Open your eyes at the beauty of the outside
Isn’t there almighty rapids we swim riptide
Isn’t there majestic wonders we haven’t elide
Yet the end is near and it’s with you that I stay
Together on the trail we’re bracing to away
With around only a world that is going to fray
But I want you to know that you will be loved
So do not fear it, welcome it, my beloved…
Please do not cry and of course do not weep
We are running before a threat that’s meant to creep
Yet never forget that forever my love will be yours.
…will be yours
Forever my love.”
The End’s song
Sweetie Belle
Date of creation, Unknown