//------------------------------// // Act II: Light in Dark Places, part 2 // Story: The World is Filled with Monsters // by Cold in Gardez //------------------------------// Simoom burned with evening fire high overhead. The setting sun painted half the cloud city with orange and scarlet light. The thick clouds, heavy with sand and dust sucked up from the brush-choked steppes, seemed to glow a molten gold, flowing and spinning as pegasus cities always did, leaking drapes of gossamer from their undersides that brushed the land below like mares’ tails. The dry, hot wind shifted, and the cloud city twisted in response. New towers came into view, their peaks sparkling as the last rays of the setting sun reflected from metal spires planted in the cloudstone blocks. It was beautiful. Also a bit irritating. Vermilion blinked as another grain of flying sand stung his eyes. He’d done his best to ignore their bite as the days wore by, and the Company drew closer to Simoom and the endless dry brushland that stretched out beyond Equestria’s western borders. But now, within sight of the great cloud city, a boiling cauldron of dust and sand and parched clouds, he was just about ready to give in and don one of the cloth scarves so many other ponies wrapped around their faces to block the wind. “Damn mess up there, isn’t it?” Cloud Fire said. His voice was lightly muffled by the linen scarf covering most of his face. Whatever color it had once been was now lost beneath a cake of dust that matched his coat almost perfectly. “Looks like it’s about to fall apart.” All pegasus cities looked like they were about to fall apart, in Vermilion’s opinion. Buildings were supposed to stay still. It was part of their definition. Nice thick walls, with perfect corners, on a solid foundation. Inside was inside and outside was outside, and the two only met at doors and windows. Pegasus cities ignored all those rules. From what he could see on the ground (and from one disastrous dream-visit to the Derecho of Zephyr’s memory), pegasus homes were designed to let the outsides in as much as possible. They featured wide, railless balconies overlooking endless drops. Walls were more suggestions than barriers. And foundations? A memory of Derecho bubbled to the surface of Vermilion’s mind, of the clouds opening beneath him to reveal a distant patchwork of farms and fields and entire forests, with only mist to keep him from rushing down to join them. Good times. He felt dizzy just looking up at Simoom. Fortunately another dusty blast of wind smacked his face, and he looked away, spitting sand. “I like it,” Zephyr said. “Looks kind of carefree, you know? Plus, everypony says they’re very relaxed.” The wind faded as she spoke. For the first time in hours Vermilion didn’t feel like his face was being gently sandpapered off. The sound of wagon wheels, birds, and the indistinct mumble of conversations further ahead in the train filled the air. And beneath it all, more felt than heard, rumbled the steady, unceasing drum of thousands of hooves on the dirt path. Calming. Reassuring. Something he’d missed. Finally, Quicklime broke the silence. “Relaxed, like, sexually?” Zephyr snorted. “No, just about life. They don’t get stressed out over appointments or being on time, or debts or whatever.” “So, they’re pegasi,” Rose said. She’d somehow procured a scarf the same coral shade as her mane and wore it loose around her head. Not even the tip of her horn poked out. “That’s tribalist, but I’ll let it slide because it’s true,” Cloudy said. “How far away is it?” Vermilion asked. Cloud cities were like mountains – you could never tell how far away they were until you were right up under them. For all he could tell, Simoom might still be a day’s march ahead. “Eh, just an hour or so,” Zephyr said. She hopped up into the air, her wings beating hard to stay aloft in the hot desert air. She bobbed above their heads, then swooped down for a dusty landing. “I can see the river. We’re almost at the border. Make it by nightfall.” Another hour wasn’t so bad. The path was easy to walk; a mix of soft, sandy earth and stones, bordered by scraggly bushes bristling with spines and thin, dusty leaves. Low buttes and shallow canyons bent the path in the shape of some ancient river, now dried, though the scent of water drifted up from the cracks in the rocks. It probably flooded once or twice a year and spent the rest in this parched stasis. Hard to believe ponies lived out here by choice, but then, ponies would live just about anywhere. Hollow Shades had taught him that. They trudged along in silence, hooves scraping out lines in the earth. He lost himself in the rhythm. Step after step, it dragged his mind into the hinterlands of thought, where time vanished and all that mattered was keeping up with the pony in front of him. “Company,” Cloud Fire said. It startled Vermilion back into the present. The world was dimmer now, grayer, the sky over head fading to night. Simoom still burned with the last touch of the sun’s rays. “I see them,” Zephyr said. She pointed with her muzzle up at the cloud city. “Local guard, probably? Surprised they waited this long to check us out.” “I’m not,” Rose said. “Pegasi don’t look down much.” It was minutes more before Vermilion saw them too. A row of dark specks, smaller than grains of the finest sand, drifted down from the city. Only the occasional sparkle of light reflecting off their armor kept him from losing them entirely. Up ahead, at the front of the caravan, a flight of pegasi rose into the sky to meet them. Quicklime craned her head up to watch. The pile of bags stacked on her back teetered ominously. “Think they’re friendly?” “Course they are.” Cloudy snorted at the question. “This is still Equestria. Simoom signed the Pact, just like the other cities.” “Yeah, but, you know. There’s stories.” “Stupid stories.” Cloudy turned to track the racing flights as they circled overhead. “I think we’re stopping,” Vermilion said. He didn’t know what stories they were talking about, but the tight tones in Cloudy’s voice suggested they weren’t flattering. Better to head that off now. “Can you see up ahead, Zephyr?” “Uh, yeah.” She hopped up again, high enough to see to the front of the column. “They’re getting the tents out. I think we’re here.” “And not a moment too soon.” Rose wandered to the side of the path, used her magic to brush away a few dried twigs and loose stones, and sat with a weary puff of breath. “I’ll never get used to summer marches. How much daylight did we have?” The pegasi looked up at the sky as one, then turned to the west. “Fourteen hours, maybe?” Zephyr said. “Four minutes less than yesterday,” Cloudy added. He paused to nip some primaries back into position, and spat out a puff of tan feather fuzz. “Don’t worry. By the time we head back to Everfree, it’ll be close to the solstice, I bet.” Quicklime walked over to Rose and set her gear down with a grunt, then sat and leaned against the larger unicorn’s shoulder. All around them, the line of ponies broke apart into smaller bands to lay out their gear. Tents began to go up in rows, wherever the rugged landscape was flat enough to fit them. Further up the road, unicorns began setting out glow lanterns, pushing away the encroaching darkness with a cool white light. The lanterns offered no heat, though, and soon enough the scent of smoke began to fill the air from hundreds of campfires. The smell brought with it memories, and Vermilion closed his eyes, and he imagined for a moment that this was just another long day with the Company, and his only care in the world was starting dinner for the team before the pegasi began to complain about starvation. And that wasn’t a problem here. He shook the cobwebs away and trotted over to join Rose. Here, their meals and tents were all provided by the Company, courtesy of their new rank and status as Brigadier Electrum’s guests. He watched, hooves itching to help, as earth pony quartermasters tossed up the two pavilion tents his team shared, complete with rolled-up sides to let in the evening breeze and fluttering pennants atop, each emblazoned with Luna’s mark. They were small as pavilions went, barely half the size of Electrum’s, but still far larger than the squat, square pup tents going up in rows around them. He’d have been happy crowding into one, as he’d done on so many trails before, but the unicorns seemed to like the extra space. And if they were happy, he supposed he was happy too. “Think they have baths up there?” Quicklime asked, a note of wistfulness in her voice. She tugged away the scarf and peered up at Simoom, floating serenely overhead. “Sort of?” Cloudy said. “They have dust baths.” “What are those?” “Exactly what they sound like,” Zephyr said. She nipped at the tiny covert feathers covering the leading edge of her wings, nipped at Cloudy’s when he got a little too close, then settled her wings with a flutter at her side. “A big pit of sand and dust to wallow in. Feels pretty good.” “And that… gets you cleaner?” Vermilion tried to wrap his head around the concept. It didn’t sound too different from days on the farm. “It’s a different type of clean,” Zephyr said. “Like, it gets in between your feathers and then you shake it out.” “Okay, but do they have real baths?” Quicklime frowned. “You know, with water?” “Probably not. Water’s too scarce out here. Even the clouds are dried out.” “I’m sure Teawater has baths,” Rose said. She tugged her scarf down, revealing her face. It was still almost perfectly white, unlike the rest of her desert-stained coat. “Water’s in the name, after all.” And what a strange name that was, Vermilion though. Here they were, a hundred miles into the driest part of Equestria, a land so parched that even the pegasi built their cloud cities with dust and sand. He doubted it rained more than a few times a year. And yet, they called their city Teawater. Somepony’s idea of a joke, perhaps. They’d find out soon enough. Their tents were almost set up. A young kitchen colt, barely old enough to have a cutie mark, began stoking the campfire and setting out pots and pans. When he thought Vermilion wasn’t looking, he stared at their group with undisguised wonder. What farm did you come from? The thought floated out of the night, unbidden. Vermilion shook it away with a snort. “I’m going to check in with Electrum,” he said. “We‘ll press on to Teawater in the morning, if he agrees.” “More marching.” Quicklime groaned and flopped onto her side. “Can we steal a wagon?” “Only if you want to pull it.” Vermilion dropped his gear in the tent he shared with the pegasi. Without it he felt a hundred pounds lighter, almost able to float. “And keep an eye out for anything strange. Remember, we’re here to fight monsters.” That sobered them. Quicklime sat up instantly, and the pegasi turned in unison to scan the horizon. The kitchen colt bobbled his pail of water and nearly dropped it. He stared at Vermilion, then up at the sky. Vermilion followed his gaze. Just stars, and Simoom, blocking out half the heavens. The last of the sun’s rays faded, and the city became a gray ghost floating overhead. Little sparks appeared within, as the city’s pegasi set out their own lanterns for the night. Time to be a leader again. He let out a long breath and began the walk down rows of wagons to the front of the column and Electrum’s tent. * * * The Company’s evening routine hadn’t changed since its expansion. It had just gotten more crowded. Vermilion remembered Canopy’s nightly conferences. He didn’t attend them, of course, but in Hollow Shades the Company had counted barely more than two hundred ponies, and everypony was free to watch her gather the staff and discuss the day’s business by lantern light. At the very end, in the last days before the disaster, he’d even been invited to attend as the group’s ‘spider expert,’ though he’d always felt absurdly out of place among the unicorn and pegasus officers and stayed as far toward the back as possible, hoping not to be noticed. Canopy rarely spoke, letting Electrum run the meetings, and only interjected when some point or other required a decision. Electrum’s staff meetings were a more formal affair. Rather than gather around a campfire or map laid out in the dust, as Canopy had done, they assembled in his pavilion tent, seated at a long table that the quartermasters somehow carted around. It fit all the Company’s air commanders and mage corps magisters, and of course Vermilion himself. Behind him, seated against the pavilion wall, Buckeye watched with the other officers. They were the only two earth ponies in the crowd, as far as he could tell. When everypony was done talking an hour later, and the meeting wrapped up, he stood to leave. But the deep rumble of Buckeye clearing his throat caught his ear, and he turned to see the enormous stallion behind standing behind him. “Boss wants to see you,” he said. Vermilion glanced down the table. Electrum was already gone, vanished behind a curtain into the private portion of the tent set aside for his personal use. A unicorn aide Vermilion didn’t recognize fidgeted by the entry. “What about?” he asked. Buckeye shrugged. “Didn’t tell me. But it’s probably the same offer as before. And if you’re smart you’ll say yes this time.” Ah. He had to smile. “Have I struck you as a smart pony so far?” Buckeye snorted. “Never too late to start.” He took a few steps toward the exit, then paused and turned his head. “But whatever you end up doing, good luck. And keep your team alive.” Yeah, that was the trick. Keeping himself alive, too. He tried to add some quip, something to reassure Buckeye, but nothing came, and anyway Buckeye was already out the exit into the night. He settled for taking a long breath, then went back to find Electrum. The private part of the tent was cramped, just large enough for a tiny desk and a cot with a small chest at the base. A wooden stand held Electrum’s armor, still dusty from the trail, and the unicorn himself sat on a cushion behind the desk. The glow of Electrum’s horn, a pale blue like the sky at noon, filled the small space as he signed a scroll. “Vermilion.” Electrum set the quill down and smiled. “Thank you for joining me. Have a seat.” There was a cushion opposite the desk. Thin and threadbare, but enough to keep his ass off the ground. He plopped down on it, settled his hooves, and studied the general across from him. Electrum was on the small side for a unicorn. Not as tiny as Quicklime, of course, or even Canopy, but he was closer to Vermilion’s size than either of them were to Buckeye. The coat over his left shoulder was a patchy mess of scar tissue, and his leg moved stiffly. Most of a year since Hollow Shades, and he still hadn’t fully recovered. He might never move it as easily as he did before that long night. “Thank you for letting us come with you,” Vermilion said. If he had to turn down an offer, he could at least be polite about it. “I take it the Company will be staying here?” “We will.” Electrum moved the scroll to the side, and in its place he unfurled a map. It was mostly empty, this land being a desert, but Vermilion could see the river that marked Equestria’s western boundary. Simoom was a dashed line, showing where it wandered; Teawater was nothing but a tiny dot. “My air corps will send a detachment up to Simoom, but most of us will stay down here while we assess the situation. Then we’ll deploy as necessary, up to the border.” “But not beyond.” Electrum shook his head. “Celestia specifically forbade us from venturing outside Equestria. And even if she hadn’t, I would not lead anypony there. We did that once.” “And wasn’t it worth it?” Electrum sighed. “I know you’ve had this argument before. For what it’s worth, I understand your position. What we accomplished — what you accomplished — in Hollow Shades was miraculous. But I can’t lead two thousand ponies into another Hollow Shades and expect a second miracle.” “I don’t think it was a miracle. Just ordinary courage.” He thought back to that night. Sneaking through the burning town behind Canopy. Staring up at death. “And luck. It was mostly luck, you know. Everypony talks about it like I did something heroic, but in the end it was just luck. That damn little spider fang Canopy gave me.” “The fang you severed, if I recall.” “More luck. I was just trying to save my life.” “Well, fate works in mysterious ways.” Electrum’s horn glowed, and a crystal bottle floated up onto the desk, along with two snifters. He poured out a tiny bit of golden fluid into each, slid one across the desk, and lifted the other. “A toast. To fate.” Vermilion smiled. “To fate.” He clinked his glass against Electrum’s and took a sip. Wine, but far stronger, with the sharp bite of alcohol. Brandy? He took another sip and decided he liked it. There followed a silence. Electrum leaned back and closed his eyes. If it weren’t for the steady glow of his horn, he might have been asleep. Outside the tent, the sounds of the camp at work went on. Finally, after several more sips and a warm glow that slowly filled Vermilion’s chest, Electrum spoke again. “Buckeye told you about my offer.” Vermilion nodded. “He did. I’m flattered.” “Mm. But?” He set the glass down. “But, you know I can’t accept. If I did, I’d be bound by Celestia’s orders too. And besides, I serve a different master.” “Luna.” Electrum let out a long breath, then poured himself another measure of the brandy. He took a long sip before going on. “There’s stories about her, you know.” Stories. That was one word for them. Vermilion swallowed soundlessly. “Her heart is in the right place. She cares about protecting her ponies more than anypony I’ve ever met, Celestia included. In a time like this, when monsters are loose on the world, she’s the leader we need.” ”And Celestia?” “Celestia…” Vermilion closed his eyes and remembered the day he met her. Before her throne in the Hall of the Sun. The warmth flowing out from the elder diarch washed over him like a summer day. He could have spent forever there, drinking her light, and been content for every moment. He banished the memory with a shake of his head. “Celestia is the mother Equestria needs. We would be lost without her. But she’s wrong about the threat. If we hide within our borders the Nightmare will only grow more powerful. What we saw in Hollow Shades will just be the start. Electrum… sir, if you could have seen its face in Hazelnight, you wouldn’t doubt me. You’d march straight back to Everfree and tell Celestia that we need to fight it, to destroy it before it swallows the whole world.” Electrum was silent. He finished off his glass, gazed thoughtfully at the flask of brandy, then set both aside with a sigh. “I admire your faith in Luna, Vermilion. But ponies who serve her all tend to end in the same place.” I am not afraid to risk the things I love. He remembered Luna’s promise, given the night they met in the hospital. “Well, don’t we all end up in the same place, regardless?” “Now you sound like Canopy.” He blinked. “I… I think I’ll take that as a compliment, sir. I’m not as good a pony as she was. I doubt I’ll ever be. But I’ve been studying her journal, and—“ “Her journal?” Electrum sat up straight. “Her meditations? I gave that to Luna.” Vermilion nodded. “Yes, she gave it to me before Hazelnight. To study and organize. It’s humbling to read, to realize she was a flesh and blood pony like us, but still somehow managed to do such great things. It… I think it proves that anypony could be like her. Be perfect.” “Hardly perfect.” Electrum stared at the tent wall. “Good, yes, but no pony is perfect, not us, not Canopy, not even Celestia and Luna. If you take anything away from that book, remember that she was great despite her flaws, not because she was flawless.” Hm. Vermilion thought he heard a note of criticism hidden in there. “You said you knew her well?” Electrum nodded. “Better than probably anypony. Even Luna, though they were quite close. I knew her well enough to know how she would die, years before it happened. So, be careful who you emulate, Vermilion. We do all die in the end, but there is no need to rush to an early grave.” Well. It was his turn to swallow. He tried to phrase a retort, something to push back against Electrum’s naked warning, but nothing came. So he cut to the chase. “We’ll be leaving tomorrow morning for Teawater. If we find the monsters causing the disturbances, we’ll destroy them.” Electrum sighed. “Off to be heroes, then. Just remember to choose your battles wisely. You have a team whose lives are in your hooves. Even Canopy sent the Company away before she went to die.” Could he do that? Would the others retreat if he ordered them to? They already had once, of course, but that was in the chaos of Hollow Shades with dozens of others. Would they do it, if it were just the five of them? He hoped to never find out. He stood, gave Electrum a respectful nod, and passed back through the curtain and into the cool desert night. * * * The camp was quiet as Vermilion walked back to their tents. A few guards patrolled the perimeter, but most ponies had collapsed into their bunks as soon as the evening meal was complete. His stomach rumbled, reminding him that he’d missed that particular function, and he stopped to grab an apple from an unattended knapsack. One of the first rules of military life – if it wasn’t guarded or nailed down, it was free for anyone to take. The tents were dark when he returned, as expected. They knew better than to wait for him when they could be catching some valuable sleep. So it was a surprise when he pulled the flap aside and found Rose laying on the cot, lighting the tent with the glow of her horn and reading from Canopy’s journal, propped up on her forelegs. Her blindfold was off, draped casually over the cot’s leg, and she looked up without any hesitation as he entered. He turned away out of reflex. “Sorry, wrong tent.” By convention, the unicorns shared one tent, while he, Zephyr and Cloudy squeezed into the other. The gentle pinch of magic caught his shoulder before he could escape. “This is your tent. I just needed a place to read without keeping the others up, so I swapped with the pegasi. They fit better in a cot with Quicklime than you, anyway.” True. All five of their band were on the small size, but Zephyr and Cloudy were literally light as feathers, and Quicklime was still confused for a foal by some of the other soldiers. Rose was about the right size for her sex and tribe, several inches taller than Vermilion but still a stone lighter. He considered the mathematics of sleeping arrangements and tribal distinctiveness as he settled in with her. She scooted over, giving him a bit of the thin mattress already warmed by her body heat. She nosed the slim volume shut. “What’s the plan?” “The Company’s remaining here, as we expected. We’ll head out tomorrow after breakfast. Teawater’s only a few miles ahead, so there’s no rush. Then I suppose we’ll play it by ear.” “That’s worked very well for us in the past.” He leaned against her shoulder. It was late, and he was tired, and he was sure she wouldn’t mind, or she wouldn’t have arranged to be waiting in his cot when he returned. The scent of cotton and pepper and the desert set his mind at ease. “Joking, Dame Rose Quartz?” A quiet chuckle. “Better to laugh than to dread, isn’t it, Sir Vermilion?” “Fair enough.” That sounded like something a more whimsical version of Canopy might have said. He doubted they would find it anywhere in her journal, though. He leaned over to carefully pluck the slim volume from Rose’s legs. Had Electrum read through it, before giving it to Luna? Another question to puzzle over. “Quicklime spent some time with the rank and file while you were out,” Rose said. “Ponies who’ve heard from the locals. They tell stories about bewitchings, and glamours, and lost time.” “Mountains moving, maps changing.” Vermilion repeated from memory. “Like dreams come to life. What does she think?” Rose shrugged as well as she could with his weight leaning on her. “The general term for that sort of magic is a charm, and there are many monsters that can cast them. Plenty of unicorns can too, for that matter—” “Really? Can you?” She shook her head. “My abilities aren’t inclined that way, and that sort of magic is usually illegal. Along with necromancy, it was the only other school of magic specifically prohibited by the Pact. It’s not evil, by itself, but it tends to lead ponies in evil directions.” “So, option one, evil unicorns,” he said. “What else?” She rolled her eye. “Quicklime doesn’t want to guess yet, but I think it’s a type of spirit called yokais. There’s records of them out here, from the century before Simoom was founded. They were…” She paused and frowned. “Not evil, according to the stories. Or, not deliberately malicious. But they could bend ponies’ minds, ‘give form to the formless’.” “Doesn’t sound too bad,” he said. Compared with spiders the size of wagons or any of the other monsters they’d face, anyway. “They don’t, don’t they?” Rose mused. “It actually has me worried. Yokais were never considered much of a threat, and they were wiped out easily. After Hazelnight, I don’t… I don’t want to make another mistake like that. Underestimate the enemy again.” Underestimate the enemy again. An almost physical pain tore through him at that. A vice around his heart. It was seconds before he could speak. “No, that was my mistake, Rose. You suspected, and I didn’t listen, and…” He tried to go on, but had somehow run out of breath with just those few words. His chest wouldn’t relax to draw in more air. A huge weight squeezed his chest. He started to gasp for air. “Shh, shh. Breathe.” She turned and gently wrapped a foreleg around his shoulder, drawing his cheek in to rest against her neck. He felt the steady, hot rush of blood, just beneath her skin. Beat by beat, breath by breath, it drew him back from the memory and shame of his failures in Hazelnight. He let out a long breath. “Sorry.” He tried to straighten up, escape from her grasp, but she held him tight. She didn’t speak, but neither did she loosen her grip. He could have broken free easily enough; he was a stallion and an earth pony, and far stronger than he’d been all those months ago in Hollow Shades. Either Luna’s touch or months of hard, dedicated labor had awoken a new power within him, such that he could scarcely believe sometimes that he was the same scrawny colt who wandered in from the farm fields to join the Company. But instead he relaxed, closing his eyes, and letting her scent and the soft feel of her body and the sound of her pulse lull him back from the edge of panic. Finally, again, “Sorry.” “For what?” She loosened her grip enough to let him turn. “For making a mistake? For being a pony?” “For leading us wrong. For nearly getting you – all of us – killed. For being weak.” “Weak?” She exhaled slowly. “Where do you get these ideas, Vermilion? After all you’ve done, after all you’ve carried us through, what could make you think that?” “Canopy never made mistakes like that. She never panicked or broke down or froze—” “Canopy, Canopy, Canopy.” Rose nearly spat the major’s name the final time. “Canopy led us to Hollow Shades, Vermilion! Canopy got half her command killed! Why do you think she’s the better pony? If she had survived, don’t you think she’d be just as tortured by her failures as you?” “That wasn’t her fault.” His hoof clutched the slender green journal. “She was brave, and strong, and she gave her life to try and save ponies! How can you say that about her?” “She was a good pony, but don’t let that blind you.” Rose’s horn glowed, and she wretched the journal from Vermilion’s grasp. It floated before them, and she stared at it so intently Vermilion expected the cover to start smouldering. But in the end she put it down with a sigh, and the tent went dark afterward. “The Canopy you remember, and the Canopy in that book, and the Canopy who was a real flesh-and-blood pony were three different mares,” she continued in a softer voice. “When you compare yourself with that idealized memory of her you have in your head, you’re always going to come up short. And that hurts me, Vermilion. It hurts me to watch you do that to yourself.” Oh. He swallowed soundlessly. “Sor—” “Don’t say you’re sorry.” He closed his mouth. Unsure what else to say, a silence stretched out between them. The warmth of her body seemed further away than ever. “Say something else.” She rolled onto her side and gazed up at him. The intensity was gone from her face, replaced by a softer, calmer expression. Friendly. Sometimes he forgot she could look like that. “Tell me again what we’re doing tomorrow.” “We’re going to Teawater.” He crossed his hooves and set his chin on them. “We’ll investigate the reports of odd happenings, and deal with them as appropriate. Nopony will die, and we’ll return home safe and successful.” “And if things go wrong?” “We’ll adapt. And whatever happens, I know that everypony will do their best, and we can count on each other.” She clapped her front hooves together softly. “Bravo. Feel better?” “Yeah.” He took a deep breath, letting it expand his chest until his lungs strained and his ribs protested, then slowly let it out. “Thanks. I mean, thank you, Dame Rose Quartz.” That got a smile. “You’re welcome, Sir Vermilion.” There, peace between them again. Sometimes he marveled at how quickly his relationship with Rose could change; one moment arguing, the next comforting each other and enjoying the quiet solitude of their company. Maybe because she was a mare? But he’d known Zephyr and Quicklime much longer, and they weren’t so volatile. Another mystery to file away. That triggered a stray thought. He let it out before he couldn’t think better. “Hey, when you said I was blind… was that a joke?” She blinked at him. Okay. He pressed on. “You know, because…” He gestured with his hoof toward his right eye. Another blink. Then a cascade of emotions washed across her face: her mouth opening to form a little ‘o’, followed by a flash as her lips curled back to expose her teeth. Then she froze, and the hoped-for expression finally appeared. A smile, followed by a musical laugh, quiet as distant bells. He felt warmer just hearing it. “No, no.” She set her head down on the cot. “I didn’t even think of that. I suppose I should be careful who I call blind, hm?” “I didn’t mean—” “It’s fine.” She waved a hoof absently. “It doesn’t bother me as much as… as when we met. I’m sorry about that, by the way. Have I ever told you how terrible I felt after that night? When I realized how petty and mean and entitled I was?” He shook his head. “No.” “Well.” She swallowed. “Now you do. And… I’m trying to be better. To not let it bother me. And that means accepting what I am now.” Her eye shifted over to the blindfold draped on the cot’s leg. “Someday I’ll be able to go out without that thing,” she said. It came out as a mumble, and Vermilion wasn’t sure if he was supposed to hear. “Not care what ponies think. But… not yet.” “You already know what we think of you, right?” His hoof found hers and gripped it firmly. “Yeah.” She squeezed his hoof back. “Thank you. Again.” He smiled, and the silence returned. Companionable this time. It could have lasted all night. So of course he opened his stupid mouth again and broke it. “So, um… do you want me to go to the other tent, or…” She laughed again, and her horn glowed. The drawstring holding open the tent’s fly came undone, and darkness swallowed them as it fell closed to block out the meager light from the lanterns outside. She scooted closer, until their legs tangled and her hot breath washed across his face. Her voice whispered in his ear. “Vermilion, when a mare comes to your bed at night, it usually means she wants to stay until morning.” A hoof ran down the centerline of his chest, stopping just above his navel. Oh. Oh! Wide awake now. A nervousness like he hadn’t felt since preparing for Hollow Shades suddenly seized him, turning his guts to water. A prickle of sweat broke out on his coat. Easy now. He’d faced down monsters, he could face this. “What about the others?” “Hm?” Teeth found his neck and gently nibbled. “What about them?” He felt for her. His hoof came down on her flank. Firm muscles flexed beneath her coat. “What will they think?” “They’re our friends.” Her lips found his, and it was a while before she could finish her answer. When she did, he’d almost forgotten the question. “They’ll be happy for us.” Of course. He put his thoughts aside, and let instinct guide the rest of the night. * * * Vermilion dreamed of yokais, whatever they were. Rose hadn’t given him enough detail to craft a solid impression of them, so he settled for dreaming of formless terrors, spirits that charmed and beguiled and stole the thoughts from ponies’ heads. He dreamed of three mares with snakes for hair who held him down and pulled memories out of his heart. Recollections rose like smoke from his breast, wriggling like worms tangled in their claws, and the mares laughed as they devoured them. And after each memory vanished down their gullets he forgot another name, another face. He screamed, he fought, he begged them to stop. And when they were done he could not remember why. The scent of cotton and pepper and sweat intruded in the dream, and his stolen memories returned. He forgot forgetting them. Instead he was in a palace, in a tiny town called Teawater that hugged a brown river beneath a floating castle. A serving mare offered him a glass of wine that smelled of iron. He sipped from it, spat it out, and turned to reprimand the wench. But she was gone. Instead, Quicklime’s head sat on the pale marble floor, leaking a stream of blood that flowed up into his goblet, refilling it. That was too much. He jerked awake with a sudden inhalation of breath. The taste of blood lingered in his mouth for a moment more, and then his senses returned along with thought, and he sank into the thin mattress with a groan. Rose stirred beside him. She’d turned away at some point in the night, lying on her side. Her legs shifted in her sleep, and her back pressed up against him. He spent a moment marveling at her warmth, and her softness, and he barely dared to breathe. Had they made a mistake? Was it too late to tell her to forget what they’d done? Act normal in the morning. Invent some story about falling asleep while reading. Would it hurt if he asked her? Why did the thought of it feel so cold? He swallowed, and realized he could still taste her. “Luna help me,” he muttered. “I don’t think Luna’s the best pony to ask for help here,” Canopy said. She perched weightless on the foot of the cot, just out of reach of his hooves. In the dim starlight her coat appeared almost entirely black. “Her advice on matters of the heart tends to bend toward the practical. And ruthless. She would tell you to take pleasure while you can, and leave when you must.” He swallowed again. “Speaking from experience?” “Sad to say.” Canopy watched Rose’s chest rise and fall, then turned back to Vermilion. “If you want all the gory details, they’re in my journal. I tried to be as honest as possible when writing it. Try not to think any less of me.” “Don’t worry about that.” He reached out to run a hoof over Rose’s shoulder. If this was a dream, it felt impossibly real. “Should we have done this?” Canopy shrugged. “Luna would say yes, if it makes you happy. I would ask, have you figured out what happiness is, yet?” Hm. “It’s not mere pleasure, is it?” He remembered pleasure well enough, though. A memory of their exertions set him blushing. “I don’t think so.” Canopy looked up at the sky. The tent’s roof was gone, exposing them to the night and the stars and the titanic form of Simoom floating overhead. The heavens wheeled above them in an endless cycle of night chasing night. “The first soldier I ever lost under my command was a unicorn mare named Verisimilitude. She was quiet and loved books and her laughter was like bells and she died with a smile after she was struck by a minotaur’s spear. It broke half her ribs, shredded her lungs and pierced her heart. I cannot imagine that was pleasurable, but she smiled when she realized she was dying. It was the last expression she wore. Why?” “Verisimilitude.” He glanced at the journal. It lay on the floor where Rose had tossed it. An urge seized him to retrieve it and tuck it away safe in his saddlebags, but he fought it back. “You wrote in there about her. You said you dreamed about her.” Canopy nodded. “Perhaps warriors are fated to dream about lost comrades.” She smiled a wan smile. “Does that bother you?” He shook his head. “No. All the same, I’d rather have normal dreams from time to time, too. So… if happiness is not pleasure, what is it? Were you happy when Blightweaver killed you?” “I think I must have been.” She tilted her head. “But remember, Vermilion, I am not Canopy. I am just your memories of her, and what you have gleaned from that journal, and maybe a bit of Luna’s magic as well. If you want to know more, keep reading, or find me when you reach the realm of death.” “I’d rather not anytime soon,” he said. But Canopy was gone, and only Rose and the night remained. He looked around the dark tent once more, his mind fogged with exhaustion, and set his head back on the worn pillow. More dreams followed. Normal ones, this time.