Water alone had the tender touch to cradle Sundance's pain-wracked body. He floated in the waterfall basin, bobbing near the edge. On his back, wings somewhat extended, he did what appeared to be his best dead duck impression. Corduroy assured him that nothing was broken, but things felt rather bent. Even with all of his pain, he felt rather proud of himself, as if he'd accomplished some great thing. A manticore had beaten him, which he felt involved some manner of bragging rights.
A few owls—eternally sleepy and curious creatures, always asking who, but never what, when, where, or why—perched around the basin, seeking shady places so that they might escape the tyranny of the sun. Like his faithful owls, Sundance was now a wise creature. Pain had shown him much of the true nature of the world, and he suffered greatly from some kind of post body slam enlightenment.
The soft rumble of falling water lulled Sundance into a welcomed state of near sleep, where daydreams were especially vivid. Lucid visions of goodness, of fairness, of kindness, and of adequacy paraded past his mind's eye. He was in far too much pain to have anything but the most humble of aspirations. What he wanted right now was not a sandwich, nor a cup of tea, or even a dish of ice cream, which would be fantastic. No, Sundance wanted to be in love. As he bobbed in the water, drifting between painful consciousness and the blissful euphoria of daydreams, his thoughts were on that of love. Somepony that could comfort him during moments just like this one. Somepony that was thoughtful and kind as Corduroy—but also as ferocious and capable as Megara.
He had to find somepony that checked off every need on the checklist.
Which was, for all intents and purposes, a task even more outlandish and far fetched than him becoming a warrior. If he were merely adequate, his potential mate would have to strive towards greatness. He wasn't sure why this was, but it made sense on some level, even if he didn't fully understand it. Or maybe his mind was scrambled, or possibly concussed. He didn't recall hitting his head—Megara was, in hindsight, shockingly careful with how she'd broken him into two and smashed all of his giblets. He was remarkably whole of body—just exceedingly sore and stiff—with bruised giblets which might never recover.
"Dragon!"
Sundance's eyelids fluttered open like drunken, semi-conscious butterflies buffeted by a hurricane.
"Dragon! There's a dragon!"
Bruised giblets prevented rash action and Sundance lay very still, unwilling to move.
"A dragon flies near! Get indoors, everypony!"
"Dragon! Dragon! Get underground!"
While Sundance heard the sound of panic, what he didn't hear was the sound of destruction. Of course, he had no experience in this sort of thing, but movies taught him that dragon destruction was immensely loud. Lots of roaring and whooshing and crackling and exploding, all accompanied by crunchy, distorted, riffing guitars and powerful drums, none of which he heard. The soundtrack was all wrong for a dragon attack; everything was too pastoral, with birds chirping, bugs buzzing, and the soothing dull roar of falling water.
He decided that he would just continue to float in the water and wait this out.
"Dragon!"
There were no sounds of Megara preparing for battle, no roars of challenge, not much of anything. Lots of shouting about dragons and the stampede of hooves. Oh, this would be exciting, no doubt. A dragon had come to visit. Maybe it wanted a favour, or perhaps it was a neighbor who came to borrow a cup of sugar. Did dragons need sugar? They might. It was best to be neighborly, because one wanted dragons to be good neighbors. While Sundance wanted to do the right thing, getting out of the water was out of the question.
"Big blue dragon! Big blue dragon! Get into the barn cave at once!"
"Milord, Prince Blueblood is here to see you," Earwig sheepishly said.
Sundance, who expected a dragon, was both relieved and disappointed to hear that Prince Blueblood had come to pay a visit. There was still the matter of the dragon, for surely Blueblood could not be mistaken for a drake. No effort was made to rise and greet his guest. Sundance didn't even open his eyes, for the sunlight would be all glinty and sear his retinas, as it had just done not that long ago when somepony cried, "Dragon!"
"What's this about a dragon?" Sundance demanded.
"You are almost as aloof as your great grandmother," replied Prince Blueblood.
"Megara the Lioness schooled me this morning," Sundance said, and he wondered just how much of this he should explain.
"Oh… oh goodness, you poor fellow." Prince Blueblood's words were heartfelt and sincere. "Well, not to worry. I'm here to meet with Argyle."
"Again… dragon," Sundance said, wanting answers.
"Oh, that… a rowdy adolescent. He wanted to scare travelers and passersby, he defaced public property, vandalised statues, placed mustaches where they do not belong, the usual gamut of hooliganism. Now he is serving community service. He carried my gondola out this way."
"Community service after a spree of hooliganism?" A frown wrinkled Sundance's face and he suspected that the evils of coffee were made manifest.
"He has rich parents. Influential. What can one do?" Blueblood's cultured voice held a hint of wry sarcasm.
"Make the parents also perform community service with their bratty son."
"You know, Sundance… you really are like your great grandmother. So, where is Argyle? It is of the utmost importance that I speak with him. Much needs to be done."
"I have no idea where he is. Look around."
"Oh, bother and blast."
"Getting out of this pool would require effort… and you… you're not worth it, Blueblood. Offense fully intended. You spooked my peasants. I'm tempted to assign you to community service for that stunt."
There was a brief harrumph, followed by, "There is so much of Celestia in you. It's disturbing, really. Very well, I shall take my leave and find Argyle myself. Good luck with your lessons. I hope you survive her tyrannical tutelage. Megara is not a kindly instructor."
"So I've noticed," Sundance replied. "The parents really need to see what sort of hooliganism their son is up to. Otherwise, it's just stories to them. Stories are easy to dismiss."
"That is wise," Prince Blueblood replied. "Come, Summer Squash. We must find Twilight's new Regional Governor so that we might ruin his life."
"Before we go," Summer Squash said, "there is the matter of the dead—"
"Oh yes… that. That gruesome assignment. Thank you, Summer Squash."
When Sundance heard Blueblood inhale, every muscle tensed in dreadful anticipation.
"Princess Celestia requested that I ask you a favour," Blueblood began. "A rather delicate issue. You see… our large coastal cities are experiencing… hmm… how shall I put this? Outbreaks… yes, outbreaks of the undead and—"
"Grogar's agents are sowing terror and dread," Summer Squash said, interrupting and taking over. "Vile necromancers are breaking into morgues and reviving the undead, which are then released to terrorise the citizenry. We're attempting to deal with this quietly and efficiently. Without causing a public panic—"
"It's a bit late for that," Blueblood remarked.
"—and we're short on options. Prince Gosling suggested that we get the freshly dead, the revivable dead, out of the city and to a more secure location for processing and burial."
"And you want to bring them here?" asked Sundance.
"It was Princess Celestia's idea. This place is isolated. Remote. You will, of course, be paid handsomely for your assistance."
It was a struggle for Sundance to get his brain working. A prickle of fear left his dock full of tingles, but fear was the last thing he needed right now. What he needed was a clear mind. Eyes closed, he controlled his breathing, and tried to ignore the fog of pain that dulled his senses. Maybe a word with Sumac was needed, his opinions and advice would be useful. No doubt, Princess Celestia just expected him to say yes—but that seemed like a poor idea.
"The big cities, with police, and security, and morgues… can't keep necromancers out. They're breaking in, reviving the dead, and doing gross, disgusting things. And you… you want me to put me and mine at risk by having the dead interred here? What if necromancers come out my way? I have no means to deal with such problems, and I don't think my barony is ready for an outbreak of zombies so—"
"It's not at all like the zombies you see in movies," Summer Squash said.
"But still zombies." Folding his forelegs over his barrel, Sundance drew in a deep breath to calm his nerves. "If every major city in Equestria began shipping their dead here for processing and burial, that's a lot of corpses. A lot of corpses. Like, more than I can imagine. If just one of these vile necromancers got out this way, that'd be nightmarish. We'd be up to our wingpits in zombies."
"So your answer is—"
"No, Blueblood. My answer is no. Do not test my patience and ask again."
"Very well. I acquiesce to your response and will inform Princess Celestia of your decision upon my return home." After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, Blueblood added, "Once again, you remind me of your great grandmother. Be well, Sundance. And I wish you a speedy recovery. Come, Summer Squash, we have much to do."
Even though the dull ache in his body blunted his sense of joy, Sundance found himself in quite a mood. He'd taken his first step on the grand path of becoming a warrior. A trial of pain. Thus far, he endured, but he suspected that things would get far worse. This was no bleak outlook, no. He considered this honest acceptance, and in doing so, the hard journey ahead seemed a little easier. This was meaning. He sought out purpose. No longer content with day to day existence, he wanted something better—and would have it. Eventually. With lots of hard work.
Already, he had fantasies of being a great warrior.
Or, if not a great warrior, an adequate warrior.
Adequacy was good; he could be happy with adequacy.
The warmth of the tea blossomed through the tense, tight ache in his jaw and neck. His recovery, while slow, progressed through its various painful stages, loosening taut muscles as it went. River Raider had mentioned something about the endurance of pegasus ponies, and he wished that he'd paid more attention, because now he could not recall exactly what she had said. After a prolonged sigh, he slurped his tea, but did not swallow. Instead, he swished the hot liquid around the inside of his mouth so that the soothing heat could spread through his head. Then, when the ache subsided a bit, he swallowed, thankful for the momentary rush of sweet relief.
"Sundance?"
It was Hoppy; she was apprehensive.
He looked at her, but offered no words.
"I'll take that job you offered. But on one condition. Granny and I share the position. She's better suited for the job than I am. Granny already has plans and I think that she'll spring them on you when she's ready. We just need time."
"Good," he replied with a soft nod. "Good."
"Can't stay," Hoppy said to him. "I promised that I would teach a class today. Puddle Jumper was very insistent that I share what I know. Says it is vital to the future growth of our most precious assets."
This was also good; he approved of this. "Go and teach. Also, thank you."
"You're welcome, Sundance. You feeling alright?"
"Just stiff." Every muscle tensed when he thought about these words and what they could mean. Somewhat flustered, he added, "A bit sore. I'll be fine."
"You got body slammed. Everypony covered their muzzles and made an 'ooo' sound when it happened. I think we all felt it."
"I must've missed that," he said, almost murmuring.
"Wort is obsessed with Megara. He thinks she's great. She's so gentle with him. I must admit, I'm kind of surprised. And scared. Mostly scared. But I've let him play with her because it's good for him. At least, I think it is. But it scares me. A lot. I mean, mom-stuff. I'm conflicted because I want to protect him, but if I protect him too much I could turn him into a bigot. Or something. Look, I don't know where I am going with this. He has a griffon granny. But I am aware that I could be the problem, if I let myself. I'm babbling, aren't I?"
As was so often the case, Sundance thought of his own mother.
"I don't want to teach him to be afraid of things that are different, but I have to do my job as his mom and keep him safe from things that are different and can do him harm. How do I teach him the difference? Wait… don't answer. I have to go and teach class. And then maybe have a break down. After that, I'll pull myself together."
"If you need to talk, I'll listen," Sundance offered. "I'm still sorting out my own feelings. But we can sort things out together."
"I'd like that." Hoppy's words had a sincere warmth that was every bit as soothing as the tea. "Take it easy, Sundance." Then, without further ado, she departed with a swish of her fluffy tail.
She wasn't gone from the dining hall for more than a few minutes when Megara squeezed through the door, and a small, slight pony trailed just behind her. Alas, Megara simply did not fit into equine-sized structures, and Sundance knew that some of his other residents would also face some troubles when they grew, like Mighty the minotaur maid. It was just another issue to be dealt with—hopefully sooner rather than later.
"I've found us another warrior," Megara said, grinning from tusk to tusk.
With a turn of his head, Sundance focused on the small pony that now stood beside Megara. A little pegasus with baskets on her sides. Only he knew this was no pegasus. He didn't know her, but it seemed obvious that she lived here if Megara found her. Obviously, this was one of his resident changelings. He wondered if he should be concerned that Megara was recruiting, but this was a matter of necessity. Then again, it was his job to keep the changelings safe, and having one serve the barony as a warrior would put them into danger. A direct violation of his promise.
"No," he said as his gaze dropped down into his teacup.
"Hey… what's the big idea? No?" Megara sat down near the table, leaned in close, and her whiskers quivered with indignation. "I'm gonna give you a few minutes to rethink that, friendo."
"I am sworn to keep them safe," he said, as if this explained everything.
"So says the brilliant mind that is putting himself into harm's way to protect his holdings."
Pausing, Sundance considered these words, and the not-so-subtle bite behind them.
"You are risking all you have and all that Twilight has planned by galavanting around your barony in search of danger," Megara said. "I found a volunteer. She wants to fight. To defend her home. Her desire to do right has caused a bit of a tussle with her own kind. She's risking a lot to do right and the least you can do is hear her out."
"No," Sundance said, repeating himself.
"Are we really gonna do this the hard way?" asked Megara.
"There's a hard way?" Sundance replied, now concerned.
"Oh yes… there's a hard way. Where I pound you into putty—"
"I think you had that planned anyway."
"Oh, I did… but if you say no a third time, I'll be able to do it without a shred of guilt."
Sundance swallowed, but not his tea. It was a dry swallow, painful, and he made a note of how to talk to others with maximum effectiveness. The manticore was a creature of raw intimidation; terror with a twitchy nose, big sharp pointy teeth, and cactus-bristle whiskers. Beside Megara, the changeling-in-pony-form waited patiently, her eyes eager, her ears pricked at attention. It was all an illusion, but what a convincing one.
"Tell Sundance about yourself, Hornet."
"Ummm," she ummmed as she shifted from side to side. Something about the sound was vaguely insectoid, a sort of humming near-buzz. "I'm a drone, but not a drone. I don't know what I am. Simulacra and Simulation say I am an anomaly. But they say it in a very kind way. I have the body of a drone… a worker. But I have the armor and the carapace of a warrior. But we're not supposed to be warriors. We're supposed to be peaceful. That is our new shared purpose. But I…" her words trailed off into a soft, faint buzz.
"She can't change her nature," Megara said. "They might have tinkered with the changelings, but I don't think you can change certain fundamental aspects. She is what she is. Simulacra and Simulation are really unhappy with what I've done, but I'm confident that I've done the right thing. You need a bodyguard, Sundance, and I think we've found you one."
This got his attention almost right away. "A bodyguard?"
"Well, if you go off into some alicorn-forsaken asylum again, it'll be good to have backup." Megara rested one broad paw upon the table and then leaned in closer. "She named herself Hornet. I see it as an acknowledgment of what exists inside. She's not like the others, Sundance. Give her a chance to explore whatever she is. Whatever she was meant to be. Let her blossom."
"I… well…" He reconsidered and did not say no.
But saying yes felt wrong; a violation of his promise.
"We can't repress or hide away what we are… but we can try to do good with it. I'm proof of that." Leaning in a little closer, Megara's hot breath now caused Sundance's forelock to sway. "In another time, in another life, Hornet would have been a very different 'ling. Now she's expected to suppress that for the sake of conformity. Don't do that to her."
"What can you do, Hornet?" asked Sundance.
"I have a variety of alchemical spits," she replied. "Some of them are quite dangerous and toxic. I am also a healer—"
"A healer?" This got Sundance's attention.
"All changelings are healers, to some degree. We have powerful coagulants and compounds to close wounds. I also have anti-coagulants, and this makes others unhappy with me. Certain traits are… undesirable now."
"She can fly and do magic," Megara said.
Hearing this statement of the obvious, Sundance nodded.
"I am well armored," Hornet continued, and she fluttered her feathered wings nervously. "My armor makes me ugly. I am grotesque and malformed. I know what the others think, even if they try to hide it from me. We are of one mind and so we know. I am too much like how we used to be, and seeing me is a reminder of that. It is painful, for some."
"Which is why she was out picking berries and foraging," Megara said, her words a low rumble that made the wooden table vibrate. "Come on, Sundance. Do the right thing. Think of this as salvage. We can make this work for our purposes. You and I… we can prove the others wrong and show them that some of what they once were is still valuable. Still good. And in doing so, we can save Hornet."
"Hornet"—his speech was slow, patient, and calm—"do you need saving? Meg seems to think that you do."
The not-pegasus shrugged her wings. "I don't know. I don't know anything anymore. I've been very confused for a long time. Long before we left the lab. Long before we left the sanctuary. I keep asking about what makes a 'ling a 'ling, and nobuggy has answers for me. I was told that I was part of a problem that would be fixed in time."
Heaving a heavy sigh, Sundance thought of River Raider—another that did not quite fit into the standards imposed upon her species. Thoughtful, he stared down into the depths of his teacup, as if answers might be found beneath the pale brown surface of the liquid therein. River Raider still had a purpose to serve—and so did Hornet. He was sure of that. His own purpose was to give others life, and life was purpose. Meaning.
"You aren't part of a problem," he said, almost hesitating. "Hornet, you are part of a solution. I'm just not sure what that is just yet. You were out foraging?"
"I am skilled at finding sugary berries," she replied, almost beaming.
"Sugary berries?" A flood of saliva almost broke free from Sundance's mouth when he thought about sweet, delicious berries. An idea blinked into existence. A brilliant, wonderful idea. Certainly a better idea than him becoming a warrior and having the stuffing body slammed out of him. Turning to Megara, he asked, "Just how did you find Hornet and find all of this out?"
"A girl must keep some of her mystery," Megara replied as she slipped a foreleg over the tiny not-pegasus beside her and pulled her close.
"If you bring me two full baskets of raspberries, I'll—"
"A fetch quest?" A low growl punctuated Megara's rumbled words. "Really? Seriously? A fetch quest?"
Baffled, Sundance asked, "What'd I do?"
"Sending a prospective adventurer on a fetch quest is dirty pool!"
"What?" He repeated himself: "What?"
"What's next? Are you going to send her to kill rats in the cellars?"
"Do we have rats in the cellars? If we do, I should send somebody—"
"Oh, that cuts it." The tremendous manticore spawn rolled her eyes whilst her whiskers quivered.
"I don't even know what I did wrong," Sundance blurted out. "I don't know what I am doing wr—"
"Oh, it's obvious you don't know what you're doing," Megara said, huffing out the words. "I suppose it falls on me to fix that."
"I just wanted some berries." Eyes sad, ears back in the most submissive pose he could muster, he did his best to look as small and meek as possible.
Megara glared at him, disgust on her face, her eyes fiery and narrow. "Pathetic. At least stand up for yourself. Come on, show some backbone. A bit of spine."
"I think you smooshed it," he said to her with the hopes that she might feel at least a little guilty. "You told me to hit you in the face and then you destroyed me."
"You're going to send this poor 'ling off into the dangerous wilderness to find you some berries—"
"To be fair," Sundance said, interrupting, "she was already doing that anyway. If you're worried about her safety, you should go with her and—"
"Did you just try to send me on an escort mission?" Blinking, Megara drew herself up to her full height and looked down her muzzle at Sundance.
"Um… I guess I just did something else wrong?" he asked.
Then, after a moment of intense worry, it occurred to him that Megara might be yanking his chain, so to speak. Getting his goat. He wondered where that expression came from, and then felt some concern for his own goats. The trouble with all of this, as he saw it, was that he couldn't tell if Megara was joking. If she were having a go at him. Was she testing him? Plumbing the depths of his resolve? Did his mettle come up short?
Before Megara could say anything else, Sundance said to Hornet, "Two baskets of berries. Not to prove your worth, because I believe you are worthy. Truth is, I'm miserable, and the cranky manticore made me that way. She'll probably make you that way as well. I'm certain she has nefarious plans for both of us. But if you bring me back two baskets of raspberries, we'll talk. I do, in fact, need a bodyguard. That's a good idea. And a bodyguard that can also be my body-double is probably a fantastic idea. We'll take whatever abuse Megara plans to dish out together."
Mollified, the manticore let out a low, rumbling growl.
Meanwhile, Hornet nodded. Flickers of green witchfire danced around her body, but her appearance held. "I'll bring back fresh snow as well, because cold raspberries are the best raspberries."
Drooling far too much to respond, Sundance dared to glance up at Megara to see if she approved. It seemed that she did. She was still frowning, but something about her demeanour had changed somewhat. In this moment, Sundance saw Megara as a dour teacher who expected more, but was still pleased to get results. Maybe. Possibly. Perhaps. It might just be his optimism bubbling up to the surface.
Then, once more, Sundance had an idea. He had a brilliant idea. An idea that might just redeem him. There was snow and ice up there on the jagged peaks. It stayed frozen year round. Snow and ice could be used to make ice cream—he was sure of it—and ice cream would be an amazing treat to beat the summer heat.
Taking a deep breath, he prepared himself so that he might explain his brilliant plan…