9. Nothing Happens in Elmwood
The impossible had occurred.
Despite having spent the night completely exposed to the elements, on a hard surface without the proper coverings, without performing her nightly rituals, Rarity had gotten a complete night’s worth of rest. Her body was a little sore from having slept on the uncomfortable forest floor, sure, but besides that, her body was refreshed and her mind was ready for anything the day had in store. There had been no dreams, no visions, no haunting questions, just a long peaceful slumber that was only now being interrupted by her own bodily needs.
Reluctantly, Rarity forced her eyes open and after blinking and adjusting her eyes to the light streaming through the branches of the trees, she crawled out of her sleeping bag as carefully as possible. Either she hadn’t been as quiet as she thought she had been or Huntress was a very light sleeper, because Rarity only gotten about halfway out before she was startled by Huntress suddenly sitting up.
The mare squinted through the light as she turned to face Rarity with a questioning look. Her hoof, Rarity noticed, was already around her bow, the string in between her teeth with the arrow already nocked from the previous night. Her ears twitched in the morning breeze, moving in every direction. Slowly, having heard nothing unusual, she relaxed and released the bowstring as she turned to Rarity. “What?” she muttered sleepily.
“Nothing,” Rarity said. She finished removing herself from the sleeping bag. “I just need to powder my nose.”
“Powder your, what?”
“Er, use the little filly’s room.”
This time, Huntress responded with a blank look.
“Do my, ahem, business.” Rarity started to blush. She was running low on polite euphemisms. Hopeful, she’d make her point before having to resort to the Applejack sanctioned ones. “Freshen up?Relieve myself?”
“Hm.” Huntress yawned and lied back down. “Don’t go too far,” she said before turning over.
Rarity got up onto her hooves and after taking a quick moment to brush off some grass, looked around. All that remained of their campfire were ashes, its smoke long since dispersed. With the trees in the way, it was difficult to determine what time it was, and the best she could tell, based on how chilly it was, was that it was early morning. She could probably make a more accurate estimate of the time if she left the forest for a better view of the sky and sun, but that would mean stepping out into the open field, and having to use the toilet in the middle of the forest where her only source of cover and privacy were the trees was bad enough.
It was, without a doubt, the utterly worst part of any camping trip, and no matter how many times she went through the process, Rarity always dreaded having to use nature’s restroom. After putting on her saddlebags and locating the pocket with the rudimentary toiletries, she made some distance from the campsite, far enough to prevent anypony else from hearing her, and went behind the thickest tree she could find.
Once finished and cleaned up, Rarity stepped out and found herself before a light green stallion. The stallion’s mouth opened and closed, but no coherent words came out. Rarity’s cheeks burned, and the stranger took a step back as if repelled by the intensity of Rarity’s glare. “You...”
“Please don’t scream,” the stallion whimpered, throwing up his hooves. “I-I didn’t see nothing, I swear it on my mother’s grave. I-I was just looking for, uh, for help. Please, I don’t want any trouble, miss. I didn’t see nothing. Don’t hurt me, please.”
All that pathetic cowering and crying sapped away much of Rarity’s rage. The stallion before her was young, barely out of colthood, and Rarity noted that his legs were covered in bruises. One of his eyes were black and swollen shut, and the brown tunic he was wearing was torn and falling to pieces. It was hard to stay mad at such a pitiful sight, despite the severity of his potential perverse crime. Rarity let out the rest of her anger with a sigh.
“Well, as long as you saw nothing, and swear that you will never speak of this again—“
“I swear! I swear, I was never here. Never seen you in my life. Nope, there was nothing to see.”
“Er, right,” Rarity said, a little taken back by the young stallion’s eagerness. “Well then, that’s settled. Oh!” She dug through her pack and pulled out the healer’s kit. “What happened to you? Those bruises look awful.”
“Oh, what? These?” The stallion chuckled nervously and took a step back as Rarity approached. “It’s nothing. Just, y’know, uh, tripped. Yeah, on a root.”
“Hold still please,” Rarity instructed as she took out a bottle of salve from the kit. “Let’s get those treated before they get any worse.” Rarity held out her hoof, and after some hesitation, the stallion extended his own, giving her access to the wounds. He winced as she rubbed the cold salve over the black and blue spots. “How’s that?”
The stallion stretched out his limbs. “Better, much better. Can’t thank you enough, miss.”
“There’s not much I can do about your eye, I’m afraid,” Rarity said, looking over the inflicted area with a grimace. “I wouldn’t want to risk causing more damage. You should see an actual doctor about that.”
“Right, right. Sure, but I’ve got to, got to, oh heck.” He ran his hooves through his already messy blue mane and gnashed his teeth, forcing a cautious Rarity back.
“Are you alright? Sir?”
“Oh heck, oh heck. Okay, um, alright.” The stallion took a deep breath. “Miss? I need your help, and I need it bad. My group, they’re in a heap of trouble. Trapped under a log, see? I barely escaped and came here looking for somepony, anypony. I just need another pony to help me lift the log off them. Please.”
“P-p-please stop s-shaking me.”
“O-oh! Sorry, miss.” The stallion immediately let go of her shoulders.
Rarity brushed the dirt off her shoulders. “Right, your friends. Let me just go get my, hm, traveling partner and—“
“No time. I don’t know if they can breath under there,” the stallion said, hopping side to side in panic. “It’s not a big log, it just needs two ponies to move. Please, we have to leave now.”
“Well, if it won’t take long—“
“It won’t. I swear it.”
“Very well, then.” Rarity returned the healer’s kit to its pocket. “Lead on.”
“Oh, thank you. Thank you, thank you. Please, this way, right this way, miss,” the stallion exclaimed as he broke into a run. Rarity followed after the light green and brown figure ahead of her. They dashed past rows of trees, through piles of dead leaves, deeper and deeper into the forest. The trees gradually became taller and thicker and the canopy above denser.
“Over here, miss!” the stallion would call out every now and again as they ran. “We’re almost there!”
As Rarity started to question what the young stallion considered to be “almost,” a clearing came into view. “Right there!” he yelled, disturbing a couple of birds in the branches above that squawked angrily in response. “We’re coming, guys! We’re almost here!”
Neither of them saw the hoof that smashed itself into the stallion’s face extend from behind a tree. With a gasp, Rarity rushed forward toward the fallen pony, and found herself face to face with a much larger stallion standing over the one she befriended.
“What’re you doing here?” the larger one growled at the smaller one. Scars ran right across his face, from forehead to chin, and part of his lower lip was gone. Chunks of fur were missing from his coat, leaving several bald patches. His mane and tail were both cut short and messily, as if dressed by the massive axe, appropriate for the stallion’s size, leaned against his broad shoulder. “Thought we told you what would happen if you came back empty-hooved.”
“B-but I didn’t come back empty-hooved.” The young stallion pointed a shaky hoof at Rarity.
The larger stallion looked up and blinked. “Well, how about that.” The sneer he put on sickened her. “What do we have here? That’s quite a find.”
“Then, then I did good? I did good, right?”
“Well, Runt, we’ll have to talk to the boss first. But yeah.” The young stallion winced as the other slammed a hoof into his back. “I reckon you did good. Didn’t think you had it in you. Now.” He turned to Rarity. “Why don’t you step a closer here, miss? I want a better look at you.”
Rarity slowly inched back. Something flew past her head and struck a tree behind her, showering her with bark. She turned and found an axe, smaller than the one over the large stallion’s shoulders, buried into the trunk.
The large stallion sighed. “And bring that back with you, will you?”
Another throwing axe was in his hoof. The message was clear, and after some struggling, Rarity managed to retrieve the thrown axe from the tree and slowly dragged it back to its owner. With a grin that revealed several gaps in his teeth, he put the smaller axes away and stabbed the handle of his main one into the dirt.
“The boss is going to want to see the both of you. Better hope he’s gotten enough beauty sleep, otherwise there’s going to be another beating.” The younger stallion shook at the larger’s guffaws and tried to join in nervously. He ended those weak attempts when he saw Rarity looking at him and quickly turned away. “Come on then.” The larger stallion pointed toward the clearing’s center. “Ladies first.”
The mighty axe did nothing to quell the indignant harrumph Rarity made as she passed by. The brute was dangerous, sure, but she had experience in handling brutes and was confident that, given a little time, she would be able to deal with him. No, a lack of manners and some testosterone poisoning were manageable, it was the younger pony Rarity was having trouble with. It wasn’t the first time somepony repaid her generosity with heartbreak, but it never stung any less.
“Why did you lie to me?”
The stallion kept his gaze pointed straight ahead to avoid meeting Rarity’s. They continued in silence and soon reached a ring of tents. A The larger stallion stepped forward and yelled out. The tents stirred, and after a couple of moments, more gruff and dirty ponies appeared, groggily stepping out of their makeshift shelters with groans and swears.
“Oi, the heck is it?” somepony said. “Ain’t my shift, so why are you bothering me?” Others grumbled in agreement.
“Thought the whole gang might want to see this,” said the stallion with the axe. He looked around the camp and over the crowd. “Where’s the boss?”
“Right here, wondering where to stab you.” The crowd parted, revealing a stallion wearing a wrinkled dress jacket that was obviously just thrown on without any care. It may have been a regal purple once upon a time, but after what Rarity estimated to be years of neglect and rough living, much of the color had faded. A stained dress shirt with a ruffled collar could be seen under the jacket, through a section of the jacket that was clearly missing a button. A horn stuck out from beneath the dusty tricorn he wore, and over one eye was a black eyepatch. A messy bush of a beard covered a significant portion of his face. “I’d be open to suggestions if I weren’t so sodding tired, so you’ve got ten seconds to explain, Axe-for-Brains, why you’ve abandoned your post and interrupted my beauty sleep before I just go for your eyes.”
“Well, boss, guess who came crawling back?” Axe-for-Brains, if that was his real name, shoved the younger stallion forward who stumbled and fell flat on his face, drawing laughs from the gathered audience. “And look here, he’s brought us a little gift.”
Rarity’s knees buckled at the sudden weight as the large stallion clapped a large foreleg around her shoulders. “Excuse me?” she exclaimed, ducking away from his grasp. “I don’t believe I gave you permission to touch me. Let’s not get too familiar.”
“Oh ho,” somepony chortled. “This one’s a feisty little thing.”
“Hey, might be nice to finally have something with a little bit of life in them, eh?” yelled out another. The whole congregation laughed.
Rarity gave her most disapproving frown, but the crowd of ruffians was not deterred. She turned to the gang’s apparent boss who was looking over her with a smirk barely visible under that beard he was stroking as he completed his examination.
“Is this how you run things?” she asked him. “Just letting your subordinates say and do as they like? Because, if I have to be honest, this is seriously coloring my opinion of you and your leadership.”
The dandy’s one good eye blinked. In a short split second, his grin became a frown only to be restored with new humor. The transition did not go unnoticed however, and Rarity, knowing that her statement had gotten under the skin of the gang leader, had to resist the urge to smile back.
“Ah, how right you are, my lady,” he said, removing his hat and sweeping into a boisterous, exaggerated bow. “Pardon my boys. They’re of common birth, and not exactly used to being before a lady such as yourself. Though,” the dressed up stallion added with a chuckle, “you can’t blame them and their ignorance entirely. After all, how were we to know that mare of beauty and refinement had honored us with her presence when she has hidden her grace under such rags?”
There were some snickers as the gang’s leader gestured to Rarity and her drab traveler’s cloak. Rarity sniffed and lifted her nose, tossing back her mane. “Perhaps not the most fashionable, I’ll admit, but it is certainly a great deal more practical for the wilderness than their mother’s finery.”
She made her own motion toward the stallion’s attire. Again, his smile wavered, but it quickly recovered and grew into a sneer. “Well, one must always strive to look their best, least they find themselves underdressed before their betters.”
“And yet, here you stand, as you are.”
The fop of a stallion hesitated. “Er, yes. Right. Well.” He cleared his throat and tugged at the ruffles of his collar. “Yes, well, please allow me the privilege of showing you the hospitality worthy a mare such as you. Lads, show our new friend to the guest suite.”
The gang mimic its leader and stepped to the side, creating a path that led to a large wooden cage on top of a wagon. There were other occupants, three by Rarity’s count, all huddled in the farthest corner.
“I’m afraid I must decline,” Rarity said, taking a step back. “My traveling companion, or rather, companions, must be waking up, and I’d hate to keep them waiting and worrying. Perhaps another—“
A large body blocked her path. Others pressed against her sides. Rarity took note of the sudden glister of blades that were suddenly exposed. The gang’s leader himself, with his hat back on, was brandishing a thin rapier in one hoof and holding up a dagger in the air with his magic.
“Oh but we insist. And you’ll be leaving those saddlebags of yours with us. I believe it is customary for guests to bring gifts, is it not?” His face suddenly twisted into snarl, throwing away all sense of affability. “I’m not asking a second time. Give up the bags and get in the cage, before I have to carve up that pretty face.”
Outnumbered and, in the physical and martial sense, outmatched and without any avenue of escape, Rarity surrendered her saddlebags to the closest thug and allowed herself to be led to the cage. The other prisoners pressed themselves against the opposite bars as the sneering bandits unlocked the cage’s gate and shoved Rarity in.
“Honesty, there’s no need for roughness,” Rarity said with a humph as the opening was closed and secured. The ruffians merely laughed before returning to their places in the crowd.
“Now,” their leader was saying, his features returning to their earlier smug state as he approached the cage. One of the other prisoners whimpered as they tried to keep as much distance between them and the bandits as the cage allowed. All Rarity could do was maintain eye contact while the foppish stallion came forward, presenting the confiscated bags like a trophy. “Why don’t we see what—“
“Uh, boss?”
The gang boss sighed and turned to face the young stallion who had gotten Rarity into this whole mess. Slowly, nervously, the youngster approached, rubbing his hooves together. “Just wondering, you know, cause I, um, got her here—“
“Spit it out, Runt.”
‘Runt’ flinched. “I just figured, I’d get first dibs. I mean, I did good, right? I should be getting—“
He flinched again as his superior wandered over to his side and wrapped a foreleg over his shoulders. The leader of the gang gave the shaking stallion a small smile, and he tried to return it.
“You know what? You make a good point there, lad,” the gang boss conceded. “To tell you the truth, when we sent you out, nopony here believed you’d be able to find anything. Heck, I was hoping you’d bump into something real nasty and save me the trouble of having to do away with you myself. Nothing personal, you have to understand, it’s just easier to split the loot with an even number, not mention not having to deal with an extra mouth to feed.
“And yet here we are,” he continued, waving wildly. “You, lad, have proven yourself. I don’t know how you did it, but you’ve made each and every one of us here very proud. This band is fortunate to call you a brother.”
“T-thank you sir.“ The stallion raised a hoof to his head in salute. “I’ll keep doing my best, sir. And, and I’ll do even better. You’ll see, just you wait. I’ll make you proud.”
“But!” the leader exclaimed, looking over the audience as he pulled the young stallion closer. “You have to remember, lad, that this is a team, and do you really think this team has a place for a selfish pony who’ll rudely wake everypony up to brag about their littlest accomplishment and then put his material gain before those of his brothers?”
“Sir?” The younger stallion stared at his elder in confusion. He tried to wiggle out of the gang leader’s grasp, but he was held in place. “I-I don’t understand. What are you—“
There was another sigh from the bandit boss as he pulled the young stallion into the still-levitating dagger. The waiting blade dug deep into the poor pony’s chest, and before he could react or even cry out, the young stallion was yanked off the weapon, only to be shoved right back into the cold, sharp steel. Some in the crowd chuckled and cheered as the motion was repeated over and over until the stallion ceased struggling and became limp.
Rarity’s eyes grew wide with horror, and she found herself pushing against the cage’s bars. “What are you doing?” she cried out. It didn’t even occur to her that it was her betrayer getting what some might consider his just desserts, and she felt no twisted sense of justice at the sight of his pain. “You, you murderer! Stop this!”
The dressed up stallion’s breathing was heavy when he finally cleaned the dagger against the ragged pieces of his victim’s tunic and unceremoniously tossed the body onto the forest floor. “Just doing a bit of downsizing. Fewer ponies, larger portions.” He yawned and tucked the dagger into the jacket. “So, anything good in there?”
“Just a bit of copper with a couple of silvers, boss,” called out the bandit bent over Rarity’s saddlebags and helping himself to its contents under the watchful eyes of his peers.
“That’s it?” The gang’s leader scowled and turned to Rarity. “So, you’re just a little peasant mare putting on airs. Well, don’t you worry, I’m sure we’ll find a generous price for your pretty head. Now if you’ll excuse me.” He grabbed at his collars and gave them a straightening tug as he turned to his band of thieves and ruffians. “I’ll be in my quarters, getting the last winks I need.” He pointed to the young stallion he had just killed. “Next pony who wakes me up gets some of the same, got it? Axe-for-Brains! Clean this up, then get back to your post. The next time you leave your position without my say-so will be your last. Well, the heck are you waiting for?”
The brute with the axe stirred. “Sorry boss. It’s just, doesn’t she looks kind of familiar?” He pointed toward Rarity who quickly stepped back from the wooden bars. A princess was a public figure, and if farmers of a small village could recognize her as Princess Shmarity simply on the account of her appearance, it was certainly possible that uncouth bandits such as these could too, and Rarity sincerely doubted she’d be treated anywhere near as well by this bunch if her supposed identity was revealed.
“Familiar?” the leader was saying. “What do you mean?”
Rarity held her breath as the large stallion looked over her, tilting his head to this side and that as he deliberated with himself. She turned her head and puffed her cheeks, doing what she could to mess with her features and the brute’s perception of them. The large stallion scratched one of his many bald spots and shrugged.
“Can’t put my hoof on it,” he said. “I just got this feeling that I’ve seen her before.”
“Well, if you figure it out, come wake me up so I can cut you open for wasting my time,” the gang’s leader grumbled. “Now get to work, all of you!”
The crowd began to disperse. Most of the group separated and went back into their tents. Soon, only the brute with axe, a scrawny stallion with lanky legs standing guard at the cage, and the body of the pony who had tricked her remained. As much as she wanted to, Rarity could not look away when the large stallion heaved the hole-riddled corpse onto his back, treating the body that once carried the life of a fellow pony with as much respect as one would toward a moldy sack of rotten potatoes.
Now, Rarity could never describe herself as an expert on such morbid subjects, she couldn’t recall the last time she was in proximity of a fatal stabbing, but as she watched the body be carried away, she couldn’t help but wonder about how clean it all was. She had always assumed that getting stabbed would be a messy affair, and yet the ground where the body had landed was devoid of blood or gore. The marks that the dagger had left were also oddly clean. There was no leaking from the gashes that seemed to lead to a mysterious dark void rather than open to the body’s inner workings. The young stallion’s eyes were shut, despite Rarity not having seen anypony bother to do so, and bold black Xs had appeared over the closed lids.
It was a strange curiosity that would have to wait. Sniffling from behind interrupted Rarity’s thoughts, and she turned to her fellow prisoners. One was an earth pony mare around her age, holding the other, a young filly and also an earth pony, close to her chest as the filly shook and cried. The two flinched and backed away as Rarity began to approached, and she quickly held up her hooves to show she meant no harm.
“Don’t worry. I don’t want to hurt you,” she assured softly. She smiled as the filly peeked past the mare’s arms. “Are you alright?”
“No worse for wear, I suppose,” the mare said, her voice scratchy and coming out barely louder than a whisper. “I just wish my sister didn’t have to witness that. She’s already been through enough.”
Something coughed and wheezed, drawing everypony’s attention to the last prisoner huddled up into a ball. “Our father’s the only one here really hurt,” the mare explained, nodding to the shivering pony in the corner. “He tried fighting back when they captured us.”
“That’s horrible.” Rarity made her way to the sole stallion in the cage and winced at the sight of him. Every part of him was swollen like an inflated balloon with unflattering shades of blue and black consuming much of his coat’s light yellow color which he shared with the filly. Every labored breath came out like a forceful, pained cough that cause his entire body to shake, the only sign the body showed of life. It didn’t matter how altruistic her attentions were, Rarity knew there was nothing she could do for the injured stallion, not without a first-aid kit and even with one Rarity wasn’t sure just how much she’d be able to accomplish.
“Don’t be silly. You know it can’t be her,” Rarity heard the mare say. “My sister thinks you’re Princess Shmarity, here to save us,” the elder sibling explained with a small apologetic smile when Rarity turned around. “She has a bit of an imagination.”
“Ah.” Rarity smiled back. “Well, she’s not the first pony to make that mistake. Apparently, I look a great deal like the princess.”
“Hm, yes.” The mare tapped her chin thoughtfully. “I suppose I can see the resemblance. So, how did you end up here?”
“Well—“
There was another fit of coughs, interrupting them and stealing their attention. The stallion raised a shaking hoof and beckoned. Rarity and the mare shared a look before they and the filly approached. An eye was cracked open, barely visible past its puffed lid, and his split lips parted and struggled to move as he forced out grunts.
“W-water,” he finally managed to croak out. The stallion pointed at his throat. “Need. So thirsty.”
The mare just shook her head. “We haven’t been given anything to eat or drink since they’ve caught us,” she said. “I don’t suppose you have a flask of something on you?”
“I’m afraid not.” Rarity stood back up and marched back to the side of the cage closet to the bandit camp. “What kind of treatment is this? Excuse me. Ahem, excuse me!”
“Huh, what?” The scrawny guard leaning against the bars looked up. He looked around and, with a look of bewilderment, slowly raised a hoof at himself.
“Yes, you. Obviously.” Rarity made a show of rolling her eyes. “Now, we’d like some water and some food. It is a little early for breakfast, I know, but I’m confident you can find us at least a little bit of bread.”
“Wait, are you—“
“But more importantly is the water,” Rarity continued. “Sparkling would, of course, be most ideal, though I suppose, given the limitations of our location, we would be willing to settle for less. As long as it is properly chilled, of course, and with a few lemon slices and maybe some sugar for the filly. Well, get on with it. We’ve waited long enough.”
“Uh, no.” The guard folded his forelegs across his front and scowled. “I don’t know what you’re trying to pull, but you’re our prisoners, and—“
“And does that leader of yours know that this is how you treat your captives?” demanded Rarity, frowning. “Honestly, how is he going to get anything out of us when we’re completely starved and dehydrated? Do you really think he left you here just to watch us and our value whither away?”
The guard scratched the back of his head. He had lost that confident scowl. “I mean, I guess, er—“
“Water, NOOOW!”
Every ear in the vicinity flattened as Rarity stretched out the final syllable for a few good long seconds in a tone and pitch practiced and perfected in the breaking down of nerves and patience. The wood bars provided the guard no protection from Rarity’s sonorous assault, and his dramatic attempts to rip away his ears in an effort to deafen himself proved futile and only left his ears red, stretched, and sore. “Alright,” he finally cried. “Just, shut up, already.”
“Excuse me?”
“Shut up, please,” the stallion amended. “Look, I’ll get you your water. Just keep it down, will you? No need to wake the entire camp.”
The scrawny guard grumbled to himself as he walked away. Rarity allowed a victorious smile to cross her features before turning to her fellow prisoners. Both the mare and and filly were staring at her in a mix of awe and disbelief.
“How did you, he, how?” the mare was whispering. She shook her head. “You’re a braver pony than me, miss. Thank you.”
“Oh, it was nothing really,” Rarity said, waving away the compliments. “I just happen to know a few tricks when dealing with such individuals. Now, let’s see what we have here.” She made her way to the back of their cage. The whole thing, Rarity quickly realized as she turned her intuitive eye on the structure, was crudely made. The bars that ran vertically and impeded any passage were all slightly varied in length and thickness. Whoever made this cage was either extremely stringy or simply didn’t care about the final product as there weren’t any nails or metal bindings to hold anything together. Instead, each bar was secured and held in place by a piece of rope tied around it and the wood beam it ran across.
Rarity gave the bars a solid push, but they refused to budge. Primitive as method might have been, it worked and kept the bars from moving. Of course, that meant if the bindings were to be removed, those bars would easily slip out of position and even fall, and it would only take couple of missing bars before there was a large enough space for, say, a pony or three to squeeze through.
And tied rope was much less of a hindrance than hammered nails would have been. All in all, this may have been the most escapable situation Rarity had ever found herself in.