Harvest. The Flying City.
When Anatami was a filly, she’d asked her father why ponies had given the city such an odd nickname. Didn’t all cities fly, and all the farms and the forests and everything else in the world? What was it about this city in particular that made it the flying city?
And he’d just smiled and ruffled her mane with a wing, and told her that she’d understand once she saw the city herself.
Years passed between her rare visits to Harvest, but the effect it had on her as it crested the horizon was always the same. The city got its name a long time ago, when it was less city and more farmland, but its central location relative to the rest of Equestria had drawn in merchants and craftsponies aplenty. It was just a matter of time before the trading post established on its coast began to expand, eating up more and more land with every passing year.
When they ran out of forests and farms, Harvest expanded vertically, blazing a path that all other city-islands would follow in the future. Towers were erected and mines were dug, and as the mines ran dry they were carved into homes for the miners to live as they dug ever deeper, a wave of urbanization crawling inexorably towards the bottom of the island. And then one day, after hundreds of years of growth, there was no land left to dig into.
Heighton was a city built on flying islands, and Baltimare was a city that had taken flight, but Harvest, more than anywhere else in Equestria, was truly a flying city.
Ana reclined in a hammock she’d set up on the stern of the tradeship that had carried her and Gava from Friesland, shaded from the dawning sun by the ship’s hull, and watched the urban sprawl slide past beneath her. There were places where she could see straight through to the ocean, gaps in the island that snaked through the city like invisible rivers, crisscrossed by bridges large and small. She’d heard that some of the larger mines had never been built back up, leaving behind huge hollow chambers deep in the city that were rented out to wealthy families in the middling levels or used as warehouses, hiding away great stores of wood or precious metals that were traded back and forth for decades without ever being moved. Unlike Heighton, the streets on the surface of Harvest were kept clean and open. The rich here valued space more than anything; business was conducted underground, and heavier industry was shipped abroad.
And even they live in shadow. The corner of her lip pulled up into a wry smile as she watched the shadow of her ship flicker across the architecture, just one hard-edged shape among a hundred others. Airships came here from across Equestria, and there simply wasn’t room to process them all around the coast, so many ships docked at the freight towers that jutted out either above or below the city. She’d heard it said that the roofs didn’t even get rain in Harvest—the airships were thicker than the clouds.
“Ana? You out here?” Gava glided down around the curve of the hull, hovering next to the hammock. She had the chest with their father’s skull—and Rarity’s dress—tied snugly on her back between two saddlebags.
Ana greeted her with a lazy wave. “Hey, sis. Wanna sit and citygaze with me?”
Gava clacked her beak. “This ship will be docking now. I don’t want to deal with ponies poking their hooves in our stuff.”
“Why not?” Ana grinned. “It can’t be that expensive to bribe an old skull past customs, right?”
Gava rolled her eyes. “Do you know how addresses work in this dump?”
“Missing that baronland air already, huh?” Ana grinned at her sister’s scowl as she slid into her own saddlebags and stood, stretching her wings. “Alright, big bird. Let’s get this over with.”
She stepped into open air, enjoying a few seconds of freefall before snapping her wings open and settling into an easy glide. She twitched an ear, caught the sound of Gava’s heavier wingbeats behind her, and aimed for the nearest chasm.
Ana wasn’t especially familiar with Harvest’s layout, but she knew the basics. There were three main layers where the city was mostly contiguous and the streets were mostly flat: one being the surface, the largest right in the middle, and a smaller one near the bottom, where the island’s original structure started to taper. Merchants and administrators lived in those areas, and they ensured it was easy to travel within and between them for their own convenience.
But then there was the rest of the city, a hodgepodge puzzle carved out of or around old mineshafts and natural caves. It was never obvious how to get anywhere in that mess; ponies lived or worked in little pockets of architecture, often walled off from immediate neighbors while being connected to others via tunnel, and the city didn’t care to enforce such frivolities as street signs or building codes. As Ana drifted down into one of the island’s urban chasms and descended past the tightly packed makeshift homes built into the walls, she wondered if there were ponies that died in this city without ever seeing the moon.
The chasm widened sharply as they reached the central layer. Ana pulled up, hovering in place and turning in a slow circle above a bridge crowded with ponies. The bridge connected two wide avenues, bathed in a warm orange glow by ever-burning lanterns hanging sporadically from any available surface. Ponies walked in and out of buildings that merged right into the walls, less built up than dug out, or sometimes slipped away into claustrophobic tunnels that Ana guessed took them to other streets, the sounds of their hooves and the smell of their sweat filling the stuffy air.
They were lucky that the address Whitehorn had given them was in the central layer, as Ana didn’t like her odds of exploring the labyrinthine outskirts. After landing and spending an annoyingly long time trying to find a pony brave enough to give them directions, it only took a bit over ten minutes for them to find the place.
“A bank?” Gava landed heavily next to Ana, paying no mind to the ponies who scuttled away from the duo. The bank looked much like most of the other buildings down here, as though a sculptor had carved a life-size picture of a building face into the cavern wall before hiring a team of miners to dig it out. The stone was painted in polite blues and whites, while a long, gilded wood sign hung above the door, claiming a dozen feet on either side with its frame. Seventh Harvest Central Bank. “We’re meeting him in a bank?”
“Hey, I don’t mind,” Ana said, already starting for the doorway. “Maybe I can find a few bonus payments lying around.”
The entrance hall split around a wall that greeted potential customers with a colorful mural of fish swirling around a sunken ship, muffling the bustle of the street and granting the interior a more private, subdued air.
Ana hadn’t been to many banks since her youth—she’d had some poor interactions with them as a filly—but somehow they all looked the same on the inside. Short row of teller booths, bland sofas that were never used, and a pair of recessed offices to one side for customers to figure out the details of how they wanted to indebt themselves for life. She looked it all over with a discerning eye, noting the fearful or shocked looks turned towards her and her sister.
“Ms. Anatami? Ms. Gava?” An aging pegasus mare with a pale green coat and a tired smile stepped up to greet them.
“Who’re you?” Ana asked. From the look on the mare’s face, she guessed that Gava was doing something menacing behind her. “We’re here to see Whitehorn.”
“My name is Fritzy. Mr. Whitehorn hasn’t arrived yet, and I’m to handle you until he does. If you’d please come with me?”
“Handle us?” Gava asked. “We still don’t have a signed contract. How’s he going to get us that when he isn’t even here?”
“We can settle the contract now, ma’am,” Fritzy said, turning leadingly towards a door at the far end of the room. “But not in the lobby.”
“Ma’am?” Ana chuckled, but waved the mare on. “Can’t remember the last time I heard someone call her that.”
Fritzy forced her smile a little wider, making a bad attempt at a grin, before walking for the door. She held it open for Ana and Gava, shutting it quietly behind them as they stepped into a narrow, sparingly lit hall. “There’s a staircase at the back.”
Ana followed the hall at a relaxed pace, ears perked and listening for activity behind the closed doors on either side. She heard the jingling of bits from one and a hoof being stomped in anger from another, and the muffled shouting from the door next to the stairs was loud enough that she paused to listen.
“It’s not fair! I’ve banked here for ten years, paying every month without fail, but we both know I can’t meet the new rate! You’re putting me out of business!”
“Your previous rate was not set in stone, Mr. Strikes. It’s within the bank’s right to change it.”
“Like Tartarus it is! Where’s Sunrise Venture? She and I had an understanding. You tell her—”
“Mr. Strikes, Mrs. Venture hasn’t headed this branch since the riots two months ago. And Mr. Goose only takes meetings by appointment.”
Ana pursed her lips thoughtfully as she started up the stairs. New management, huh? And now Whitehorn was arranging meetings with mercenaries in the back of the bank.
The door at the top of the stairs opened onto a square, mostly empty room with a single potted plant drooping sadly in one corner. Each wall had an unlabeled door set into it, and Fritzy—after squeezing past Ana and Gava with some quietly muttered apologies—went for the one opposite.
“Mr. Goose?” Fritzy called, opening the door without knocking. “Your new guests are here.”
The door led to a wide, important-looking office dominated by a wide, messy desk. Behind the desk sat a yellow pegasus stallion that was grimacing down at a pile of papers through thick-rimmed square spectacles. He jumped, eyes darting up to the doorway, and adjusted the loose tie around his neck as he set the papers aside. “More? A-already?”
“Is that a problem?” Fritzy stepped fully into the office, nodding to Ana and Gava as they followed. “This is Ms. Anatami and Ms. Gava. They’ll be staying in your spare room.”
Mr. Goose’s eyes widened, and he looked slowly between the two sisters with obvious trepidation. “T-those are—”
“Yeah.” Gava cut him off with a flick of her tail. “What about it?”
“Nothing, nothing!” The stallion waved his hooves in what Ana imagined was supposed to be a placating way, but to her it looked more like he was trying to flag for help. “There’s no issue! T-though I only have one bed.”
“Don’t you worry about that, cutie.” Ana grinned, flashing him her fangs. “We’ll let you know if there’s a problem.”
His mouth flapped soundlessly for a few seconds, confusion joining the anxiety on his face. Finally Fritzy gave a slight, judgmental shake of her head before beckoning Ana and Gava out of the room. Gava followed right away, but Ana paused in the doorway, glancing back and spotting the hoofwritten name card propped up on his desk. Mr. Swoose Goose, Branch Head.
Fritzy led them to one of the other rooms, which looked more like living space than an office, and Ana’s gaze immediately went to the bed in the center. One bed, my plot! The thing was bigger than any bed she’d slept on in years, taking up half the room. An attached kitchen—not just a kitchenette, but an actual full kitchen—could be seen through an open doorway, and there was another door that Ana assumed led to a bathroom.
Fritzy grabbed one of the lanterns from the adjoining room in a wing, using it to light the ones spread evenly around the suite. That done, she set the lantern aside, reached into a folder tucked under a wing, and pulled out a pair of pristine white papers. “Here’s your contract,” she said, holding it out.
There was a simple wood table at the foot of the bed, and Ana exchanged a quick glance with her sister before dropping her bags, grabbing the contract, and sliding it onto the table. The text was dense, but surprisingly short, and Ana had made it her business to be familiar with such fare since her father passed. Fritzy waited patiently by the door and—after shrugging off her luggage—Gava paced impatiently in the kitchen, so Ana was free to read in relative peace.
Ana and Gava had worked under contract before, and the types of ponies that wrote them seemed to usually take great joy in outlining every possible way that they tied you down and restricted your freedom, using as many words as possible. It was odd, then, that this contract was only one page, and actually had more space devoted to outlining compensation than potential punishments. In a way it didn’t feel like Whitehorn was really employing them so much as he was just reserving the right to hire them first, but otherwise allowing them to operate where and how they wished.
It made Ana suspicious. She read it over three more times, pausing after every sentence and rephrasing it in her head to make sure she was understanding it right, and yet no red flags were raised. She looked down to his signature at the bottom of the page, smooth and styled.
“How did he sign this?” she asked, looking up. “You said he’s not on Harvest yet.”
“It’s a form contract,” Fritzy said. “Is there an issue?”
Ana frowned, but shook her head. “It seems too good to be true.”
“Mr. Whitehorn prefers to let his contractors work with the freedom to best employ their talents, when possible,” Fritzy explained, glancing to Gava. “If everything is acceptable, then please sign. I have an assignment for you.”
“Already?” Gava asked suspiciously. “We just got here.”
Fritzy pursed her lips. “Please sign.”
Ana sighed and returned her gaze to the contract. As much as they’d pushed earlier to get a proper, written contract before continuing to work for Whitehorn, now that she was here she couldn’t help but have second thoughts. She had the gut feeling there wouldn’t be any going back after this; ponies were never happy with the initial terms of a contract. They always pushed for more, tried to twist the words and add more and tie you down and make you theirs.
She glanced up to Gava and saw the griffon watching her with a curious frown. Gava trusted her to make the right choice here, and Ana had never been a mare to make choices with her gut. She was a mare that thought things through and measured the facts and weighed the odds, and right now, as far as she could reason, everything was in their favor.
And at the very worst, even if they did end up tied down without the means to break out and return to their old life, at least they’d still be together. That was the thing that mattered.
Ana lifted a wing, grabbing the pen waiting on the table and clicking it open. She signed quickly, with both their names, and then again on the second copy.
“Thank you.” Fritzy grabbed one copy and returned it to the folder under her wing. In almost the same motion she pulled out a different sheet, placing it down on the table. “Your first job.”
Ana cocked her head, and Gava padded over to lean over her shoulder. The sheet had a sketch of a unicorn mare on it, her confident smirk rendered in greyscale charcoal. Small text in the corner described the mare’s colors and name: Sapphire Swing.
Gava grunted. “You want us to kill this pony?”
Fritzy arched a brow. “Please don’t. She’s a member of the Harvest delegation for Parliament, and her death would be unfortunate for Mr. Whitehorn. We need you to threaten her.”
“Oh, I get it.” Ana nodded. “She’s stepping out of line, huh?”
“Mrs. Swing and Mr. Whitehorn have a deal, and she merely requires a reminder of the consequences of reneging on that deal,” Fritzy said. “She’s currently staying aboard a ship on the south end, the Dragonscale, and has threatened to withdraw her support unless Mr. Whitehorn opens to a renegotiation. You need to board the ship, find her lodgings, and remind her why that’s a bad idea.”
“Seems simple enough.” Ana looked to Gava, exchanging nods, before turning back to Fritzy. “And what’s with the banker? Should we be worried about him?”
“Mr. Goose is well under control,” Fritzy said. “He won’t tell anyone you’re staying here. At least not without a certain amount of physical persuasion.”
“Got it.” Whitehorn must have some strong dirt on him. She turned to Fritzy with a playful wink. “Anything else? It’s extra if you want to share the bed.”
Fritzy frowned, but shook her head. “I’ll be back in a week at most. And remember, don’t kill her.”
Ana put on her best unnerving smile, all sharp teeth and wide, slitted eyes. “We’ll do our best!”
The door shut with a quiet click, leaving the sisters alone, and Ana let the fake smile fall. She looked down to the drawing of their target with a tired sigh, then back up to Gava.
“Do you think they sell fish here?”
They called themselves the Crystal Empire.
Twilight had always been fascinated by the unwritten meaning of words, sometimes far removed from how they were described in the dictionary. Empire had fallen out of use long before Twilight’s time, but she had seen it many times in her textbooks. It summoned images of long, well-patrolled roads binding different cultures hundreds of miles apart, grand palaces where the greatest wonders from around the world were gathered in displays of prestige, and sometimes legions of soldiers, marching in lockstep on the way to expand their borders.
The last recorded instance was the Griffonian Empire, and some scholars debated the existence of an Equestrian Empire, far in the past. But never once had Twilight read anything, anywhere, about a Crystal Empire.
Her thoughts lingered on this mystery as she and Midnight wandered through the drowned streets, Scylla scuttling a few steps ahead. How did one hide an entire empire from history? Why? Perhaps some vengeful rival had burned every mention of their existence after defeating them in a bloody war? Had they hidden themselves, ashamed after committing a terrible sin? Or maybe the crystal ponies were merely following the tradition started by some delusional ancestor, referring to themselves as an empire when in truth they were nothing more than a lonely far-northern settlement.
Unlikely. Twilight shook her head, looking up to the palace and admiring the way it channeled and radiated the sunlight from above. An isolated township couldn’t make something like that. It would have required many skilled architects and craftsponies and arcanists, more than a small community could provide.
And the soldiers, too. Midnight guided their gaze towards one of the crystallized ponies, his body protected with battered barding, locked in combat with a rival armored in dark, angular plating.They walked up to the pair, and Twilight picked up a weathered helmet half-buried in the sand. There are hundreds, on both sides. Great powers battled here.
How long have they been frozen here? Twilight wondered, turning the helmet over in her hooves. If I’d come here as a filly, what would I have found?
An insignificant question. And not what we came here for.
Twilight pursed her lips, her eyes wandering until they found the gaze of one of the frozen soldiers. He looked so animated, his face contorted with such fury, that she could almost believe he was still alive, miraculously preserved in much the same way as she and her friends. Perhaps he was even still conscious, looking out at her, silently begging for rescue.
She shivered at the thought. She’d spent her time in the dark unconscious, blissfully unaware as her world drowned all around her. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be trapped in crystal for such a time.
She shook her head, focusing back on his horn. Most of the horns she’d seen in her travels had been weathered and chipped, often already separated from the skull of their owner or crumbling into dust, but this one had been perfectly preserved by its crystal casing. She wrapped it tightly in her magic, cringing as she began to pull, but it didn’t budge.
Midnight sighed, seizing control of their magic, and Twilight flinched as the horn broke free with a sickening snap. Little pieces of crystal sparkled in her hornlight as they fell to the half-buried street.
You must pull swiftly and at once, little flower, Midnight chided. Bones do not break to hesitation.
After a few seconds, Twilight let out the breath she’d been holding. It had happened so fast, and for some reason she was expecting… more.
But there was nothing. No creature was roused by the deep crunch of thick bone breaking, and no ghost jumped out to haunt her for disturbing its grave. The ocean rumbled carelessly around her as she held the chunk of crystallized horn in her lavender glow.
With a grimace and a burst of energy, Twilight crushed it in her magic. There was a sound like grinding teeth, and the horn was reduced to a small orb of pale white rock, the crushed crystal in the mass emanating a rainbow shimmer as it rotated in Twilight’s magic.
Impressive, Midnight mused. I’d expected you to balk at such work.
Twilight took a deep breath, waiting for her pulse to slow back to normal. I’m not as weak as you think.
Midnight’s smile hovered in the center of her vision. I know. You’re not as weak as you think.
Twilight let the small ball of hornbane hover beside her as she walked from body to body, breaking her grim trophies free and grinding them up with bursts of magic. She moved stiffly, almost in a trance, her mind dancing around what she was doing as her ball of stolen bone powder grew steadily larger.
Was she a bad pony? She kept thinking back to when she’d made this decision with Midnight, reminding herself that she wasn’t hurting anyone. These were just empty bodies, abandoned, as inert as any rock. It felt wrong, but she’d learned by now that her gut instinct on right and wrong couldn’t always be trusted. She’d thought it through herself, and she knew that the sense of unease would pass with time and repetition, just like when she’d started eating meat.
She took some comfort in that. But there was another thing bothering her.
What if Rainbow asks how we made this? she asked as she passed through a line of frozen soldiers, plucking a pair of horns from their owners. A crystallized father and foal hunched down behind the formation, and Twilight was glad they weren’t unicorns. She may not understand.
She is unlikely to ask. Curiosity is not in her nature.
But what if she does? Twilight insisted. We should have a plan.
They worked in silence for some moments. Twilight passed under a crystal arch and came out into the courtyard of a small villa. There were skeletons here, washed up against the columns on either side, but she was more interested in the two soldiers locked in combat beside the entrance. Their horns came free with sharp cracks.
Are you suggesting that we lie?
Twilight stopped. She kept her eyes on the ball of hornbane, now larger than the bottom of her hoof. She wouldn’t understand this. She’d think I’m a monster.
Lying is for cowards. Midnight’s growl echoed in her ears. We are not cowards.
Are you sure? Twilight bit her lip, looking up to meet Midnight’s glower. I’m afraid of losing her.
Midnight’s brow furrowed in thought, and after a few seconds she spoke, her words slow and measured. We will always be Rainbow Dash’s friend, even if she thinks otherwise.
Twilight sighed. She knew that her friends’ trust in her was tenuous at best, and the idea of losing that trust terrified her more than anything she’d ever faced, but she knew that lying would only make things worse. If Rainbow asked her about the nature of the arcane prosthetic, then Twilight would be honest, no matter how much it might hurt their relationship. She’d just have to hope that any damage could be repaired with time.
Still, she hoped it wouldn’t come to that. A broken friendship could be harder to heal than a lost eye—and a lost eye was painful enough.
This should be enough material. Twilight closed her eyes, calling Scylla back to her and gathering her magic to teleport. Let’s get this over with.
With the crack of magic and a rush of water, she left the ruins behind.
“Sabre?” Rainbow Dash called out as she stepped into the navigation room. “You in here?”
Sea Sabre and Flintlock looked up from where they were standing around the map table. At the far end of the room Sunfeather, who was busy with a wrench in front of an open panel in the wall, glanced back before returning to her work.
Sabre cocked her head. “How did you get back on my ship?”
Rainbow blinked. “Huh?”
“I left you on the tower.” Sabre stood, walking around the table and up to Rainbow, eyes narrowing. “How did you get here? Did you leave your armor behind and fly?” Her frown tightened. “That armor is very expensive.”
“What? No!” Rainbow shook her head, confused by the sudden questioning. “Twilight teleported me and AJ up once she got back from her meeting.” She looked to Flint, eyes widening as she saw his expression. “Wait, Sabre, were you actually going to leave us? What about Luna?!”
Sabre pursed her lips. “I told you we were leaving.”
“And you weren’t gonna come back?!”
“I planned on checking on you today, after you’d had some time to think about whether you want to follow orders or not, but it seems no matter how hard I try to discipline you, you’ll always find a way to do whatever you want.” Sabre turned away, stalking back towards the map table with a frustrated flick of her tail.
“Wh—we could’ve been dead!” Rainbow trotted after her. “You said you didn’t trust those ponies!”
“Yes, you could’ve been dead!” Sabre rounded on her with a sharp snarl. “I’m glad you’ve finally caught up to my thought process, a whole day later!”
Rainbow gaped back, shocked by the sudden outburst.
“You listen to me very closely, because you’ve done a very good job of putting me into a very tight situation ever since I pulled you out of that damn cocoon!” Sabre jabbed a hoof into Rainbow’s chest, making her flinch. “I don’t want to be here. I don’t want my ponies here. The only reason we are here and not getting comfortable with a new contract in Baltimare is because my crew has convinced me to let them risk it! I know you’re smart enough to understand that, which is why I’d think you’d be smart enough to show some skies-damned gratitude and listen to me!”
Rainbow licked her lips, opening her mouth to utter an apology, but Sabre silenced her with a fierce glare.
“I’m done with it! I’m telling you, right here and now, if you disobey me again, if you so much as question an order in the field, I’m leaving. I’ll take your Princess with me and sell her to the highest bidder, and the only time I’ll think of you again is when you haunt me in my nightmares!”
Rainbow hadn’t realized until then, but she’d actually started to cringe back under Sabre’s tirade, leaving the other mare to lean over her with lips curled back in a snarl. She waited a few seconds, making sure Sabre was done, before gingerly stepping back and straightening up.
“Y-yes, ma’am.” She cleared her throat, looking down. “I understand.”
“I sure hope so,” Sabre growled, though some of the heat left her voice. “Now, what did you want to see me for?”
Rainbow frowned, momentarily confused, until she remembered that she hadn’t been looking for Sabre just to get chewed out. “I just wanted to let you know I was heading out. I mean, if that’s alright with you?” she added hastily.
The corner of Sabre’s lips twitched up before she turned back to the map table. “I’m glad you asked. I have no plans for you as of now, so you’re free to go. What are you doing?”
“Well, uh…” Rainbow grinned sheepishly, hoping Sabre wouldn’t think she was going mad. “The crystal ponies invited me to join them on a hunt, and I thought I’d go along.”
“Ach, a hunt?” Flint arched a brow. “Ye turnin’ into a griffon now?”
Sabre looked up from the map table, narrowing her eyes. “Explain.”
“It’s kinda complicated.” Rainbow shrugged. “But I guess the quickest way to sum it up is that the crystal ponies think Twilight is blessed by their god, and they want to hold this big ceremony for her, and for that they need to have a hunt and a big feast. And Twi wants us to try and learn more about these ponies, so I figure coming along with them should help with that, right?”
Sabre blinked. She exchanged a glance with Flintlock, who offered up a quiet grunt. “Applejack is aboard, right?”
Rainbow nodded. “She’s in the cargo hold, I think.”
“I’ll debrief her for details.” Sabre was already making for the door to the rest of the ship. The door parted with hissing steam, and she paused to glance back over her shoulder. “Be back by sunset.”
The door hissed closed, leaving the room quiet but for the ticking of the gears. Rainbow looked to Flint.
“What’re ye lookin’ t’ me fer, huntress?” He nodded to the door. “Ye ain’t got all day.”
Rainbow rolled her eyes before following Sabre out the door. The other pegasus was nowhere to be seen, so she walked down the stairs to the lower level and to one of the side hatches in silence.
The sun was low on the horizon when Rainbow stepped out into open air and let the wind catch her. The Argo was hovering a short distance above one of the rocky islands that ringed the smooth ice around the Crystal Empire, and Rainbow glided down the slope at a leisurely pace, stirring up swirling eddies of snow with her wingbeats that tickled at her hooftips. She pumped her wings, feeling the weight of the blades nestled among her feathers, and skimmed low over the surface of the ice.
She’d caught glimpses of the crystal ponies’ airships before—once from afar when she first spotted the city, and a second time as silhouettes during the snowstorm that was going at their arrival—but this was the first time she’d seen them up close in clear weather. There were two ships, one still moored and loading passengers while the other floated slow circles around the city. Rainbow aimed herself towards the latter, enjoying the burn in her flight muscles as she climbed.
It looked almost like a ship built around another ship. At the center was a hull of sleek, inky black crystal, slim and angled to cut effortlessly through the air with the slanted edge of its prow. It curved gently outwards towards the center, where an upper deck rose seamlessly out of the lower.
And then there was the rest of the ship. A railing of bone had been erected around the otherwise totally featureless lower deck, and rope bridges hanging from either side allowed crew to get between the bow and stern without having to climb up and over the cluttered upper deck. Ropes were wrapped around almost every part of the ship—sleeved with leather where the sharp edges of the crystal might fray or cut—giving grips to traverse with and anchors for supplies to be tied down to. Netting hung loose at the sides for ponies to climb aboard, and platforms of hide and bone were erected all around the uneven upper deck, providing space for ponies to stand. The whole ship was suspended from a long, slender envelope that looked to be made of furry hides stitched together and supported by the bleached ribcage of some huge creature. An odd purple smoke drifted from small flaps in the envelope, angry and thick, holding together longer than Rainbow would’ve expected before being torn apart by the strong northern wind.
In place of any propellers, the ship had an angled sail extending from its stern like a fish tail, with a few smaller sails placed to either side. Rainbow could already see over a dozen ponies clothed in heavy fur cloaks busying themselves about the deck, tying knots and conversing among themselves as they organized supplies.
She’d never admit it, but the sight sent a chill down her spine. Aside from the strange crystal hull, almost every part of the ship—even down to the clothes of its crew—was built with material harvested from the dead. But she steeled herself, determined not to be cowed by the grisly outwards appearance. One of her best friends was a slit-eyed fanged predator, after all, and she knew Twilight wanted her to give these ponies a chance.
Good thing they’re all so polite, she thought. They’ve been nicer to me than most of the other ponies I’ve met in the new Equestria.
She landed gently on the rear lower deck, straightening up defiantly as several ponies glanced in her direction. These weren’t like the young children and elders she and Applejack had spoken with inside the tower yesterday; these ponies were rough around the edges, their fur as coarse and scarred as the thick hides they wore around their shoulders.
There was a moment where the chatter around the deck stilled. Rainbow set her jaw, silently daring them to challenge her.
A stallion stepped forth, his dark fur cloak accented with a fuzzy white hood. His face was a pale grey that appeared almost marbled in the sunlight. “You’re Rainbow Dash? Chosen Twilight’s companion?”
Rainbow nodded, tossing her mane. “That’s me.”
He broke out into a wide, friendly smile. “Good! I am Brucite Beau, Huntmaster of the West Face and chief of the Crystal Heart. Welcome! We are honored to have you join us for the hunt.”
“Oh, uh.” Rainbow blinked, momentarily confused as several of the other hunters stepped up to greet her, bowing their heads or slapping her on the back with eager grins. “Thanks?”
The greetings didn’t last long. The hunters parted quickly, returning to their tasks and leaving Rainbow more or less alone with Beau.
“So, uh, nice ship you got here,” Rainbow said stiffly, still recovering from her surprise. She looked up, spotting the banners hanging from the bottom of the envelope depicting a curving red horn on black fabric. “You guys built this all on your own?”
“Not us, no.” Beau looked up to the banners with reverence. “The Crystal Heart and the Flurry Heart were carved by our ancestors during the thawing of the world, guided by the Shaper. They’ve been with our people since the first stories, giving us means to harvest food and clothes from the ice.”
“Huh.” Rainbow sat down, taking the ship in with a fresh perspective. Maybe it really was like Twilight had said. Maybe these ponies really were just doing what they had to to survive, and if that was the case, who was she to fault them? Even if it was gross. “So, how can I help?”
“Your appearance is help enough,” Beau said, turning his smile back to her. “The hunt is dangerous, and it would be a great tragedy if you were to be injured. But we are honored to have Chosen Twilight’s friend with us, and your presence will bolster our spirits.”
Rainbow frowned. Even here, on the edge of the world, ponies wanted her to just stand by and watch while they risked their lives? Her lips tightened, and she opened her mouth to protest, to demand that she be be allowed to help!
But she hesitated. Every time she’d been told to stay back, hadn’t there ultimately been a good reason? And hadn’t she or the ponies she cared about suffered whenever she tried to force herself into things where she was told she didn’t belong? She flexed her wings, thinking of how frustrated Sabre had been the last time they spoke.
“Alright.” She forced a smile, trying to hide her disappointment. “I’ll keep back. But if you need anything, you call me in, got it?”
Beau dipped into a quick bow. “So it shall be, Rainbow Dash. With the Shaper’s guidance, we will bring back the makings of a great feast for your friend.”
Rainbow awkwardly returned the bow before stepping back, and Beau turned away without hesitation, calling out commands.
There wasn’t much room on the deck—it was narrow enough without the supplies stacked along the centerline—so she settled for a spot near the middle, leaning against the strangely warm crystal of the upper deck. She let the hunters work in peace, responding to their friendly smiles with stiff nods. Despite what Beau had said about the hunt being dangerous, the ship almost had a carnival air about it, with everyone chatting excitedly in little groups as they worked. Was every hunt like this, she wondered, or was it just because of her and her friends showing up?
Before long, the other airship—the Flurry Heart—finished its preparations and pulled up beside the Crystal Heart, its crew signaling its readiness for the hunt. Both ships sailed west with the wind behind them, and Rainbow found herself enjoying the trip. She moved to the bow and took a spot next to a younger huntress, who introduced herself as Esmeralda, watching the frozen landscape pass by and listening as she named all the submerged mountain ranges and spoke of the hunt. She told her about the yaks—huge, hairy monsters with horns almost as thick as a pony’s chest—and Rainbow realized that the description fit the beast that had nearly drowned her under the ice perfectly.
She’d never met a yak before the wedding, but she’d heard of them before, and it suddenly struck Rainbow that whatever apocalypse befell Equestria must have affected the whole rest of the world as well. She wondered what a corrupted griffon might look like, or a zebra. Were there any survivors far beyond Equestrian borders, their descendants living on in much the same way ponies were? She knew that there were griffon eyries on mountains taller than the Canterhorn. Maybe Gilda had survived and had chicks, and her descendants were living now on an island that had once been a towering mountain.
She found it difficult to focus on such thoughts, however, as Esmeralda then moved on to enthusiastically explain the process of gutting and harvesting a yak carcass, naming all the ways one could use the body. Bone for tools, hide for clothing, fat for burning. And of course meat for eating, though apparently yak meat was stringy and tough, unpopular for cooking.
“Oh, look!” she said, her ears perking up. “There they are now!”
Rainbow leaned forwards as she followed Esmeralda’s hoof. Jutting up out of the ice between two rocky islands was a group of the strange white orbs that she’d seen earlier, just before that yak had attacked her. “Those are yak dens, right? I thought you guys didn’t like, uh, eating yak.” She grimaced and glanced over her shoulder, half-expecting someone to shoot her an odd look after speaking such a strange sentence.
“We don’t,” the huntress said. “But the yaks give us more than just their bodies.”
Rainbow arched a brow at the cryptic answer, but Esmeralda walked off before she could press for any details. She watched as half the crew began to pair off, taking positions around the chains while the ponies working the rudder and sails began to shout between each other. The deck swayed underhoof as the ship began to turn, losing altitude until it was circling the yak dens, low to the ice.
She saw the Flurry Heart dipping lower as well, though it kept its distance from the dens. Rainbow had to squint to see the crew scurrying around the deck, though she couldn’t make out what they were doing.
She cocked her head as a trail of colorful crystal balls, about the size of a pony’s head, were thrown from the Flurry Heart’s deck. They hit the ice with a crunch she could just barely hear from the distance, bouncing along in the ship’s wake on thin chains and leaving a path of chipped ice behind them.
What’s the point of that? Rainbow scratched her head, confused, and then the ice suddenly exploded in front of the bouncing weights, right under the Flurry Heart’s belly.
A huge yak burst out of the spray, roaring and stomping in fury. Rainbow gaped as a second yak broke through the ice an instant later, and then another, and soon there was an entire herd of the monstrous beasts racing across the ice, jumping and snarling in the ship’s shadow.
“The Shaper is with us today, friends!” Beau shouted merrily over the deck. Rainbow tore her gaze away from the Flurry Heart to see him raising a hoof high from his position next to the ship’s wheel. “Let us show our honored guest our bravery!”
Whoops of excitement sounded across the deck as ponies began to jump over the edge, the jumpers all tied by rope to a partner that remained on the ship with their legs braced. Rainbow ran to the edge, peering over, and saw six crystal ponies land heavily on the ice, empty baskets at their sides, before galloping towards the yak dens.
They all swarmed around the nearest den, turning and bucking against the thick ice as one. There was a deep crunch, and they kicked again, and then again, until finally with a resounding crack the round ice buckled, exposing the shadowed interior.
It was impossible to see inside from where she stood, but Rainbow didn’t have to wait long. The hunters dove inside with excited shouts, and a few seconds later they began to leap back into the crisp open air, their baskets filled with frozen fish. Each one sprinted for the ship as they emerged, calling to the pony on the deck holding their rope. They would jump as they drew close, pulling themselves up with gritted teeth, until their partner helped them back aboard with grunts of exertion and grins of approval.
Rainbow looked back to the Flurry Heart, watching as the crew of the distant ship dropped heavy stones on the pursuing yaks, and it all clicked together. The yaks were predators that hunted under the ice, stashing leftovers and excess in their dens. The crystal ponies used one ship to draw them away, and then used the other to get in close, break through the thick ice of the yak dens, and steal the frozen meat.
“Sweet Celestia,” she muttered. “These ponies are crazy.” They weren’t even Gifted like her. She hadn’t seen a single cutie mark among the crystal ponies, and they were brave enough to jump off their ship and literally steal food right from a monster’s lair. They had to know how dangerous it was; almost all of the hunters had scars on their faces or long patches in their cloaks from previous wounds.
Her eyes widened as she saw a trio of yaks peeling away from the Flurry Heart, angling themselves back towards their dens before bowing their heads and storming across the ice at a full gallop. They’d noticed the intruders, and there were still ponies down on the ice!
She flared her wings, watching another hunter scramble out of the den and get hauled up to the deck, but a quick glance around told her that there was still one pony left. The crew shouted warnings as the trio of returning yaks grew closer, one peeling ahead of all the others.
Finally the last pony appeared. Esmeralda nearly tripped as she climbed out of the den with a full seapony carcass splayed limply over her shoulders. She clenched her jaw as she ran for the ship, but it was obvious she wouldn’t make it. The lead yak would be on her in seconds, and although the crew was already running to grab heavy rocks they could throw down to try and defend their comrade, Rainbow doubted it would make any difference.
Rainbow leapt off the ship almost without thinking. She wasn’t going to just sit and watch this pony get gored, even if she barely knew her.
And maybe she still had a bit of a grudge from the last time she’d faced one of these beasts. But that was just a bonus.
The huntress drew up short as Rainbow snapped her wings open, but Rainbow ushered her on. “Go, go!” she shouted, pouring on speed. She didn’t watch to see if the mare listened.
She could get to the yak in time, but she had to be sure it would chase after her. She extended a wing and pulled off to one side before twisting into a snap turn, slicing across the yak’s face barely a hair’s breadth from its deadly horns.
The yak roared, and she grinned as she felt the warm splash of its blood on her feathers, but she couldn’t relax just yet. There were still two others to contend with, and if she flew to safety too soon then the beasts might turn back to the easier prey. She spared a glance toward Esmeralda and saw she had reached the ship, but it seemed she couldn’t climb up with the weight of the seapony on her back. More ponies were rushing to grab her rope and help pull her up, but in the meantime, Rainbow would have to keep stalling.
“Hey, ugly! Haven’t you ever heard of a haircut?” Rainbow banked towards the yaks once more. The lead one dug its claws in and chased after her, but the two further back didn’t seem to have noticed her yet. She whistled to catch their attention before landing on one of their backs, taking care not to get her hooves tangled in its thick hairs.
The yak skidded to a stop, leaving a deep gouge in the ice behind it, and reared up, trying to buck her off. Rainbow held firm, shifting her weight and using her wings for balance, and grinned as she saw the lead yak still barreling towards her, head down.
There was a wet crunch, and the yak under Rainbow’s hooves wheezed as its gut was opened by the horns of its kin. She jumped off with a whoop, watching the surviving yak struggle to free its horns, only for her grin to falter when she realized that there was still one yak missing.
A mare’s scream drew her attention. She whirled mid-air, gasping as she saw Esmeralda clinging desperately to the rope, still keeping the seapony balanced on her shoulders even as blood gushed from a fresh wound on her leg. The last yak skidded to a stop, its horns glistening with blood, and turned to line up for another charge.
That’s when Rainbow saw it—a flash of bright rainbow hair, tangled up and stained red around one of the yak’s horns.
Rainbow snarled, the fire rising in her chest. “Back for more, huh?” she growled under her breath, coiling her body like a spring. “I’ll teach you to mess with Rainbow Dash!”
She surged into motion, mist swirling to either side of her rainbow contrail. The yak’s head jerked towards her as she closed, but it wasn’t quick enough to react in time; she turned and crashed into its forehead with both hind legs, the hard edges of her hooves connecting with its skull with a sickening crack.
The yak stumbled back, but kept its balance. Rainbow bounced away, spinning once before landing on the ice and flaring her wings.
“Rainbow Dash! Esmeralda is safe!” Beau shouted down from the deck. “Come back!”
Rainbow ignored him, keeping her eye locked to the yak’s beady glare. It had gotten the jump on her last time, but now they were face-to-face. She wasn’t going to run from it a second time.
“Come on. What are you waiting for?” Rainbow took a quick step forwards, trying to goad the beast into charging her, but it only snorted and lowered its stance. She narrowed her eye, flexing her wings. Does it remember me?
Well, if it was afraid to make the first move, then she’d gladly strike first. She leapt into the air, arcing towards the yak’s flank, only for it to rush backwards, turning its head to keep its huge horns pointed in her direction. She grimaced and tried for another angle, but the yak never let its eyes off her, bellowing and brandishing its horns every time she tried to dart in to strike.
Rainbow drew up short, hovering in front of it with a snarl. “What are you so afraid of? Come and—whoa!”
The yak charged without warning, forcing Rainbow to awkwardly flutter out of its way. It pivoted quickly, rushing her a second time while she was still off balance, and Rainbow was forced to tuck her wings in and drop to avoid its horns.
She smacked into the ice with a grunt, wincing as the yak’s shadow passed over her. It pivoted again, rearing up over her, lifting its head to roar triumphantly as it prepared to stomp her skull in with hooves that could break through ice as thick as a pony.
Time seemed to slow. Rainbow could hear the crystal ponies shouting something from the ship, but that was the last thing on her mind. She saw every part of the yak in crisp detail—the thick, coarse fur, the long hairs that hung down all around its face like a curtain, the cloven hooves, each toe tapering into a blunt claw—and a small line of pale, exposed skin, just under its jaw.
Rainbow screamed, throwing her weight to one side. The yak’s hooves crashed down on either side of her head with sharp cracks that made her ears ring. And the pointed tips of Rainbow’s wingblades sunk into its throat.
Thick black blood splattered onto Rainbow’s face, dripping down into her mouth. She coughed and looked away, only for a fresh, even stronger spurt to slam into her. The yak gurgled above her, its legs going weak, and Rainbow’s eye widened as the weight on her wings began to grow.
“Oh, hay!” Rainbow lifted her hooves to try and shift the huge thing off of her, but it was heavy. Even with most of its body already limp on the ice, she could just barely keep her legs from buckling under the weight of its upper body. And it wouldn’t stop bleeding on her! “Uh, anyone there? Help!”
She blinked as the yak suddenly rolled to one side, landing on the ice beside her with a dull thud. Four hunters looked down at her with wide smiles, haloed by the sun.
“Rainbow Dash!” Beau laughed, bending down and hauling her to her hooves. “You truly do honor us!”
“What?” Rainbow looked around with a tentative smile as the other three crystal ponies all clapped her on the back excitedly, some even sloughing yak blood off her face before painting it onto their cheeks. She hadn’t really been thinking about how they’d react to her risking her life and ignoring the order to come back to the ship, but after all her past experiences with Sea Sabre, approval had been on the bottom of her list.
“Killing a yak in lone battle!” Beau exchanged smiles with the other hunters, who were already taking positions at either side of the beast’s carcass. “Such courage hasn’t been displayed in two generations!”
Rainbow’s smile grew into a grin as her unease was quickly overtaken by pride. She straightened up, striking a pose. “I am pretty awesome, yeah. Good to finally get some recognition for it!”
“And as reward for your bravery,” Beau continued, crouching by the yak’s front end and pulling a knife out from under his cloak, “you may have its heart!”
Rainbow stiffened at the sound of a knife piercing flesh. “Wait, did you say—” Her eye shot wide open as she turned and saw Beau digging around in the yak’s chest. The other three hunters busied themselves tying rope around its legs as he straightened up, a bloody black organ still pumping in his hooves.
Bile rose in the back of her throat, and her muzzle scrunched up in disgust as he presented the yak heart to her with an encouraging nod. “You want me to eat that?”
He nodded again, and Rainbow noticed the other hunters had stopped to watch. “Normally we would share the heart among the hunters, but when a pony takes down a yak on their own, it belongs to them.” He bowed his head, holding the heart higher. “To eat the heart of a yak is to take its strength for yourself. It’s your honor as a yakslayer.”
Rainbow blanched. “But—I mean, won’t I get sick?”
Beau looked up with a frown, cocking his head, and for a moment Rainbow thought she had offended him. But then his eyes lit up and the smile came back, and he shook his head good-naturedly. “I’m sorry, I’d forgotten that Equestrians don’t eat meat! You may feel ill, yes, but the heart will not hurt you. All of our children must learn to eat meat as they grow.” Her uncertainty must have been obvious, because he added, “We understand if you turn it down, and will not be offended. We merely wish to give you what you deserve.”
Rainbow pursed her lips, watching as the heart squirmed in his hooves. It looked and smelled disgusting, but something held her back from rejecting the offer outright. Was this how Twilight had felt back in Canterlot when she’d first had to eat meat? If what Beau said was true, then it wouldn’t hurt to at least try a bite, right?
The crystal ponies had been nothing but kind to her so far, and she was loath to repay their kindness by turning down what was clearly an important gift from them. Ever since waking up in this twisted, shattered version of Equestria, she felt like she was punished no matter what she did. Every single time she’d tried to help, tried to do what she felt in her gut was right, she’d been beaten or chastised, lectured by the very ponies she was trying to help or left broken on the floor while her enemies gloated.
But not this time. The crystal ponies had told her to stay back, but they didn’t hold it against her when she jumped to help. Instead they thanked her, congratulated her, and even offered her an award of sorts. And as gross as that award was, Rainbow wanted it.
Besides, Twilight had eaten meat, right? Was Rainbow really going to back down from something that egghead had been brave enough to do?
She reached out, taking the heart with bated breath. It was slippery and wet and warm, still pumping almost as if it had a life of its own. Rainbow grimaced as she looked down at it, watching thick black blood drip from both ends.
If she kept staring and thinking she’d never work up the courage, but if there was one thing Rainbow was good at, it was not thinking.
She closed her eye and leaned in, sinking her teeth into the heart. It was tough and gamey, and she had trouble keeping her grip as she worked her head side-to-side, struggling to pull a piece free with her flat teeth. Blood pooled in her mouth, strangely tangy, but she’d tasted blood before, and it wasn’t enough to scare her off.
Finally she pulled her head back, peeling away a stringy bite. She kept her eye closed as she chewed, trying not to think about what she was doing. Her teeth were ill-suited to the task, but the heart was slick with blood, and after working at it in vain for several seconds she just threw her head back and swallowed the bite whole.
She opened her eye and stuck her tongue out, fighting to keep it down. A little voice in the back of her head screamed that she’d gone mad, and the bitter aftertaste lingered no matter how much she licked her lips.
Beau cheered, and an instant later he was joined by a chorus of other voices. Rainbow looked back and saw the ponies of the Crystal Heart all watching from the deck, stomping their hooves in approval, and she couldn’t help but grin back at them.
“Not too bad, huh, Yakslayer?” Beau said, taking the heart back with a wide smile. “But do not force yourself further. Let’s get back to the ship with your kill, and quick! We’ll have a great feast on our return, and there will be stories to tell! Come!”
Rainbow smiled back, laughing at his contagious enthusiasm. She kept smiling as she helped the hunters haul the dead yak onto their ship, and smiled wider as everypony on the crew came to congratulate her personally. Her cheeks were starting to hurt when they flew close to the Flurry Heart and Beau shouted the news of what she’d done, spawning a fresh wave of roared approval, but she never stopped smiling.
She liked these crystal ponies, meat-eating and all.