//------------------------------// // Awakening, Chapter 2 // Story: Awakening, a Crossout Tale // by Gingerquill //------------------------------// Sparkle shifted uncomfortably in the light robes and headdress Charity had insisted she wore. They trapped her wings and made her feathers itch dreadfully at times. Apparently, they were to help keep her cool and protect her sunburns from further harm, and while they did, she suspected it was more to do with hiding her wings. She’d noted Charity became imperceptibly more guarded and awkward whenever she saw them, as though they were something she was trying to avoid. It had been three days before she agreed Sparkle was rested and healthy enough to venture out, albeit in what was clearly a disguise of some kind. That aside Charity had been the perfect host, nursing Sparkle back to health and catering to her needs while they talked of the outside world, even if she remained slightly awkward. It saddened Sparkle that she contributed so little to these conversations. Beyond some spell craft she instinctively seemed to know and a vague knowledge of flight, any memory of what came before the desert was completely blank and it seemed she was not alone in this. “You won’t find a single pony more than ten years old I’m afraid.” Charity said conversationally as they strolled the outskirts of the Bazaar. “I mean of course they’re older than ten, but that’s when the first of us woke up you see, and like yourself no-one has any memory of who they were, let alone how they got here.” “No one at all?” Sparkle asked. They wandered to a trader hawking cactus fruits, one among many competing voices selling various wares and doing brisk business in the shaded crevasses and gorges of the Freemarket Bazaar. Charity idly left a few bits on his table a picked a few juicy pieces for them to graze on as they strolled further. “None. Well, aside from the new-borns of course, couples will be couples.” She tittered nervously. “Can’t stop some ponies from raising families it seems…” Sparkle noticed how Charity trailed off and decided to change the subject. “So how long has Freemarket been here?” She asked around a pear she was chewing on. “Oh, well there’s been a settlement here in one form or another since the beginning. The mesa walls provide shelter from the sun, among other things, and the Wildspire river keeps us watered too.” “Do you live here?” “Oh no, not really, more a regular visitor for the Engineers. I tend to think of Elegance as home,” she replied, speaking of her yacht, “but if it’s turf you’re talking about, I supposed home would be Small Forge. It’s the largest Engineers workshop in The Vales, used to be an underground bunker or factory of some kind, before whatever cataclysm ruined the world… Or maybe it was always like this.” She mused. That had been the first and most lingering impression Sparkle had of the world when she finally saw civilisation. That it was built upon and from the ruins of something older, something that was well and truly dead and had been for a long time. Freemarket was apparently the most cosmopolitan settlement in the area. If the word cosmopolitan even had any meaning here. Several Mesas clustered together and rose above the barren, parched ground, forming a series of gorges and ravines that most of the town’s population lived in, an assortment of Earth Ponies, Unicorns and even Pegasus soaring on the thermals above, though Sparkle noticed the different types of ponies rarely seemed to be mingling with each other. They lived in a variety of huts and lean-tos, cobbled together from rusted sheets of metal, rough clay bricks, tarpaulin and broken-down vehicles with more permanent living spaces carved into the rock or natural caverns. Walkways and gantries spanned across and between the rock faces above them where even more quarters and living spaces had been dug out or built onto the side of the gorge. They were serviced by ingenious mechanical lifts for those not able or brave enough to tackle the steep and none too stable looking stairways. Sparkle presumed settlement life also continued atop the Mesa where landing pads and towers for airships had been built, and Charity told her within too, where tunnels and still more dwellings had been excavated. Where the Mesas spread out and formed an open space, larger, more impressive permanent structures had been built, becoming the affluent quarter of the town. It was here the Bazaar they were now wandering had been established. Near the centre of Freemarket, the Bazaar was a maze of canvases, stalls, sheds and other temporary structures that filled the space, and in places large vehicles had been parked and opened, forming an instant vendor’s stall. It was vibrant with life, a hustle and bustle that after being lost and alone in the desert, Sparkle didn’t imagine existed. Ponies, and even a handful of other creatures, competed to sell their wares. From fruit and veg, to weapons, vehicle parts and fuel, even salvage and scavenged materials and pieces from the old world were available for purchase. “So, are we going anywhere specific?” Sparkle asked. “In fact, we are.” Charity smiled. “We Engineers banded together to try and make the world a little more bearable for those in need.” “Like myself?” “At times. But today it’s nothing so exciting as introducing somepony new to the world. An old… friend has sent word asking for help.” “Anyone I know?” Sparkle asked with a sly grin and Charity giggled back at her joke. “Well, howdy Miss Charity, nice of you to show. Was beginning to think you weren’t coming.” Came a peculiar drawl over the din of the evening bazaar. Not even encroaching nightfall stopped business from continuing and it likely would well into the dark, makeshift bars and café’s providing for a busy night life. Sparkle and Charity were approached by an Earth Pony mare, and maybe it was the unusual accent, but Sparkle was sure she was accusing Charity of something. Her coat was the vibrant colour of a fresh orange and bore three apples for a cutie mark, while her mane was a blond colour that reminded Sparkle of the desert sands. Under a broad Stetson she had eyes the colour of fresh cactus and a freckled face that would have been pretty were it not for the scowl she was wearing. “I do apologise, I’ve been unavoidably detained.” Charity replied more evenly. In the moment the two approached each other, Sparkle felt a sudden flash of insight. Images raced through her mind, the two of them arguing at a colourful market, exploring a bustling metropolis of towering buildings together, a treehouse with the three of them companions in laughter and friendship. A sharp pain behind her eyes brought her back to reality just as quick. “So, I can see.” The Earth Pony eyed Sparkle up with a look somewhere between suspicion and curiosity. “So, what’s your excuse, and what’s with those bed sheets you’re wearing?” Before Charity could introduce her, Sparkle seized the moment to step forward with her best smile and raised her hoof in greeting. “Hello, my name is Sparkle and I’m… new.” It felt deeply strange referring to herself in that manner, but she hoped it would ease the tension in the air. Sadly, this new pony simply glared at her rather than take her offered hoof, but at least she saw some of the hostility fade from her stance at the mention of being new. “I’m afraid I’m the reason Charity is late. I was lost in the desert and she rescued me, that’s why I’m wearing the robes, they’re to protect my w-” “Protect her burns.” Charity interrupted before she could speak further. “Poor girl suffered dreadfully in the Scorched Ocean.” A confused Sparkle chafed slightly at being spoken over, but Charity hadn’t led her astray so far, so she decided to gallop with it. At least for now. The young pony didn’t appear convinced, but she seemed willing to take them at their word. “Well, Sparkle, mighty unlucky for you I guess, waking up in that place. But lucky you were rescued by Charity here. Folk call me ‘Apples’.” She replied cordially introducing herself. “We were just wrapping up at the market, be heading home soon.” “I thank you for waiting.” Charity replied. “Hope the bazaar has been good to you.” “Just fine, not that it’s any of your business.” Charity kept her smile firmly in place but sucked in a breath of air before continuing. “Speaking of, you contacted us for assistance?” “Yeah, we did, and things got a mite trickier for you being late. Come on.” She turned and began trotting away, with Charity and Sparkle falling in step behind. “Been having troubles with them Scavengers again.” “The Rock clan?” Charity asked. “I thought things had settled down between you two.” “They still reckon they got a claim to that land, started getting nasty about it too.” Apples sounded angry again as she led them through. “One of my kin got jumped by a couple of those scavies, roughed him up.” “Oh my, is he alright?” Sparkle asked. “He’ll be fine, which is more than I can say for those rock diggers when I get my hooves on them.” They were approaching a busy vendor now, which for all purposes looked more like small camp. Several buggies and armoured trucks had been corralled into something resembling an armed wagon circle and earth Ponies, presumable Apples clan-folk, were busy selling all manner of produce, oranges, some apples, cactus fruits and various wheats from stalls setup around the edge. Save for the number who were quietly guarding the makeshift walls from the roofs of their vehicles. Apples led the two into the middle of the laager, where stores and tents had been setup for the clan members present. “Big Red!” Apples shouted, stomping over to another Earth Pony. A very large pony, he stood nearly a head taller than the others around him and had deep red fur, a ginger mane and tail and a big green apple for a cutie mark. He also sported bruised eye and was walking with a limp. “You’re supposed to be resting, what are you doing up?” “Ah’m fine.” He grumbled back. He was trying to haul a sack towards one of the trucks while favouring one of his front hooves. Despite this, he no sign of surrendering his load and stubbornly limped on. “You ain’t fine,” Apples snapped back, “you need to rest. Need you fit and well for when we go looking for them scavies.” “Ah’m fine!” He shot back, showing his herculean strength by defiantly hauling the sack over his withers, before stomping away as well as his three good legs would allow. Apples growled at his back. “Stubborn as a damned mule. Fine, but if you’re well enough to work out here then you’re not getting any time from your chores back home either!” “I take it Big Red fell afoul of the Rock clan. What happened?” Charity asked. “Damned scavies jumped him evening day before yesterday, after the bazaar had finished for the day.” “Why would they do that? Shouldn’t ponies be helping each other?” Sparkle chimed in. Apples threw her a confused look before answering. “Damned if I know. Red always liked to wander the market in the evenings, go out grab dinner and a drink. That’s when those Rock heads got their hooves onto him.” Charity paused, brows furrowed in thought. “We should go talk with them, find out what they have to say for themselves.” “Well good luck with that, they took off yesterday.” Apples told her. “Headed back to the highlands. I’d be out there after them right now, ‘cept they brought the Party Cannon along. Not locking horns with that thing, not without Workhorse to show ‘em how it’s done.” “Party Cannon?” Sparkle glanced at Charity for some explanation, but she waved her off and turned to Apples. A siren began wailing before she could continue, ceasing all banter and barter across the bazaar, heads and ears pointing towards the speakers as they howled. “East gate.” Charity said, before she set off at a gallop. Suddenly left behind and confused, Sparkle silently turned to Apples hoping for some enlightenment, but she had already turned back towards her encampment and was barking orders at her kin to arm themselves and button up the hatches. No wiser, Sparkle sprinted after Charity before she was lost in the rapidly panicking crowd. Ponies darted and fled this way and that, many hurriedly gathering up their goods, stuffing them into wagons or shutting up their shop fronts. Others still produced a variety of frightening looking weapons, from vicious clubs and primitive crossbows, to crude shotguns. “What is going on?” Sparkle gasped, quickly catching up to Charity as she scaled a broad ramp leading to the top of the rough walls that formed the Eastern Gate. They rose in a broad arc between the two outer most Mesa, forming the boundary of Freemarket. As if in answer, first came the sound. It was music, but nothing like she had heard before. A thundering, tribal beat of heavy drums, brutal guitar measures that made the air throb and a savage howling that terrified Sparkle with the promise of doom. Together the two ponies reached the top of the wall and outside in the gathering dark they could see the lights of a group of vehicles, speeding towards them, clouds of dust being kicked up by their wheels and the howl of their desperately revving engines all but drowned by the blasting cacophony. Behind them came the most manic vehicles Sparkle had ever seen. Exhausts spat oily flames, spikes protruded from crude, exposed chassis, and an angry rainbow circus of paint barely covered the rusted insanity in hot pursuit of the first group. “Lunatics.” Sparkle heard Charity whisper. She had spoken to Sparkle of them once in hushed tones, during their evening chats of the world. She spoke of a crazed raider war cult, hell bent on mayhem and pillage. Of settlements ravaged, convoys plundered, and captives taken. Sparkle could only watch in growing horror as the fleeing convoy was slowly but certainly being overtaken. She could almost see crazed figures in savage armour clinging to running boards and on the back of cycles, waving cruel clubs and axes about them as they bellowed and screamed jeers and threats at their victims. Then, out of the dark, came a blue comet. It descended from the dark skies behind the marauding pack, a shape darker even than the gathering night. An Airship. Sparkle could make out no details, but something dropped from the underside, propelled on a great roar of flame, a demented nightmare given wheels launched into the world. Equal parts sleek and savage, broad and low slung, it tore forwards on six wheels, blades spinning from the axel of each. A rainbow coloured mohawk of jagged metal crested the cabin, who’s long bonnet ended in a vicious set of blades that span, eager to rip and tear anything unfortunate enough to be caught in it’s path. “Crash Maniac.” Charity muttered as the insane vehicle literally rocketed past the other Lunatics. Whoever was at the wheel was clearly mad, hardly slowing even as the rockets driving it forward cut out. One of the convoy was lagging behind, and desperately spat fire from a lone machine gun. The crazed driver ignored the pattering of bullets against a heavily armoured front, and at the last second veered to one side before it ploughed through the offending vehicle, it’s frontal blade tearing apart the rear corner instead, ripping the wheel and part of the chassis away. The crippled buggee bounced and hit the ground hard, swerving and rolling before coming to a stop. Lunatics were instantly swarming over it like ants, and Sparkle was glad she couldn’t hear what was happening. The maniac continued on a path of destruction, side swiping another vehicle with it’s cruel wheel blades, bringing it to a crashing halt too before it set it’s sights on a far juicier target. At the centre of the convoy a large lorry lumbered under a heavy load. Rocket engines fired once more and the vehicle shot forward again. An expertly chosen angle saw it almost fly up the side of the lorry, stripping away it’s wheels as it shot past. With almost comical sluggishness the lorry veered inwards and toppled onto it’s side with a crash that almost drowned out the thundering music. With nothing to protect, the rest of the convoy abandoned their attempts to drive off the Lunatics and instead sped away, desperately fleeing to Freemarket in the hope of escaping the blue nightmare. But it didn’t seem interested anymore. It had left them behind and was tearing towards the gates of Freemarket. Cries of dismay from the ponies on the wall turned to screams of horror as it approached, and only the most steadfast held their place, though they quaked with fear. Sparkle couldn’t bring herself to turn away from the terrifying spectacle and could only watch as it closed. Before it got close enough for the defences of Freemarket to attack, it slowed suddenly, breaking and turning away, staying just outside as wheels span and churned dust and sand into a great cloud, it’s engine roaring and it span in a tight circle. The last of the convoy raced past it, simply desperate to get away. It stopped, engine still growling, and a single figure climbed out of a roof hatch to stand atop the vehicle. Wrapped in a ragged and torn cloak that billowed slightly in the desert breeze, Sparkle could see she was a mare. She bore a single scar that came down over one eye and her ears were chipped and carried garish earrings. She had a light blue coat matching her war buggee and a rainbow mane, cut into a large mohawk that had a long tail dangling over one shoulder. Most striking though were her eyes, a furious crimson that glared at the wall, as though it were a personal insult that she wanted nothing better than to tear down with her hooves and teeth. I’d never leave Ponyville hanging, the words rang in Sparkles head, the voice familiar, though the pain once again surged behind her eyes as she tried to recollect where she had heard it. Behind her, the rest of her warband were in a frenzy stripping the downed vehicles, taking anything and everything of value and whatever else there was besides. The survivors were ignored as they fled in terror towards the safety of Freemarket, but her attention was locked on the settlement. Even as the last stragglers galloped past her and the last looted supplies were being dragged away into the night, she still stared, locked in a hatred Sparkle didn’t know could exist. She screamed. The blue mare simply screamed at the city. A loathing that boiled up from the depths of her soul and came out of her mouth as a howl of rage. She leapt down back into her cabin and the hellish engines roared, fire spitting from the crooked and curling exhausts that looked to Sparkle like the horns of a demon. For a moment Sparkle feared this apparition was going to launch itself in a singlehanded attack on Freemarket. Instead, wheels span again, she turned away and disappeared into the night with the rest of the Lunatics, leaving behind only hulks stripped bare, smouldering wreckage and the cries and sobbing of ponies. It was long eerie moments before anyone spoke, as though they feared words might cause the apparition to return. “We won’t be heading out tonight.” Charity said finally, before turning to head for the gates where survivors and escapees gathered, desperate to gain entry. “We’ll set out in the morning.”