“He was such a nice young fellow. So polite and considerate. A real credit to his people.”
“Mother!” Sitting across from their guest, Pocket Square gave the elderly mare at his side a horrified look. “You can’t say things like that!”
On the other end of the sofa, Paisley Sachet tilted her head and blinked. “Why not, dear? He really was an upstanding lad, not like most of his kind. Courteous to a fault, that one; almost like a pony. If only he’d been one, instead of a donkey, I would have tried to fix you up with him. He would have been a much better choice than that no-good griffon you’re running around with these days.”
Pocket Square’s face instantly turned bright red. “You leave Gregory out of this!”
Recognizing that an argument was about to unfold, Thermal Draft gave a loud cough. “I’m sorry, if we could just bring things back around to Long Road…?”
“Oh yes,” smiled Paisley. “He was such a nice young fellow. So polite and considerate.”
“Mother, you’re repeating yourself,” moaned Pocket.
Thermal Draft bit back a sigh.
It had been like this ever since she’d arrived in Trottingham four days ago. When the topic of conversation turned to Long Road – the donkey warrior who had showed up out of nowhere just in time to defeat a threat the city’s inhabitants hadn’t even realized was there – things became inordinately difficult. Not because no one wanted to talk about him, but because everyone did, even if they had nothing useful to share.
It had been exactly the opposite of what Thermal Draft had been expecting. While Trottingham wasn’t exactly a small town – being a city of respectable size – it was still a comparatively isolated locale, being the only major population center on the Griffish Isles. As such, much like Vanhoover, it had a reputation for being something of a provincial community.
Of course, also like Vanhoover, that reputation was more about its location than its people. Situated in the northern Celestial Ocean, the Griffish Isles had the distinction of being the only islands in the body of water that separated the Equestrian continent from its eastern neighbor. Equidistant between the two landmasses, the Isles should have been a natural point for the transcontinental railroad that was the main point of travel between Equestria and Griffonstone, the kingdom which hugged the opposite coast.
However, geography had seen fit to scuttle those plans long before the railroad had been invented. As a result of tectonic activity, the landmass that Griffonstone sat on was far more elevated than Equestria, being over a mile above sea level and turning what otherwise would have been a picturesque coastline into a series of jagged cliffs that ran nearly the entire length of the continent’s western edge.
The vertical distance between the two continents had proven to be a far more challenging obstacle to trade than the oceanic gap. With Griffonstone and its southern neighbors unable to build ports, maritime activity was a perpetual nonstarter. Airships were viable, but inefficient due to their slow speed, limited cargo capacities, and constant need for refueling, to say nothing of recurrent problems with pirates, dragons, and other aerial hazards.
That had left only the trains, and even those had faced significant problems at first, since building mile-high pylons to elevate the track to the necessary height had repeatedly proven to be a disastrous undertaking. While the undersea portions of the pylons were designed to take advantage of hydraulic pressure to keep them stabilized, the above-water portions had no such support. While a few hundred feet wouldn’t have been an issue, the lack of ballast meant that at that height some swaying was inevitable, posing a severe risk of sending any train using the tracks plunging into the ocean.
The only reprieve had been at the northwestern edge of the continent, where the elevation tapered off just enough to allow a rail line to be safely laid down. Fortuitously, Equestria’s northeastern coastline jutted sharply into the ocean, reducing the distance between the two landmasses down to less than a hundred miles. It was an ideal place to build the transcontinental railway (though not, as it turned out, to build maritime facilities; the sheer amount of ice that far north made such pursuits more trouble than they were worth).
It also meant that the Griffish Isles – which sat on the same latitude as Manehattan – saw the railroad completely pass them by.
The end result was that, barring the occasional ship making the trip up from Baltimare, Manehattan’s port was the only way to reach Trottingham.
Thermal Draft had been quite cognizant of that when she’d arrived, and had prepared herself to be treated like an outsider, especially when she began asking questions. Thankfully, her fears had been groundless; despite its comparative isolation, ponies here were just as friendly and outgoing as they were in Vanhoover. And while she’d heard that griffons – a minority here, despite the islands’ name (which, she’d learned since arriving here, was in reference to griffons having discovered them first, even if difficulty accessing them had led to their becoming Equestrian territory) – were greedy and surly, the expatriates she’d met so far had all been cordial.
Now if she could just get some first-hoof information about what had happened to Long Road!
“Mrs. Sachet!” Smiling as her yell managed to cut through the bickering that her hosts were having about Pocket Square’s dating habits, Thermal Draft gestured toward the empty plate in front of her. “Forgive me for interrupting, but is there any way I could get some more of those delightful scones? They don’t have them back in Vanhoover and I simply can’t get enough of them.”
“Oh, of course, dear!” Delighted, the old lady stood up, collecting the dishes as she trotted back toward the kitchen, talking all the while. “It’s an old family recipe, you know. Most ponies these days prefer the store-bought brands, but those are never as good. The secret is in how much butter you use…”
Catching Pocket Square’s eyes as his mother’s monologue floated in from the adjoining kitchen, Thermal Draft canted her head in the other direction, toward the den that they’d passed when she’d been invited inside. Nodding, the chagrinned stallion got up and led the way, Thermal Draft following quietly behind him as they stepped into the next room.
It was only when they were both inside, and Pocket Square had closed the door, that he let out a sigh. “I’m so sorry about my mother. She doesn’t really have anything against griffons or donkeys. It’s just that she’s never approved of any of my boyfriends. Not one! Even when-”
“I understand,” cut in Thermal Draft quickly. “Believe me, I know all about romantic difficulties. But right now, I really want to talk about Long Road.”
“Oh, yes. Of course.” Gesturing to a nearby easy chair, Pocket Square seated himself in a matching one opposite it.
“Thank you,” sitting down, Thermal Draft took a deep breath, trying to put all of her frustration from the last few days aside. “Now, Pocket-, is it alright if I call you Pocket?” When the stallion nodded, she continued. “Before anything else, I’d like to get one thing out of the way: did you personally witness Long Road’s last moments?”
An uncomfortable look crossed Pocket’s face. “Well, no…”
Closing her eyes, Drafty couldn’t help but slump. After days of talking to ponies, she’d been so sure that she’d been on the right track. She’d started with the statue of Long Road that had been erected in the town square, looking up the pony who’d built it. From him she’d gotten the name of the pony who’d ordered the piece. And from him she’d been referred to the Long Road Memorial Commission.
That had led to a series of talks with the Commission members, until she’d gotten to the pony in charge of collecting testimonials, convincing him to let her peruse the collected stories about the paladin’s heroics. She’d then spent every waking moment tracking down the ponies who’d volunteered stories of having met Long Road, most of which were comparatively inconsequential. While Drafty knew firsthoof how being saved by someone could change your life, none of that helped her figure out how the donkey had met his end.
And now she’d struck out again. “Thank you, Pocket,” she sighed wearily as she stood up. “I’ll see myself out-”
“No, you don’t understand,” sputtered the stallion as he stood up. “Nopony saw Long Road’s last moments.”
That got Thermal Draft’s attention. “I’m sorry?”
“Nopony was there with him…at the end,” murmured Pocket, looking more uncomfortable than before.
The certitude in his voice made Drafty sit back down. “Why don’t you start at the beginning?”
“Of course, I…” He paused then, looking her over. “You’re really not with the papers? Or the Commission?”
“I’m not, I swear.” Placing her hoof over her heart, Thermal Draft made sure to look him right in the eyes as she told him the truth. Mostly. “I’m here because the Long Road had a lady love, and the pony I work for wants to help her get closure.”
Pocket studied her face then, and it took several seconds before he finally nodded, swallowing. “Alright. I…I wouldn’t want someone who cared for him to not know the truth about what happened. I know that I’d never be able to bear it if something like that happened with Gregory.”
Drafty didn’t say anything, waiting patiently as Pocket leaned back and looked at the ceiling, though the distant expression that came over him then made it clear that he was seeing something else. “You have to understand,” he began, “none of us knew what was happening at first. We didn’t hear about the Elemental Bleeds until after they were over. I mean, over everywhere else. All we knew was that there’d been some sort of terrible fire in Manehattan. The reports of it being the work of some sort of monsters were presumed to be rumors or shoddy reporting, though a few of us thought maybe it was some sort of dragon attack. They don’t usually come this far north, but every so often there’ll be a sighting…”
Shaking his head, he brought himself back to the topic at hoof. “What I’m trying to say is, when we first started hearing stories about how there were things in the sewers, nopony made the connection between them and what had happened to the rest of Equestria. Instead, we just laughed them off. We all figured that it was children with runaway imaginations or some workers who were hitting the sauce a little too hard. They only made the papers because news was still coming in slowly from the mainland.”
He swallowed, taking a breath before continuing. “Even when it started getting bad, we didn’t realize the full extent of the problem. Culverts started overflowing, basement drains began backing up, gutters filling with water even though it hadn’t rained in days. We all thought there was some sort of…of underground clog or something. That there was some sort of blockage in the city’s septic system. We were all upset, rather than being afraid.”
Taking out a hankie, he mopped his brow. “That was when the attacks started…”
This time Thermal Draft was the one who needed to take a slow breath to steady herself. She’d done enough research since arriving here to know that the Elemental Bleed that had hit Trottingham had been water-based, just like Vanhoover. That alone was enough to send chills down her spine, remembering how the disaster that had all but destroyed her home had progressed along similar lines, from an inconvenience to a crisis to a catastrophe.
Except where Vanhoover had been beset by sea monsters and the undead, Trottingham had been forced to deal with different creatures.
“It almost sounds ridiculous when you say it out loud,” murmured Pocket, staring into space once more. “Attacked by ooze creatures? It’s like something out of a schlock film.” He shuddered then, licking his lips. “It stops being so ridiculous when you see somepony you know engulfed by one of those things, thrashing and screaming while they try to get out, only to go still a moment later. Or for what you thought was a patch of wet stone to suddenly extend some sort of…of pseudopod at somepony next to you, and watch their leg start melting when it grabs them. Or to follow someone into a room they swore was safe only to see them plunge face-first into some sort of giant amoeba, hanging suspended inside it while it starts breaking them down…”
He fell silent then, and after several seconds Thermal Draft gave a small cough. “Long Road?”
“Hm? Ah, yes, forgive me.” Mopping his brow again, Pocket met her eyes this time. “The entire city was just falling into panic when Long Road arrived. I found out later he’d seen the news reports poking fun at the so-called sewer monsters and knew that something was wrong. But at the time all we knew was that a stranger stepped into the city and brought us back from the brink.”
For the first time since he’d started talking, a smile graced Pocket’s face. “He was like something out a fairy tale. A handsome knight, clad in armor, coming to our rescue. He even wielded a sword, too. An actual sword! You wouldn’t think that would avail much against monsters that were gelatinous in nature, but he sliced them to ribbons all the same. And not just that; he healed the wounded as well! Just a simple touch made wounds close and scars fade. It was…miraculous.”
“Yeah…” murmured Thermal Draft, momentarily drifting back to the moment she’d first met Lex, opening her eyes and seeing the powerful pony who had cured her illness and brought her back from the bring of death, capturing her heart in the process.
“You might wonder how one donkey was able to bring the entire city back,” continued Pocket, bringing her attention back to the present. “But it wasn’t just what he did for us. It was like he had this air about him. Like just being near him calmed us down. The entire time he was here, he never once became agitated. We were all losing our minds, every pony and griffon in Trottingham, and he never once raised his voice. He called us all ‘sir’ and ‘madam.’ He said ‘please’ and ‘thank you.’ He didn’t make light of the situation, but he never panicked either, and somehow that made us all calmer.”
His sweating under control now, Pocket put his hankie away. “He got us organized, spreading the word that everypony should move to upper floors and rooftops. To throw small marbles or pebbles or anything small ahead of us so we wouldn’t walk into them. To dig trenches and pits that they’d have a hard time getting out of.” Nodding slowly, he gave Thermal Draft a look that she knew she’d worn countless times when talking about Lex. “He’s the reason we survived.”
She licked her lips, not sure how to prod him forward when she knew exactly how he felt. But he continued of his own accord. “Once he’d rallied us, he started asking about how this had started, and it didn’t take him long to figure out it was coming from the sewers. We eventually found some old maps in city hall, and he started to investigate where the slime monsters were coming from. He said that there was some sort of leader, some creature that was responsible for all of the other creatures being here, and that if he could destroy it, they’d all go away.”
He fell silent again then, looking down. “When he went down to find it, I went with him.”
Thermal Draft’s eyebrows rose. “You followed him into the sewers?”
Pocket nodded, but it was embarrassment that shown on his face then, rather than pride. “If that sounds heroic, it wasn’t. He knew he couldn’t wield his sword and carry the map and flashlight at the same time, so he asked for a volunteer to accompany him. I was the one who drew the short straw, was all.”
“But you still went, right?” pressed Thermal Draft, remembering when Lex had taken them through Vanhoover in order to get back to the warehouse he’d set up as a base of operations. “Even if you were scared, you still stepped up.”
“For all the good it did,” muttered Pocket. “He dispatched what must have been a dozen slime monsters as we kept going down, having to wade through filthy water and worse, until we got to a flooded chamber in the lower levels of the sewer. The walkways along the edges were the only navigable parts, and it was impossible to see what was in the water, but somehow he knew the enemy he was looking for was there.”
Despite herself, Thermal Draft leaned forward, caught up in the tale.
“Long Road started calling for it – he called it a demon – to come out. For a moment nothing happened, and then a shape suddenly surged up out of the water. At first I thought it was just another slime monster, but this one was different. It kept…shifting. Changing. Like it was continually melting and reforming, trying to turn itself into a pony shape even as it kept breaking down. And it…s-spoke…”
“It spoke?”
Turning pale, Pocket nodded. “Not out loud but…in my head. Its voice was horrible. I can’t even…” He gulped, needing a moment to recover his composure. “It said it would drag us down. Drag us all down into the abyss…”
Just hearing that sent a shudder down Thermal Draft’s spine. “What happened then?”
“Long Road swore that wouldn’t happen, that the Sun Queen – I think that’s what he called Princess Celestia – that her light would boil the creature’s evil away. He actually started glowing when he said it. Or maybe it was his sword that was glowing, I’m not sure. Then he attacked. He wasn’t afraid. Even then he wasn’t afraid…”
Realizing that Pocket was lost in memories again, Thermal Draft quietly spoke up. “You said you didn’t see how the fight ended?”
Shuddering, Pocket shook his head. “No, one of the creature’s…it shot some sort of ball of slime at me, it just flung a leg – a tendril – at me, and the blob of the stuff hit me right in the face. It was the worst pain I’d ever felt, and I was sure I was dying, that my head was going to dissolve right there, and I heard Long Road chanting something, some…I know this sounds silly, but they sounded like magic words, and suddenly I wasn’t in pain anymore. The acid or whatever it was that hit my head was gone, and I heard Long Road groan and realize that somehow, it was on him instead, that he’d used some sort of…I don’t know, spell or something, the way he could heal others, and he’d taken the hit for me somehow.”
Pocket bit his lip, his eyes starting to water. “That’s when he told me to run. To run and not look back.”
“And did you?”
“I shouldn’t have,” sniffled the stallion. “I should have stayed, I should have said I wouldn’t leave him. But I did…I turned and ran. Behind me, I heard Long Road calling out to the Sun Queen again, and there was the sound of fighting, and I was going to keep going, but then everything stopped.”
Thermal Draft tilted her head. “Stopped?”
Slowly, Pocket nodded. “The light Long Road was radiating went out. The sounds of fighting stopped. It was suddenly all dark and quiet again. I was so scared…I wanted to keep running, but…I just couldn’t. So I turned around and went back to that flooded chamber, but it wasn’t flooded anymore. The water was back down to the normal level, and I later found out that all of the ooze monsters had disappeared then too. Long Road had won.”
Drafty leaned back in her chair, processing that. “But he was gone?”
“Mostly,” whispered Pocket.
Drafty frowned. “What does that mean?”
Pocket didn’t answer right away. Instead, he slowly stood up and moved over to a nearby bureau. Opening the top drawer, he pulled out a cloth-wrapped bundle, slowly peeling the edges back until its contents were revealed.
Inside were the half-melted remains of the hilt of a sword.