“Good news, ladies,” announced Shadow Star as she emerged from the inn’s backroom, balancing a tray on her back that was loaded with bottles, cups, and even a pitcher. “This place has booze to spare.”
Mystaria frowned as the masked mare walked over to their table – which they’d just finished picking up and cleaning off, leaving the rest of the common room a wreck as they took their place near the fire – and started dispensing the alcohol she’d found. “Should we be helping ourselves to these ponies’ liquor?” she asked, giving Valor a look. “I seem to recall someone saying that the people here don’t have much to go around.”
Valor snorted as she grabbed a bottle and yanked the cork out with her teeth. Not bothering to pour herself a cup, she instead paused just long enough to spit the cork out before taking a heavy swig directly from the bottle. “That was before we found out that the ponies here were planning on giving us over to those monsters in order to save themselves.”
“I’ll drink to that,” muttered Spinner, taking another bottle and emptying half of its contents into a tall mug, which she promptly drained.
“Listen…do we know for sure what that innkeeper said was true?” asked Woodheart, giving her friends a hesitant look as she poured liquor into a shot glass and set it on the ground, Littleknight sniffing at it hesitantly before lapping at it.
Valor arched a brow. “You think he made all that up?”
“I think he was terrified by that monstrous unicorn,” shot back the druid, scowling. “If some big black cloud with glowing eyes appeared out of nowhere and started screaming at me to admit to something, or it would curse me to ‘never know peace again,’ I’d be scared enough to do anything it wanted just to make it go away.”
Valor grimaced at that, and Mystaria – who’d made no move to touch any of the bottles – looked troubled as well. But Shadow only shook her head. “He was telling the truth,” she announced matter-of-factly, popping the cork out of another bottle and taking a sniff of its contents before pouring herself a cup. “As much as I hate defending that self-righteous blowhard, that innkeeper wasn’t lying.”
“And you know that because…?” pressed Woodheart.
“I’m from Blevik,” shot back Shadow. “When you grow up in a city run by doppelgangers, you learn to pick up on the difference between truth and lies real fast.”
“Plus, being terrified makes it harder to make up a lie,” added Spinner, already on her second bottle. “I know everyone thinks that when someone’s getting the screws put to them, they’ll say whatever they’re told to in order to make it stop. And, I mean, that’s true if they’re using actual screws or something like that. But when someone just gets in your face and starts yelling?” She paused to take another big gulp of her mug before continuing. “Makes it really hard to think up a complicated story like that innkeeper’s.”
Mystaria grimaced, but not because of what had happened with the innkeeper. “Spinner, do you maybe want to slow down a little?”
“I would if you’d join us, Miss I’ve-Taken-Vows-Against-Having-Fun,” snickered the bard, saluting Mystaria with her mug before taking another heavy swallow. “Otherwise, I’ve got to drink your share for you.”
Mystaria looked ready to argue the point, but Shadow put a hoof on her shoulder, shaking her head. “Let her cut loose if she wants. She’s the one who’ll have to deal with the consequences when we’re hoofing it out of here tomorrow morning.”
That was enough to make Valor scoff, giving Shadow a disbelieving look. “Are you kidding? We can’t leave! Not now that we know what’s happening to these villagers!”
It was Spinner’s turn to snort then, though it came out sounding more like a hiccup. “I thought your sympathy for these people ended after you found out they were going to feed us to that hag and her pet yetis.”
Valor put her bottle down with enough force that it nearly broke. “That’s not the same! You heard that stallion just now! Those things took – and probably killed and ate – his neighbors, and his nephew! Can you really just walk away after hearing that?!”
“I’m not talking about walking away,” interjected Shadow. “I’m talking about being realistic in how we help everyone here.”
Looking up from where she was nursing a half-full cup of her own, Woodheart tilted her head. “Realistic how, exactly?”
Shadow gestured to the front door of the inn, in the general direction of the house that the proprietor had stumbled back toward once Lex had left the scene. “That stallion said they sent word to Viljatown, but never heard anything back. I say, we head back there and raise as many alarms as we can about what’s happening here.”
Looks of consideration were traded by the others at that, except for one member of the group who kept her head down, not meeting anyone’s gaze. That quickly became apparent, causing Shadow Star to sigh at the holdout. “Mysty…”
“I just…I don’t think heading back is the right idea,” muttered Mystaria, shifting uncomfortably in place.
Spinner groaned, rolling her eyes as she reached for a third bottle and refilled her mug. “Look, maybe you didn’t notice because you got blinded halfway through the fight, but we got our asses kicked. And just between you and me, I’m pretty sure that would have been the case even if we’d known exactly what was going to happen and had prepared accordingly.”
Pausing just long enough to guzzle more of her drink, Spinner gave a loud belch as she put her mug down, coughing and whumping her chest with one hoof before continuing. “If you’re worried about leaving everyone here in the meantime, I’m sure that tall, dark, and crazy can take care of things after we’re gone.”
But Mystaria was already shaking her head. “It’s not just that. I think there’s a divine hoof at work here.”
Woodheart tilted her head, her cheeks flushed despite her cup still being more than half full. “You think Luminace brought us here for some reason?”
“Not Luminace,” corrected Mystaria, one hoof coming up to touch her holy symbol reflexively. “The Night Mare.”
“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me,” muttered Shadow.
“Look, we originally came here because we’d decided to see if we could find an old temple to the Night Mare,” pressed Mystaria. “And what do we find when we get here? A powerful spellcaster wearing the Night Mare’s holy symbol. I don’t think that’s a coincidence.”
“Mysty, I get that magic and the gods and all that stuff is kind of your thing,” began Valor, her tone one of concern. “But that guy’s a nutshell-”
“Nutcase,” corrected Spinner.
“Whatever. My point is that he’s dangerous,” continued Valor. “Look, you know I’m the last person who would ever back down from a fight, but even if we stayed here, what would we do? The monsters are already gone, and even if that ugly old witch was just some sort of puppet-”
“A simulacrum,” interrupted Mystaria. “That’s what she was using. It’s a powerful spell designed to make a copy of someone, at approximately half the strength of the original. Although it doesn’t usually let you project your consciousness through it the way that hag was…”
“I think what Valor’s trying to say,” noted Shadow, “is that even if that winter hag survived, she’s not exactly going to be eager to come back. I mean, all of her yetis were killed; she’d have to be suicidal to go for a rematch. Which means that this place is probably going to be safe long enough for us to go to Viljatown and get it some real help. And like Valor said, what would we even do if we stayed here?”
But Mystaria had an answer ready. “We could take Lex to that temple we were going to look for.”
Her response brought groans from the rest of her friends. “I’m not drunk enough for this,” moaned Spinner.
“Did…didja ever think mebbe that guy knowsh ‘zactly where his goddesh’ temple ish at?” hiccuped Woodheart, pouring some more alcohol into Littleknight’s shot glass, and very nearly dousing the almiraj with liquor in the process, causing him to meep unhappily. “Fer all we know he comesh from there.”
“Slurring aside, Woodheart makes a good point,” noted Shadow. “He might know exactly where that place is already.”
“Then we should ask him,” declared Mystaria. “Tomorrow morning, after he’s had a chance to cool off.” Sensing the resistance to her idea, she quickly added a follow-up. “If he does, then I won’t have any objections about leaving. But if not, we might be able to help out; for all we know, not only does he not come from that temple, but it might be where that hag is holed up. If that’s the case, we’d be helping him put an end to the monsters preying on the ponies here!”
“Even if you’re right, what makes you so sure he’s going to go after that old crone anyway?” huffed Valor. “I mean, he doesn’t exactly seem like the warm and fuzzy type.”
“More like the hates everyone and everything type,” agreed Shadow. “I really don’t see him saving everyone here out of the goodness of his heart.”
“He didn’t have to fix my eyes,” countered Mystaria. “Or warn us about those monsters, for that matter. I know” – she held up a hoof to stop the protest she could see forming on her friends’ lips – “his attitude is…off-putting, to say the least. But when push came to shove, the only times he fought tonight were to protect others.”
Shadow gave an unhappy sigh at that, while Valor frowned, and Woodheart looked pensive. But Spinner didn’t seem to share her comrades’ troubled state, instead bursting out laughing. “Oh wow! Our little Mysty is having her very first crush!”
Had she been drinking anything, Mystaria likely would have choked. As it was, she needed a moment to collect herself, giving the bard a flabbergasted look. “Excuse me?!”
“Come on,” teased Spinner, now on her fourth bottle. “He’s a spellcaster, just like you. He’s a religious type, just like you. He fought to save everyone here. He fixed your eyes.” Grinning, she waggled her eyebrows at Mystaria. “You know how many romantic ballads begin like that?”
“That’s ridiculous!” sputtered Mystaria. “Look, I’ll admit I’d like to compare notes with him and maybe learn more about his magic-”
“Is that what they call it in Luminace’s religion?” snickered Valor. “‘Comparing notes’?”
Her face reddening, Mystaria huffed. “I’m pretty sure that Thermal Draft lady is his girlfriend, thank you very much.”
“Sheemed that way,” added Woodheart blearily. “Or meb-mebbe hish big ol’ wolf iz, shince she waz callin’ him ‘mashter.’”
“I’m not sure that ‘Solvei’ is really a wolf at all,” murmured Shadow, her eyes narrowing. “She had a brand of destiny. Only ponies have those.”
“Maybe that Lex guy gave it to her.” Spinner quirked a smile, clearly enjoying the idle speculation. “I mean, she was wearing the same black crystals that he makes for her armor, and her eyes were glowing green and purple too.”
“And she was the one who used that protective spell to make sure we weren’t all frozen by that hag,” added Mystaria. Unlike the bard, she was frowning, bringing one hoof up to her chin in thought. “It’s almost like he was giving her his own magic somehow…”
“Shounds kinda like me ‘n’ Littleknight,” mumbled Woodheart, now having to brace herself against the table to remain upright. “You know? ‘Cuz I can…I can have him casht my shpellsh for me! Look!”
She waved one foreleg then, starting to badly mutter a spell, but was interrupted as Valor and Shadow both rushed to her side, grabbing her before she could complete her casting. “Whoa there, Woodsy,” chuckled Valor nervously. “Let’s not have a repeat of what happened in St. Moon’s Reach, okay?”
Woodheart’s brow furrowed in confusion for a moment before she scowled. “Thash not…not fair. Guy’sh fashe turned back to normal real fasht…”
“Of course it did,” agreed Shadow, her voice soothing. “And if he hadn’t been the son of the town’s commanding officer, it probably would have been fine. But he was, so it wasn’t.”
“He shoulda…shoulda kept hish…hoofsh to himshelf…” hiccupped Woodheart, her intent to cast a spell apparently forgotten.
“I’m sure he would have if you hadn’t been naked and dancing on the bar at the time,” muttered Valor, her voice wry as she slunk back to her seat.
“Doeshn’t matter…no meansh…no meansh…shomething…” She pawed at her mug again, but fortunately didn’t seem able to pick it up. “Sho yeah…Sholvei’sh like Lilknight…a familiar…”
“A familiar…” Mystaria frowned then, before digging into her saddlebag and riffling through it, pulling out a book which she immediately began to flip through, stopping when she got a particular page. “That can’t be right. But it would explain…”
“Mysty?” Spinner had to call her friend’s name a few more times before she got her attention. “Something on your mind?”
“I think Woodheart is right,” began Mystaria. “I mean, I didn’t get a chance to actually see Solvei, but judging from what you’ve all said, she sounds like she might be one of the utvalgte, better known as a winter wolf. If that’s the case, and she’s Lex’s familiar, that would be…unbelievable.”
“I know I’m going to regret asking this,” sighed Valor. “But how come?”
In answer to that, Mystaria stood up. Grabbing the glass pitcher – empty all this time – from the tray that Shadow had brought out, she took it and marched outside, coming back in a moment later having filled the container with snow. “Okay, bear with me for a moment.”
“You know, I was going to use that to try mixing some of these,” huffed Shadow.
“Just hear me out,” insisted Mystaria, gesturing to the pitcher, inside of which the snow was quickly melting. “Say that this pitcher of water represents a wizard.”
“Because it’s tasteless and bland?” snickered Spinner.
“Ha ha,” replied Mystaria flatly. “I’m serious. This is your average wizard. Race doesn’t matter, just that it’s a sapient individual who’s learned to use magic.”
“At least she used water for this, and not the good stuff,” sighed Valor, gulping down the rest of her drink and going for another.
“The pitcher,” continued Mystaria, “represents the body, while the water inside of it represents the soul. You with me so far?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” sighed Spinner, reaching out to take Woodheart’s mug and downing its contents.
“Now this” – taking a shot glass, Mystaria filled it with the contents of one of the collection of bottles, the liquid dark red – “is an animal. It can be anything, a cat, a falcon, a field mouse. Even an almiraj,” she finished, gesturing at Littleknight, who was lazily scratching one ear. “It’s a lot smaller, and since it’s not sapient, it’s spirit isn’t as developed.”
“Liquor is supposed to be less developed than water?” scoffed Shadow.
Ignoring the comment, Mystaria instead looked around at her friends. “Now, what happens when the wizard wants to make this animal his familiar?”
Glancing at each other, shrugs and grunts of uncertainty were made, with only Woodheart managing more of an answer. “He…drinksh it?”
The corners of Mystaria’s lips turned upward. “That’s actually the right answer.”
Valor arched a brow. “Seriously?”
“Essentially,” confirmed Mystaria with a nod. “Watch.”
Lifting the shot glass, she gave each of her friends a pointed look, and then emptied its contents into the pitcher. The water immediately darkened, with the new liquid dispersing as Mystaria lifted the pitcher and gently swished it around. After several seconds, the alcohol had fully mixed with the water, which now had a light pinkish hue, in contrast to the dark red of the fermented liquid that had been poured into it. Satisfied, Mystaria then poured a small amount of the mixture back into the shot glass, before setting it down and giving her friends a triumphant look. “You see?”
“…no,” answered Valor, eyeing the liquids in confusion.
Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Mystaria pointed at pitcher. “The wizard takes the spirit of the animal he chooses into himself, integrating it with his own soul, and then takes a piece of their combined essence and puts it back into the animal. In that way, the two of them are like one being in two bodies.”
“Looks to me like the wizard gets the better end of the deal,” noted Spinner, her eyes traveling between the pitcher and shot glass to Woodheart and Littleknight and back again. “He’s mostly the same, whereas the glass’s contents are a lot different.”
Mystaria nodded, clearly pleased by the observation. “That’s exactly it. A wizard with a familiar isn’t changed much at all by having one – someone with a cat familiar might be a little more stealty, or having a hare might make you a bit quicker to react, but that’s it – whereas the animal becomes like an extension of the wizard’s personality.”
“Aw, but I’d neber…neber drink Lilknight’sh shoul…he’sh shuch a good boy…yesh he ish,” hiccuped Woodheart, reached down to try and pet the almiraj, only to fail when her forehead hit the table. “…ow…”
Ignoring their friend’s drunken antics, Shadow cocked her head. “So you think Lex did that with Solvei?”
“That’s the thing: he can’t possibly have done that,” insisted Mystaria.
Valor sighed. “Alright, I’ll take the bait: why not?”
“Because winter wolves aren’t ordinary animals. They’re almost as smart as ponies, and sapient creatures have more developed souls.” She pointed at the larger piece of glassware. “It would be like trying to pour a pitcher of something into another pitcher. It wouldn’t work.”
“So, she’s not Lex’s familiar,” concluded Spinner. “I’m glad we wasted several minutes and some perfectly good liquor on that example.”
Mystaria’s smile deepened then. “On the contrary. I think Solvei is his familiar.”
Valor frowned. “You just said-”
“I know,” admitted Mystaria, clearly eager to present how she’d resolve that contradiction. “But according to this” – she tapped her book – “one of the greater blessings that the Night Mare will rarely grant to a mortal champion is ‘mastery over magical beasts’. It allows whoever receives it to not only take mystical creatures for familiars, even if they’re sapient beings, but lets them have more than one!”
Despite herself, Shadow looked somewhat interested now. “So you normally can’t have more than one familiar?”
Mystaria shook her head. “Not normally, no. Once you’ve mixed another spirit into yours, the soul rejects further mixing. No one’s sure why, but the popular theory is that more than one mixture would begin to dilute your sense of self, which is believed to be the essence of the spirit-”
“Okay, okay.” Shadow held up a hoof. “So you think Lex has this greater blessing or whatever it is?”
“It’s just a theory,” admitted Mystaria. “And, if I’m being honest, one with a pretty big hole in it.”
Now it was Spinner’s turn to raise a brow. “Which is?”
“All of the gods give out blessings, including the Night Mare,” explained Mystaria. “They’re usually small things, and they can manifest as whatever the gods want them to be. But sometimes they give out more powerful ones, which is what the greater blessings of the Night Mare are.”
Valor shrugged. “So what’s the problem with your theory?”
“Because, as far as anyone knows, the Night Mare only ever bestows a particular greater blessing to one pony at a time,” answered Mystaria. “And we already know who has the power of mastery over magical beasts: he's the head of her temple in Viljatown.”