//------------------------------// // 25. Letters // Story: The Last Nightguard // by Georg //------------------------------// The Last Nightguard Letters “A letter is the simplest and worst form of time-travel and telepathy at once. It takes ones thoughts and transports them through a different medium until they reform in another pony’s mind, well and completely scrambled.” — Starswirl’s Book of Incomplete “It is time.” Eclipse shifted in place as his wife tucked the precious wooden box into his saddlebag, trying not to look up at the corrupted moon above them. Ponies had adjusted, changed, turned into new generations of ponies so slowly that he had not noticed, but now that he could look out across the explosive growth of Canterlot with its inhabitants scurrying about, he could see the occasional mismatched couple. Earth pony and pegasus, unicorn and the dark shape of a… Well, it had been many years and the new ponies formed from Luna’s spell still had not settled on one name for their whole race, but Eclipse still thought of them as batponies no matter the new phrase of the day. It had been a long and difficult road to get the hard-headed aristocracy of all three races to admit that intermarriage was not some sort of dark conspiracy or inferior mating, but Eclipse had not needed to kill any of them to dampen their criticism of his own three-way pairing. Although on damp days, Lord Marken still walked with a limp right where Penumbra had kicked him. Repeatedly. Then when he had complained to Dawns Light, she kicked him precisely in the same spot. Repeatedly. It saved his life. Eclipse would not have been so gentle. “Wake up, Numbskull.” Penumbra tied down the saddlebag with her magic, then slapped him on the flank. “You’re lost in thought again.” “No, I’m right where I need to be,” said Eclipse. He gave his wife a quick and daring kiss on the cheek since they were in public, sitting on the thin grass of the Canterlot palace, exactly on the spot that would eventually become the vast lawn where he had been blasted by the Elements of Harmony. Twice. Personally, he much preferred the present than the future. Giving one last peek at his saddlebag where the sealed wooden box had been placed, he shifted positions with a creaking of old joints to point southward while his wife fussed over one of his saddlebag straps. “One last message to the future,” she mused. “And you had to save the most dangerous for last.” “Danger is relative,” said Eclipse. “I’ve spoken with Torch several times over the years, and he is quite reasonable if you are careful.” “Unless you foul up and he burns you to a crisp, in which case—” Penumbra kissed him solidly on the lips for an extended period of time, only pulling back and looking him in the eyes when the giggling of nearby grandfoals peeking around the corner of the palace wall became too loud to ignore. “You better dodge if you peeve him off. Just because I’m done with having foals, doesn’t mean you’re unappreciated. Besides, it’s my turn tonight. Dawn had you yesterday.” “There are nights I wonder what I got into.” He kissed her gently and briefly so the children peeking around the corner would make yucky noises again before adding, “Your sister isn’t here yet. Is Celestia having issues again tonight?” “Far from it.” Penumbra allowed herself a small smile, which still looked good on her. “Celestia recognized her. By name. She’s coming back. Slowly, but you were right. Again.” “I’ve seen her walking on her own several times out in the gardens,” said Eclipse. “That slow one-hoof-at-a-time pace is going to stick with her for centuries, which is good for anypony trying to keep up.” “I just wish…” Much like her husband, Penumbra’s black coat had gone so much to grey that it looked as if she were perpetually covered in frost, and when she lowered her head to look down at the ground, the pink stripe running down her thinning mane was nearly indistinguishable from the rest of the silver hairs. Eclipse gently lifted her chin until she looked him in the eyes again, seeing the immense talent and caring heart that her crabby exterior had hidden from him for far too long. “None of us will live to see her return, but you know what?” He jerked his head ever so subtly in the direction of their grandfoals, now gathered in sufficient numbers that they threatened to cascade over each other as they each tried to sneak a peek around the stonework of the palace. “Our generations yet to come will. I think it was meant to be that way.” “Fate,” snorted Penumbra in a way that made it sound like a profanity. “The future is what we make of it. And that being said—” she swatted him on the rear “—get flying or you’ll never make it back here before sunrise.” “As you command.” Eclipse rose into the night sky with a sweep of his strong wings, and in moments was lost to the stars above. The children who had been hiding nearby emerged in a flood of horns and wings, clustering around Penumbra in a welcome herd that she was learning, ever so slowly, to appreciate instead of dread. “Auntie Pen,” said a small unicorn carrying a large printed book, one of the first volumes that an ‘anonymous’ benefactor had funded. “We want you to read us a story from your new book.” “A story?” Penumbra looked over the woodcut cover of the hefty book and the large block letters that described the contents. Something deep inside regretted not having her name on the cover, but Luna had gotten into far too much trouble by demanding her own recognition, and this was Penumbra’s one small step of anonymity toward her imprisoned liege’s long path of redemption. “Are you certain you want that particular book? There are several new—” “No,” declared a younger batpony with a pale pink stripe down her violet mane. The sight of her favorite grandfoal made Penumbra’s heart melt into a gooey mess, but she tried not to show it as Inflection continued, “Wanna princess story, g’ma.” “Grandmother,” said Penumbra. “And you did not say the word.” “G’anmother,” said Inflection carefully. “Now.” “Please,” chorused the rest of the young ponies over Penumbra’s chuckle. Even if she could never see Luna again, her descendents would, and perhaps they would have some part in freeing her from Nightmare Moon. Improbable, but it could happen. “Very well. Gather around, young ones.” By the light of a dozen small horns, Penumbra made herself comfortable and opened the book to the first page. It took some time to get all of the children arranged, youngest close where they could be more appreciated, oldest in the back so they could see over their siblings, but in good time she could begin. “Once upon a time, in the magical land of Equestria, there were two regal sisters who ruled together and created harmony for all the land. To do this, the eldest used her unicorn powers to raise the sun…” It was the first snow of Winter, and the two ruling alicorns were sitting on the balcony of the Royal Towers, looking out across the snow-clad city as night enfolded the residents and brought forth the brilliant stars. It was a moment of perfect peace after so much stress, and neither of the Royal Sisters could bring themselves to say a word. That is until Celestia could no longer hold back. “How, Luna?” One royal gold-clad hoof swept across their elevated vista, from the glittering lights of the Canterlot club scene to the nearby Royal University Astronomy towers, where diligent students of several races scrutinized the sky for any anomalies that might possibly bring another unexpected alicorn. “All of the resources of the entire world were unable to find an answer to Ebon Tide’s condition, and you came to me with a spell right out of the blue. No warning after weeks of research with no results at all, and—” “Starswirl,” said Luna as if one word would shut her sister up and return their quiet moment of togetherness. She should have known better. “That old fraud?” Celestia took a quick glance over her shoulder as if she had heard a bell jingle, then returned to a proper scrutiny of the grounds far below the tower where a lump in the snow hid the glazed section of soil from the last attempt to cure their Royal Guard. “He’s not back,” added Celestia in a somewhat hopeful tone. “We would have heard by now. The first thing he would do is go straight to us and complain about everything we’ve done wrong since he vanished.” “True,” admitted Luna. “I still miss him. He was cantankerous, obstinate, stubborn to a fault, but he was right when he placed quill to parchment, no matter how complicated his scribing.” “Even when he never completed his work or was completely wrong,” said Celestia, rising to her hooves and pointing with a wing for emphasis. “He left behind mirrors that only reflect other worlds every thirty moons and clocks that run sideways every third weekend. Half of his work is sealed away into his private archives in the mountain core, and the other half confounds every one of my students to no end. Given his tendency for short solutions to long problems, he would probably transport Eb to another dimension and close the door afterward.” Celestia’s eyes narrowed. “But I trust you did not use one of his shortcuts as you said.” “Trust.” Luna looked up to the brilliant moon covering the snowcovered city in a blanket of silver light. “After my betrayal, you still trust me. You spoke not when I lied to the children about the spell for their own good, nor did you send them away when I asked for them to be included. So yes, I have at least regained some of the trust I squandered, correct?” “I didn’t mean it that way, Luna.” She gestured with a wingtip and swirled a bit of loose snow around on the balcony. “I can’t not trust you. You’re my sister. Nothing can take that away from us.” “Our Factotum would agree, wholeheartedly,” admitted Luna. “They were apprenticed once to Starswirl, but they lacked the thick skin necessary to tolerate his attitude and refused to let the old coot break them apart. Did I tell you that Dusky kicked him in the face once?” “No, actually.” Celestia settled back down on the floor of the balcony and tucked her wings back into place. “I presume she never apologized, and of course he never apologized, and Dawn would have taken her sister’s side like a pair of angry badgers. It explains why they left his service and turned to ours before they killed him or worse. I never asked about specifics,” said Celestia. “Didn’t want to stir up emotions over something that was said and gone, and Dusky Withers had emotions enough for five or six ponies.” “It is good she is dead and gone for many centuries,” said Luna. “For if she heard you speak her given name—” Celestia shuddered and quickly added, “Penumbra. She and her sister were far too bright to be in our service, and yet I remember so little of them. Although every time I see a pony with a pink stripe in their mane—” “Like your brilliant student,” said Luna. “Like Twilight,” agreed Celestia. She settled back down on the balcony and looked out at the quiet night for a time before breaking the silence again. “It wasn’t something that Twilight found, was it?” “She would have told you first,” said Luna, poorly concealing a smug smile. “And we must admit, without the children to occupy Eb’s time and calm his… That is our tendency to violent confrontation, the situation would have met a tragic end far earlier. There is a great amount of thankfulness which I must repay over the next years.” Luna produced Eb’s frail wooden betrothal box and removed the piece of gold from inside. “We admit to our ignorance. We have always found it difficult to trust in others, but we trust ourself even less. Sometimes, my Factotum found it necessary to remind me. So you could say we had help from an entirely unexpected source that I should have expected.” She turned the sheet of gold over and let it glow for a while in the cool silver light of the moon. For a long period of time, nothing happened. Then she leaned forward, breathed across the golden page, and small crabbed letters appeared etched into the gold. Her Rockheaded Highness. The short one. It sounds like your stupid decision worked out for the best anyway. Get Starswirl’s Seventeenth Unsolved Theorem from his sealed archives. It took my sister and me a few years, but we solved the nonnegative rational function for the closed-loop paradox and slipped it back onto the shelf. If the daft old geezer shows back up, rub it in his face for me. Anyway, that should let you send our husband back to his origin point, if you don’t mess up the tau values when casting and leave any interesting parts of his behind. Try not to screw this one up more than you did already. Penumbra. “We used to send each other coded messages on the backs of bits,” confessed Luna while Celestia was still reading. “There may still be a few antique stores, museums, and coin collections out there in Equestria with unexpected additions to their coins.” “I always said Dusky was an unsung genius hiding behind a scowl,” said Celestia, taking a moment to wipe her eyes. “I suspect you really do have her distant descendent to thank for your release from Nightmare Moon. Twilight Sparkle has several of Dusky’s characteristics, although not her unique sense of tact. Thankfully.” “Which would explain Shining Armor’s appeal to one of our kind,” mused Luna under her breath. “What?” asked Celestia. “Nothing.” Luna put the golden page back into the box and carefully placed it to one side before leaning up against her sister. “You know we’re still going to fight at times.” “Of course.” Celestia nudged closer. “I look forward to it. The palace has been far too quiet.” “And I’m going to lose my temper at you,” added Luna. “As I most certainly will in return. Or on occasion, first.” Celestia nudged her sister and looked up at the stars. “That just means we have to appreciate these moments while we have them.” “Certes.” There was a long, long pause, broken only by distant pegasi flying around the city on whatever errands brought them out into the cold darkness and the distant faint sounds of an outdoor winter festival. “Hearth’s Warming is still a holiday?” asked Luna abruptly. “Of course.” Celestia stretched one wing over her sister. “I already have my present, so no need to shop.” “Oh, not for you,” said Luna rather quickly. “We are owed a great number of gifts for our time spent away. If you need assistance wrapping them, we would be most happy to—” * * * Citizens of Canterlot were used to strange events in the sky, but tonight had one stranger than any living creature had ever seen. Two alicorns rocketed through the air, breaking apart winter clouds and hurtling balls of freshly compressed snow at each other. It took hours before they tired of their play and settled down at the Winterfair for a large mug of chocolate and some mint candy canes, but their actions were copied by many children around the city for weeks afterward, despite the discouragement of their parents. After all, children will be children, no matter how old they are. The End