//------------------------------// // VIII – Transgression // Story: From the West They Came // by Not That Anon //------------------------------// “Absolutely not!” Sea Worthy slammed her hoof on the desk. “Captain, if I may,” I said, putting down a stack of translated notes. “We don’t have any other leads and–“ “I’ve spent half my life on a ship and I will not take orders from a former soldier and a witch who still thinks like a unicorn!” the mare shouted and angrily batted her wings, sending the pages flying all over the room. “The sailors are growing restless,” I calmly replied. “We need to reach the land, and quickly.” “Which is why we have to keep going west.” Sea Worthy quickly trotted to the corner of the room and grabbed a chart from a nearby chest. She returned to the desk and unfurled the map. “The nearest recorded land is three weeks away, assuming we’d get lucky with the wind. But here, –” she pointed to the blank space on the western end of the chart “– we could find it as soon as tomorrow.” “We won’t.” I looked up from the map and saw but a shadow of a pony who was once the bravest captain in the entirety of Princess Luna’s fleet. “You can blame it on magic or plain old sea currents, but we won’t find anything by going straight west. We’ll starve to death!” Sea Worthy sighed and walked to the porthole. “My second officer is the best navigator I’ve ever known. If anypony can find the way, it’s her.” I pointed at the page which landed between me and the captain. “There are no ways leading west,” I quoted. “You insist on that.” Sea Worthy took off her captain’s hat and solemnly looked at the rank insignia attached to her uniform. “But I can’t risk the lives of everypony because of some magical delusions.” “But–“ “No, we’re going west. That decision is final.” Sea Worthy stared into the setting sun on the horizon. “I’m sorry,” she added in a near-silent whisper. The next three days were almost completely uneventful. The mood on the ship kept getting worse, in no small part due to meals getting thinner by the day and the cider rations getting diluted with water until the drink was nearly colorless. This far from Equestria, the proud winds wouldn’t accept pegasi sovereignty, instead bringing about a terrible storm that slowed us down almost to a standstill. The overwhelmingly gloomy atmosphere eventually reached even the officers. After finishing her map and subsequently spending an entire day cursing Sea Worthy’s cowardice, Midnight locked herself in her cabin; occasional flashes of light and rumbling of thunder coming from within the only proof that she was still there. Sawbones became more apathetic. In the mornings and evenings he tended to the batponies wounded in various minor accidents on the ship, but none of his patients required any serious medical assistance, leaving the old surgeon with no tasks to fill his days with. Not wanting to join the sailors playing cards and dice in the empty hold, he preferred to sit in the rain for hours, his gaze fixated on the horizon in a silent prayer. Moon Shine showed no signs of recovery and I started to fear that his sorry state might be permanent. Once we reach a friendly port – if we ever reach a friendly port, an unwelcome thought wormed its way into my mind – he’ll need the help of those extravagantly clothed unicorns capable of healing the mind. Everypony has heard the rumors that those healers drill holes in the skulls of their patients but I doubt that Moon Shine will be in a position to be picky about his treatment. The captain was the only one of us who at least kept up the appearances of having everything under her control. She was shouting orders and overseeing the work on the ship as if we had just left port. And yet the journey was clearly taking a toll on her, too. Every morning, her voice lost a fraction of its signature decisiveness and her stride became a tiny bit less confident. The changes were barely noticeable – I was made aware of them only due to my acting experience – but it was a matter of days until the more perceptive among the sailors would start to take notice. One night I took a few drops of the strange medicine I received from Midnight. I sought guidance in the dreams but found nothing. The next morning I woke up at the usual time and without the faintest recollection of any dreams I might’ve had. No new markings appeared on the walls of my cabin and I wasn’t tired in the least, either. Our situation was dire. Thinking about it now, an overpowering apathy overcame all of us until we were left hopelessly waiting for a miracle. Eventually, we were forcibly wrested from our stupor, but not by the miracle that we were waiting for. On the fourth day after Sea Worthy’s decision to stay the course, we gathered in the mess for breakfast. The tables were set but no food was being served. A cold shiver ran down my spine. I briefly doubted my calculations, worried that we ran out of supplies earlier than expected. The looks I was getting from the sailors only exacerbated this feeling so I stood up to check up on the galley. I nodded at Sawbones and the two nearest batponies to help me. Midnight also decided to join the investigation, in equal measure due to her curiosity and her unwillingness to idly sit by. The galley was still closed shut from the inside. Our attempts at knocking on the door and shouting for Moon Shine to open were met with complete silence. Taking a step back, I gestured at the two sailors – Rickety Board and a mare whose name escaped my memory – to force the door. It was a solid door made from high quality wood. Fortunately for us, it wasn’t designed to be tough enough to withstand an impromptu siege, and broke into pieces after the third hit from the sailors. We stepped inside, carefully avoiding the sharp splinters still stuck to the door frame. Rickety Board took one look at the scene and fainted. The other sailor caught him before he hit the ground but she wasn’t looking much better than him herself, and to be honest neither was I. I have served in Her Highness’s army since the beginning of the rebellion. I participated in several battles, both as a common soldier and as a commander. And yet I have never felt as sick as I did when I saw the inside of the galley. Despite some wartime solar demagogues claiming otherwise, we are still ponies. We fought for what we believed was right – and would do so again, given the chance – but we did what we could to minimize the casualties. Our weapons were designed to incapacitate more than to kill and all of our forces were supported by alchemists and unicorn healers capable of stabilizing even the seemingly fatally wounded soldiers. The solar army, to their credit, followed similar principles; it wasn’t uncommon for the healers to help the losing side after a battle. It was still a war, of course, and not everypony was lucky enough to fully recover, or even recover at all. The brave pegasus general Firefly who dove straight at our command during the second battle for Fillydelphia will never fly again after losing her left wing to my sword. No matter how much we tried to justify ourselves, the statistics were always ruthless. Casualties on the level of one per eight hundred soldiers participating in a battle tell the tales of dozens of ponies whose lives were irreversibly severed. What I saw in the galley, however, was like a nightmare that one can’t wake up from, vaguely familiar and yet alien in the most horrific way. Moon Shine lay on his back in a pool of blood, sprawled on the floor in the center of the room. His wings have been torn off and discarded in the corner, his legs bent in all the wrong places. The most unsightly part of the blood-soaked corpse was his chest; flesh and bones alike have been brutally ripped apart leaving a gaping hole where his heart used to be. A trail of blood ran from the door we’ve just opened to the poor cook’s body. Sawbones whispered a quick prayer and moved in to examine the cadaver, crimson liquid splashing under his hooves. Midnight turned her attention to the frightened sailor mare and said in a cold, emotionless voice, “Can you and your friend maintain secrecy?” “I… I could try and I thi… I think that he–“ she stammered, fighting the urge to faint, throw up or both. Midnight sighed and repeated the question with a well-acted concern, stressing the importance of an honest answer. Meanwhile her horn started faintly glowing. “Yes, I promise.” The sailor straightened her back and raised her head. “And I promise in Rickety’s name, too.” “Good.” The glow around the witch’s horn dispersed. The backup plan that she had prepared – whatever it was – thankfully turned out to not be necessary. ”If anypony asks, what you saw here was a suicide, you’d best remember that.” The other mare quickly nodded. “What about him?” she said, pointing at her unconscious companion. “He’ll be fine in a minute.” Midnight waved a hoof. “Take him out of here and let him get some fresh air. Come back in half an hour to help us move the body somewhere more adequate.” “Move him?” The mare’s eyes widened. I stopped gawking at the ghastly scene and said, “There’s a bed near the wall, we’ll wrap him up in the sheets to avoid making a scene.” “That’s– that’s not really reassuring.” The sailor showed a faint, fragile smile. “But it’ll have to do.” Rickety Board grumbled and shifted on the floor near her hooves. “Oh, I better get him out of here before he faints for the second time.” With the immediate issue taken care of, Midnight and I joined Sawbones. The old stallion never left his cabinet without medical tools safely stored in his saddlebags. He cut a small fragment of the ruptured skin and examined it under a magnifying glass. After he gleaned all that he could from the destroyed tissue, he looked at us with a great deal of worry. “Just as I feared, it was a banshee,” he said. “How do you know?” I asked. I needed to keep my mind busy to avoid focusing on the scene. “The marks were– ah, but I’m getting ahead of myself.” Sawbones wiped his face with a clean piece of cloth. “It would be best to first establish what really happened here.” “And you already have a theory,” Midnight scoffed. “Am I right?” “In fact I do. Do you see the trail of blood starting near his bed?” The surgeon pointed at it with a scalpel. “He was asleep when the attack started. The specter woke him up by tearing his wings off in one pull.” “How can you be sure of that?” I interrupted. “Maybe the wings have been, ugh, removed after his death.” “Impossible,” said Sawbones. “They’re too clean. Aside from the base, there are no signs of struggle on them. No, he lost them before the assault really began.” I shuddered. “Such strength!” “A banshee’s appearance is deceptive,” said Sawbones. “They’re stronger and more magically capable than you’d think. This far from Equestria they don’t hold back. As I said, the pain woke up Moon Shine and he desperately stumbled to the exit, painting the floor red. The monster knew that the doors were locked shut, evidently finding great joy in watching him suffer. See those holes in the wall next to the door? When Moon Shine realized that he won’t have the time to open it, he started frantically hitting it with all his strength. Then–“ “Are you implying we didn’t hear his fight? This –“ Midnight kicked a part of the destroyed door “– would wake up everypony on the ship.” Sawbones raised a brow. “Didn’t I just say that the banshees are powerful sorceresses? A few days ago you cast a similar silencing spell yourself. Copying it was no hard task for the monster.” Midnight bit her lip. I prompted Sawbones to continue. “She lifted him to the ceiling and slammed his body against the floor with incredible force. He slid a meter from the point of impact –“ Sawbones pointed his scalpel at a small crater of broken flooring next to the corpse “– but he was still alive, as evidenced by the last ditch effort to draw the dagger in self-defense.” Indeed, a small dagger could be seen in a puddle of blood near Moon Shine’s head. Sawbones squinted. “He trashed for a while with only his front hooves, likely suffering from a broken spine, while the banshee watched his futile efforts with glee. Then, when he was on the verge of bleeding out, she began clawing at his chest. If he was lucky, he lost consciousness before she dug through to his heart.” “And the wounds?” My head was spinning. “What a brutal weapon!” “The monster didn’t wield any weapons,” said Sawbones. “I’ve seen similar cuts in the great griffon war. Those are claw marks.” Midnight broke the silence that struck the room. She adjusted her hat, looked around, and said, “Even if I was willing to believe your story, there’s one detail that you overlooked.” If Sawbones was surprised by the sudden change of heart, he didn’t let it show. He leaned back and said, “And what would it be?” “The door was closed from the inside when we opened it,” Midnight pointed out. “There was no way for that ‘banshee’ of yours to enter.” “You’re right,” the surgeon conceded, “that not even a banshee can phase through solid matter, or she would’ve gotten Moon Shine much sooner. Still, I don’t see what other–“ I gasped. “The porthole!” Sawbones stopped his monologue and looked at the small, round window on one of the walls. It was open. “After the accident he started closing it every evening – I saw him do it two days ago – but now it’s open,” I said. Sawbones was visibly perplexed by the recent discovery. “Are we to believe that he simply forgot to close it for the night?” “I don’t think he forgot.” Midnight scrunched her muzzle under the hat. “Look, there's a note near the pots.” She levitated the scrap of paper and rotated it a couple times. “The hoofwriting is barely legible but I’ve seen worse. Let me see…” “I’m sorry. I can’t resist her song any longer. Finding out that something protects Long Vigil made her even more furious, she won’t be satisfied with just one victim. I’m sorry.” Midnight’s voice wavered as she parsed the text. “On that night, I committed a terrible crime. Nocturne’s captain didn’t slip, no, I pushed her off the ship. May her spirit show more mercy to you than I did to her. I’m sorry.” The witch gently put the note back on the table. She cleared her throat and said with an obviously fake nonchalance, “What a coincidence, he believed in the same legend as Sawbones! Now excuse me, I’ll prepare some wards in case we’re attacked by an actual, non-imaginary threat.” Then she disappeared in a flash of dark blue magic. Sawbones blinked a couple times. “I take it that she finally accepted a different point of view. Shame that the change required such a, in her mind, deadly threat to happen.” “In her mind?!” I cried out. Sawbones’s words left me stuck between shock and anger. “Oh, the banshee is certainly real,” he said in a calm tone that, given the circumstances, sounded completely out of place. “But Midnight doesn’t have any reason to fear her more than anypony else.” I once again stopped the old surgeon. “No reason? She was involved in the events of that night.” “We know that, sir, but I doubt that this specter does. The captain was dead before Midnight did anything,” Sawbones refuted. “You may have a point.” I nodded. “And it’s unlikely that the banshee will target regular sailors. Perhaps it would be best to order some of the crew to guard the corridors and other officers’ cabins at night.” “That’s not a bad idea,” Sawbones agreed, “but help me wrap Moon Shine before you storm off.”