//------------------------------// // Chapter 9 // Story: H A Z E // by Bandy //------------------------------// Pain could be many things. The pain of losing friends and mentors was a dissociative pain. Hypha sunk into it, and hours would pass without him noticing. The pain of abusing something sacred was a shameful pain. It filled him with rage and made him want to lash out at whoever or whatever was closest without reason. The pain in his hooves removed the possibility of feeling the other two. Morning shed fresh light on the severity of Hypha’s situation. His right degloved hoof hadn’t healed at all. Grit clung to the raw, ropey musculature. The hoof on the left side was in marginally better shape, but he noted a few new conspicuous cracks in the keratin. Rest had returned some of his magical strength, but a few hours into their trek through the grass, Hypha was once again running on empty. “Can we stop for a minute?” he asked. Red scowled. Blue gave no outward appearance that she’d heard him at all. “My hooves—” “We can walk a little slower,” Red said in a curt voice, “but we’re not stopping.” Hypha turned to conversation to distract him. “How was Blue able to teleport like that?” “She’s mute, not deaf,” Red said. “Don’t talk to her like she’s not here.” “Sorry. Blue, how are you—” “It’s not teleporting,” Red cut him off. “She can walk through shadows.” Shadow-walking. That was a kind of thestral magic he had read about in old monastic texts. But no active users had been recorded by the order for at least three hundred years. It was a kind of magic not even powerful elder monks could master. It required batpony blood. “Who was your guru?” Hypha asked. “Gu-what?” “Your guru.” More blank stares. “Who taught you?” “She taught herself.” “Really? That’s incredible.” Blue shrugged the praise off, but Hypha could see the ghost of a smile tugging at her lips. He tried to imagine teaching himself rune magic. Then he remembered that, without any monks, that was exactly what he’d have to do. His heart sank. The pain came back with a vengeance. He changed the subject. “What was so important in that courthouse you had to break in?” “Records,” Red said. “What kind of records?” “Trade logs. Court documents. Birth certificates.” “You stole other ponies’ birth certificates?” “Yup. And the crystal lamp.” “Why?” “Cuz it’s cool. It’s really from the crystal empire. Got a stamp on the bottom and everything.” “No, the birth certificates.” Red quickened her pace. “We’re trying to find Blue’s dad.” “Oh, that’s really sweet.” “We’re gonna kill him.” Hypha wisely shut his mouth and stowed the rest of his questions. A full day of travel passed with zero change in the scenery. Hypha’s tracking instinct screamed at him to turn around. They had to be going in circles. Such a vast stretch of grassland wasn’t physically possible. Then, like it had been teleported from out of nowhere, a colossal steppe of mud-brown rock appeared on the horizon. “Canary’s Cage,” Red said. “The monastery’s on top of it.” Hypha took stock of the monolithic piece of rock, the sheer sides extending vertically a thousand yards into the air, the vertical striations of darker colored rock reminiscent of the bars of a bird cage. “There’s a path that wraps around,” Red said. “Takes us right up.” Both of those statements were correct, in a loose sense. The path went up—dramatically up, at an angle intended for experienced climbers with four fully functional hooves. Hypha had all the climbing experience between the three of them and only two and a half hooves. He turned helplessly to Red and Blue. “So.” “Nuh uh, stuff it,” Red sneered. “You’re carrying yourself up there.” “I don’t like it anymore than you do.” “Fly!” “I already told you, I can’t. Have Blue take us through the shadows.” “It doesn’t work like that, idiot.” “I’m just trying to help.” “Your help almost got us killed.” “Right after you almost got me killed.” “Shut up, street trash. I’ll kick the jaw off your skull.” Blue stomped her hooves, cutting off any further argument. She saddled up next to Hypha and motioned for him to climb on. Red stewed in silence for the first stretch of the climb. By the time she’d cooked up the right words to express her displeasure at Blue’s choice, they were all so absorbed in the act of climbing she no longer had the energy to argue. When they made it to the top, all three were caked in dust and sweat. Blue sloughed Hypha off her back, hacked a mouthful of dirt-stained phlegm off the edge, and collapsed. Red checked Blue’s hooves for blisters, then laid down herself. Through dirt-ringed eyes, Hypha took in the view sideways. The flatland stretched unbroken all the way to the horizon. Waves of wind rippled across the grass. A familiar floaty sensation of flight flowed through him. He found another well of strength within him and rose to his hooves. “C’mon.” Red groaned. “Gimme a minute.” “I bet they’ll feed you for helping me.” That was enough to get the two mares going again. The exterior gates were unlocked, and there weren’t any guards posted on the inside. Hypha filed these details away for later discussion with the monastery elders. They'd need to start fortifying the place if they were going to survive the inevitable Derechan attack. Locking the gates wouldn't stop an army of pegasi, of course, but not every legionnaire in the attacking force had been a pegasi. At any rate, they had to start somewhere. The interior was styled differently than Roseroot, but it was laid out almost exactly the same. A large meeting hall and a multistory dormatory dominated the north side. Hovels and monk living quarters were stuffed into every available square inch. Instead of a soaring temple, this monastery went for a squat, round dome design with a central staircase that led down into the steppe itself. The roofs of the surrounding buildings were thatched with grass from the surrounding prairie, not unlike an actual bird’s nest. Something about it felt off to Hypha. He took about three steps inside before having his personal space invaded by a mare in a neon-orange vest. She waved a clipboard like a shield and spoke at a practiced clip. “Welcome to Canary’s Cage, travelers! My name is Cheetah Print, and I’ll be your touchpoint ambassador for the first day of your stay. So sorry we didn’t get the door for you, but we weren’t expecting anyone today. Are you late arrivals for the... uh...” Her rehearsed smile fell off her face at the sight of the bloody bandages on Blue’s flank. Her eyes got even wider when she noticed Hypha’s shattered front hooves. “And... uh... you know this is a spiritual treatment center, right? Not an, uh.” She chanced another glance at Hypha’s hooves and shuddered. “Not an actual treatment center.” “My name is Hypha. I’m from the Roseroot monastery. Where are the elders?” “Um. The elders are, uh, not here. But I can help you. Probably. Those hooves—” “The elders,” Hypha shouted. His voice rang through the monastery courtyard. Ponies stopped what they were doing and looked his way. “I need to speak to them,” he said in a more subdued voice. “We’re all in terrible danger.” Cheetah Print’s bright eyes flashed fearfully, though Hypha couldn’t tell if it was because of the warning or the state of his injuries. “I’ll. Yeah. I’ll go find somepony.” She took off at a gallop, leaving her clipboard behind. Hypha picked it up and saw some kind of standardized form attached to it. At the top of the form in stylized script were the words: Canary’s Cage Monastic Retreat | Holistic Wellness Center “So which building is the one serving lunch?” Red asked. The ponies in the cafeteria went silent as the trio walked in. Hypha ignored them. Visions of lentils and fresh baked bread danced in his head. But the bread he found was a different color than what he was used to. It tasted underbaked and sank like a stone in his stomach. The lentils had some sort of foul fishy vinegar mixed in, rendering them almost inedible. He wolfed it down anyway, pausing halfway through to gag. Waste not, want not. Red and Blue kept their eyes on swivels as they ate. “Do monks stare as a sign of friendship?” Red asked. Hypha shook his head. “Ah. Well. That’s not good, then.” Hypha was still trying to decide whether or not to ask for seconds when the cafeteria door swung open. Half a dozen ponies in leather armor hustled inside. Orange bands adorned their legs. Truncheons dangled from their belts. The trio saw the clubs and leapt to their hooves. Red grabbed an empty bowl, presumably to hurl it at the attackers. Hypha looked around for exits but saw none. There had been at least five exits in the Roseroot monastery mess. How come this one was built like a tomb? “Hold on!” cried a high-pitched stallion’s voice. “Stop with all this violent energy!” The guards parted, revealing a short, lithe pony with a wispy brown coat and a mustache as meticulous as his gaze. He wore an immaculate orange robe with an intricate blue and white frill. “That frill is unsanctioned,” Hypha said. “Who are you?” “I’m elder Prairie Sky,” the stallion said. “Who are you?” Hypha’s heart shot into his throat. “I’m an acolyte from—” “I asked who.” Prairie Sky’s interjection made Hypha stumble over his words. “What?” “I asked who you are. Not what you are.” “My name’s Hypha.” “Hypha.” He paused like he was storing the name in a mental vault. “You must be from the mountains.” “Yes,” Hypha said. “From Roseroot.” “You’re awfully far from your nest. What brings you all the way out here?” Hypha felt his hooves start to tremble. A surge of horror and sadness welled up in his throat. “Derecho,” he croaked. “They’re attacking monasteries. Roseroot, it’s...” Hypha’s legs gave out. Prairie Sky was at his side before he could fall, lowering him reverently to the ground. “All who are lost are welcome here,” he whispered into Hypha’s ear. “I’ll keep you safe.” A vision of icy blue eyes and black Derechan armor flashed in Hypha’s eyes. He felt utterly helpless, a flightless bird dangling from the edge of its nest. He clung to Prairie Sky’s robes as he fought back sobs. “I don’t wanna die. We gotta leave, we gotta, we gotta—” Hypha choked. His chest was being crushed by an invisible avalanche. The thick air choked him. His heart pounded in his ears. Elder Prairie Sky sighed. “I’m sorry, Hypha. This is for your own good.” He drew his hoof into his chest. A glowing drop of vapor materialized on the tip of his hoof. He drew a complex rune over Hypha’s head. When he touched the center, Hypha’s eyes fogged over in a magically-induced slumber. With all the attention on Hypha, Red inched her way over to a bread basket at the end of the lineup and stuffed some rolls into her pockets.