The Hero's Journey

by Gabriel LaVedier


Via Furia, Porta Fraus

The city was quiet as both stallions first set hoof into it. The streets were large cobblestones, and the roads along the houses smooth slabs of rock. Lantern posts stood at intervals and unlit lanterns hung from the crossbars at the top. The houses looked like any other from an archaic period that would match the walls. They were formed of joined stone blocks with thatched roofs, iron grilles in the openings of the windows, but almost none had any glass.
It was a silent, sepulchral city that was like some ghost town. Except... in most of the doorways, standing on the street, or on the roofs there were iron tombs. Some ornately designed and elaborately carved with images of Discord, some blocky and plain, merely imprinted with crude scrawlings of the lord of chaos. They lent the whole scene an eerie aura. Big Mac was unsettled but not overly affected as he walked behind Argus. Then his hoof touched the cobblestone street.
Almost as if a signal had been sent through all the town, the sepulchers sprang to life. Or at least, they began to scream. From within each iron tomb rose a voice. Some were angry, some were sorrowful, some were just incoherent. But they were all loud and demanding the attention of Big Mac. He could feel it. Even when they were only gibbering, it was like they were calling to him.
“Free me! I was a king in my land!”
“Let me go! I obeyed from fear and not love! I knew it was wrong but...”
“Papé Dìscord, Papé Dìscord aleppe!”
“It was not me! It was not me! I did not put the torch to the wicker foal! It was the foal!”
“You are beneath me! Beneath me! Save me Ixion! Lycaon! Tantalus! TROTLAS! Shrug this world off your shoulders and save me!”
“What is this? Are they... dead?” Big Mac stumbled back and onto his rump, huge, muscular form quivering like a leaf in a storm.
Argus shook his head firmly and looked impassively into the town of shrieking din. “No. Much as they may desire it to be so, they are not dead. They will never die, though they lie in their tombs. That was the torment and the mercy of the rulers of Equestria. A town to themselves, more lovely and grand than any THEY had ever built. And they would never be locked within. The gate would always be open to them. But there was a price. As the rites of blood and fire imposed by the mad god Discord sent so many to their tombs, they were placed in theirs. They would never suffer, nor would they die. A gift. But see how ungrateful they are.”
Big Mac swept his eyes across the town, taking in the mercy of the princesses in their younger days. It seemed... wrong. But he didn't know anything about the denizens of the tombs. And if the implications were accurate, they were very bad ponies. It seemed a strange sort of mercy and a cruel thing to do. But the princesses did not tend to act against the best interests of the citizens. “Why are they screamin' fer me?”
“I am of this place, now. I can do nothing for them and they recognize that. Within this place they know all that transpires. But you... if you chose, you could crack these tombs like the shell of an egg and release them. They would trot out of the gates and back to Equestria. Back home centuries out of time.”
“Ain't much to drive me to it.” Big Mac contemplated an ornate tomb standing near the gate. Among the carvings was an image of Discord crushing a unicorn who was beside a broken gold wheel. The image elements seemed familiar somehow. “These ain't quite Wilderness Scouts.”
“No. They are not, if I take you to mean they are not innocent foals. But what they are is trapped. Immobile souls trapped in frozen bodies who can see and hear and think and desire their liberty. They are in need only of your empathy and your strength to set them free.”
The huge red stallion froze as he looked over a tomb that was laying out, little more than a cold iron box scratched with a crude image of Discord burning several ponies. “Y'all ain't none too subtle, is ya? Those ain't yer words comin' out a yer mouth, are they?”
“I do what has been asked of me.” Argus replied. “How could I do less after what was done for me? But no matter. If you will not let them go, then let us reach the egress as swiftly as we can. We have a great distance to go and there will come no profit from lagging behind.”
The two stallions set off down the cobblestone streets towards the far end of the town which seemed like a walled Ponyville. Or even larger than that. All through the town the tombs screamed for release, pounding echoing from inside the iron shells. Yet no matter how they hammered the metal walls they never moved, not even an inch. They were firmly rooted to the spots in which they were placed, as if glued there.
“A mite disconcerting, ain't it? Walkin' down this pretty street hearin' them tombs screaming out clear as day. Mm, musta been a hardship fer yer lady.”
“You did not know Hu... you did not know her. She was very, very strong. The shrieking iron boxes upset her, because they annoyed her.” Argus chuckled softly. “Yes, that was quite an experience.”
“S'ppose it musta been. T'aint like any thing ah've ever done afore.” Shops passed them on either side, filled with merchandise and displaying things for sale nopony would ever buy. Homes passed, tradehouses passed, guilds, all the trappings of a post-Discordian town. Hollow and soulless, even with the screaming tombs showing some sign of habitation.
Towards the far end of the town, in sight of a second gate, a different kind of voice broke through the cacophony. It was notable for being female very distinctly female. “Please let me out. Please, please let me out of this. It was a mistake. It was not my doing. I was so scared. Please...”
“What?” Big Mac's ears swiveled, his head turning around to find the source of the female voice. “What's that? That's a mare.”
“Your weakness comes from your upbringing, agricole. You find it charming; the malicious find it easy.” Argus grumbled to himself sotto voce then said aloud, “Did you think all the tombs were stuffed with males alone? However it may seem, females obeyed Discord as well, and not always out of fear.”
“But she said she was...” Big Mac's country-fried Pericarp morals believed a female, immediately.
“Females lie as easily as males. We are all equal. Are we not? Surely you must know what a tragedy it might be to stop on your journey to unleash a prisoner to haunt the world.”
“Ah can't jes let a mare alone like that...” Big Mac strolled around, down the side streets, to find a plainly-designed iron tomb laying at the edge of a fountain. It was covered in flowing filigreed lines and embossed with an image of Discord working puppet strings. “Ma'am. Ah... ah knows the princesses are very wise. But... uhh... kin ya tell me yer name at least.”
There was silence from within the tomb for a moment. Then the voice cried out from within. “Omnidonum. My name is Omnidonum. Please let me out sir! Please break the tomb and let me out.”
“Why did they think y'all deserved to be in there? T'aint right ta jes stuff a poor soul in a box 'n' leave 'em there forever.”
“It was all a tragic misunderstanding, sir farmer. I was swept up in the hysteria of the closing days of Discordianism. I participated out of fear and obeyed even if the princesses were sweeping through and changing everything. I don't deserve this. Please let me out. With just a soft touch you could break this iron shell.”
“What did ya do. Ah mean... what did ya actually do?”
No reply was forthcoming from the tomb.
“Ma'am?”
“... Nothing...”
“Nuthin', ma'am.”
“Nothing.” The voice grew hard, demanding. “I. Did. NOTHING.”
Big Mac looked at the tomb, again staring at the ornate filigree work on what was an otherwise unremarkable box. “We ponies 're all equal. Guess ah should have remembered, mares lie like stallions. Ah'm jes s'pposed ta pretend it ain't so. Ah can't. This ain't Pericarp and y'all ain't tryin' ta cotillion yer way inta the family's money.”
“RELEASE ME!” The thumping and desperate hammering resumed against the inside of the iron box. “It was only a foal! These princesses are mere figureheads but I honored a GOD!”
Argus was where he had been left, waiting patiently for Big Macintosh to return. “Did you release the cruelly imprisoned lady?”
“May have been a mare but she weren't no lady. Let's git from this town. T'aint rightly healthful 'r pleasant ta be in here.” Big Mac looked slightly distracted, eyes trying to cast back to the tomb, from which still emanated furious screams directed at him.
“There were cruel and evil ponies in those days. Just as there are now, though mostly in lesser degrees. At least, that is what I have heard. I have not been in Equestria in a great while. But things like that do not ever truly go away.”
The two left through the rear gate, which opened at a touch and slammed back shut with an air of finality. On that gate was the image of Discord, his face a mask of abject terror, as six spheres swirled around him. The sky in the town had been the steel gray of the fetid rapids, and it changed little outside the gate. In the distance there was some hint of blue, just another symptom of the unstable nature of the sky in the strange world.
The other thing that changed was the temperature. There had been a slight chill once the cave had been exited, with a clamminess to the river and an undefined chill running through the town. Outside of the town it began to grow much warmer. It wasn't a natural, pleasant warmth from the sun shining gently. It was a thick, humid heat, as in a jungle. But it was no jungle. Merely stunted trees and scrub alongside a worn dirt road. The warmth was pleasant after all the chill, even if the humidity made it uncomfortable.
“Air feels a trifle heavy 'round these parts. Like that there sauna at the spa back in town. Ain't no rhyme 'r reason ta any a this out here.”
“I told you. It is not like the world you know but it will not harm you unless you let it. Be strong and sure and you will trot through with no troubles.” Argus indicated a dip in the distance, showing a lowering of the terrain. “There. In that valley you will find a new trial.”
“As ah expected. Jes so's ah know, there IS an end ta all this, ain't there? Y'all ain't been walking this road forever, has ya?”
“There is an end. Well I know there is an end. I walk this... let it go, young one. For now. You are not here to bond with me. You are here to dedicate yourself to your beloved.”
Big Mac nodded, pulling Smarty-Pants from his horse collar and giving her a hug as he walked along. “Eeyup. 'S true. And ah'm gonna get as close as ah kin ta mah beautiful Smarty-Pants.”
The road continued onward and took a sudden dip, the scrub and desolation giving way to what looked like yet another river and a very thick, dark forest. It was like the Everfree, but made up of more coniferous trees, and was oddly humid, rather than the clammy coolness of the Everfree.
“Whew! Mister Argus sir, ah's gotta say... it jes seems ta be getting worse and worse. And that there forest sure don't look like no jungle ah've ever seen in any book before.”
“This is not a jungle. This dark forest would be cold and unwelcoming as any of the prior places were it not for what faces you next. Be assured, past this, you will know a chill.” Argus motion with his walking stick to the river. Though it moved at a modest pace with a slight gurgle, there was a haze over it like at the fast-moving river. That haze was heavy, but smelling only like hot water.
“Is that... a hot river? Mah goodness, ah ain't never heard a sucha thing.”
“Your experiences here will prove quite unique and make, someday, for excellent stories. But for now...” Argus braced the stick against his chest and broke into a sudden run. He thrust the stick into the bank of the rive and heaved himself up in a mighty leap. Showing an athleticism that seemed to defy his aged appearance he cleared the entire, broad river, landing with a heavy thud on the far end. He slowly turned around and sat, looking stern and inscrutable as ever. “Cross the river, youngling.”
“Can't say as ah kin be so smooth 'bout it as y'all, but ah'll do mah best. Jes lemmee...” Big Mac browsed around amongst the trees, looking for a branch low enough to break or a sapling that seemed sturdy. A thick, heavy branch caught his eye, and he pushed on it a few times to test it out. “Ah knows from good branches. Ah'm an orchard stallion.” He turned quickly and gave a mighty buck, thrusting his legs out without holding back, as he did during applebucking. He branch cracked off and flew into another tree a short way away, tumbling to the ground. The wind picked up in that moment, a moaning gale that sounded like a voice. But it said nothing intelligible. Just, pear chay me she ahntay pear chay me scare pee.
“Creative work youngling. But you'd best test that branch. I doubt your farm has you do much leaping as this would require.”
“Was jes about ta do that...” Big Mac regarded the broken branch. It looked thick enough, despite the bulk it would be required to hold. He wedged it up under one leg, ran along the path and dug it into the road, putting his weight on it and leaping hard, letting it take his weight. The branch crumbled into a pile of dust, dropping the huge red stallion to the floor with a tremendous thud.
“My my... perhaps... just perhaps... that might not be the way to get across this river. You may need to think.. more directly.”
Big Mac lay there in a daze, groaning softly. “Can't help yerself, can ya, old stallion? Gotta be mysterious? Must be the ways of zebras. Mah littlest sis' fiancee is jes like that.”
Argus turned away from Big Mac and grumbled. “You speak so casually of a zebra wedding a pony. You are so spoiled, youngling...”
Big Mac heard nothing. He just shook the fuzz out of his head and huffed softly. “Direct... gotta walk straight through? Gotta cook mahself fer the sake a love?” His eyes fell to Smarty-Pants, looking up from where she had fallen during his failure at vaulting. He picked her up and tucked her safely back into his horse collar. “Ah'll do it. Gotta go, gotta bring her back ta me, ferever.”
He approached the edge of the steaming river, inhaling the heady steam. Once more he was reminded of the sauna at the spa. His mind cast back home to Ponyville for a moment, recalling that day at the spa Rarity had financed on hearing he was bound for Canterlot. He had been scrubbed and massaged and hooficured. And dumped into a tub of hot water. It was quite a thing, but did not seem quite as intimidating as the river before him. Somehow, the flowing water seemed even hotter.
He would not be cooked. He was almost sure. Argus had passed that way before, and with a mare in tow. But he may have vaulted before. Or built a bridge. Or done something similar. He was a guide, but had just as often tried to tempt him away and into failure. Maybe he had only one shot at it. One go and then he was finished. A single hoof set into the water and he would pull away, and be forced to confront his failure. Left without Smarty-Pants...
No! Even if his chance here ended, he would always have her. She was there, and would always be there, gathering impressions, listening to him, being with him. He would have her, even still and silent. Nothing could make him lose her. That thought steeled his resolve and sent his hoof out and into the water.
It burned. No, it did what was just shy of burning. It was not the scalding bite of water boiled over the fire, which he knew from a small spill of hot apple cider. It was hot, yes. Had his resolve been less certain he would have stepped out, afraid of being harmed. But he could feel. As hot and uncomfortable as it was, he was not truly being damaged. He stepped into the river, going down slowly, the hot water covering him more and more with each trot. His head angled back when the water got especially deep, eyes closing when the water came up over them. He held his breath when he was finally covered, whole body nearly numbed by the river of heat.
He vanished but briefly, mouth emerging just a moment later, releasing his breath and sucking in a gasp of the hot, humid air. His body rose out of the water one step at a time, finally emerging from the flowing river and onto the opposite bank, where he collapsed with another gasp, sucking breath as his body steamed. As promised, the opposite side of the river was cold, though it may have only been in comparison to the river. “Didn't... cook mahself... but t'werent none too pleasant.”
“The river is at the threshold of your capacity. Just a shade away from scalding. I have heard tell there are places that prize springs of such a temperature. But this is to test your mettle. Would you be willing to risk it is bearable? Clearly, you were.” Argus rose and motioned forward, through a dark passage in the forest. “Come then, along the path.”
“Ah never kin tell with ya, when yer testing me or when yer serious. Ya been guidin' me on and tellin' me ta take the wrong road at the same time. And when ya vaulted that river...”
“Well, let me put your mind at ease, young one. It is my purpose to tell you the option to quit exists. But it is also my purpose to tell you the rules as far as I may, and no more. As for the river, it is not my place to endure it once more, just as it was not my place to be covered in filth. You may not have seen, but I came out as clean as your love. And notice now, how purified you are on the other side of the searing river. But I imagine the chill of this dark wood is all the sharper.” Argus set off, at a slow and reasonable pace.
Big Mac looked down and realized, it was true. The filth from the dirty mist had been clinging to him, a subtle but disgusting presence. But after the hot trip, he was completely clean, though it bothered him that Smarty-Pants was not only wet but had been seared by the river as well. But... to share was to be one. He set her on his back and followed along behind Argus. “Mighty kind o' the land ta clean me off.”
“The land cares nothing for you nor much against you, but these things sometimes work themselves out well.”
The light from the dim sky faded as the clawed branches and dense needles overlapped one another more and more, until there was nothing but the ambient glow from the far distant end of the path, which looked far, far brighter than it should have been. Just another quirk of the world. “It's a mite chilly, jes like ya said. Reminds me a the swamp. But it sure smells a sight better an' there ain't no rain.”
“The cold seeps right into the bones. It is worse than the swamp. There only the smell and rain were deterrents. Here the dark and cold are your enemy. Even if you are with someone, you are alone. The teeth chatter, the muscles twitch, talking becomes difficult. And after the searing heat of the river's hold, that frigid grasp is just as nearly-unbearable.”
Big Mac looked aside at Argus, barely certain he was seeing the old zebra in the deep darkness. “Was ya ever comfortin' or was this how ya always was an' yer mysterious bride was jes a very kind mare?”
“I am not here to coddle you, nor to lift you up. Your lover lifts you high and gives you peace. I am here to lead and nothing more. Walk on, then, if you are worthy to do so.”
“No reason ta ge- get snippy. Ah'm... jes... jes tryin' ta...” Big Mac's words failed him. His jaw began to quiver as the cold permeated him. His large form, pouring out metabolic heat, could do nothing against the clawing chill of the dark woods. He was covered in water, that he could almost swear was hanging on his red coat and hay mane in icy beads. But worse than the cold was the darkness.
Other than the glimmer of light at the end of the crushing tunnel of trees there was only weakly filtered light from the canopy. Thanks to the heaviness of his steps and the light touch of Argus' steps, he could hardly be sure that the old stallion was still there. There was nothing but the cold and darkness, in the trees, all alone.
A twitch of his back tugged on the hair. Smarty-Pants. She was frosted to his back. The twitches of his shivering were pulling in the hair that frost linked to her. She was suffering far more than him. He was a churning dynamo of warmth, gamely sharing what little radiated from his back. But that was so small. And she was not making her own heat. She was probably chilled down to her very depths, the feeling locked to her mana envelope, along with the scalding he had forced onto her in the river. The longer he went along with her unable to speak, the more desperate he became to give her that ability again, to make certain she was not being cruelly imposed upon.
His pace increased, forcing through the stiffness in his legs as he had in the slough. He would not be beaten, and he would not let some heartless world hurt his beloved over and over. He could feel the breath huff in steaming clouds from his nostrils and between his teeth. As he powered through the chill he could see the light growing brighter and brighter, a striking yellow in color.
Big Mac Gave a shout as his muscles unclenched and he broke into a run that did not feel as though it was tearing his body apart. He rushed into the light and gave a sudden gasp head thrown back as he ran into a wall of heat. From hot to cold to hot again.
When his eyes opened he looked out on a nearly-blinding scene. His body steamed and Smarty-Pants slid slowly off his back, gently steaming as well. His hooves sunk into soft, fine sand, while an unforgiving sun beat down on him like a hammer. Behind him, the wall-thick expanse of forest. Before him and all around, a rolling landscape of sand wavering in the heat.
“Do not think you have found a challenge, young one. Compared to what will meet you this is a stroll on the shore. I have memories of such a thing...” Argus strolled grandly out of the dark passage, unperturbed. “But that is not important. Trackless wastes, where the sun feels like a rain of fire. Merely a distraction, a diversion to test your resolve, as all the others. But you will come to regard this unforgiving landscape as a friend when you see what lies beyond. I know you will walk the waste. So let us go, onward to the last obstacle that stands between you and the place of the Granter.”