Emerald and Twilight followed the guard through the Temple Hall where the Elements were stored. Princess Celestia was waiting there, bathed in the iridescent brilliance of the morning sun through the stained glass murals. Both of them bowed before her. Impatiently she bid them to rise.
“What happened, Princess?” said Twilight.
“Sometime this morning,” said Celestia, “a palace guard was making his round and found that the guards of the Temple Hall had abandoned their posts. I was notified immediately to safeguard the Elements, but when I unlocked the Door of the Elements, they were already missing.”
Emerald was dumfounded at this news.
“Is there no indication of what happened?” he said.
“The guards have gone missing,” the Princess continued. “If you are correct that Stowaway Spade has corrupted any number of my guard, I am left to conclude that these, too, are doing his bidding.”
Emerald sneered.
“Indeed,” he said sarcastically. “If I am correct.”
“This is no time to fight, Emerald,” said Twilight.
“What use would Spade have for the Elements of Harmony?” said Emerald, thinking out loud. “It’s not as if he could use them. He may be skilled with alchemy, but I can’t imagine the Elements would respond to him. And what would he use them for?”
“Quite right, Emerald Alembic,” said the Princess. “The Elements can only be used to usher harmony.”
“Don’t be so certain, Princess. Only the highest order of Light casts no shadow, and that’s a light no pony ever sees. At our level, all polarized things can have their polarity switched, and the stronger the charge the less stable it is, and the easier it is to reverse. The Elements of Harmony themselves can draw the chariots of Chaos.”
“They can switch toward harmony, perhaps, but not away from it,” Celestia insisted. “As all things climb toward your highest Light their shadows wane, not strengthen. The darkness may still overtake the Elements, but they are pure, so they engender Harmony. Any Chaos that leaks from them is bound to be weak.”
“You’re forgetting, Princess, that this is when your cheap jewelry is working with the true Elements, being worked by Harmony itself. Concern yourself with Disharmony for now, because that is what’s at issue.”
“Will somepony please explain to me what you are talking about?” said Twilight.
“Disharmony,” said Emerald. “It’s only theoretical, but there are six counter-Elements, the opposites of the Elements that your friends bear, Twilight. Schools of thought are divided as to what these counter-Elements may be, but the most common rendering is this: Betrayal, Deception, Cruelty, Misery, Greed, and Contempt.”
“You seem to have put a lot of thought into this,” said Celestia.
“I have spent three millennia studying the nature of magic itself,” said Emerald tersely. “A well-made amulet is no mystery to me.”
“Did you say Contempt is the opposite of Magic?” said Twilight. “I’m not sure I follow.”
“In truth, the Element of Magic is fundamentally ruled by a pony’s ability to enjoy companionship. I kept that Element alive in me only by clinging to the memory of River Rose. Magic itself is a force of nature that unites and binds all ponies into oneness. To recognize this bond externally helps it to flow internally. In this way it controls the other Elements.
“But on a deeper level, Magic is the ability to feel a coltish wonder toward, and reverence for, the whole world. This reverence most accurately defines the Element of Magic, and the opposite of reverence is contempt. Do you understand?”
Twilight nodded.
“Contempt for others destroys a pony’s ability to form bonds,” she said.
“Exactly.”
“What you mean to tell me, Emerald Alembic,” said Celestia, “is that Stowaway Spade may be capable of using the Elements of Harmony to destroy harmony?”
“No, no,” Emerald said quickly. “For one thing, he’s not properly evil. One could argue there’s no such thing, but that only furthers the case that he’s not it. He upholds Honesty. I think one of the reasons he hates me so much is that he sees me as a compulsive liar. He isn’t greedy—he’s too practical for that. And then there’s something he said to me last night.”
Emerald paused and stared at the floor. He felt as if a weak electric shock had run through him, paralyzing him. His limbs tingled with that sensation of terror that comes on when one is startled too fiercely. Twilight spoke first.
“Emerald, what’s wrong?”
“What did Stowaway Spade say to you?” Celestia urged.
“He said that all he wanted was to get back what I took from him.”
“You mean his family?” Twilight offered.
Emerald shook his head.
“I thought so, too,” he said. “But I’ve been asking myself all night: why didn’t Spade attack me himself? He isn’t the type to sit back and do nothing. He hasn’t even used a posse to attack me since…”
“Since?”
“Since before he could use magic.”
“Do you mean he can’t use magic anymore?” said the Princess, exulting at this news.
“He must have lost it when I sealed his leg,” Emerald wondered. His mind was racing. “I never noticed such a consequence. But it confuses me. He was sealed for so long before he learned magic. If the seal took away the ability, wouldn’t it have prevented him from learning magic at all?”
“Unless the seal isn’t broken,” said Twilight swiftly, as if unthinking.
“Say that again,” said Emerald.
“Unless the seal isn’t broken?”
“That’s it!” he cried. “The seal isn’t broken. It ran its course the first time; that’s how he could use magic up till now. But this time the seal only hit his leg. I assumed because the leg wasn’t paralyzed anymore, the seal had run out, but what if I was wrong?”
“Then the seal would be doing its job until it expired in another two thousand years,” said Twilight.
“I never really thought about it, but the sealing spell isn’t designed to freeze the body: it’s designed to freeze time. It must interfere with the flux of magic during the time the seal is established. That’s why no other magic can break it. Only a massive blast of time magic can reintroduce the flow of time into the sealed body.”
“But if time is sealed around Spade, how is he alive?”
“It’s a mystery,” Emerald shrugged. “My best guess is that it’s weak because the seal was never completed properly. If that’s the case, he may even be able to use alchemy on a limited scale.”
“Enough to regain his ability to use magic?” the Princess frowned.
“Maybe,” said Emerald.
“That could be why he stole the Elements,” offered Twilight.
“Most likely. I don’t know how he’ll manage it, but if there’s one mind in all Equestria that rivals mine, it’s Spade. To be the first Earth pony ever to use magic, that kind of ingenuity is terrifying, and I can’t imagine it ends there. If we’re right, he probably knows exactly what he’s doing. And right now, he’s preparing to break my seal.”
* * *
The sun was just above the horizon when the palace guards trotted into the secluded valley, half a mile east of Canterlot’s walls. The valley was hemmed in by a wild forest of century-old redwood trees, and populated with giant, feral elk. The forest was called Glimmerwood, and the valley was anciently named Sparkling Crag. As time passed, the locals took to calling it Ursa Valley, because of the large number of Ursa Majors that called its caves home.
The unicorns were nervous throughout their journey through Glimmerwood. Legends circulated that woodland nymphs would snatch unwary stallions up, never to be seen again, if they touched the sacred redwoods with ill intentions in their hearts. They both cowered from the trees, muttering respectful prayers to the spirits of the forest.
Of the two, Storm Cloud was the most superstitious, and not one broken branch went unmourned, not one vine severed without an apology. His companion, Galeheart, was careful of brushing against the trees, but stayed in the lead, carelessly hacking through the underbrush toward Sparkling Crag.
Now and then a flash would move swiftly in the corners of their eyes, dashing obliquely around their path. In the early morning darkness they could see almost nothing but the outlines of the trees, but still they quickened their pace to escape the forest before a nymph had time to spirit them away.
As they traveled they caught themselves time and again on vines and thickets, so that piece by piece they were forced to shed their armor, the uniforms that bound their loyalty to the Princesses.
The two soldiers burst through the border trees of Glimmerwood and dropped out of breath into Sparkling Crag. Beautiful waterfalls lined the moss-covered mountainsides and pure white cliffs of chalk that climbed near-vertically into the clouds, where the peaks were hidden. Long shadows danced over the field of green and burnt-orange grasses and cast a winding river in darkness. An elk drank from the river, sinking his massive hooves into the pebble-lined bank.
“Nice of you boys to show up,” said a voice of thunder above the soldiers. They fancied for a moment that the nymphs had caught them up. Then from the shadows the robed figure of a stout stallion drew nearer, a pale ivory mask hanging from his neck by a silk thread.
“W–we brought you the Elements, Spade,” said Storm Cloud, holding out a boldly decorated wooden lockbox to the charcoal-coated stallion.
“Show them to me,” said Stowaway Spade.
Storm Cloud handed him the box and Spade opened it in one swift motion. There they sat, the five necklaces and the crown of the Elements of Harmony, glistening in the first freckles of sunlight that began to dot the valley through the redwoods.
“Fine work, that,” said Spade, “mighty fine work. Now hide ‘em.”
“How?” Storm Cloud replied.
“Reverse summons spell. Hide ‘em so only y’all can bring ‘em back. Make it a hard one, too,” Spade added. “We got Emerald Alembic to worry ‘bout.”
“The Hex configuration will hide it where it can’t be found,” said Galeheart. “The World of Shadows.”
“As long as you can bring ‘em back,” Spade said.
Galeheart performed the spell and the box of the Elements vanished in thin air. Stowaway Spade doubled over and collapsed onto his left side. He shouted in pain and held his left hind leg, rubbing it briskly.
“Med’cine!” he yelled. “Where the devil’s my med’cine!”
Galeheart reached into his saddlebag and pulled out a vial of blue potion. He handed the potion to Spade, who swallowed it greedily. Spade gritted his teeth and fought against a bout of shivers that brought cold sweat to his forehead.
“Your leg is acting up again, Stowaway, sir,” said Galeheart nervously.
“Ya think!” Spade roared.
“What can we do?” Storm Cloud offered.
“Git yerselves to the river and wash that stink off ya,” said Spade.
“Stink, sir?”
Stowaway Spade was able to pull himself up now, but his hind leg was completely numb again, just like the night it was sealed.
“That palace stink,” he said. “You wash that perfume off yer hides, and when yer finished fetch my splint for this damned leg o’ mine.”
Neither Storm Cloud nor Galeheart dared to ask him where his splint was, so they obeyed without a word and went looking for it together. When they were separated from Spade by a wall of wild bramble, Storm Cloud grew bored of searching.
“What’s the World of Shadows, sir?” he said to Galeheart.
“Don’t call me ‘sir’,” Galeheart sighed, “we’re not palace guards anymore.”
“But sir, you’re a Lieutenant, sir, and I’m only a Sergeant Major.”
“Just knock it off.”
“But what is it, then, the World of Shadows?”
“It’s a palace security measure,” said Galeheart, still poking his head around the forest looking for the splint. “A place to bury things for their protection.”
“Where is it?” said Storm Cloud.
“It’s nowhere. It’s an abyss. Nothing gets in or out, and only the elite Royal Guards know how to access it. Happy?”
“But if we don’t know where it is,” said Storm Cloud, “how do we know the Elements are safe there?”
Galeheart exhaled deeply.
“Because it’s nowhere anypony else can find it. Like this stupid splint, for instance.”
“But you said the Royal Guards know how to access it.”
“Leaping manticores, you’re thick,” Galeheart heaved. “We double lock the summoning spell so only the caster can retrieve it. It’s impossible for magic to navigate in the World of Shadows, so you have to know what you’re looking for and precisely where it’s hidden.”
“Oh,” said Storm Cloud, and a moment later: “I found the splint!”
The two stallions retrieved the leg brace and returned it to Spade, who sat sipping river water from a gourd flask. It was a triple effort to secure the brace, and Spade unleashed his full fury at every hair that snagged on the tape.
“Once the Double Harvest gets here,” said Spade through heavy breaths, “this leg won’t cause me no more trouble. I’ll get my magic back full—not piecemeal like it’s been, and both of y’all can scurry on home to yer families. Yet I’d like to see how they greet ya now,” he laughed, coughing.
“I’d like to see my wife again,” said Storm Cloud.
“Then do as yer told,” said Spade. “I ain’t yer enemy, boy, unless you make me one. But don’t think I’m happy ’bout needing you around. I’d like to see you gone as much as you yerselves.”
“Do you have family, Spade, sir?” Storm Cloud ventured.
Spade dashed his eyes from the rocky bank to Storm Cloud and stared him down for a moment, and a cruel oppressive feeling washed over Storm. Spade’s eyes did not blink, did not move, until he tore his gaze away from Storm Cloud and picked up his gourd to take a swig.
“Get in the river,” he said at length. “Y’all still stink of palace pomp.”
The guards washed up, and Spade drifted off to sleep by the riverside. He dreamed of all he had learned from Emerald Alembic’s library. He dreamed of the grand full Moon of the Double Harvest, so full of magic; he dreamed of the beautiful red-orange magic flower, the River Rose, and how Emerald’s writing always became so clumsy on that name; he dreamed of all he had almost lost, not least his hard-earned immortality. He dreamed that he would have it back.
But finally he dreamed—so cold that sweat, so harsh those shivers!—of the family he would never see again, standing beside him in Elysium, over the body of the stallion that had sent them there.
And he awoke.
* * *
Before the full splendor of the midday sunlight entered the valley—which was at that time of day called The Valley of the Firmament by the indigenous ponies—Princess Celestia’s guards had already sent a scouting party in pursuit of Stowaway Spade and the traitors who had assisted him.
The party consisted of five ponies of the Royal guard, all of them privates but for a sergeant to lead them, and two bloodhounds, following the trail of scents that Storm Cloud and Galeheart left when they made their escape from the palace to Canterlot’s outskirts with the Elements of Harmony in hoof.
The edge of Glimmerwood is a beastly sight to behold: tangles of thorns wrap themselves helically about poison vines that spread their broad purple leaves into the open like a threat, challenging visitors to breach their defensive embrace; and all around the glowing eyes of the three-clawed monkeys stare out into the fields, a terrible vision when you know that they are fruit-eaters, and enough to make one faint who doesn’t.
At the border of the forest, the privates halted. The dogs barked wildly like rabid mutts. All the superstitions and stories of their youth clouded their courage and they could go no further.
“I’m not goin’ in there,” said one in a thick Trottingham accent. “‘Aven’t you ‘eard the stories?”
“Stories? What stories?” cried another.
“They say that Glimmerwood is roamed by vicious elk,” answered a third. “They are so far detached from civilization that they cannot even speak. They drink the sap of the Agave tree, and it drives them mad. A normal elk will graze on the grasses, but these are predators. Sometimes they kill their own young fawns with no reason at all, then mourn the dead for days as if they have regained their senses and realized what they’ve done.”
“Stop it!” shouted Mercury, the sergeant. “You’re scaring Oilslick.”
The sergeant was a sturdy young colt, younger than the rest of them, but filled with the bravery of a stallion and the wisdom of a mage. His indigo mane hung long over his heavy teal coat. He was thinly armored, already prepared for the moment when the forest would steal any heavier armor away.
Oilslick, the Trottingham stallion, was middle-aged and greying. With them also were three ponies just one year their sergeant’s senior: Gumdrop, the group’s only mare; Opalwater, the storyteller, the son of a ferry operator; and Plum Cake, a nephew of Ponyville bakers, and the sergeant’s closest confidant.
“What do you think, Plum?” the sergeant said.
“It’s our duty to go in,” said Plum Cake, “by order of the Princess herself. I’d like to see the pony brave enough to disobey a direct order.”
“Well spoken,” said Mercury. “Very well, then, on we go, for go we must. Opalwater, start by parting the poison vines. Don’t want those touching us, do we?”
“Sure thing, chief,” Opalwater replied.
Gumdrop helped Opalwater clear the vines, and the troops marched through the thickets of Glimmerwood, pulled by their anxious bloodhounds. The dogs sniffed the ground frantically to keep on the trail. They tugged in one direction, then another, going over obstacles more often than around them, ducking under massive fallen redwoods and wading through streams where a shallow ford existed so nearby.
“Don’t touch the trees!” said Oilslick, shivering. “You’ll insult the nymphs of the forest!”
“Don’t be stupid, Oilslick,” said Opalwater. “The nymphs are just a story to keep foals from wandering into the forest. The only real danger here is the elk.”
“Elk’s enough fer me!”
“This trail is frantic,” said Gumdrop. “Are we really following their scent?”
“These bloodhounds sniff out a scent and pursue it precisely,” said Plum Cake. “If the convict doubles back, the dog doubles back. If he crosses the river where it’s deepest, the dog swims across.”
“If he does a flip, the dog does a flip,” Opalwater grinned.
The whole group laughed.
“Not quite so far,” said Plum.
“They didn’t have time to plan their escape route,” said Mercury. “Not a moment’s pause to check for a shallower crossing or to go around a hazard. Look there.”
Mercury pointed ahead to a low branch that shone like deeply polished gold.
“An ‘elmet of the Royal Guard!” said Oilslick. “We’ve got their trail.”
“And don’t expect you’ll keep your helmets either,” said Mercury. “These shrubs will have them off you.”
“Did you hear that?” said Gumdrop.
“You hearing things?” said Opalwater.
“Hush!” she cried. “Do you hear it?”
A great branch snapped behind them. All five spun around quickly, coming face to face with a great elk cow, standing just two trees away from them. Her eyes were pink and dilated, lost behind some stupor. She bowed to the company, stomping her fore-hoof against the leaf-laden forest floor.
“That’s not good,” said Oilslick.
“She’s going to charge,” said Mercury. “Run!”
The bloodhounds, not a breed for fighting, whimpered and tried to scarper off, but their guardians held fast to the leashes. The seven of them fled for their lives between the trees, ducking under low branches, rushing past the lost helmet of the deserter, always just ahead of the charging cow.
In a sprint of quick thinking, Mercury thrust his hooves into the earth, performed an about-face, and stared into the eyes of the elk. His horn glowed as he used his magic to summon a tangle of ropes into the higher branches. With the elk still charging he teleported her up into the air. Her foot caught on the rope and there she was, dangling fifty feet over their heads, crying out in piercing tones.
“It’s positively cruel,” said Gumdrop, trying to cover her ears from the sound.
“Will she die up there?” said Plum Cake.
Mercury frowned.
“We can’t think of everything,” he said. “Soldier on.”
The crew reluctantly continued forward. They dragged the dogs until they had calmed down, and they quickly recaptured the scent of the deserters’ trail. Again they were off at a gallop chasing an invisible path, their chase confirmed at every forty paces by a piece of armor lost in thorn bushes, and broken branches already concealed by green growth.
The forest floor began sloping downward, and the sound of running water grew louder.
“A river,” said Opalwater. “I didn’t know a river flowed through Glimmerwood.”
“It doesn’t,” said Mercury. “Not a proper river, anyway. It’s a branch of the Terades River. Enters Glimmerwood at Brow Canyon flowing east. We’re heading toward a ravine, not a riverbed.”
“Well look at you, Serge,” Gumdrop teased. “Your first assignment as a sergeant, and you’re already a complete know-it-all.”
“I don’t know everything, Private Gumdrop,” he smiled, “but I do insist on saying everything I know.”
“Even worse.”
“Oi!” said Oilslick, who sounded a fair ways behind them. “Anypony care to stop and help me?”
Oilslick was caught in a thick mesh of wild grape vines about twenty paces back. The woodier vines were tangled around him snugly, and the greener branches snagged on his breastplate.
“In the name of the Princesses, Private,” said Mercury, “how did this happen?”
“Does that really matter right now?” said Oilslick. “Get me out of ‘ere.”
“Why don’t you live up to your name,” said Opalwater with a colossal grin, “and just slip out?”
“Why don’t you live up to yer name and drown yerself in the rapids?” Oilslick snapped.
“Woah there, big boy!”
“When I get out of here…!”
“Okay, calm down,” said Mercury. “I’ll sever the vines.”
There was a loud, threatening grunt, and the five of them stood stock still. Gumdrop turned her head and found herself staring at the nose of an elephantine bull elk, standing just a meter away.
The great bull began to bugle, a high-pitched noise like a war horn that resonated and echoed through the stately redwood trees. A few moments later a bleating sound returned the call: the sound of the cow left hanging by her foot in the vines.
“Eye fer an eye,” said Oilslick, “eh, Sergeant? Only right after what we done to that cow.”
“Don’t say that, I’m cutting you loose. Gum, Opal, Plum, buy me some time, I can only cut one vine at once.”
“For pity’s sake, why!” cried Oilslick.
“Organic matter, now shush. Gumdrop!”
“I’ve got you, Serge. Plum, Opalwater! I need you two to flank it.”
“Aye,” said Plum Cake.
The two stallions let go their hold of their hounds and ran off in opposing directions to create a distraction. The dogs scurried off like strays on the instant. The elk stared ahead at Mercury, taking in deep breaths, registering the scent of his incapacitated mate on the pony who had fought her.
“No you don’t,” said Gumdrop.
She kicked up a stone from the forest floor, hitting the bull in the head, and the massive creature charged. Gumdrop reared onto her hind legs as the beast approached, and boxed him twice in the nose with her hooves. The bull buried his nose into the earth, as if to rub away the pain.
“Gumdrop, the distraction isn’t working!” called Plum Cake.
“New plan,” she returned. “Follow me!”
Immediately she ran off toward the ravine and her two comrades followed at her side. The elk, enraged by his attacker, pursued her in a desperate chase. They flew through the trees, the bull and his hunt, skipping through the underbrush like clumsy pixies on the run from overzealous children, lifting their hooves and jumping just to take each step. And each moment the bull elk closed the distance as it broke unimpeded through the trampled growth. Always they ran downhill toward the rushing water, on the other edge of which could be seen the sudden drop into the ravine.
“When I say now, teleport to the other edge of the ravine. Got that?”
Opalwater and Plum Cake nodded simultaneously and kept apace with the able mare. Now and then the bull tripped on the brush or scraped it horn against a redwood, losing its balance. He stumbled and slammed his side into one of the trees, and began to hobble. It was easy to see that running was becoming a great agony to the feral elk.
“Now!” Gumdrop cried, and her companions teleported to the edge of the hill on the other side of the water. Gumdrop continued to run. She slowed her pace even as the underbrush cleared toward the edge of the precipitous slope.
As the hill began to slope more and more vertically, she ran harder than ever to keep from tripping over her own legs, and the bull gave chase in a limping stride. At once the injured elk could not keep its faltering gait stable at the pony’s speed, and he tripped, tumbling fore-over-aft into the ravine.
Gumdrop teleported herself to safety immediately once she saw her plan had worked, and watched the bull elk fall. He crushed half a dozen youngling trees during his deadly rollover, hit his head against a rock, and lay limp at the bottom of the ravine, his head submerged beneath the water. His last few breaths escaped as bubbles from the rolling stream.
“You did it, Gum!” said Opalwater, his laughter cracking in the air. He hugged her excitedly, then hugged Plum Cake.
“We’d better check on Mercury and Oilslick,” said Gumdrop, her voice calm through heavy breathing.
The three unicorns teleported across the ravine and raced through the trampled trail, following it back to where they had left their sergeant to rescue Oilslick. Oilslick was freed of his breastplate, and Mercury was cutting the last vine, which had wrapped itself around Oilslick’s ankle.
“You’re back, are you?” said Mercury with a smile.
“Well don’t congratulate us, chief,” Opalwater said.
“And the elk?”
“Dead,” said Gumwater solemnly. “In the ravine. If the fall didn’t kill him, he’s drowned by now.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Mercury frowned. “And now our dogs have run off. I haven’t turned out to be a very able sergeant.”
“Nonsense, Merc,” said Plum Cake. “In the very least, a good sergeant knows how to appoint a competent second-in-command.”
“Quite right,” said Mercury. “You handled yourself well just now, Gumdrop. I’ll remember that.”
Gumdrop held her head high, but doubted the legitimacy of her pride. How, she pondered, could a death be commended, whatever the case?
“Now we’d better get moving again,” said Mercury. “Without our hounds it will be tougher, but this forest has been mapped from the air by balloon. Absent a compass, trust the stars; absent the stars, trust the wind; absent the wind, trust the trees.”
“Sorry, Serge,” said Oilslick, “but you’ve lost me.”
“If the bloodhounds can’t follow their scent, we have to assume they’ve escaped to the most likely place and search there first,” he explained. “And right now, the most likely place is a valley at the heart of Glimmerwood. We’re headed toward it, anyway, so we’d best just keep on straight.”
“Hey, chief,” said Opalwater.
“Hm?” answered Mercury distractedly.
“Who are we chasing? I want to know their names.”
“No one told you?” said Gumdrop.
“Come on, don’t be like that.”
“Who was it, Plum?” Gumdrop said. “Storm something and…?”
“Storm Cloud and Galeheart,” said Plum Cake.
“I know those names,” said Opalwater. “Lieutenant Galeheart is strict, isn’t he?”
“He’s mean, too,” said Plum. “He likes to insult you. I had to perform an errand for him once; I can’t remember a worse day. Figures he’d be the one: probably he’d go against the Princesses just to have his tea served hotter than usual. But Storm Cloud…”
“Sergeant Major Storm Cloud, now that’s a surprise,” said Gumdrop.
“I don’t know him very well,” said Plum Cake. “But he doesn’t seem like the type to be a traitor.”
“Oh,” Oilslick sighed, “everypony’s a traitor if the price is right.”
“And if a pony can’t be bought, he can always be sold,” Mercury nodded. “I’ll believe bribery got Lieutenant Galeheart, but blackmail can work just as well. Though I’ve never worked with this Storm Cloud, so I know little about his character.”
“He’s really talkative,” Gumdrop answered. “And timid. He’s a meek stallion. I don’t think he’s ever thrown a kick in his life. He’d be the desk job type if not for this.”
“So he’s meek,” said the sergeant. “What about family?”
“He’s married,” said Opalwater. “I’ve seen him with his wife. You think that elk hanging up in the trees is a cow, you should see his wife.”
“That’s not funny, Opal,” said Gumdrop.
“Time and a place, Opal,” said Mercury. “Anyway, a stallion that has something to lose can always be leveraged. If we have to, we can at least try to reason with Storm Cloud if it comes to that. No point thinking any further than that, we’ve got work to do. Everypony follow my lead. We’re heading to Sparkling Crag.”
“Sparkling Crag?” said Plum Cake as they began to move.
“That’s the name of the valley. Actually it has four names. Beautiful secluded place where the twin mountains Heron and Scoter are joined at their bases by a wide stream. The valley is supposed to be grassy and rolling. Beautiful, rare orange grass.”
“Orange?”
“That’s what the surveyors found. Half the grass in the valley is burnt orange. They landed their balloon in the valley and collected samples.”
“Sorry,” said Gumdrop, “but how can grass be orange?”
“Legend has it that the grass is stained with the blood of the hunt. The Ursa Majors come out at night to feed, and spill the blood on the grass before devouring the flesh.”
“Lovely.”
“But the truth is it’s a cross between a grass and a vegetable. It stores its nutrients in the leaves and they get fat and juicy. That grass is probably the natural diet of the indigenous elk.”
“So there’s no Ursas here, right, Serge?” said Oilslick, starting to shake.
“Oh, most definitely,” said Mercury. “Tons of them. That’s where the valley got its name.”
Oilslick shook harder.
“I thought you said it was called Sparkling Crag?” said Gumdrop.
“It is. I told you, it has four names: one for each time of day. In the morning it’s called Sparkling Crag; at noon, Valley of the Firmament; Ursa Valley at dusk, when the Ursa Majors wake up to forage for their young—don’t worry, Oilslick, the Ursas are vegetarians; and at midnight it’s called Agave’s Womb. That’s when the elk start to drink the sap of the Agave tree. I’ve even heard it called Four-Name Valley.”
“Shouldn’t it be called Five-Name Valley, then?” said Opalwater.
“But then it would have to be Six-Name Valley,” said Plum Cake.
Opal and Plum Cake laughed together.
Mercury stopped walking and held a leg up to stop the others. The trees had begun to thin out and get younger. A larger portion of saplings dwelled here, and for the first time since entering Glimmerwood, rabbits and other small mammals were chasing each other across the forest floor.
“We’re near the valley,” said Mercury. “This is the edge of the forest. If Spade and our guards are hiding in the valley, we need to approach quietly. Everyone, hush and tread softly.”
They snuck toward the narrow trees, always silent, very silent, until they could glimpse the sunlight pushing through the branches. Mercury halted them again.
“It’s likely they’ll try an ambush if they know we’re coming,” he said. “Watch the ground for traps, as well. Gumdrop, stay by my side. I’ll need you near me if something happens.”
Gumdrop jogged up to Mercury’s side, and the others defaulted into a diamond formation to keep a lookout for Spade or the runaway guards: Oilslick and Opalwater at the flank, and Plum Cake in the rear.
Suddenly a deafening crack echoed through the trees. A snare caught Mercury by the leg, and he was hanging half a dozen meters above the ground. His company cried out in surprise.
“Hold on, Merc,” Plum Cake shouted, “we’ll get you down!”
“Don’t bother,” Mercury called back. “I can manage myself. Don’t let your guard down; someone will have heard this.”
“Are you sure you don’t need help?” Gumdrop asked. “You look like you’re struggling.”
“The snare was set by magic,” he said. “Unfortunately that means this isn’t normal rope. I can’t just untie it or teleport out, I need a counter spell. Never mind me, I’ll figure it out. Just sit tight, I don’t want us getting separated.”
“Aye, Serge,” said Oilslick thankfully.
Gumdrop perked her ears and felt herself going pale.
“Mercury!” she called. “I hear someone coming.”
The sound of uneven hoof steps crushing leaves was coming from the valley, drawing closer to the group of Royal Guards. The four of them huddled together into a phalanx, shaking collectively with Oilslick’s tremors. Two more sets of hooves approached rapidly from another direction, and all three accosters came face-to-face with Gumdrop at the same time. It was Spade and his defectors from the Royal Guard.
“Well, well,” said Spade, setting his splinted leg upright, “seems you gone and set off one of our traps, ain’tcha boy? Nice and snug, innit?”
“Have to hand it to you,” Mercury panted, “it isn’t easy to cast a Gamma variation of a containment spell that conforms to the contours of a rope. Which one of you set this trap?”
Galeheart raised his nose smugly into the air.
“I did.”
“I can see why you made lieutenant. Mind giving me a hand here, champ?”
“Whatsa matter, young’un,” said Spade, “too much for ya?”
“You’re S-Sergeant Mercury, aren’t you?” said Storm Cloud. “The youngest unicorn ever allowed into the Royal Guard?”
Mercury sighed and took a pause from figuring out the trap.
“I’ll let you in on a little secret,” he said. “Come closer. I’m only a Sergeant because they don’t let you go straight from Corporal to Lieutenant.”
“Mighty uppity, ain’t we boy?” said Spade.
“Awfully provincial, aren’t you, Spade?” Mercury smirked, still swinging upside-down twenty feet above Spade’s head.
“Don’t you rile me, boy,” Spade spat.
“Or what? You’ll southern me to death?”
Opalwater couldn’t help laughing.
Spade began to fume, and buckled over in a hacking fit.
“Take care of ‘em,” he shouted to Galeheart. “And let the swellhead watch.”
“What should I do?” said Galeheart. “Kill them?”
“Toss ‘em all in the Shadow World. We’ll sort ‘em out later.”
Spade limped away, leaving the seven unicorns alone in the thick forest. Galeheart’s horn began to glow, and with a blast of magic Gumdrop vanished before the eyes of all present. Mercury let out an incredulous cry; Oilslick shrieked.
“Bring her back!” Mercury shouted. “Bring her back right now, damn you!”
Another blast of magic and Oilslick disappeared. A third took Opalwater as he broke rank and tried to escape into the trees.
“What did he promise you?” Mercury cried. “What could possibly be worth such cruelty against your comrades?”
Galeheart said nothing. A fourth burst from his horn sent Plum Cake to the World of Shadows. Only Mercury remained, hanging from a snare, screaming into the wilderness in frustration.
“I’ll get you for this, Galeheart,” Mercury said through clenched teeth.
Galeheart stepped forward without a word and unleashed his reverse summoning spell at the captured sergeant. Mercury vanished, and Storm Cloud exhaled as if for the first time in an hour. Galeheart turned toward the valley, flicking his head to Storm Cloud in a gesture to follow him.
A stone the size of a chariot wheel bounced off Galeheart’s body with a sound like a building crumbling; all the ribs on his left side snapped instantly, and he collapsed in agony.
Sergeant Mercury appeared from behind a tree and raced toward Galeheart. He kicked the rogue lieutenant in the jaw until his face bled, and began to trample his broken ribs.
“Bring them back, Galeheart!” he yelled.
“Stop!” said Storm Cloud. He shrank when Mercury turned and stared at him with loathing eyes. “Y-you’ll k-kill him.”
“Stay away from me, you weasel,” said Mercury. “I swear on the throne you’ll get the same.”
Mercury began again to beat and interrogate Galeheart.
“If he d-dies,” said Storm Cloud, “your f-friends will be gone forever.”
Mercury stopped.
“Along with the Elements,” Storm added.
“What do you know?” said Mercury, leaving Galeheart unconscious and facing Storm Cloud.
“He said he was going to d-double lock the summoning spell. So that o—”
“Only the caster can summon them back.”
Storm Cloud nodded and Mercury seethed.
“I’m going to give you a choice, Sergeant Major Storm Cloud,” Mercury began. “But first, let me remind you of where things stand. Although you outranked me before you defected, as a traitor you have been stripped of your rank. Furthermore, there is no possibility that you could best me in a duel.
“You can run, in which case you will be dragged back to Canterlot unconscious alongside Galeheart as a traitor. You will be interrogated, and you will spend the remainder of your days in prison. Or, you can help me transport the deserter Galeheart to his interrogation, in which case you will be debriefed, and perhaps I can have you tried for acts of treason committed while acting as a spy for the Princess. After that, you will face a year’s probation from active duty, a demotion, but little to no jail time. It’s your choice.”
Storm Cloud was perfectly silent, and Mercury had his answer. He pulled some vines from the branches and tossed them to Storm Cloud.
“Tie up the prisoner’s legs. I wanted to make it back to the city before nightfall.”
“But S-Sergeant,” said Storm, “we need to tend his wounds.”
“No time,” said Mercury. “Stowaway Spade will be looking for you if you aren’t back soon. Nor is it within my orders to pursue him.”
Storm Cloud gulped.
“Don’t worry. The new Court Mage is an alchemist, and a very powerful healer. They say he can even bring ponies back from the dead.”
“That’s not possible,” said Storm Cloud.
“But he did it. One of Spade’s victims. A little foal was killed in the attack on Ponyville, and the Mage revived him.”
Storm Cloud hung his head and surveyed his co-conspirator’s wounds.
“Immortality,” he said.
“What?”
“Spade promised us immortality. That’s what Lieutenant Galeheart wanted. But I don’t see how I could live another week with what we’ve done.”
The two were silent for the rest of the journey. Their prisoner in tow, they arrived at the palace just as the Moon was rising above Glimmerwood in the distance.