Fate's realm could not be more different from that of her siblings. The first thing one would notice is the sheer cold. If a living mortal arrived in her realm by freak accident or cruel design, they would find themselves instantly crystallized. Or, perhaps not. Instantaneous crystallization of the body would probably block the synapses of the brain. They'd be dead before they realized that they had appeared before the very mistress of all dooms, past and present.
The second thing one would notice if not a human-shaped ice cube by that time would be the fact that there was no land, similar to Death's realm, and that one seemed to be surrounded by gray clouds lit with monochromatic light being pushed in a very fast wind. However, no wind was to be found in this realm, and no matter how fast one could move, one would never touch a cloud within this realm. Touching a cloud is a dream, and dreams have no place in the realm of Fate.
The and last thing would be that, despite the space within this hollow world seeming empty, a multitude of threads and knots, invisible to the mortal eye, fills up the entirety of the gray void. These are the Threads of Fate, and the knots represent the uncountable number of beings of the cosmos, not just human, and are completely insubstantial. Colored a faint, glowing gold, these lines would appear to only to those who possessed the eyes of an embodiment. Seeing all at the same time, with their gold glow against the grey clouds, would give the impression of a glorious and beautiful sunset.
Even Fate herself found her realm in this respect to be beautiful, her staunch minimalist attitude notwithstanding.
Within her realm, she took on a different form. Her once pale skin now took on an unearthly glow. Her gray eyes now seem to swirl with tides of the same clouds as swirled in her realm, threaded by gold strands. She now holds a tablet similar to Death's, but iron grey in color, and an abacus floats by her, the counters along it's bars constantly shifting and sliding from one end to the other.
Most notable of all, the short black hair she wore while within Life's realm was now an elegant sheet of pale glowing gold, the same as the Threads of Life, fanning out in every direction, enfolding over herself, and diverting off, connecting all the infinite beings of the cosmos to her. She new not how many were connected to her at any given time, yet she new all of them more intimately than they knew themselves. For the most part, she knew the paths they would take, the destinies they would arrive at.
On a rare occasion, one would divert from their prescribed path, sever or strengthen threads of their own accord, and she would be forced to intervene, correcting the mistake as needed before
he echo of the change spreads too far. On an even more rare occasion, she would allow the change to take place, and observe as the echo rewrites billions of her calculations and predictions.
Currently, though, nothing occupied her attention, and a bored Fate is a dangerous one.
Negligently, she plucked at several Threads, feeling the bonds of a multitude of individuals echo through her fingertips. Her finger stops on one, and her bored look turns to a mildly irritated scowl as she gazes upon it. Instantaneously, she reorients herself within her infinite realm a great distance from where she had sat previously. Her gently flowing cascade of hair flutters a little at the disturbance, then continues it's gentle, ethereal dance.
Her finger follows the offending Thread to the rats nest it terminates at. In the midst of the uncountable golden strands, one glowed an ominous blood red. Frowning, she held out a hand and twisted her will. Rings of pale gray encircled the middle of her thumb, index, middle, and pinkie fingers above the between the knuckles. From each ring, a blade materializes, each longer than her middle finger, blades of unparalleled craftsmanship, shaped with ornate detail, etched with ancient wounds of a eons dead language, and crafted of a material that appears at once organic and metallic.
She raises the Threadspinners Blades and holds them over the unstable Thread, preparing to sever it. Before she does, however, she notices a second odd thread, this one glowing green. She frowned. This was certainly new.
Her curiosity piqued, she banished the Threadspinners Blades. She extended both hands and clawed her fingers through the Threads and expanded the tangle, revealing a golden sphere within. She released the Threads, which remained expanded, and tapped the orb with the nail of her middle finger. The orb flashed, and a scene unfolded before her: A man, with the orb resting at his heart,
stands beside a gurney, which holds a body bearing many freshly stitched wounds and trailing many wires and tubes. The man by the gurney speaks frantically to a tired-looking doctor. On the man's shirt is a name tag reading: WOLFE.
"...so difficult about it?! He's alive, isn't he?"The doctor brought a hand to his face and sighed heavily.
"Son, he IS alive. But that is about all that can be said about him. The wounds, blunt trauma, and the fact that he was AWARE of what was going on were too much for him. You were able to bring him back with CPR when he flatlined, but all that stress most likely forced him into a vegetative state. I can't say when he will regain consciousness. It might be five minutes, it might be never."Wolfe shakes his head angrily.
"HE SAVED MY LIFE!" Wolfe shouted. "There's got to be something you can do, dammit! Can't you give him something to bring him back?"
"Airman, you'd better get yourself in check," growled the doctor. Wolfe, still glaring, stepped back from the doctor and tried to deepen his sharp breathing. The doctor before him was an officer, and Wolfe, Fate recognized, knew his place, despite his anger and helplessness.
"Now," the doctor continued, now that the unruly Senior Airman had calmed down, if only slightly, "I could give him something to bring him back to consciousness. But the damage that would cause would be irrevocable. He'd have the mental facilities of a four year old child for the rest of his life. Do you want that for him?"
Wolfe squeezed his eyes shut and looked away, tears tracking down his cheeks. He buried his face in his hands and gave a choked sob. The doctor, looking sad, walked over and pat Wolfe's back in sympathy.
"Please," Wolfe said, "there has to be something you can do."
"I'm sorry," the doctor replied, the truth of his words evident in his voice. "It's up to him now. He has to fight this battle without alone." He squeezed Wolfe's shoulder and left the room, pulling the curtain closed after him.
Wolfe sobbed again, and lowered his hands, his face wrenched up in sorrow. He shook slightly and his hands clenched and unclenched. He took a deep, steady breath and walked over to where his friend's body lay. The only thing that betrayed the life that still beat within him was the peaceful breathing and the slow, steady beeping of the heart monitor.
Remarkably, the blast and shrapnel missed his heart and brain, and his limbs were spared amputation. Still, the extent of his wounds was such that his liver and kidneys were shredded beyond repair and required transplants, his intestines were damaged extensively, multiple arteries had been sliced, and he was missing several toes, his left pinkie, and right ear. By some miracle, he survived the emergency airlift out of hostile territory, and, even more amazingly, the doctors, after extensive time in the ER, were able to isolate and repair the worst of the damage and stabilize his condition, though the doc's were still periodically picking out rocks and shrapnel from his muscles.
"Come on, buddy," Wolfe said, gazing down at the heavily wounded body of his friend and savior.
Wolfe gave his undamaged right shoulder a gentle squeeze, and fresh tears leaked out of his eyes, a few splashing against the gurney's resident. "You've got to pull through this, dammit. You've got to. 'You always do,' right?" he said, quoting something his savior always said whenever things looked tough for him. "I won't forgive you if you don't, you stupid, dumb, selfless bastard."
Wolfe sniffled and wiped his eyes as he made his way out of the room. He yanked the curtain's open, and shut them behind him. On the curtain was a sheet of paper, and the paper was marked with numerous annotations and remarks. The broad lettering at the top read the following:
MAELSTROM, GARTH STUART, A1C
The scene faded as Fate leaned back, untouched by the emotional exchange. Still, she stroked her chin, deep in thought. Her abacus clicked rapidly as the counters slid even faster.This Fatetouched made quite an echo when he restrung the Threads of Fate around him. Not only did he stop the death of one who's time was planned as he was conceived, but this undoomed individual, who could not even fathom how lucky he was, was now galvanized by the sacrifice of Fatetouched.
Fate already calculated 597,422 possible outcomes of his actions from now on, some becoming more concrete by the second. Each of those outcomes spawned millions of others, and so on and so forth. And that didn't include the untold multitude of others connected to this man. Even a small portion of those connected to him spawned a googolplex of possible destinies.
Fate was aware of them all, and her considerable mind spun at the implications.
And Fate smiled.
Perhaps this would be entertaining after all.
Again, she traveled billions of times faster than the speed of thought, the orb she had been observing being wrapped once more in ethereal golden filaments.
She came to rest before another tangle. However, while others bound and constrained the orb within them until she willed it otherwise, this tangle wrapped around the orb, letting it rotate freely. Also, all of the lines here were the same forest green glow as the one that connected to Wolfe's orb.
Fate wondered at the ball. Unless she deliberately and directly viewed the Fategem of her
Fatetouched, he was a complete enigma to her. Nothing of his actions, thoughts, or even self could be seen by her otherwise. So, unlike the untold multitudes of other beings within the cosmos, he was a complete unknown to her. However, that did not mean that she hadn't attempted to move him to fit her wills and needs in past.
However, attempted was all that could be said of her efforts, as he had time and again confounded her efforts to manipulate his movements. She had even attempted to prod him in the direction she had NOT desired, in an attempt of what humans called reverse psychology, in an attempt to trick him into taking her desired path. In what could only be called a frightening example of his stark opposition to her, he took the undesirable path she presented, directly contradicting her will, rather than her guidance.
She had, on more than one occasion, wondered if one of the other embodiments had intervened on his behalf, giving him some kind of foresight or knowledge of her movements. However, she rejected the notion. None of the others, save perhaps Vengeance, Destruction, or Discord, had the wherewithal to do such a thing, and, of those, none had the means. Discord might, perhaps, have been able to simulate something similar, but he was currently in no condition to do so. The only embodiment who would truly have been able to fabricate something like this was Thought, but he had no motive to do such a thing.
Nevertheless, something odd was at work here. Something that needed to be remedied, and soon, if things were to go her way.
But then, perhaps it would be easier to just make another Fatetouched.
Reaching out, she struck the orb with her finger, and, as before, a scene presented itself for her review.
Fate, who was not one to easily be confused, shocked, frightened, or moved, found herself rather at a loss for words seeing what this irritating speck had gotten himself into. Somehow, within the space of a day and a half, he had stumbled upon a manticore, and was currently making his most likely imminent death as entertaining as possible.
"Roll for initiative, motherfucker," the image of Garth snarled as he charged the irate mass of fur, muscles, and weapons. The creature swung its massive paw at him, and, in a move of uncanny
foresight of the attack and fear-fueled dexterity, collapsed mid-stride, tucking into a roll under the paw. He braced himself as he came out of the roll and struck at the hind leg of the beast with a drawn dagger. He severed the lower tendon, then buried it in the manticore's flank, but left himself open for a wild backswing from the paw he just dodged.
He was hurled against a tree trunk, leaving his dagger embedded in the manticore's muscle. The beast's rear end collapsed as it lost support from its stabbed left leg, roaring in pain. Garth, who should probably have died there, somehow was able to get to his feet, albeit somewhat unsteadily.
"Aaaaahhh.... Shit, shit, shit..." he groaned, swearing profusely. He gave his head a good shake, then quickly leaped to the side as the scorpion tail whipped down from overhead and lodged itself in a root of the tree. The spot where the deadly spike embedded itself withered from the venom, but the spike was still stuck fast. In one swift movement Garth spun around, bent down and picked up a stick large stick, continued his spin as he stood back up, and used the momentum from his movement to deliver a savage downward blow to the tail at the joint between the stinger and the next segment down. However, it wasn't quite mighty enough as the armor of the tail cracked slightly, but did not break. Further, the force of the blow dislodged the stinger from the tree.
Garth, who had continued the spin after the strike, didn't bother to check his results as he made a desperate dash towards the handgun near him.
He didn't even get close.
The manticore, whom Fate guessed probably had enough of the unknown creature before it by this point, snarled at Garth, its eyes flashing dangerously. It pushed itself off the ground, combining its good legs and powerful wings into a pounce that brought it almost directly on top of Garth. It might have missed it's intended target, but it's momentum still pushed it into adequate striking range.
Angry, injured and probably hungry, it struck out with a paw, and was finally successful at catching the doomed human. Garth was picked up and pinned against a tree by a paw about the size of his head. Fate could see him struggling against it, punching and scratching the massive foreleg to no avail. The manticore snarled and grinned with feral joy as it raised its stinger for the kill.
The image faded as Fate stepped away from it with a sigh.
"Well, so much for that little plan."
Unconnected as she was to Garth, or indeed, anything from that world, was utterly certain that the Fatetouched's unnatural luck had just run out for a second time. She saw no way that he could have escaped.
She warped back to her original position and leaned back, rather glumly. She had rather hoped he'd have lasted at least a little longer, if only to serve her purposes. Granted, she had no way to push him in that world, but she had a feeling, going into this, that the way that world worked, along with his own nature, would have done that for her.
All for naught, it seemed. Fate wasn't particularly upset by this turn of events. She had many other plans that she could implement to carry out what she had sent him to Harmonum for. Still, they would take time, and, while immortal, time wasn't really something she had, at least not in regards to this.
She sighed again, irritated that all the effort of making a Fatetouched and sending him across the cosmos ended with absolutely no results in her favor.
"Water under the proverbial bridge, I guess..."
Calling her tablet to her hands once more, she was in the midst of going over a list of possible candidates for a new Fatetouched from Life's list of creations for the next 20 years when she was suddenly aware she was no longer alone in her realm. Irritation cropped up instantly; she smothered it and looked up from her work to regard Death with a bored look.
"Brother," she greeted him. "What brings you here?"
"Sister, this is wrong," Death said, staring Fate in the eye.
Fate was taken aback, though nothing of it showed itself on her face.
Is he talking about my plans? How could he know? Perhaps this goes deeper than I had thought.
"Mind yourself, Death," Fate said, menace creeping into her normally uninterested tone. "This is not your realm, and you would be wise to respect it's master."
"Don't you try avoiding the issue, Fate," Death responded, holding firm. "How can you possibly justify using a mortal, one who had already suffered terrible misfortune, in this game meant only for immortals."
"Come now, Death," Fate scoffed, "you know as well as I that the mortals are the very pieces by which this game is played."
"Played against other mortals, yes," Death countered. "You want to set him directly against the very embodiments you contend with. You create a fateless being, only to give him a path he must now walk. Fate is indeed cruel."
"Enough," Fate said. She didn't shout. She didn't yell. Yet her word was an edict. The weight of the world condensed and focused to a point centered on Death, and instantly silenced him, binding him in place.
"Perhaps you forget, dear brother, that it was you who thought that we should bend the rules the first incarnation of Order set forth in the founding of the cosmos. You, that went against your own position to give the dead a second chance at life. You, who sought power beyond your own to make this a reality. Perhaps I should count you among my opponents, Death. You seem determined to undermine our very existence."
"What if I was, Fate?" Death responded, struggling with an extreme force of will against Fates edict of silence. "What if I disagreed with this whole existence? What if I felt that what we do is unfair, unkind, unjust? What if I believed that things should change? What then would you do, dear sister?" Death smirked, obviously strained.
Fate gazed upon her brother, mild look of contempt creeping into her normally stoic features.
"I would call you a fool and traitor to all we stand for. And I would laugh at you, for we are forever set in our system. For unfathomably countless cycles have the embodiments stood, each incarnation watching over and guiding the cosmos as the previous cycles did before them, and as each cycle will continue ever after, to the end of eternity. What gives you, a single Death, the wherewithal to wish change upon a system and foundation that has stood and structured the cosmos for as long as time has turned?"
Death smiled, straining against the edict.
"The idea that future generations of mortals and the next cycles of the embodiments would live and exist in and for ever better tomorrows. A system that would constantly change to avoid the stagnation we have carried since the inception of this flawed existence."
"This existence is not flawed," Fate said, and for the first time in many centuries, true anger colored her words. "How dare you even imply such a thing? Our forerunners created this system, because they knew that no better system could exist. Who are we to question that?"
Death just continued to smile, ignoring his peril before a dangerously angry Fate.
"Who were the embodiments of five-and-ten cycles before us," Death began, countering Fate, "to ask the same question, when they granted the Life, Death, Peace, and Harmony of that time their request to found a world outside of our jurisdiction, according to their own ideals?"
Fate's subtle scowl deepened.
"Fools, every last one of them. They invited disaster, and disaster followed. Were it not for them, the game we play might never have began, and we would have no need of this argument."
"Yet that world has seen more progress and happiness in it's infinitely small time than the cosmos has seen for trillions of cycles."
"Still," Fate said, eager for an end to this pointless squabble, "the fact remains that the cosmos was stable for eons before those fools decided to break from the edicts of the original embodiments. Their singular act has caused imbalance to wrack the cosmos for fifteen-and-a-half consecutive millennia. If the damage rectified by their misguided mistake is not rectified soon, the cosmos will begin to unravel. If that happens, what then?"
Death was silent for a time, deep in thought.
"Perhaps you're right, sister, for the time being," he said at last with a sigh. He met her gaze as her scowl began to ease toward her normal, bored appearance. "I suppose a divided front would make that become a reality. I will go along with this, for now."
Death paused, and his gazed intensified. Fate met the gaze evenly.
"But mark my words, Fate," Death continued. "After all this is over, there will be a reckoning. This cosmos, whether from the current threat or its own inherent reality, is not going to last longer. Things must change. The stagnation we exist in must be dealt with."
"And mark MY words, Death," Fate responded, her already tense ire winding up again, "once all this is over, and your support is no longer needed, you WILL answer for this treason. Order will not be happy that you would change the cosmos he and his previous incarnations have worked so hard to maintain."
Death already pale face blanched bone white. Battling Fate on this matter was one thing. Irking Order himself over the very existence he held together would be tantamount to signing his own nonexistence.
At least, without support.
Death swallowed a lump in his throat, then nodded.
"Then, we can consider this matter postponed, for the time being," he said.
Fate smirked, ever so subtly.
"Agreed," she said, and released Death from the edict she had placed upon him. He staggered in the space of Fate's realm before correcting himself and clearing his throat.
"Back to the matter at hand, how IS young Garth doing?"
"Probably dead at this point," Fate said, returning her attention to her tablet.
"SAY WHAT?" Death shouted, stumbling back from Fate.
Fate shrugged.
"Last I saw, he was in the midst of being mauled by a manticore. By now, he's probably being digested."
"How can you sit there and just let it happen?!" Death exclaimed, aghast at her sister's callousness, and by her seemingly allowing that which she supposedly wanted to avoid come to pass.
Fate, in the face of Death, and in full awareness of her actions up to this point, made perhaps the single most eloquent response to his irate inquiry.
She shrugged.
"DAMMIT FATE! You are going to be the ruin of us all!"
"What do you want me to do about it?" she inquired, indignant at his uncouth and melodramatic antics. "I can't affect anything in that realm. Besides, I can always make another Fatetouched."
Death shook his head and gesticulated ineffectually at his fellow embodiment.
"That isn't the POINT, dammit!" Death snarled. "We promised him we'd help him return to his body."
"And he accepted our help knowing the consequences if he died," Fate responded, unmoved. "Now, why don't you help me figure out who should be my next Fatetouched. I'm thinking something a little more resilient, perhaps a Dalek... maybe a Sangheili..."
Death stared at his sister, open-mouthed. Then he summoned his tablet and frantically passed his hand over it, searching for something. He frowned intensely, reading over his figures. Suddenly, he gasped.
"I don't believe it..." he said, almost reverently. He then disappeared, warping away from Fate.
Fate, however, still felt his presence in her realm. Exactly where she had been before this whole argument took place.
"Oh, would you get over yourself..." she groaned exasperatedly as she too warped through space, appearing once again at the green orb. Seeing it, she frowned. "Well, that's odd. That's very odd indeed."
She and Death leaned in. Raising her hand once more, she gave the orb a sharp tap.
And, for the second time, she found herself rendered completely speechless.
--
Several minutes earlier
--
This is it. Fuck, I never thought it'd end like this. Alone in another dimension, having already died once before, pinned against a tree and struggling to breathe, I stare my destiny full in the face.
My destiny stares right back, fury and triumph plain in it's eyes, and it grins evilly at me, it's fetid breath clogging my nose. Since when do animals smile?! It raises it's barbed stinger, preparing for the kill. I scrabble at it's arm, trying with all my might to wriggle free, but this fucker is strong. The tail suddenly whips toward my face. The damn thing was trying to spear my brain.
By some stroke of luck, I somehow manage to tilt my head just far enough to avoid the stinger, which impales the bark of the tree I'm pinned against. Sizzling fills my ears as the venom eats through the wood. Desperate, I hook my left arm as far out over the tail as I can and press down, then whip my right arm up, catching the tail under the crack I had left when I smashed that stick over it with the flat of my palm.
I don't think I'll ever be able to guess how, but through some sort of miracle, I put enough force into the movement to finally break the exoskeleton, hyper-extend the joint, and weaken the hinge to the point that the joint snaps, bending in an unnatural direction.
The monster howls in obvious agony as it jerks away. It's paw comes off my chest, and it drops me. Unfortunately, it's a long way down, straight to the roots of the tree, and as I land, my ankle rolls, not enough to break the joint, but sufficient enough to JESUS HOLY BALLSACK THAT HURTS!
I howl in absolute agony, almost sympathetic towards the creature who's tail I had just broken.
That sympathy is washed away the moment I notice it looking over at me, pure hate burning in it's eyes. It stalks towards me, limping slightly but never taking those horrible eyes off me.
Biting back the pain, I look around for something. A rock. A stick. A fucking wet noodle, hell, anything that I could use to fight it, distract it, escape it. Then suddenly, I spot it. My M9 is just a few feet from me. I attempt to get to my feet, but stagger back down, searing pain in my ankle preventing me from even attempting to put weight on it.
The beast continues it's approach, knowing full well there was nothing I could do.
NO. I WILL NOT LET IT END LIKE THIS.
The thought, half mine, and half not, echos in my head. Planting the knee of my bad leg on the ground, I dig in my good foot under me, coil, and spring forward in a desperate leap to avoid my own second death. I extend my arm, hand open, and by some miracle, my hand closes around the M9's handle. I flip over, free hand moving to cock the weapon-
Too little, to late.
The monster stands on it's good hid leg, wings in mid-flap, paw raised, claws extended, ready to slash down and end my life once and for all. Time slows as it begins to descend, and it seems to blur with the speed of its descent...
I close my eyes...
My thoughts flash once more back to my life on Earth.
To all the things I would miss...
Last of all, my thoughts go to my dearest Tempest.
I love you.
--
--
--
--
--
--
However, the impact I expect never comes.
Instead, a burst green light glares through my eyelids as a wave of pressure bears down on me, pushing me into the dirt like a giant hand. I open my eyes to see a the remnants of a green flash wink out of existance where the monster had been. Where it was currently is immediately evident due to an almighty crash somewhere beyond my feet. Glancing past them, I see the monster amidst a pile of splintered wood, getting slowly to its feet.
Shaking its head, it glares at me once again and roars, leaping forward. This time, I see plainly a bolt of hunter green... energy of some kind streak over my head, shrieking ominously and spitting sparks. It connects with the mosnter and, as before, a flash of brillant green is followed by a powerful wave of concussive force, blowing the monster away into the wreckage of it's previous journey through the air. It tries to rise once more, obviously shaken, but still glaring at me with unyielding loathing in it's eyes.
"Just give up, manticore. You are beaten."
I start at the serious, confident male voice emanating from somewhere behind me. The manticore snarls, and, for the first time since I broke its tail, looks at something othr than me, glaring at the source of the voice behind me.
"So be it."
A third and final bolt of green light flies overhead. It his the beast full in the face. It's entire body is illuminated by emerald light. The light fades, and the animal crumbles. I'm not sure if it's dead, and I don't care. The fight is over, and I'm still alive. At least for the time being.
That may just be subject to change as two sets of footsteps, slightly out of sync from one another, approach from behind me. I try to crane my head, looking for whoever is approaching me, but stop as pain racks my back. Now that the fight is over, I seem to be coming down from the adrenaline. That means... Uh oh...
"Hmm..." The voice seems puzzled. "Never seen anything like you before. Are you ok?"
"Ugh..." I respond eloquently. "I think I'll live. Thank you, by the way. I thought I was a
goner."
"Just doing my job," the voice stated, a shrug evident in it's tone. "You looked like you needed some help there." The half-syncronized pair of footsteps continues to approach.
"That's putting it mildly," I respond sardonically. I'm starting to get curious about the second set of footsteps. "Who's there with you?" I ask.
"No one's here with me," the voice responds, nonplussed. "Why do you think there would be?"
I groan as I sit up, my head swimming as my stomach threatens to let fly my half finished MRE.
"Well," I moan, as I clutch my hands in my head, "there are two sets of footsteps coming from your direction." I turn to look at my saviors...
And my jaw drops as I look up into the intelligent, emerald eyes of a of a dark green horse, clad in grey armor and sporting a horn from under it's mane. It's body is oddly rounded and simplistic at first glance, but distinctly muscular and masculine beneath the dull metal plates. A pair of khaki saddlebags hang at its sides.
The horse, or more accurately, unicorn before me has an incredibly human-like expression, calm and even, but currently touched with a hint of confusion.
"Were you expecting something else?" he asks.
"I-you... u-uni...corn... but-but... I don't..." I stammer.
The unicorn, for his part, looks none too surprised by my nonsensical language.
"Just breathe. You've been through a lot."
He doesn't even know the half of it. But I take his advice. I breath in slowly through my nose...
And promptly vomit.
--
Meanwhile, elsewhere in the Everfree.
--
It was a common fact of life that everypony everywhere was afraid of something. Be it spiders,
snakes, heights, the dark, everybody had a fear. Fear is the body's natural reaction to danger.
It's the beginning of the fight or flight response. It was a pony's way of keeping them alive and out of harms way when in danger. Everypony reacted to it differently, and everybody handled it differently.
It was perfectly acceptable, then, that some ponies were more suseptable to it than others.
Fluttershy, however, took it to the extreme.
There wasn't much she wasn't afraid of. She was literally afraid of her own shadow!
And yet, here she was, half trotting, half being pushed through the everfree forest by her oldest friend, Rainbow Dash, who, at this point, was wondering if she should just take Fluttershy home. Not that she wanted to be rid of her, of course. She just knew that they had a lot of ground to cover, and Fluttershy was just slowing them down. Moreover, the forest terrified her, and Rainbow Dash was certain she'd rather be back at her cottage attending to her woodland friends and tyrannical rabbit, Angel Bunny. What Fluttershy saw in that evil fluffball, Rainbow would never know.
Still, Fluttershy, for all her fears, knew the Everfree better than anypony, except maybe Zecora. However, the zebra witchdoctor was currently on a pilgramage to her native Zebratiana, and so was unavailable to help them on their search. Plus, Celestia made it clear that the Elements were possibly be needed on this trip. So Fluttershy's presence was deffinitely needed.
So, Rainbow Dash continued to push and prod her friend forward as they and the four other bearers of The Elements of Harmony marched on along the old forest road.
"Come on, Fluttershy," Dash said in her rough voice, punctuating her statement with a push and eliciting a soft Meep! in response, "I don't get why you are so scared of the forest. I mean, you've basically either befriended or Stared down all the monsters in here at least once. Why in the world are you still scared of the forest?"
The butter-yellow pegasus shivered and gulped before responding, eyes darting around the trees.
"W-well... um... b-b-b-because it's d-dark... and, um, it's sc-c-cary... and I haven't met all the m-m-monsters in here b-b-before," Fluttershy stammered. Her constant shivering made it hard to understand her.
Rainbow just rolled her eyes and continued her shoves. Applejack, on the other hand, looked back over her shoulder and offered an encouraging smile to her fearful friend.
"Aw, c'mon now, Fluttershy," she said in her Southern drawl. "T'aint nothin' ta be afraid of. 'specially on a count a you're with us. We look out fer each other, sugarcube, you know that.
Nothin' bad's gonna happen."
"Of course not, darling," Said Rarity from under her stylish sunhat and giving Fluttershy a sidelong glance over her sunglasses. "If I can handle a bunch of dirty, uncouth diamond dogs on my own, you can certainly handle anything in this forest with us around."
Fluttershy still looked apprehensive.
"Oh... I suppose, but... b-but what... what if-"
"Look, sugarcube," Applejack said, cutting her timid friend off, "Ah promise that nothin's gonna happen to you in this here forest, alright?"
"But-"
"I promise, Fluttershy. And I'm the Element of Honesty. T'aint no way I'd lie to you."
Fluttershy hesitated, then gave a weak smile.
"Oh, umm... Thank you, Applejack. That, does make me feel a little better."
"No thanks needed, sugarcube," Applejack responded with a wink, then turned her head forward again.
With Fluttershy reassured, the group picked up their pace a little and continued on into the bowels of the forest.
"Hey Twilight, exactly how far is... Whatever it is we're supposed to find?" Asked Rainbow Dash.
Twilight, whose nose had been plastered in a book up to this point, looked over at the athletic weatherpony.
"I'm not totally sure, Dash. It could literally be anywhere in here, but, based on the fact that I didn't hear an explosion and there wasnt a shock wave, even from something that big, I'd wager that it's pretty far in, maybe on the other side of the forest near the Equestria-Gryphonus border." She turned to the meekest of the group. "Fluttershy, you live on the edge of the forest. Are you sure you didn't hear anything? Nothing got shaken up last night?"
Fluttershy looked thoughtful for a moment, then shook her head.
"I'm sorry Twilight, but I didn't see anything. I was just putting the chickens in their coop
when that light flashed. It was kind of spooky at how quiet it was. All the animals seemed really frightened afterwards, the poor dears... I'm not sure why though..."
"Hmm... I wonder," Twilight muttered as she turned back to her book.
"That still doesn't answer my question," Rainbow Dash said obstinately. "How long are we going to be in here for?"
Twilight sighed, mildly irritated.
"We're going to be a while, Dash. It's about a day-and-a-half to the other side, so I figure we camp at the old castle once we reach it.
"Oh, my," said Fluttershy nervously, "Um, is that such a good idea, Twilight? I mean, who knows what could be living in there?"
"There wasn't anything there last time, so it shouldn't be a problem. I think it will be the perfect place to camp out and-"
Twilight was cut off as a pink blur bowled her over. She and the mass of pink-hued energy came to a stop with the frizzy superball staring at Twilight nose-to-nose.
"Oh my gosh thats a great idea Twilight! It will be so much fun! We can build a camp fire and sing camp fire songs and roast marshmallows and make smores! It's a good thing I always plan ahead becase it just so happens I always carry a bag of marshmallows with me wherever I go in case I go somewhere where there is a camp fire so I can always go up to the person and ask "hey there wanna make smores" and they'd go "of course I would silly" because come on, who doesn't love smores?"
Pinkie showed no signs of either stopping or getting off of Twilight any time soon, so Twilight
abruptly stuffed her hoof into Pinkie's mouth, cutting off the hyperactive pony's tirade.
"Yes Pinkie," Twilight said, somewhat exasperated by all te interruptions, "we can make smores and it will be fun, but we have to actually get there first, so, could you please get off of me so we can get a move on?"
"Rrrrfy, mmmrrrrffy, wrrrrfffyy!" Pinky mumbled around the hoof in her mouth, vibrating Twilight's foreleg and sending a chill down her spine. Twilight retracted her leg quickly.
"Sorry, didn't quite get that," Twilight said to her awkward friend.
Pinkie smiled cheerfully.
"Sorry, I said, 'Rrrrfy, drrrrffy, wrrrrfffyy,'" Pinkie replied happily.
Twilight's visage met the underside of her forehoof in an all too common meeting that usually happened at least once whenever Pinkie Pie was around. Rainbow laughed heartily.
"Pinkie, you are so random!"
Pinkie stood and Pulled Twilight to her feet.
"Okay, let's get a move on troops!" Pinkie said enthusiaticaly, setting forth in a proper military trot. "Hut, two three four! Hut, two three four!"
The others merely followed behind, also in a trot, though lacking the military bearing and discipline of the spastic pink pony in front of them.
Twilight returned to her book.
Why do I get the feeling it's going to be a long day?
--
And back to our hero, no doubt reveling in his triumph...
--
Fresh vomit wells up and flies out, showing me the appearance of a freshly eaten MRE mixed with stomach juices. The result isn't pretty, and instantly makes me produce more.
Fuck adrenaline. Fuck it to hell and back.
The armored unicorn just sits back and watches, probably waiting for the worst of it to finish up. Unfortunately, he sits there for a while, as more and more keeps coming up. Eventually though, I get my rebellious stomach under control. I groan and shiver, despite the warm air of the forest. Adrenaline crashes suck. My head pounds, especially the back. Every part of me aches. My ankle throbs with growing pain.
Something wet coats the back of my head and my right side. Looking down, I notice three large, circular holes in the right side of my flak vest, where no armor plates cover anything. The holes are also present in the ABU's underneath, my sand t-shirt, and my skin beneath that. The three wounds are shallow, but blood sheets out of them, soaking the t-shirt.
Huh. That must have happened when he pinned me against the tree. And the wound in my head... Probably a result of me getting flung against the other tree. Looks like I'm in for a bit of recovery time.
Resigning myself to this, I shrug off my pack, undo the straps of my armor, and take it off. It clatters to the ground, and I stretch lightly, glad the weight is off my shoulders. I then begin to unbutton my ABU blouse.
The unicorn, seeing me giving myself a once over and noticing no more foodstuffs flying out of my gullet, approaches, though slowly and cautiously, as if he had never seen a human before.
"That doesn't look so good," the unicorn says, noting the wounds on my side. "Do you need help with that?"
"I'm not sure how much you could help," I reply, finally getting my shirt off and rummaging through my pack for my SABC kit. "You don't exactly have hands." The unicorn frowns at this, but shrugs and walks over to the... manticore, I think he said it was. Finding the kit, I pry it open, and sift through the contents. I don't find any normal antiseptic. What I do find are a set of disinfectant alcohol swabs.
God. DAMMIT.
Resigned to get the worst of this over, I roll up the sleeve of my ABU coat and bite down on it, then open up one of the swabs, take it in hand, and proceed to wipe down the uppermost wound.
Now, I have a fairly high tolerance for pain. I once had my wrist sliced open from a piece of falling glass, and I largely ignored it, though that might have been due to the fact that it severed a nerve. I also got into a bike wreck that left me with a broken thumb and many instances of road rash, but I still had the clarity to drag myself out of the street where I had landed and call for help. Hell, I can ignore a papercut.
This, however, was a different kind of pain. It burns like a overcooked turkey determined to bring down the house around it. And, of all the multitude of pains there are, burns are the ones kind that I can't deal with.
I clamp down on the cloth and give a muffled yell as I work the sheet of pure evil around the wound. My eyes water, my neck tenses, and my eyes feel like are going to pop out of my head.
I wipe out the wound for a minute that seems to drag on for days, the object of my torment sending shivers of agony down my spine. At last, I finish with the first wound, gasping for breath.
One down, three to go.
An indeterminate while later, I toss the last of the blood-soaked swabs away, and suck in a breath of relief. Good god, I was not eager to do that again any time soon. However, my ministrations aren't done yet. I look back to my SABC kit and pull out a large absorbent pad, a roll of gauze bandage, and some bandage hooks. I lay the pad gently over the trio of wounds, then struggle to wrap the bandage around my torso as I hold the pad in place.
"Here, let me help."
I glance up. The unicorn is walking back from the manticore with my knife in his mouth.
"Uh, ok, I guess," I respond as he dropped the knife on the ground next to me. "If you wanna just hold this pad here so I can wrap this up..."
He just looks at me with his even expression. Closing his eyes, he takes on a look of concentration.
"Uh, were you going to help or-"
My words are cut off in a gasp as his horn is enveloped in an ethereal green glow identical to the bolts of energy that blasted the manticore away from me. At the same time, the pad and gauze are surrounded by the same light, and are pulled from my suddenly slackened grip. The pad slips through the air and presses itself gently against my wound. At the same time, the end of the bandage is placed against the pad, and the roll rapidly orbits my torso, quickly and securely holding the pad in place. Lastly, the clips are snagged through the fabric, finishing the wrap. The glow fades, and the unicorn opens his eyes, then checks his handiwork. I just gape at him in wonder.
"How did you do that?" I ask, amazed.
The unicorn looks up at me, cocking an eyebrow.
"Haven't you ever seen a unicorn use magic before?"
"Magic?" I ask, utterly bewildered.
"Guess that's a no then," he responds with a shrug. Looking back at the defeated monster, he continues on. "I don't know what you did to anger him, but you sure did a number on him. Surprising, considering you don't seem to have magic of your own. Even the toughest ponies would think twice before taking on a manticore." He shakes his head, then gives me an approving smile. "Brave of you. Still, you did a lot of unnecessary damage. I repaired most of it, but-"
"Hold the phone, you WHAT?" I asked, shocked out of my stupor. I look over at the beast. Sure enough, its leg where I stabbed it is bandaged, and the tendon I had severed is somehow restored, with fresh, if raw and naked skin covering it once again. It's tail had been folded back in the correct position, the cracks in the armor filled in with some sort of red paste, and had been splinted. "That thing tried to KILL me, and you patched it up?"
"Of course I did," the pony states, matter-of-factly. "You barged into it's territory, and it defended itself. I can't fault it, and it wouldn't have survived if those wounds went untreated. And since you failed to kill it, I saw no reason to let it suffer."
I gawk at him, then shake my head and turn my attention to splinting my ankle.
"Ridiculous," I mutter, wrapping a pair of sturdy sticks to either side of my ankle. "Completely fucking ridiculous."
The unicorn's face hardened.
"If you think I made an error in judgement," He began, anger evident in his normally calm voice, "I could always wake him up and let you guys go for round two."
I gape at him, then turn back to my ministrations with a huff, grumbling under my breath.
"That's what I thought," he affirms with a small smile. Igniting his magic once more, he lifts another bandage roll out of my kit, this one with a crescent-shaped plastic implement that allowed the caregiver to lock the bandage in place as he wraps it. Placing the pad attached to it against the wound on the back of my head, he carefully winds it around my head, avoiding my eyes and ears, slips the bandage under the implement, then reverses the direction of the wrap and continues. Once finished, he secures it with the Velcro at the end and admires his handiwork.
"That's some useful stuff you had there," he says appreciatively. "We could definitely benefit from having tools like that in the Wilderness Rangers ECP."
"Wilderness Rangers?" I inquire, confused.
"The part of the Equestrian military I enlisted in. We're a sort of border patrol and emergency rescue unit."
"You're a soldier?" I ask, suddenly wary.
"Yes," he began, with a small, proud smile and a knowing look at me, "and I can tell from your uniform and bearing that you are too." Noting my tension, he continued, "No need to get nervous. I'm not going to take you in as a POW. Equestria takes a stand of peace with almost every known nation. Our military is just a self defense and emergency response force. Still, I have to ask, what is a soldier of an unknown race doing so close to the Equestia-Gryphonus border?"
I hesitate, wondering how much I should tell this pony. Before I can even respond, however, my stomach clenches painfully. So painfully, in fact, that I curl into a fetal position as a reflex.
"Hey, what's wrong?" the unicorn asks from somewhere above me, concern in his voice. "Are you ok?"
I just groan and shake my head, eyes screwed up in pain. It feels like my stomach is on fire. More than that, I feel the wash of a similar burn work its way outward from my stomach, seemingly working through my veins.
Dimly, I'm aware that the unicorn soldier is muttering above me, but I can't make out what he's saying. The pain makes it impossible to concentrate. It fogs my brain in a dim red cloud, and strangles my breath to agonizing gasps.
The ground seems to drop away as a feeling of floating comes over me. I feel as though I'm flying through the cosmos once again as the red haze overcomes all else. Even my sense of time is lost, and all I'm aware of is the searing, aching pain as even my bones seem illuminated from it.
--
I'm not entirely sure what happened. One moment, the strange creature sitting on the ground was perfectly alright. The next, he collapsed over and curled in on himself. He barely responded to my attempts to rouse him, and simply screamed with what I could only guess to be absolute agony.
This whole business, along with that weird comet and silent explosion, had me uneasy. I couldn't shake the feeling that this creature and the light were somehow connected. If that were true...
I straightened up, and weighed my options. I wasn't sure what was going on, but I knew I couldn't leave him like this. So, firing up my horn, I sent a narrow-band magical ping outward in the direction of Everfree Command. Within 10 seconds, a return ping touches my horn, giving me the ok to begin my message.
"Recon 22 to Command, transmitting code E-43. Class-1 unknown found 12 clicks east-south-east Echo Gulf border. Subject had an altercation with a manticore, and sustained injuries. Injuries treated, but subject appears to be suffering from odd symptoms, and is unresponsive. Envenomation not suspected. Request permission to return with subject to Outpost Gallop for further treatment and questioning. How copy?"
The response was not long in coming. A soothing voice sounds in my skull, transmitting through my horn.
"Everfree Command copies all. Request granted. Authorization code for entry to Outpost Gallop is Charlie-Charlie-Mike-fife-niner. Major Storm Tide requests status updates hourly. How copy?"
"Copy all, Command. Recon 22 out."
Cutting the transmission, I focus on the task at hand. Reaching through the fabric of magic, I unceremoniously dumped the creatures shirt, overshirt, care kit, knife, and the odd metal hand device back into its pack, then yanked the zippers shut. I couldn't make heads or tails of the odd straps and buckles on the pack, so I simply tied it to my back with a few cords from my saddlebags. I then draped the odd armor over the soldier and levitated him beside me.
I took a deep breath, then broke into a run, focusing carefully to avoid tripping, as well as to avoid causing any more damage than necessary to the groaning creature above me. Within a few bounds, I come across the old forest road and gallop down it, away from the border, and deeper into the forest that had been my home since my birth.
Hopefully, with some luck, I can save this creature from whatever painful fate awaits him...