4. Developments in the Desert
The sky over the plains detonated in a halo of light. Not much vegetation grew this far out in the San Palomino Desert, but what little there was blew flat in the subsequent wind. The halo expanded outwards, crackling with energy and leaving a large purple mushroom cloud at the epicentre of the blast.
Chief Thunderhooves listened to the cries of the coyotes and other distressed wildlife. He climbed to the top of a tall ridge and squinted at the horizon, where a puff of purple stained the skyline. He wondered whether age was beginning to creep up on him; his muscles hurt from the climb and his eyes ached from straining to see something so far away.
His ears were still good, though. Skittering scree told him someone had followed him. He wasn’t surprised when Little Strongheart sheepishly came to stand beside him. She drooped her head, embarrassed to be caught intruding on her chieftain’s privacy. She perked up when he spoke and didn’t scold her.
“Can you see that?”
She squinted too, which made him feel a little better. “It looks like a cloud.”
“Not any cloud I have ever seen.” Chief Thunderhooves grunted to himself, searching through years of memories and unable to find a matching one. “It looks … unnatural. The air smells bad from that direction.”
Little Strongheart lifted her snout and nodded in agreement. However, after a few more sniffs a small frown pulled at her brows. “There is something familiar about it, though.”
“There is?” Chief Thunderhooves scented the air again. It was a subtle distinction, but the acridity blowing towards them on the breeze tasted bad at the back of his throat. “What –”
He was stopped from speaking further by a ring of light shooting over their heads. It twisted and writhed like a snake on a pitchfork. Both buffalos’ ears lay flat as it crackled and dissipated right above them, leaving their fur full of static. Chief Thunderhooves shook himself and turned to Little Strongheart. She didn’t shake immediately, but instead stared up with a thoughtful expression. Not a trace of fear showed in her.
“Something has occurred to you?” he queried, simultaneously pleased and worried at her lack of fear. Bravery was admirable, but not if it became recklessness or an inability to recognise danger.
“That thing reminded me of those ponies in Appleloosa,” she said.
“This is their doing? But it is far away from their settlement.”
She shook her head. “No, I don’t mean the settlers. I meant the ponies who came on the train and brought that apple tree. This smell reminds me of the ones who could do magic. Unicorns.”
“They’re the ones with the horns, aren’t they?”
Little Strongheart nodded. She stood up, shook herself briefly and turned to him with a determined expression. “Please, let me go and investigate what strangeness is happening in our territory.”
Chief Thunderhooves eyed her sceptically. True, she was a valiant young warrior and had gained much respect since brokering peace with the Appleloosans, but she was still very young and untested in situations without direct supervision. His first instinct was to deny her and go by himself, or at least go himself and take her with him. Then he stopped. Little Strongheart had a sensible head on her shoulders and she would have to start taking responsibility soon. She grew bigger with each passing day and had not been a calf for some time.
“Choose three of our strongest,” he said brusquely. “Do not take unnecessary risks. Find out what is going on and return to the herd quickly.”
Her mouth dropped open, as if she hadn’t actually expected him to say yes. “Uh, okay. I mean yes! Yes, I’ll do that. Thank you!” She gave him a brilliant smile and hurried back down the path.
Chief Thunderhooves watched her go and then turned back to the horizon. He had a bad feeling about that cloud. Unnatural things, even spied from a distance, rarely meant anything good.
“Please, Great Spirits,” he murmured into the breeze, hoping his voice would reach them. “Keep my daughter safe.”
King Claw regarded Princess Celestia’s throne room with distaste. The level of extravagance, while remarkable, left him cold. He saw no point in making a room look pretty when its basic function was so badly constructed. Why would a ruler need so much space just for simple audiences with dignitaries or subjects? Sitting at the top of such a huge staircase left you exposed on at least three sides; a perfect target for assassins and inferiors with ideas above their stations. He was amazed Celestia hadn’t been slain by her own followers long ago.
He turned away from the throne and stalked to the long windows instead. Outside he could see his own subjects going about their duties with speed and efficiency. Anyone who had met him knew any warmth he ever possessed had been buried in his massive breast years ago, but there was no mistaking his pride as he watched.
“Stargazer?”
A lean griffin slunk towards him, dark grey feathers speckled as white as his head with age. Where Claw was gigantic, Stargazer was bony; where Claw stood tall, the older griffin stooped; where the king had a stare as direct as an eagle, Stargazer’s one good eye was rheumy and the other completely covered by a while film. The differences between them were stark, yet Claw treated the old buck like an equal when he spoke.
“Lookit, out there. ’Tis a braw sight, Stargazer, to see them ponies laid so low.”
“Indeed, you majesty.” Stargazer looked dutifully where he had been told to, turning his head so his good eye could focus. “Their arrogance certainly makes their defeat extra bitter for them.”
“But there’s nae time for bidin’ our time or sittin’ on our laurels,” Claw went on. “We have to plan our next move.”
“So soon, majesty? You’ve been king of Canterlot only a day.”
“One day is all it takes for canny minds to make canny plans.”
“Canny, majesty?”
“Clever,” Claw said irritably. Most griffins would have pretended to understand what he meant even if the wording was strange to them, but not Stargazer. No, the old griffin knew how valuable he was to his ruler and also knew just how much leeway that afforded him.
Sometimes it irritated Claw into a temper when his accent got in the way of his decrees. Lowland griffins were the most common in Gryphona, and most of the time they had little contact with their bigger highland cousins. Highlanders were solitary creatures who rarely descended from the most unforgiving peaks in Gryphona; so solitary, in fact, that until Claw came down and challenged the previous king there were rumours that highlanders had either all died out or were just myths who had never really existed. Perhaps if his ancestors had done what he did, this debacle with Equestria would never have been allowed to develop in the first place.
Truthfully speaking, Claw would have loved to bide his time and sit on his laurels so he could enjoy overthrowing Canterlot, but the plain fact was that this was just the tip of the iceberg. Canterlot was the biggest jewel in Equestria’s crown, but the rest of this blasted country would only be vulnerable for a short time. Claw was not some mindless barbarian warlord, nor was he an idiot. He had studied Equestria before making any move against it. That was how he had known a full frontal attack against both princesses would be doomed to failure. History teemed with stories of other races who had tried and failed against just one royal alicorn, let alone two. It also teemed with stories of ponies who had rallied to become warriors in a crisis. Equestria had a nasty habit of churning out heroes when it needed them. He had to make sure there was no opportunity for any to appear before he made his mastery of this land absolute.
Stargazer tilted his head to look at him. “What are you intending, majesty?”
“What do the portents say?”
In answer, Stargazer reached into a pouch attached to the belt around his waist. Dust fell from his feathers as he brushed against them and a few came loose when he jiggled pieces in his claw and tossed them into the air. They clattered to the floor of the throne room, revealing themselves to be a collection of small bones. The skulls of several mice and rats knocked against thigh bones of rabbits, detached cat claws at the curved fangs of a wild dog. Stargazer peered intently once they had fallen.
“Well?” Claw prompted.
“The portents are … somewhat favourable.”
“Only somewhat?”
Stargazer pointed to where the largest fang had landed partially wedged in the eye socket of a rat skull. “Your power will continue to increase, majesty, but you must beware. You are now entering a period of great hostility and danger. Threats will come at you from several sides.” He tapped at the other two dog fangs. They were buried under a collection of mice skulls. “You must be cautious about how you proceed next.”
Claw let out a harsh laugh. “Let ‘em come. ‘Tis nae threat them ponies can throw at me I cannae face – earth, unicorn, pegasus, I can take ‘em all with you an’ your magic at my side.”
“Indeed.” Stargazer bowed at the compliment. Magic was not common amongst griffins. He had been the only one of his generation to be born with even a hint of it, and the generations that followed had yielded even fewer such talented warriors. As a result, though he was old and falling apart, Stargazer was one of the foremost weapons in Claw’s army. It was Stargazer’s specially created poison, after all, that had weakened Celestia and Luna nearly to the point of death; which would have been the case if Celestia’s blasted student hadn’t got involved. “All that would have stood between you and certain victory was Princess Celestia and her sister.”
Claw’s expression immediately darkened. “Aye,” he growled. “Would have. Good choice of words. Especially since the princesses are dead.” His tone challenged the old griffin to contradict him.
“Indeed, majesty,” Stargazer replied, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.
Claw ruffled his feathers and transferred his gaze exclusively to the window. Luna had been a threat in her own right, but it was Celestia who had roused his ire enough to break the tenuous peace between Gryphona and Equestria that his predecessors had brokered a long time ago and never seen fit to change. Hadn’t it been Celestia who, even though Equestria had more than enough food and space to go around, had not been content with her own country and had set up a new colony in his territory too? Claw and his griffins had returned from the summer hunting grounds to find a whole new sparkling city filled with ponies where none had been before. The speed with which it had been erected could only have been magic and the only one powerful enough to cast that much so quickly was Celestia. Well, if she was arrogant enough to think she could just waltz into the frozen north and take it for herself, Claw had decided she needed to be repaid in kind. Let Celestia have the mountains; the griffins would have Equestria instead.
His entire strategy rested on Celestia and Luna’s deaths. The Gryphons he had brought with him believed fervently what their king had told them: that the princesses had died during the battle to conquer Canterlot. That their bodies weren’t displayed on the battlements as trophies was not to be questioned by subjects who didn’t want their own heads there instead.
Claw told himself they almost certainly were dead. When the outer defences of the city had been breached during the fighting it was inevitable he would reach the inner sanctum where the alicorns were being kept. He had left devastation in his wake, slightly impressed at how royal guards threw themselves at him even though they could see the bodies of those he had already swatted aside with his gigantic claws. That kind of loyalty was admirable, if stupid.
The guards had just been buying time, of course. Inside the sanctum unicorn healers had tried frantically to extract Stargazer’s poison before he reached them, but it had been infused with spells that could only be counteracted with time and exact knowledge of what had gone into casting them. Nopony would ever be able to neutralise their effect before the victim died a painful, blistering death – yet the ponies most loyal to the princesses had tried anyway, and gone to extraordinary lengths to give themselves time to try.
Claw remembered reaching the door to the sanctum, only to be blown back by an explosion of magic so powerful that even Stargazer was impressed. The sanctum was a scorched ruin in its wake, leaving Claw to think the ponies had taken their own lives and those of their princesses rather than let him get them. He was angry, especially since he distrusted deaths he couldn’t prove with bodies. Telling his forces he had lost them, however, was not an option. No, a swift and decisive onslaught on the rest of Equestria had to come next. By the time he was done it wouldn’t matter whether Celestia or Luna had died today or when the poison had run its course; Equestria would be New Gryphona and their subjects would be slaves and more to their Gryphon masters.
“Stargazer?”
“Yes, majesty?”
“Can ye locate the remains of the princesses? Quietly, ye ken?”
Stargazer nodded. “I can try, majesty.”
“Do it. In the meantime –” Claw turned away from the window. “– I’m fair peckish.”
Stargazer gathered up the bones, replaced them in the pouch and hobbled hurriedly after his king.
Little Strongheart looked around as she ran. Behind and beside her three of the herd’s most powerful buffalo kept pace. She had known Restless Hooves, Talking Bird and Brave Walker since she was a calf, which was disadvantageous because they often still saw her that way and thought she needed protecting when she could take care of herself just fine.
Despite this, they weren’t nearly as bad as others in the herd, especially the older cows who always stayed at camp and wouldn’t dream of going for a gallop to clear away the cobwebs from their horns. Those cows tutted when she didn’t give up her rough and tumble lifestyle the moment her own horns started to grow in. Soon they would start to wonder which bull she would choose as a husband, which filled Little Strongheart with the kind of fear usually reserved for stepping on a rattlesnake tail.
At least her father saw her for what she was, not what she used to be or what he thought she should be. He had told her he hoped she would take over leading the herd someday and she had swelled with pride to be thought worthy of consideration. It would be a struggle, but she had acquitted herself well during the crisis with Appleloosa and the time afterwards. Her behaviour wouldn’t exempt her forever, but at least provided solid evidence that she was just as capable and useful a warrior as any bull.
She dashed across the plains, eyes fixed on the purple cloud. The closer they got, the more her fur itched. Gradually her hooves began to ache too, and the pressure on her skull intensified like a sudden bad headache. She ploughed on, eager to prove her mettle to her three witnesses.
“Little Strongheart?” Talking Bird finally broke the silence. He was apt to chatter when it wasn’t appropriate, which had earned him his name. “Don’t you think we should turn back?”
“Chief Thunderhooves told us to investigate,” she replied staunchly. “We aren’t turning back until we have something to tell him.”
“But the land feels strange,” Talking Bird insisted. “It feels wrong all around here. Can’t you feel it?”
“Of course I can feel it, but I also know I don’t want to go back to my chief and tell him we didn’t bring him news of a potential threat just because I was a little uncomfortable.”
That shut him up. Talking Bird dropped back, allowing Restless Hooves to take the place immediately beside her. Little Strongheart kept going until even she had trouble focussing on the way forward through the pounding in her head. She skidded to a halt and squinted to figure out what was what.
“Little Strongheart?” Brave Walker stepped up beside her. He gestured with his snout to a clump of nearby brittlebush. It had exploded in a sudden growth spurt that sent its spikes in all directions, some curving frantically upwards, others arcing down to pierce their own stem. It looked twisted and unnatural. It also wasn’t the only plant to be affected. Beargrass, yucca, pipe cacti and boojum had also suddenly grown out of control and started to attack themselves. “What do you make of it?”
“I don’t know.” Little Strongheart narrowed her eyes. The plants got stranger and uglier the nearer they were to a large crater in the ground – one directly below the last vestiges of the purple cloud. “Come on,” she ordered, stepping towards the rim.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Talking Bird asked in a tremulous voice.
“I’ll go first,” she said to reassure him. She crept closer and dropped to her belly to peer over. Her head pounded like someone had set up a hundred drums in there, but she still sat up fast enough to make herself dizzy at what was at the bottom of the crater.
“What is it?” Restless Hooves didn’t stay behind her, but trotted to see what had made her spine straighten in surprise. He whistled. “Whoo-wee. I wasn’t expecting that.”
At the bottom of the crater a collection of ponies lay in crumpled heaps, as if they had all been struck unconscious at the same time. Some wore white robes with red crosses on the side, marking them out from those who went bareback. How they came to be in a crater in the middle of the desert was a short-lived mystery, given that one of the barebacks struggled to sit up when she saw the buffalo looking down on them from above.
“P-Please,” she begged shakily, motioning at the other ponies. “The magical blowback … it affected anypony with magic … Twilight warned us it might b-but … she said she had to t-tryyy …” She squinted suddenly, and then opened her eyes wide as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. “L-Little S-Strongheart?”
Little Strongheart didn’t hesitate; she launched herself over the side and skittered down into the crater. “Applejack, what is all this? What happened?”
“Had to … get ‘em out …” Applejack swayed but managed to nod at the two much bigger ponies at the very centre of the unconscious circle.
One was pure white with a many-coloured mane and tail; the other a deep blue with a mane and tail that sparkled like stars in the night sky. Unlike the other, smaller ponies, frothy spittle had crusted around each of their mouths and their tongues lolled as if somepony had pulled them out to keep the sick ponies from choking on them.
“T-Twilight … sugarcube …” Applejack swooned. Her knees buckled just as Restless Hooves arrived to catch her. “We hadda … leave behind … hadda get the p-princesses … out … please, h-help them … help T-Twilight …”
Little Strongheart followed Applejack’s pointing hoof to a purple body hunched in on itself as if suffering from terrible stomach-ache. Twilight Sparkle looked even worse than the bigger ponies. Her pelt was pulled tight across her muscles, her cheekbones stark underneath. She looked like she was malnourished, but her coat was still in excellent condition, which made Little Strongheart suspect this was something else in which magic was involved. She didn’t even pretend to understand magic, much less pony magic. What she did understand was that her friends were here, extremely sick and in desperate need of help.
“Talking Bird, Brave Walker,” she snapped, thinking fast. If they tried to run back to fetch more aid they would waste precious time. “Find fuel. Start a signal fire. Use those plants out there if necessary. We have to let Chief Thunderhooves know to send more buffalo out here to help transport these ponies away from this place.”
“Back to our camp?” Talking Bird asked.
“For now.” Little Strongheart surveyed the ponies grimly. “We may need to ask for help from the Appleloosans if we aren’t equipped to deal with this sort of thing. Restless Hooves, while they do that you’ll help me inspect the ponies to figure out which are, ah …” She wanted to say ‘still alive’ but something about the way Applejack fought unconsciousness to stare at her made her hesitate.
Applejack breathed rapidly. She had obviously struggled to remain conscious until someone arrived. What would she have done if no-one had? Her legs didn’t appear to be working properly, or she probably would have crawled out of the crater and gone searching for help. Just like her cousin in Appleloosa, nobody could ever accuse Applejack of being backward about coming forward.
What kind of magic could do all this? Little Strongheart wondered. Moreover, who could possibly be powerful to use it without killing themselves? She glanced at Twilight Sparkle and speculated that maybe the little unicorn was far more powerful than she had realised during their last encounter.
A far tear slid down Applejack’s cheek. “We hadda … leave ‘em …” she said brokenly. “All of ‘em … anypony outside the r-room … we couldn’t … c-couldn’t …”
Little Strongheart noted that she only truly recognised three of the ponies present: Twilight Sparkle, Applejack herself and another unicorn she remembered was called Rarity. Of her other pony friends there was no sign.
“What in the name of the Great Spirits has happened?” she wondered aloud, a knot of dread twisting in her gut.