Chapter 4
The Precipice of Darkness
I'm not sure how long I've floated through this red fog. The pain has been making it impossible to tell. It feels like days since I've seen anything but the bloody haze before my eyes. Days since I've felt anything but the pain that seems to emanate from my very bones.
It's unlike anything that I have ever felt before. It doesn't feel like fractures or breaks in the structure holding my body in its shape. It has none of the splash of pain or dull throb that remains after a sharp blow. It's devoid of the queasy feeling of something sliding through flesh. It lacks the ache of the cold coming from overexposure. Absent too is the blinding, attention-grasping sear of exposed skin over flame.
The feeling within me is none of these things.
It is simply pain.
And not merely physical pain. Deep within my core, something stirs. Things better left buried seem to crawl up from the vaults I had banished them to. Old doubts whisper themselves into my brain. Freshly scabbed wounds of the mind crack open and bleed once more. Long-scarred memories echo with a ghostly pain, reminding me of the times in which those wounds had been etched upon my soul.
Through the red haze, I notice small flashes of light, snatches of distant memories. Though they are indistinct, for once my insatiable curiosity is not forefront in my mind. My urge to confront the unknown is replaced by one thing.
Terror.
No...
No, please...
Don't make me.... Don't want....
But no matter how much I will it otherwise, the broken images of my past seem to grow in intensity and stability. My eyes ignore the commands I send them, staying painfully open, to the point I that I start to wonder how my optical organs don’t pop out of my skull.
"...traitor..."
"...inhuman..."
"...friendless..."
"...loser..."
"...failure..."
A chorus of accusations, of venomous words... of abhorred, undeniable, unquestionable truth begins in my head, whispering at first, then growing steadily louder, pausing only as splashed images of my past whirl past my eyes, painting pictures of my truth and legacy that scream of my failures, as a friend. As a student. As a son.
AS A HUMAN BEING.
The scenes scream past, and snatches of conversations pierce through the discordant cacophony of my flaws.
...a teenage boy stood in his room, holding report card reading straight A's, holding back tears and shaking with fury as his father hollered at him in a drunken rage.
"...doesn't matter how good they are! You'll never amount to anything. You were born shit, and that's how you'll die! SHIT!"
... a much younger boy, rather fat, struggled to lift himself up as he hung a foot off the ground from a pull-up bar. Numerous other kids laughed at him and poked his stomach, calling him names and urging him to give up and cry.
... a young man, much more similar to my current self but still somewhat fat, sweated profusely as he ran in formation with several other men, all wearing the same uniform. The man stumbled and tripped head over heels, sending half the formation down with him. A short, muscular man stomped over and proceeded to shout at the downed trainee until he was red in the face.
"ALRIGHT, EVERYONE BUT MAELSTROM, START PUSHING. SAY THANK YOU, MAILMAN!"
"...Thank you Mailman!" the training flight groaned as they pushed themselves up, glaring at the now considerably shamed young man.
... a very young boy cried on the ground, shielding his face with his arms as several other boys kicked him. They all stepped back, and one spoke out angrily.
"You aint no fwiend of mine. Fwiends don't tattle on fwiends no matter what, twaitor."
He kicked the downed boy one last time, eliciting a pained scream from him, then turned and walked away, the others in tow.
... the same young boy, still crying, now was wrapped in the arms of his mother, who gave him a warm, gentle smile as he wailed about what had happened.
"Shh, shhh..." she said, holding him close in a warm embrace. "It's ok, honey. You did the right thing. And, if Mikey did that afterward, he doesn't deserve to be your friend. Never be afraid to do what you know is right. You'll always have people to back you up."
The boy pulled back and looked up at his mother, tears still in his eyes.
"Will you back me up, mommy?"
"As long as you do what you know is right."
"Promise?"
The mother smiled.
"I promise."
A door slammed somewhere, and both mother and child flinched as the boy's father strode into the room.
"Pah. Dumb kid." He growled as he knelt down, an air of drink about his as he roughly grasped the boy's chin in his calloused hands as he inspected the several bruises on his face. "Maybe if you were a little tougher, not afraid to fight back, you wouldn't look like a goddamn punching bag."
"Dear," the mother began, a plaintive tone in her voice, "please mind your language. He doesn't need to hear that."
"You shut up, woman." he barked back, his face flushing with anger. He pushed the boy aside roughly as he stood up, causing him to begin crying again.
"My god, you're pathetic," the man said, shaking his head. He pointed at his wife with a glare. "And here you sit defending him and cuddling him like a damn baby. It's your fault he's so weak. You both aren't worth my fuckin' time. Don't even know why I friggen married you.." He turned and strode out of the door once more.
The boy's mother scooped him up once more.
"It's going to be alright. I know it doesn't seem like it, but daddy loves you..."
They boy was too busy crying into his mother's shoulder to notice the hitch in her voice, or the trail of silver tears upon her cheeks.
... the chubby teenager walked into the living room, snow on his shoulders, to find his father pouring over an unorganized stack of papers. He walked right past him, angling for the hallway to his room.
"Where do you think you're going, boy?" the older man barked, looking over at the teenager's back.
"Well, nowhere now." the boy replied acerbically, turning to face his father.
"You watch your mouth, boy," the father snarled, getting to his feet. "Come over here."
The boy complied, his hatred for the man before him evident in his every movement.
"So," his father began, smugness evident in his voice, "got beat up again, didn't you?"
"No," the teen said, a little too fast.
"Don't you try lying to me. You think I don't know you?"
The boy glared at him, then lowered his eyes to the ground.
"Yeah, I did. So what?"
"So grow a pair of balls and fight back, you little shit!" his father growled, poking him in the chest. "You are completely worthless, you know that? Your grades have dropped, you can't defend yourself, and you've got no friends to back you up. I don't even think you know what a friend is anymore."
"Shut up, that aint true!" the boy yelled, glaring into his father’s triumphant face.
"Then how come I haven't ever seen any of them?"
"Maybe it's because I don't want them to think less of me because my father is a no-good drunk!"
The man's seasoned face turned from smug to furious in an instant, and his open palm whipped up, connecting with the teenager's husky face soundly.
"Don't you fucking dare talk to me like that again, you little piece of shit," he growled. "Do you hear me?"
The teen stood for a moment, head turned to the side, face contorted in shock and rage. He faced his father, and his countenance turned feral as he yelled out and swung at his father's face.
The blow connected squarely with the elder man's nose, and a resounding crack sounded. Blood spurted from both nostrils as the man's hand flew to his nose in utter disbelief. It came away spotted with blood, and he gawked at the teen, who looked just as disbelieving as he stared at his fist, which bled from split knuckles.
The man stood speechless for a moment, before a wicked grin came over his face.
"Now we're talkin'," he said, then punched the youth in the gut. The teen doubled over the fist, unable to formulate a response as the man's elbow crashed down on his head...
... the same young boy again, but a little older, no longer crying, with a horrified look on his face, beheld the same old living room he'd tread through all his life, the same chandelier that gave it light, and the same table he'd always eaten at occupying the center.
What was different about it was the chair resting on its side.
...The rope that hung from the ceiling.
...And, at the end of it, the boy's mother, eyes closed, body pale blue, and the faintest trace of her old, warm, assuring smile upon her lips, in haunting repose.
"...Mommy...?" the boy whispered, his voice hollow as he leaned against the door frame for support. "...Mommy, this isn't funny. Please come down from there."
But the body of his mother did not move. It did not open its eyes, or smile, or raise its arms invitingly to scoop up its son in a warm embrace as it always had.
The boy fell to his knees and crawled to his mother, his wide, terrified eyes locked on her face. He reached up and gently touched her bare foot, recoiling at the frightening coldness.
A door slammed somewhere indistinct, and the father entered the room. He stood speechless before the scene a hand over his mouth, his eyes inscrutable.
"Daddy?" the boy said, in the same hollow tone. "Daddy, help Mommy! She won't listen to me."
The father looked down at his son, and something at last was evident in his eyes.
Pain. Much like the red haze that filled my eyes now, the man struggled against a pain that was incomprehensible. It lingered in his deep blue eyes for a moment before they closed, a single pair of tears forming at their corners.
Then the eyes opened once more, and the pain was gone, replaced by anger.
"Mommy is gone." he growled, voice as unsympathetic and sharp as steel. "She gave up because she couldn't hack it. She gave up, because she was weak. She couldn't handle her problems, let alone the problems of a family. Maybe if you... If WE'D had been stronger, she'd still be alive."
The child just cried, holding fast to his mother's lifeless leg.
"That's what happens when you're weak." he continued "People die. People die, and you can't do a damn thing about it! So stop being weak. Stop being weak!"
Despite his harsh words, his hands were extraordinarily careful as he lifted the body of his wife up and loosened the noose from her neck. He laid her gently upon a nearby couch. The boy followed, releasing the ankle and grasping the grave-cold hand of his mother's husk.
The father's face contorted as he slapped the hand away.
"SHE'S GONE, DO YOU HEAR ME?" He roared, moisture rolling down his face. "Holding her hand won't change that! It's time you toughened up."
The child just cried. The man snarled, then bent down, scooping the child up roughly, and, after one, last, anguished look at his wife, strode from the room. The child simply screamed and reached for his peacefully smiling mother, not comprehending the fact that his mother would never again hold him with her caring, loving embrace.
...no...
...no.
...No.
No.
NO.
NO!
I scream noiselessly as my last, most horrifying memory fades from my mind, my own mother's dead face burned into my sight as the indescribable pain rages through my body.
And my timeless torture wears on.
--
Elsewhere, as time moved apace
--
I jumped as the creature lying on the bed I stood next to gave an unearthly howl of pain. I looked over at him. He seemed the same as ever, though, as experience has told me time and again, that in and of itself meant nothing.
The run through the forest to their destination had been uneventful, barring the occasional moan and scream from his unconscious baggage, with nary a rabbit to peak its head from its hole. The arrival to Outpost Gallop had been considerably more interesting, for, even after the proper Authorization Code had been given, the Outpost Watch had taken an additional 20 minutes to cast multiple charms of detection and revealing upon myself and the unconscious creature.
I could hardly blame them; changing activity had been becoming alarmingly frequent as of late. In the immediate aftermath following the anomaly last night, four Ever free outposts, including Gallup, had been attacked, and Recon and Scout units had reported sightings of changelings throughout the forest. Evidently, they were as curious as we were of whatever was out there. They also didn't seem to want us to find it.
Still, the added security had worried me. The creature was in a bad state, and I wasn't confident at the time that security superseded preservation of life. But the creature's condition hadn't changed, and, in fact remained much the same for the past 4 hours.
The outpost's doctors, meanwhile, had been wigging out trying to learn more of the creature I had brought them. Evidently, it wasn't just my knowledge of fauna that was incomplete. The doctors were just as lost as I was. The closest they had heard of to whatever this thing was were the larger primates like chimpanzees, which were exceptionally rare, only located in very isolated pockets in the Monkey jungles on the southern continent.
This creature's flat, hard, toeless, almost hoof like foot and strong legs, however, pointed to a more terrestrial lifestyle than the arboreal chimp, although, considering the fact that it wore armor over clothing, that may just have been a shoe.
The doctors had logged everything about the creature, from its shape and musculature, to vital statistics, to behavioral patterns based on my reports. Apparently, it was similar enough to ponies to be considered a possible pony subspecies.
I had immediately scoffed at the idea. There was no way whatever this thing was could be considered a pony of any kind. Still, I couldn't help but feel curious myself as I watched over the odd creature. Its lined face bespoke a lifetime of hardship and struggle, and the scar on its cheek betrayed an accident of some kind, or perhaps a battle wound. If its earlier fight with the manticore hadn't made it obvious enough, it was clear to tell that he was a warrior.
Perhaps he'd had a little too much hardship. I'd seen faces like his on ponies that’d come away from battles with more than just physical wounds. I myself was no stranger to the fact that the mind sometimes carries the heaviest burdens.
My thoughts on the matter were abruptly cut off as I felt a pressure surround my horn. I groaned and squeezed my eyes shut as an image of an old earth stallion with light blue fur and a close-cropped, white-streaked blue mane and matching tail appeared in my mind. Golden armor encased his body, and a scar crossed his patched right eye.
"Major Storm Tide, sir!" I acknowledged, snapping to attention and projecting a mental salute.
"Captain Shadow," Storm tide acknowledged my salute with one of his own. "Your report on the unknown is ten minutes overdue. Did something happen?"
"Quite the opposite, sir." I replied, evenly, bracing myself for the inevitable berating I was about to get. "The creature hasn't had any significant change since the doctors wired him up. With respect, I didn't think you'd want to hear about a lack of change."
"I asked for hourly reports, Captain." Stormtide replied, his scowl becoming more pronounced. "When I give an order, I shouldn't think that I would need qualifiers."
"No sir, you are correct." I said, bowing my head. "I was wrong to make that assumption, and it won't happen again. Please forgive my error, sir."
Though the formal request for clemency was standard practice within the Equestrian Military, I was still sincere in my endeavor not to repeat the mistake and my apology for circumventing a commanding officer.
Storm Tide seemed to recognize this, and his face returned to its usual grouchy crunch.
"Apology accepted, Captain Evergreen Shadow. Ensure it doesn’t happen again. Now, please report."
"As I had mentioned previously, Major, there has been no change physically. All vitals have remained stable."
The Major nodded, taking the information in stride.
"Also, his unexplained absence in the fabric of magic remains."
Looking over at the unconscious creature, I test this by reaching out with my own power, grasping the creature's armored front... paw? Sure enough, I can grasp it and raise it from the bed, but there is no sensation that flows through my magical connection. Even empty air would have given me more to feel. It was as though I held in my mouth a ball with no taste, substance, weight, texture, or smell, yet I could hold it aloft.
The commander, for his part, seemed unimpressed.
"You're preaching to the choir, Captain Shadow." Storm Tide said dismissively. "I know as much about magical theory as I do of high society fashion. And I'm about as likely to feel anything in the fabric of magic as a rabbit is to become General of the Armies."
"True enough, Major," I chuckled lightly.
"Anything else to report?"
"Other than that, sir, the subject has continued talking and groaning while unconscious. The doctors suspect battle-trauma."
"Well," the commander said with a mild shrug, "I wouldn't be surprised. Many soldiers have battle-"
"Sir, I disagree."
The commander stopped mid-word, and then looked at me with mild curiosity.
"Continue, then."
"Sir, there were points, when the doctors weren't around or when they were too busy discussing their notes, that he would mutter something that wasn't quite in tandem with battle-trauma. More than once I heard him muttering something about, 'Mom,' and, 'my fault.' More than once, he seemed to be begging, both for something to stop, and for a second chance. I think this goes much deeper than simple battle trauma, sir."
The commander's scowl had shifted into a pensive frown as he listened to my words. He held a gold-shod hoof to his chin as he mulled over what I had said.
Finally, his good eye met my own eyes once more.
"I need your honest answer on this, Captain: do you think this is indicative of something that might bring harm to anypony around him?"
His golden eye bored into my own emerald eyes as I took a deep breath.
"Sir, I cannot say. Some ponies with battle-trauma become dangerous at certain triggers. However, most of them are able to overcome their reactions to those triggers. I suggest we hold off on making a decision for now. He didn't attack me after I had saved him, so he most likely isn't a danger."
Storm tide held my gaze for a moment after I had finished, and then sighed, and it seemed as though the weight of his years bore down on his aged shoulders.
"Very well. When and if he awakes, I'm assigning you to keep an eye on him. Monitor him, help him acclimate, and once he's ready for travel, bring him to Evergreen Command so we can debrief him."
"Understood, sir!" I state with a salute.
The Major groaned and held a hoof to his head.
"This couldn't have come at a worse time. First it was the dispute with the griffins, then the changelings start increasing their raids. Now this anomaly makes things that much worse, an unknown and potentially hostile creature appears out of nowhere, and from what Intel has been passed down, Princess Celestia is getting the Elements involved."
"Sir, do you think this situation warrant's their involvement?" I asked, concern rising. Everyone knew the track record of the Element Bearers. They had saved the world as a whole several times, and have averted crises in various parts of Equestria countless more. However, by the same token, their actions had led to near Discordian levels of pandemonium nearly as often as they had averted it.
The Major scowled once more, though it was as much a look of consternation at the logic behind my meaning-laden words as it was grimace of reprimand at my questioning the orders of the higher-ups.
"Captain, it doesn't matter what I think. By extension, it certainly doesn't matter what you think. Princess Celestia gave this order, and Captain-Commander Shining Armor backed it himself." His voice and grimace softened somewhat as he continued. "I understand your concerns, Captain Shadow, I really do. But there is no denying that, if things do go awry with whatever is going on, it would be best to have the Elements there to set everything back into harmony."
"I understand, sir." I said, swallowing my misgivings. "Forgive me, sir. I stepped out of line again."
"No," the Major replied, waving a placating hoof. "I agree with you on this one, Captain. However, orders are orders. Your apology is accepted; just ensure that you don't express your misgivings when and if you meet the Bearers."
"Of course not, sir."
"Very well, carry on. I need to make the arrangements for the Bearer's arrival." I saluted, and he returned the gesture. Just before I terminated the connection, however, the Storm Tide stopped me. "Actually, one last thing, Captain. How are his wounds healing up?"
I was taken aback by this.
"Actually, truth be told, we haven't looked into them. He had bandaged them pretty well before he fainted, so no one bothered to remove them, for fear of aggravating a wound. In any case, I wouldn't think that they would heal any faster than if a pony were to be wounded in a similar way."
The Major frowned, clearly displeased that the doctors had taken more of an academic interest in their patient than as a proper patient.
"Sir, would you like me to check up on them?"
"Please do," Storm Tide responded, obviously irked. "Just make sure that there isn't any sign of infection or poison. We still don't know what is keeping him unconscious and in pain."
Opening my eyes, I move over to the bedside. Cradling the body with my magic, I frown slightly.
"That's odd..."
"What is it Captain?"
"Remember how I had said that I didn't feel anything from him through magic? Well, all of a sudden, I'm feeling something from him. It's faint, but it's there."
It was hard to describe what I felt. Like a mild tingle in my bones that flowed through the connection. It echoed with a hollow resonance that cast melancholy notes in my mind.
"Maybe that's a good thing," Storm Tide responded. "It might mean he's past the worst of it."
"Maybe..." I muttered as I unwound the bandage wrapped about the creature's waist. "Anyway, let’s check... that... whoa..."
"Captain?" Storm Tide inquired. "Captain Shadow, respond. Is everything ok?"
I just sat there, mouth agape, as I stared at his side. In a flurry of magic, I undid his head wrap, unlocked it, and removed it.
"Major...?" I started, drawing a deep, steadying breath. "Major...you are not going to believe this."
--
Meanwhile
--
As I float through my own personal hell, writhing in my misery and pain, forced to relive my failings again and again, I beg for a release. I beg for a second chance. I beg for death to take me in earnest this time. I beg for anything that would free me from this torment.
Please… Please make it stop. I’ll do anything. I’ll give anything. Just please, don’t make me watch this anymore.
“… Anything, you say?”
Amidst my torment, through the murmured accusations and the screams of my past, the voice comes in, clear as day carrying a light British accent. It sounds sympathetic enough, but is laced with the smooth overtones of an actor, and I’m not entirely sure if it’s male or female. Not that I actually care at this point. Focusing on the voice lessens the pain somewhat, though, at the back of my mind, the murmurs and screams continue.
“Strong choice of words. I wonder, know you the ramifications of such a bargain?”
I don’t care.
“Any port in the storm I take it?” the voice asks. “Looking at these memories, I can’t say I blame you. Seems you’ve been through quite a lot, and have done much to try and forget about it. Such a shame that these walls you’ve built up fell apart like this.”
Help me…
“Perhaps I will,” the voice responds, a teasing note tingeing it. “Or perhaps I’ll let you learn from your own history some more…” Almost as if on cue, the images and voices of my past intensify, relaying a feeling of emptiness even as a girl hugged the shoulders of a boy with a black eye, who sat on a lonely curb, arms around his own legs…
NO!
“Seems to me you don’t particularly like that idea,” the voice scoffed. “Very well, then.”
The image, the red haze, the murmuring and the pain are all banished instantly, leaving me standing in what appears to be a forest of barren trees lit by a violet moon in an otherwise empty black sky.
I am not alone, however. Before me stands another pony, as tall as I am, and it, too, sports a horn. However, this one seems very distinct from the armored pony that rescued me from the manticore. Instead of green, its coat is a blank white. Its mane and tail, however, are iridescent, such that, even in the pale violet light, they reflect a multitude of colors, and both are cropped quite short. In fact, the mane looks like a style often seen on businessmen.
Its iridescent mane and tail, however, is not the feature that holds my attention. Indeed, I doubt very much that they would even if they were a constant solid rainbow, so long as those eyes stayed the same. Whereas the unicorn before had clear, emerald green eyes that sparkled with life, the eyes of this pony are completely devoid of life or soul. Perhaps it’s merely an optical illusion, but the pale, sickly green of these eyes don’t even seem to reflect the moon’s light. Besides that, the pony doesn’t seem to need to blink, which is more than a little disturbing. Despite the smile on the unicorn’s face, the emptiness of those eyes is so unsettling that I almost wish I was back in my torment.
Almost.
“Uh, thank you for bringing me out of that,” I say awkwardly, but sincerely enough. Regardless of this pony’s peculiarity, I wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth, to use an oddly appropriate turn of phrase.
The pony’s smile widens, though the expression, or lack thereof in the pony’s eyes, remains.
“You are welcome.”
An awkward silence stretches on for a moment or so, as we stare at each other.
“So, uh… Where do we go from here, Mr. Pony?” I ask, more than a little uncomfortable.
“Mr. Pony?” it says, with a flat laugh. “That’s a first. No one has ever called me a stallion upon our first meeting.”
Realizing my error, I stumble over myself in apology, but the pony beats me to it.
“No need to apologize. To be fair, I really am neither, though if I need to be either, I can. And, as for what to call me, for the time being, you may call me Amseal.”
“’For the time being?’”
“Well, you don’t expect me to give out my real name the first time we talk, now do you? Honestly, beings these days have no sense of propriety or privacy. But that is neither here, nor there at the present time. What matters right now is how to go forward. And, of course, there is the matter of your payment.”
“Payment? For what?”
“Why, for services rendered, of course! You can’t just go around saying things like ‘I’ll do anything,’ and then welsh on it after. Unless you’d rather go back to your own past?”
I flinch as the forest seems to swim, the edges of my vision taking a red cast as a distant echo of deranged murmuring begins in my mind once again.
“No, PLEASE NO!” I shout, falling to my hands and knees before the still smiling Amseal.
“I thought not,” Amseal said, and the horrors of my past once again recede. Breathing hard, I rise once again to my feet as Amseal continues. “Now then, for my payment, I want you to leave the Everfree forest. Continue eastward out of it until you come upon a town called Ponyville. There you will find a library. Try not to talk to the head librarian there, if you can help it. Speak with the assistant, Spike. Ask for the books, Basic Magical Theory and Applications, The Encyclopedia of Spells, A Beginners Guide to Spellcraft,and Academia Arcana, v.1. Oh, and while you’re at it, pick up a copy of Supernaturals while you are at it. Once you have those, use the currency I will place in your bag to rent a room somewhere in Ponyville.”
I nod to all of this as he speaks, taking careful mental notes, but wondering at the use of books on magic. Also, ‘Ponyville?’ No disrespect to whomever named it, but come on. That’s like a human naming a city Mantopia, or Peopolopolis. I shove this aside as Amseal continues on.
“Find a job, acquaint yourself with the locals, and study those books. Take rigorous notes, and, when you are done with them, exchange them for new books. Study as much a about magic as you can, but expand your horizons on this world.” Amseals smile, and the look in its otherwise soulless eyes, turns a bit too knowing for my liking, and I immediately wonder exactly how much he knows of me. “Something tells me that you might have need of all of it. Stay there and continue working, studying, and getting to know the locals. Then, once you feel you are ready, go to the city of Canterlot, and seek out a pony named Screwball to begin the second part of my payment.”
“Wait, second part?” I ask suspiciously. “You’ve done one thing for me.”
“Oh. I guess I forgot,” Amseal says as he bends down, closing his eyes for the first time as his horn begins to glow with a sickly violet light. “Well then, here is your other service.”
“What are you-” I begin, but my words are cut off as his horn touches my chest. Cold energy blasts through my sore body, and I gasp as the forest around me is obliterated by white light. My fingers, scalp, and chest begin to itch furiously, though I can’t move to scratch them. My bones seem to hum with the same cold energy that pored through the horn. I clench my teeth, not in pain, but just because it is so damn uncomfortable.
“By the way,” Amseal’s voice says, breaking through the blanket of white that swiftly seems to be fading, along with my sense of everything else, “I’d suggest that you come to grips with the truths of who and what you are. You’ll find that who you are can be your greatest asset and weapon. Take care of yourself, Maelstrom. I’d hate to think of you defaulting on your payment due to death.”
And finally, after what seemed like an eternity of turmoil from this day, I fall into a fitful, and mercifully dreamless sleep.
--
Elsewhere in the Everfree
--
"Twilight, PLEASE tell me we're getting close," Rarity griped for what had to be the billionth time that afternoon, having just stepped into another mud puddle. She scratched at several spots of dried mud on her pristine white fur. "I'm not sure how much of this I can take. If I don't get a bath soon, I don't think this mud will ever come out!"
"Rarity, you just asked that five minutes ago." Twilight replied, several strands of hair popping out of her already frazzled mane. "If make me stop to check the map every time you step in a puddle, we AREN'T going to get there AT ALL!"
Rarity looked rather affronted by her friend's caustic reply.
"No need to snap," she muttered under her breath with a sidelong glare at their purple navigator. "A simple yes or no would have sufficed."
"Aw, quit yer whinin', Rarity," Applejack growled, squeezing her eyes shut and rubbing her temple. "Y'all are givin' me a headache."
"I am not whining. I am complaining," Rarity asserted, nose held high. "Would you like to hear whining?"
Rainbow Dash dove into a bush while Twilight and Pinkie ducked and covered as Rarity inhaled a lungful of air. She abruptly choked, however, when she noticed a death glare aimed at her from a certain yellow Pegasus.
"Don't. You. DARE."
Rarity backpedaled quickly with an awkward smile plastered on her face.
"Eh, heh, heh, so silly of me, I believe I WAS whining. I do apologize, Applejack, darling."
She held the strained smile until she felt the burning sensation on the back of her head dissipate.
"Ok, now that's over," Twilight said irritably, getting to her feet, "maybe we can make some progress."
Rainbow Dash, meanwhile, extricated herself from the bush as the others restarted the march.
"Phew, dodged that bullet," Dash said, shaking herself off before zooming back to the others.
So far, they had suffered several other setbacks, including patches of poison joke that blocked long stretches of the old forest road, requiring long detours of bushwhacking, much to Rarity's unending consternation, as well as several stops so Fluttershy could check in on some animal friends she had recently been tending to, the obvious necessity breaks, and a moment when Rainbow Dash took issue with a rather brash young minotaur who said she looked like flying fruit-pop.
So, it was understandable that everypony's nerves were starting to frazzle. Well, everyone, that is, except for the ever bubbly Pinkie Pie, who, as usual, was doing her best to keep the smiles pasted firmly on the ever more irascible faces of her best friends. Bouncing between them all in her usual gait, she rattled off a number of ideas to keep the spirits up as they trudged on.
"Oh, Oh, OH! I know, how about we sing a song! Let’s see, what should we sing about....?"
"Gah, Pinkie..."
"OOOOOOOOORRRRRR, we could play a rousing game of I Spy! Let’s see, I spy with my little eye something purple!"
"Pinkie...."
"Drat, how'd you know it was you, Twilight? Ok, I spy with my little eye something... green!"
"... Um... Pinkie Pie?"
"Oh, of course it isn't you, Fluttershy, silly pony!"
"Pinkie, darling-"
"You're right, Rarity, there is too much green in here. Maybe I should pick something else."
"Consarnit, sugar cube!"
"Oh, did you want a turn Applejack? I could help you, ya know. You could pick a rock, a daisy, a cloud, the sky, a bush-"
"PINKIE PIE!"
The bubblegum earth pony abruptly halted her bouncing as four sets of irritated eyes and one stern Stare turned to lock onto her. Gravity seemed to take a vacation as her sudden stop left her hanging in midair, which she corrected quickly, quailing under the combined weight of their looks.
"Look, Pinkie," Twilight began, breathing deeply to regain a modicum of calm, "I know that you are trying to help. I know that you are trying to put us in a better mood. But right now, all of us are a little irritated at the way this trek is going. Right now, we need to focus on getting at least to the old castle, and we still have at least another two hours! So, for once, COULD YOU PLEASE STOP BEING PINKIE!?"
Pinkie looked like Twilight had just slapped her across the face.
"I just wanted to make things better...." Pinkie said tremulously, her sky-blue eyes beginning to water. "Everyone was g-getting so mad at each other." Her tears began to flow in earnest now. "All I w-wanted... All I wanted w-was to m-make sure everyone was happy..."
At this, the angry expressions were wiped away from the faces of Kindness, Honesty, Loyalty, and Generosity. All were replaced by shocked looks that quickly turned penitent. Magic, however, looked stricken at what she had done. Her hoof flew to her mouth, violet eyes wide, and she crumbled to her knees.
"Oh, Pinkie..." Twilight whispered, tears pooling at the corners of her eyes. "Pinkie, I am so sorry. I didn't mean that. I just got so angry, I..." She shook her head, at a loss for words . Her own tears formed at the corners of her clenched eyes as her guilt and shame crashed over her.
Pinkie noticed this, and wiped her eyes, attempting to hitch a smile on her face.
"Oh, Twilight," She began, walking over to her friend, "It's ok. I understand what happens when somepony gets frustrated. We do things we don’t think about. Sometimes it hurts others. But I accept your apology.” Reaching her dejected friend, she threw her forelegs around Twilight Sparkle and pulled her into a tearful hug. “Just stop being all frowny, Twilight. All I want is to see you smile.”
Twilight hugged her sugary friend back and sniffed heartily with a slight hiccup. Pinkie looked around at the other Elements.
“Well?” she said, extending one hoof from Twilight’s shoulder invitingly. “What good is a group hug if the group that needs a hug won’t get in on it?”
Rarity, AJ, Dash, and Fluttershy all gave a warm smile as they walked forward together and embraced each other. Twilight, at the center of it all, once again felt blessed for having met these wonderful friends, who accepted her, even when she behaved so irrationally.
“Thanks, girls. And thank you, Pinkie, for being such a good friend.” She looked down at the ground. “You’ve all been there for me, even when I cross the lines, or go over the deep end.”
“The good outshines the bad, sugar cube,” Applejack said sagely, awkwardly jockeying her hoof around to pat Twilight on the back comfortingly.
“And even if it didn’t” Rainbow Dash interjected, “We’d still be there for you, no matter what. You’re our friend, and nothing will change that.”
“Because friends can look past the bad,” Fluttershy added quietly, “and see each other for the goodness they have within them.”
“Besides,” Rarity intoned, “it’s not as if we haven’t acted the foal, darling. We didn’t believe you during your brother’s wedding, when you had the sense to see that ghastly imposter for what she really was.”
“Yeah, but,” Twilight began, intending to remind them that she didn’t actually have any evidence at the time, but she was cut off by Pinkie Pie hugging her tighter still.
“No buts, cuts, or coconuts, Twilight,” she said. “We all make mistakes. What matters is getting past your goof-ups and moving forward. Like my Granny Pie always said, ‘It’s not how many times you fall that matters, it’s how many times you roll on the ground afterwards!’”
“Uh, Pinkie,” Rarity said, her eyebrow quirking at the randomness of the statement, “I believe the expression goes, ‘It’s how often you pick yourself up afterwards.”
“Well that’s silly!” Pinkie exclaimed, meeting Rarity’s incredulous look with an equally incredulous look. “If you’re on the ground already, why waste the opportunity to roll around a few times?”
“Because you’d get dirty…?” Rarity asked tentatively, shuddering slightly at the thought.
“There is that,” Pinkie Pie said, a rather devious grin slowly forming on her face as she tensed her legs, “But that’s part of the fun.”
Rarity saw the plan forming in her head, and her eyes went wide.
“Oh no.”
“Oh yes.”
With that, Pinkie pushed off hard, throwing everyone’s balance off and sending them all to the ground, laughing as they did so. The tension of a few minutes ago washed away as they all enjoyed a couple of rolls around the muddy forest floor. Well, not quite all. Rarity, for her part, squealed in terror as she landed in the mud with a splat. She attempted to pick herself out of the muck with as much dignity as she could muster, but failed spectacularly as a pink blur tackled her back into it once again.
“No way, Jose!” Pinkie shouted as they both crashed back into the mud. “I didn’t see any rolls!” With that, she proceeded to roll over in the mud, dragging Rarity, willingly or not, with her.Rarity wailed in dismay as she was covered in thick mud.
Sensing her danger, Pinkie quickly disentangled herself from her captive and darted away, giggling and snorting merrily. Rarity, meanwhile, rose from the mud, looking menacing as she dripped green-tinged mud and her eyes burned.
“Pinkie PIE!” she roared in a most uncouth fashion as she charged after the pink menace, flinging balls of mud off of her towards her target as she ran. The rest, laughing at the absurdity of it all, quickly got back to their hooves and raced after them. Last to rise was Twilight, still somewhat downcast at her outburst, but nonetheless determined to take her friends advice and move forward. Taking a deep breath of the fresh forest air, she charged after her best friends as the moved deeper into the forest.
Sometime later, during which they had run a good portion of the distance between themselves and the Everfree Castle during Rarity’s pursuit of muddy vengeance, they finally slowed to a more manageable trot, panting. Somehow, through their wild run, they hadn’t encountered any more obstacles or distractions, and were all in good spirits, chatting with each other and laughing intermittently. Even Fluttershy seemed more relaxed, considering her terror of the forest.
After a half hour of walking thusly, Twilight had Rainbow Dash fly up through the treetops to see how close they were to the castle. After several minutes, she returned.
“It looks like we are pretty close, about three miles out from it, based on the mountains and clearings I saw.”
“Could you point out on the map about where we are?” asked Twilight, fishing out said map from her saddle bags and unfurling it. Rainbow Dash did so, indicating a spot some distance west-south-west of their destination. “Ok, that’s good enough then.”
“Um, good enough for what, Twilight?” Fluttershy inquired timidly.
“Well, three miles is within my range for accurate teleportation,” Twilight answered confidently, studying the map carefully. “And, as long as I have a good idea of my orientation relative to my destination, I can teleport myself accurately to that destination.”
“Uh, sugar cube?” Applejack began, her misgivings plain in her voice. “I notice y’all said ‘myself.’”
“Well, I have teleported other’s before,” Twilight answered, rolling up the map and looking over at her wary friend, “But I haven’t five other ponies before, and nowhere near my maximum range. But I’ve studied the theory well enough, and teleportation is one of my specialties. We should be fine. Worst case scenario, I’m off by a couple thousand feet and we have to hoof it that far to the castle. A thousand feet is still better than three miles.”
Oblivious to the looks of doubt and worry on several of her friend’s faces, she ignited her horn, drawing on the ambient energy to fuel the spell. The magic here felt different than anywhere she had ever been; it was wild and willful, and she had to concentrate carefully to ensure that it did not backlash on her.
She cast out through the magical fabric towards her destination, which was easier than she expected. Having been there once before, she was able to locate the haunting notes of sorrow and ancient magic that she had felt as she fought Nightmare Moon two years prior.
Anchoring her will to her destination securely, she then reached out and intertwined her own will with that of her friends. Gritting her teeth from the strain of their emotions, thoughts and wills barraging her own, she allowed the magic she had gathered to flow into them, using herself as a conduit. When they were sufficiently charged, signified by a blinding purple glow, she simultaneously reached towards her destination as she pushed away from her current location.
All at once, she flew through space at what seemed at once both a snail’s pace and faster than thought itself, disappearing in a blinding flash with the other Element Bearers. Almost simultaneously, another flash before a ruinous castle signified the reconstitution of several ponies, most of which were by now highly nauseous.
“Ugh….” Applejack moaned, falling to her knees and appearing rather green in the face. “I don’t care if walking a thousand miles is the alternative, I never wanna do that again.”
Rainbow Dash had darted for the nearest bush and was busy retching into it. Rarity had remained relatively poised, having dealt with magical effects herself, though she too, looked somewhat woozy. Pinkie, meanwhile, was giggling drunkenly as she wobbled on her haunches, her eyes spinning like tops as she mumbled, “Let’s go again! Let’s go again!”
“Oops, sorry about that everypony,” Twilight Sparkle said, looking around at her friends, forgetting that a lot of ponies experienced teleportation sickness. “But look on the bright side! I was right! We all made it safe and sound.”
Not really getting any positive feedback from her friends, her smile faded as she looked them all over. She frowned as she observed them carefully in turn. Something wasn’t quite right. She counted them all carefully. Then she did it again, a growing look of panic overtaking her features. Her eye spasmed, a number of hairs popped free of her mane, and her ears began to twitch. Despite her rapidly deteriorating appearance, her voice was unnaturally calm as she gave voice to her frustrations.
“Oh, horseapples.”
--
Elsewhere...
--
Bon Bon tapped her hoof impatiently against a root as Lyra Heartstrings groaned, stretching her back as she stood on her rear hooves. Bon Bon had never quite understood Lyra's habit of standing like that, and more than once wondered about it aloud. Lyra had always responded vaguely of some sort of back condition, but never really elaborated on it.
"Are you done yet, Lyra?" She asked, looking around the clearing nervously. She didn't like just standing here. It always felt like something in the forest was watching them. Which was most likely the case anyway.
With one last pop of her back; Lyra set back down on all fours.
"Why are you so worried, Bon Bon?" She asked, honestly confused. Next to Twilight Sparkle, Lyra was one of the strongest unicorns in Ponyville, and was more than capable of handling anything in the forest. Bon Bon herself was an expert in both Ponijitsu and Equarate, so there really wasn't a whole lot to be afraid of.
"I don't know. I just got a bad feeling about this, ya know? I'd rather just get to the castle, grab whatever is worthwhile, then get the heck outta Dodge. Something about the forest seems more... off than usual."
Lyra cast out with her magic, trying to sense anything nearby. Despite the forest's natural hostility to outsiders, she didn't feel anything nearby of note that could be dangerous. Still, she didn't really want to deal with Bon Bon's incessant whining, so she shrugged, and turned to the far edge of the clearing. Bon Bon quickly followed suit.
Before either of them had made it more than a few steps, however, a bright flash of magenta energy burst out from the edge of the clearing they were walking towards. Bon Bon cried out and dropped into a Ponijitsu attack stance and Lyra ignited her horn, both ready for a fight.
Before either one could react further, however, a streak of yellow and pink barreled out from the flash of light, which faded out of existence. The streak meanwhile tumbled end over end at high speed straight between Lyra and Bon Bon, who both rose from their stances as they looked on. It continued until it slammed against a tree, stiffening out into what was unmistakably a pony on its head, its back and legs splayed out along the lower trunk before toppling over.
Lyra and Bon Bon raced over to the dazed pony, who turned out to be none other than Fluttershy, whom both had met numerous times.
Bon Bon looked over at Lyra.
"Isn't this the pony that started that whole Parasprite thing not too long ago?"
"Yeah, looks like," Lyra responded, watching Fluttershy's eyes spin. She tapped her lightly on the cheek. "Hey, Fluttershy, are you ok? Say something!"
"Rubber baby buggy bumpers!" Fluttershy said, her timid voice very woozy, before promptly fainting.
The two conscious ponies looked down at the prone Fluttershy, then at each other. Bon Bon's face went flatly annoyed.
"Told you I had a bad feeling."