Magitank
Chapter 2
Ruins
* * *
Bad stuff happens. You can call it tragic, you can call it unfortunate, and you can even deny it with every fiber of your being, but sometimes you just run a string of bad luck. I call it inevitable. I believe that having that kind of thing happen is unavoidable, and that if at any time in your life you can look around and say ‘Things are pretty alright,’ that you should brace yourself. My earliest memory was one of the worst moments of my life, and I’ve been bracing myself ever since. Bad stuff happens, and bad stuff will always happen. Sometimes, it’ll hit you so hard that you don’t ever feel like getting back up. But sometimes, very rarely, in the middle of the worst moment imaginable, you catch a break. That kid’s an idiot, but he was hurting just as much as any of us. They all saw it, just like I did. He caught his break after he made a foal of himself and almost died.
Thing is, that’s about when his luck ran out.
* * *
“We’re getting ready to search Outer Canterlot for survivors.” Captain Pipsqueak pokes his head into Greenhorn’s tent. “You’re welcome to come along if you feel up to it. We need all the help we can get.”
“Sure!” the colt said, jumping out of his cot. He winced as his injured leg hit the ground, but tried to mask it with a smile. “I’d be happy to help.”
“...Alright,” the captain said. “Lieutenant Dess will be bringing along a tank in case of any trouble. I want to ride along with her so that you don’t have to walk all the way there on that leg. We’ll be leaving soon, so get ready.”
Greenhorn followed the captain out of the tent and into the now-bustling camp. It had only been a few hours since they had all fought raiders, but everypony already seemed to be eager to leave again. He watched as somepony left the captain’s tent.
“Where do you think you’re going?” a voice called from behind. He turned to see Fleethoof stuffing a roll of bandages into his saddlebag. “Did the captain just try to rope you into helping search the ruins?”
“Actually, I wanted to come along,” Greenhorn said. “I want to help out, if I can.”
“Well, you can’t,” Fleethoof said.
“What? Why not?” Greenhorn frowned. “The captain said we need help. I’m helping.”
“Tough. You’re still injured and it’s a long walk on a bad leg. Go lie back down.”
“He said that I’d be riding in the tank with Lieutenant Dess.”
Fleethoof scoffed to hide a scowl. “Fine,” he said. “It’s your leg, but at least go top off your canteen and stay hydrated. There’s a well in the captain’s tent.”
Greenhorn smiled. “Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me, I’m not doing you a favor,” Fleethoof said. “You might want to hurry. The lieutenant isn’t known for her patience.”
Greenhorn nodded, then trotted over to the captain’s tent. In the few moments he wasn’t looking, everypony had cleared out of the camp, undoubtedly ready for the trek to Canterlot. He poked his head into the tent. Inside, the captain was standing in front of a dilapidated table that took up most of the floor space. He had several maps in front of him, but was staring at a phonograph player that was sitting on the corner of the table. The rest of the tent was taken up by a cot and a small water well.
“Sir?” the colt said, making the captain jump.
“Oh, hello,” he said, and started shuffling through the papers lying on the table. “I wanted to double check something on a map before we headed out. They aren’t as accurate anymore, but they’re far from useless. What did you need?”
Greenhorn levitated his canteen out of his bag. “I just wanted to get some water. Medic’s orders,” he said. He walked up to the table, but was distracted by the phonograph. “What’s this for?”
“That? It just plays records. It isn’t mission critical, but it has some sentimental value,” the captain said. He cleared his throat and smiled. “Go ahead and take all the water you want. If we find anypony in the ruins, they’ll need it as well.”
The colt returned his smile and stepped over to the well. It was nearly full, and he didn’t have to draw up any water at all to fill the canteen.
“The water’s so clean,” Greenhorn said as he saw a perfect reflection of himself staring back at him. He capped off his canteen. “Wouldn’t there be a bunch of dust in there?”
“There was,” a mare’s voice came from just behind him. Greenhorn turned around and found himself face to face with Lieutenant Dess.
“Gah!” he yelled, dropping the canteen. A blue glow surrounded it just before it would have hit the ground. The lieutenant levitated the canteen to the colt’s side and attached it to a clip on his vest.
“Water’s an important resource now. Don’t waste it,” she said. “As for the well, it was dirty when we found it, so I purified it.” She scoffed when the colt responded with a blank stare. “Are you ready to leave?”
“Sure...” Greenhorn said, then followed her out of the tent.
She cantered around to the other side of the captain’s tent where the tanks were parked. She had to stop every few steps to ensure the colt kept up. He did, for the most part, but his leg felt like it was burning by the time he approached the tanks. He hesitated. Up close, the vehicles seemed so much more imposing. They were each easily three times his height in size, and the treads on their sides were bigger than him.
“Have you ever ridden in a tank before?” Dess asked, watching the colt’s stare.
“Yeah- er, yes, ma’am,” he said, still gazing up at the sight before him.
“Then you know that you need to enter through the hatch on the top, correct?” she asked, gesturing to the top of one of the vehicles. “How much help are you going to need?”
“I won’t need any,” Greenhorn said through clenched teeth. He approached the side of the tank. Starting from the treads, he managed a hoofhold and pulled himself to reach a small ladder near the top. He took it slow, not wanting to aggravate his injury. When he reached the top, a hatch opened with a blue glow. The colt slipped inside.
Wow, this is much more roomy than the little training vehicles at the academy, Greenhorn thought. He could nearly stand up to his full height before feeling his ears brush the ceiling. He squinted, trying to get a decent look at his surroundings through the dark of the tank’s interior. As if on cue, a small light flicked on overhead. Towards the front, he could now see a pair of seats in front of the controls, one of which was occupied. The pony up front turned around.
“Get up here,” Dess said, “then we can get going.”
“Wait,” Greenhorn said. “Weren’t you just outside?”
The lieutenant glared at him for a split second. “I was, but then I thought it might be nice to get out of the dust. Have a seat.”
“I thought that hatch was the only entrance on a tank like this,” the colt said as he climbed into the front.
Dess ignored him and turned her attention towards the tank’s controls. She flipped a few of the many switches that littered the area near the steering wheel, and the vehicle rumbled to life. More dull light flooded the tank as heavy iron blinds angled outwards in front of them, revealing the landscape through a thick layer of glass.
“Get a good look,” she said, fiddling with more controls. “I’ll have to lower that when we arrive. When we’re attacked, I’d rather not be shot.”
“How do you know they’ll attack?” Greenhorn asked, cocking his head.
“Trust me,” Dess said. “They gave us some trouble before we found you, but their last attack was more focused. We’ve riled them up, and they won’t leave us alone if we’re a threat.” The tank shook and lurched forward. A rhythmic, metallic clicking sound came from below.
Oh,” the colt said, and gazed out the window. “Still, you can’t close them all the way. You’ve got to be able to see outside somehow. You can leave one of these gaps open.”
Dess glanced at the colt before returning her attention to the front. “I have my ways. Visibility isn’t an issue.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “You’re familiar with the blind controls?” she asked.
Greenhorn smiled. “Kinda,” he said. “I do have some experience in piloting.”
“Oh, really?” Dess smirked. “You know how to pilot a tank?”
“Of course,” the colt said. “These vests do a great job of covering everypony’s cutie marks, but I got mine when I first drove without an instructor.”
“They let you drive alone at the academy?”
“Not... exactly,” Greenhorn said, rubbing a bit of dust from his vest. “I kind of... took one... one night.”
“Hmm.” Dess blinked. “Interesting.”
“It’s embarrassing,” he said, “but now I know that piloting seems to be my talent.”
“Seems to be.”
Greenhorn stared out of the front window. He chuckled softly to himself.
“I’m not letting you pilot my tank,” Dess said, not taking her eyes from the road ahead.
“I wasn’t, I mean I didn’t want, er-”
“Try using your words.”
The colt twitched in annoyance. “I was just thinking that Equestria’s really changed, isn’t it?”
“Excellent observation,” Dess said in a deadpan. “What tipped you off?”
“We’re making a trip to Outer Canterlot and we have to worry about being attacked. It’s ridiculous. And the landscape. Everything’s just... grey. The sky, the ground, everything’s covered in ash and dust. I could believe it was snow if I didn’t know better.”
Dess sighed. “I know. When the meteors came, the sun was completely blotted out. Who can say when it’ll clear up? Could be in a few weeks. Could be in a few decades.”
“That long?!” Greenhorn said, eyes wide.
“Maybe,” Dess said and shrugged. “If it helps, just remember what the captain’s always saying.”
“What’s that?”
“‘As long as there’s a single life, there’s hope for the future.’ It’s a nice little saying,” she said.
“You really believe that?” the colt asked.
“Of course not,” Dess said. “I think it’s a load of horseapples.”
“What? Then why-”
“It’s a nice saying,” she said. “I might not believe it, but I know that hope can be a powerful motivator, regardless of logic sometimes.”
“So,” Greenhorn said, rubbing his head, “just be optimistic?”
“If it helps, sure,” Dess said.
The colt looked over at her, but she continued to focus on the tank controls. A noise came from his vest pocket, making him jump. Soft music came from his radio.
“We’re in range of the others now.” She levitated the colt’s radio from his vest pocket. “I need to borrow this.”
“Hey, wait, what are you doing?”
She didn’t respond, but brought the radio up to her horn. A bright blue spark flew into the box, and the radio blared white noise for a few seconds, then fell silent. She then dropped it back into the colt’s seat.
“There,” she said. “Now you can’t cause any more damage with that thing.”
“What did you do?”
“A spell,” she said. “Now, when you use it, only other radios that have that exact same enchantment will pick up a signal. In other words, just the Timbers, and no one else.”
“Oh, thanks,” he said, pocketing the radio. “What was with the music, then?”
“It’s Octavia’s Fourth,” she said. “If anything tries to listen in to the Timber’s chatter without my spell, that’s all they hear.”
Greenhorn blinked. “Octavia’s Fourth?”
“Yes,” she glanced at the colt and met a blank stare. She sighed. “Octavia was an earth pony musician. I happen to enjoy her music. That’s why I used it for the spell.”
“Oh,” the colt said. “Well, what about-”
“Has anypony told you that you ask too many questions?” Dess said.
Greenhorn flinched. “Sorry,” he said.
She flipped a couple of switches, then the tone of the tank’s rumblings lowered. “We’re starting to get close to Canterlot. How’s your head?”
“I can walk just fine,” Greenhorn said, poking his leg gingerly. “Wait, my head?”
“You were hit hard enough to be knocked unconscious,” Dess said. “So, how’s your head?”
“It’s fine, I think,” he said. “Fleethoof looked over me pretty thoroughly.”
“I see,” she said. “So you’d say that he knew what he was doing?”
“Yeah,” Greenhorn said, thinking back. “I mean, I think so. I wasn’t awake. Why?”
Dess hit another switch, and the tank started to slow. “I know everypony in the Timbers,” she said. “I tend to not trust anypony unless I have extensive background information on them.”
The colt blinked. “Why-”
“Fleethoof is new,” the lieutenant said. “I don’t know him, and I don’t know his skillset.”
Greenhorn thought for a moment. “What about me? I’m new too.”
“That’s true, but I know enough about you from the records at the academy.” She smirked. “They failed to mention you stealing a tank, however.”
The colt frowned. “You’ve seen my records?”
The lieutenant scoffed. “I have access to the records of anypony with any kind of affiliation with the Imperial Guard. You included,” she said. “The problem is that Fleethoof doesn’t have any such record. I did know of somepony named Fleethoof before the meteors, but he was far from being a medic. Point is, I want to make sure he knows what he’s doing if he’s going to stick around.”
“Alright,” Greenhorn said with a shrug. “You know, you could always just ask him.”
“Thank you for your insight, cadet,” Dess said, rolling her eyes. She levitated a small crate from somewhere behind her, then produced a gleaming orange gem from it.
“What’s that?” Greenhorn asked. He watched as the lieutenant floated it into an opening in the ceiling.
“It’s a topaz,” she replied. “Firestorm grade.” She slid a cover over the opening, hiding the gem from view. “I enchanted it myself. With luck, we won’t need it.”
Greenhorn opened his mouth to ask another question, but was interrupted by the tank coming to an abrupt stop.
“We’re here,” Dess said. “The others will be here soon, and you’ll need to be present when the captain gathers everypony. I’ve got other preparations to make.”
The colt nodded, then climbed back out through the tank as Dess powered down the engine. He slid out of the exit hatch and took in his surroundings. Outer Canterlot looked different up close. He could clearly see each home and building in ruins. Splintered wooden supports lay broken all around, and assorted bits of roofing and walls peppered the areas that weren’t covered in dust. Rocks ranging from pebble size to boulders bigger than the lieutenant’s tank dotted the landscape. Dess was moving several of the larger rocks with her magic, and Greenhorn tried not to think about how she slipped by him unnoticed again.
The rest of the timbers had gathered around Captain Pipsqueak, and the colt started towards them. He filled in a gap next to Fleethoof, who shot him an annoyed glance before turning his attention to the captain.
“Welcome to the town of Outer Canterlot, everypony,” the captain said to the group. “You all know what to do. This area will be something of a base of operations. If you find any survivors, bring them here. If there’s any trouble from the raiders, fall back to this location. Fortifications are being built as we speak, courtesy of Lieutenant Dess. Also, keep an eye out for any salvageable supplies as well. I don’t care for the idea of scavenging, but we need everything we can get.”
“Sir,” a stallion Greenhorn didn’t recognize said. “With respect, this town was right next to an impact point from a meteor. Do you really think anypony’s still alive here?”
“Of course I do,” Captain Pipsqueak said without hesitation. “Somepony’s alive in this place somewhere, and unless they’re found, they won’t last much longer. We’re the only ones willing and able to try, so it’s our responsibility.”
“You’ve said that before,” came the reply. “It always ends the same way. The only two survivors we’ve found weren’t even in a town.”
The captain sighed, then glanced towards the ruins before turning his attention back to the stallion.
“I’m aware of that, Sergeant Clockwork,” he said,” but until we’ve at least searched, we can’t know that nopony survived. And to die here after living through what’s happened? That’s not something I’d wish on anyone. So, please, if nothing else for the sake of being thorough.”
Pipsqueak looked down at the smaller pony and smiled. The sergeant stared up at his captain for a few moments with a look of disapproval. Eventually, he gave a small grunt of acceptance.
“Excellent,” the captain said, and looked over the rest of the group. “Remember, stay in groups of two in case of any trouble. As much as I’d like to cover ground quickly, safety is a priority.” He looked over at Greenhorn, who returned his smile. “You should stick with Fleethoof. Follow his lead, and retreat if trouble shows up.”
“Yes, sir!” the colt said, and gave a salute. Fleethoof paused for a moment, then did the same.
“Alright then,” Captain Pipsqueak said. “Barring an attack, meet back here if you find anything or anypony. Let’s move out!”
The group of soldiers scattered, all heading into different parts of the city in pairs. Fleethoof beckoned Greenhorn to follow, and they started off in their own direction.
“You know,” Greenhorn heard Lieutenant Dess say in the distance, “you could have just ordered him to search.”
“I know,” the captain said, “but I don’t want to resort to that if I can help it.”
* * *
An hour passed with Greenhorn and Fleethoof searching every nook and cranny they could find. Most of the buildings in Outer Canterlot had been completely demolished, and little more than broken down walls hinted at where a structure once stood. Some basements and cellars were mostly still intact, but despite what the captain had said, no survivors had been found.
“What did we really expect? Fleethoof said. He kicked a stone down the stairs of a ruined cellar. “The captain’s nice, but he can be an idiot sometimes. Nothing could have survived through this.”
Greenhorn shrugged. “We survived through this.”
“We weren’t in a town that was just about hit directly by a meteor,” came the reply. “Or at least I know I wasn’t. I’m willing to bet that you weren’t either, though. Plus, the other Timbers are only alive because they were lucky enough to be stationed in some kind of bunker.”
“Still, we don’t know for sure, right?” the colt said. He shifted a pile of debris with his magic to reveal a set of stairs, then smiled at his partner before descending.
“Yeah, maybe you don’t,” Fleethoof said under his breath.
A sour odor assaulted the colt’s nose, and his face fell as his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the cellar. Half the room had collapsed, and rubble had piled up past the ceiling. What was left was relatively undamaged, and looked to be a storeroom of some kind. He saw containers of food behind shattered glass cabinet doors.
His attention, however, was directed towards a pegasus filly lying on the floor. Her hind legs were buried in the mess of debris, and a dark stain pooled beneath her. Her hooves were bruised and raw, and most of her her feathers were scattered on the ground around her. Her cutie mark was that of a parasol and a cloud.
“I figured as much,” came Fleethoof’s voice from behind. “This is the closest we’ll find to a survivor,” he said. “It looks like she was here when Canterlot was hit, then got herself buried in debris. She probably bled out trying to free herself. But, hey!” He continued on a higher note. “Let’s check out this food. It smells pretty bad, but maybe some of it’s still good enough to bring back.”
Greenhorn sighed. This wasn’t the first of such scenes that he’d seen since he arrived at the ruined town, and he didn’t expect it to be the last. He couldn’t tell from a first glance due to the thick layer of dust covering the ground, but the ruins had been littered with corpses. Ponies that looked to be going about their business as normal had died instantly in the destruction.
“Shards,” Fleethoof said, causing the colt to look up. “It’s all perishable stuff. It would have all gone rotten after the refrigeration went out.”
Greenhorn took a deep breath. “It’s alright,” he said, giving a small smile. “We’ll just keep going. We haven’t searched everything yet, right?”
Fleethoof scoffed. “Really? Look, kid, I admire your optimism, but let’s face facts here. This town is empty, save for ponies like little Deadfeather here. There aren’t any survivors. You may as well just accept that. Supplies are going to be the most that we find here, and that’s assuming there’s anything we can salvage in all these ruins.”
The colt clenched his eyes shut and lowered his head. “Not until we know for sure,” he said, cheerfully as he could muster. He turned to Fleethoof and smiled. “Come on, let’s keep going.”
Greenhorn ascended the stairs back to the surface, hearing a heavy sigh behind him. He looked around to get his bearings.
“We came from there,” he said. He could see the fortifications that Lieutenant Dess had been building from rubble in the distance. “So,” he turned and looked the other direction, “we’ll go this way, right?”
“Yeah,” Fleethoof said.
Greenhorn started towards the far side of the ruins with Fleethoof following behind. He cleared the way into several other buried rooms with his magic. The first contained only ruined tables and another body: an earth pony colt with a violin cutie mark. The others weren’t much different. There was an artist’s studio, with an elderly mare lying on the ground in what the colt had hoped was paint, and a hatter’s workshop with a plump, short stallion pinned to the wall. Greenhorn’s stomach turned, and he fought from losing what little food he’d eaten.
“I’m sorry,” Fleethoof said. He patted the colt on the back. “This really isn’t a job for somepony like you.”
“I’ve just never seen... There has to be something here other than more bodies,” Greenhorn said. He took deep breaths to calm his stomach.
“Why don’t we just head back? This is a lost cause anyway. You don’t have to do this.”
Greenhorn sighed. He looked around. “Hold on,” he said. He pointed towards a silhouette in the distance. “What’s that?”
“That’s just... uh... Well, obviously it’s...” Fleethoof scratched his chin and shrugged. “I’m not sure.”
“Let’s get a closer look,” Greenhorn said.
The figure in the distance became more clear as they walked. It looked equine, although very large. When the colt was close enough, he could make out a tall mare with a very long mane.
“Oh, it’s only a statue,” Fleethoof said.
Greenhorn frowned. The huge pony was made of blackened stone, and looked down on the two with a caring gaze. At the foot of the statue was a small plaque, which read, “Our beloved Empress.” Fleethoof scoffed upon noticing this.
“How’s this still standing?” Greenhorn asked. “Everything else is ruined.”
“Some kind of enchanted stone is my guess,” Fleethoof said. “She would have wanted this thing to be built to last.”
“I think I’ve seen it before,” Greenhorn said. He glanced around the area. The space surrounding the statue was clear of debris, and the colt figured it used to be a courtyard of some kind.
“What’s that smell?” Fleethoof asked. He stuck his nose in the air and sniffed a few times. “Is that sugar? Or sweets? You smell that, right?”
“Oh, no.” Greenhorn stepped back a few steps and looked around frantically before running off. “No, no, no!”
Fleethoof blinked. “That’d be a ‘no,’ then?” the colt heard him say just before he ducked down a set of stairs.
Wrecked shelves of various candies were scattered about the room, which was in very good shape, though Greenhorn didn’t care about that. His legs felt heavy as he looked towards the far corner of the room, where the bodies of two mares lay in an embrace. Vines covered in numerous, purple flowers wrapped around them, almost hiding them from view, but the colt instantly recognized them by their respective cutie marks of a lyre and three candies.
“Wow, this place must be pretty sturdy. We might even be able to stay here if we get tired of- wait, who are you?” Fleethoof’s voice felt far away. “What are you doing to him?!”
The sound of a crash from behind pulled the colt from the sight. He turned to see Fleethoof pinning a young mare to the ground. She stared at Greenhorn fearfully.
“Don’t go near them!” she said, pointing towards the bodies. “They were sick. A disease killed them and it’ll kill you too if you get too close!”
Greenhorn felt something tugging him towards the stairs, and only then realized that the mare was trying to move him with her magic.
“They were sick?” Greenhorn asked. He glanced back towards the bodies in the corner. “How could that have happened?
“I don’t know.” The mare shook her head. She was panting hard. “But it’s those flowers. They’re... dangerous.”
“Flowers?” Fleethoof said. He scoffed. “What are they, poison? Plants can’t hurt you just from being close to you.” He started towards the bodies to get a better look, but staggered. The mare strained to hold him back, her horn shining brightly.
“You can’t... go near them!” she said through gritted teeth. Fleethoof pushed against her magic, managing to pull his hoof a few inches off the ground before his knee was pulled to the ground.
“Alright then, fine!” Fleethoof rubbed his leg and winced. “What’s so bad about that stupid plant anyway?”
“It’s not a normal plant,” the mare said. “Those flowers, they... grow inside you, and when they’re ready to bloom, they’ll... they...” she trailed off and pointed at the corner.
Fleethoof sighed. “How about this, then. We can talk about this someplace safer. If you come with us back to our camp, there aren’t any creepy plants there. We’re with a group that can keep you safe.” He looked over towards Greenhorn. “Right?” The colt was staring at the two mares in the corner.
“Greenhorn!” Fleethoof clapped his hooves near the colt’s ear. “What’s wrong with you? Let’s take her back to camp.”
“S-sorry,” the colt said, shaking his head. “Let’s get out of here.” He followed Fleethoof up the stairs to the surface with the mare trailing behind.
“That statue’s a decent landmark,” Fleethoof said, pointing up at the stone empress. “I’d like to get a better look at those flowers, and that room was in good shape. Probably reinforced. It’s worth bringing up to the captain.”
Greenhorn nodded, glancing up at the statue. He saw something move in the corner of his eye. He opened his mouth to say something just as several loud reports split the air.
“You won’t keep us here!” a voice shouted from somewhere close by, followed by a hail of gunfire. Greenhorn ducked into the basement of the sweet shop, pulling the mare down with him. He yelped as something crashed into the dirt in front of him, and it took a moment to realize that it was a hoof from the statue. As the dust cleared, the colt could see a scattered pile of rubble where the statue had been. Three clicks sounded in the distance, followed by a disappointed groan.
“No more bullets?” Something metallic hit the ground with a clatter. “Oh well.”
“That... That there was a statue!” another voice said. Greenhorn could place his accent as Appleloosan. “Y’all just emptied yer gun on a statue!”
“Maybe,” the first voice said, “but they won’t follow us now!”
Greenhorn poked his head from his hiding place to get a look at his assailants. Though the dust, he could see two earth ponies standing side by side. They were staring down at what was left of the empress’ statue.
“Who are they?” the mare asked in a hushed whisper.
“I don’t know,” Greenhorn said, matching her volume. “I guess they’re raiders. They’re definitely not with us, right?” He looked around, but only saw the mare. “Fleethoof?” he said, speaking a little louder than he had intended. The medic was nowhere to be seen.
“They’re coming this way!” the mare said. “Did they see us?”
“I don’t know.” Greenhorn’s mind raced as the two raiders came closer. His eyes fell on the broken stone hoof in front of him. He heard one of the raiders scoff.
“It don’t make a lick of sense why I got paired off with y’all,” the Appleloosan said. “What’s this ‘Phalanx’ feller want from me, anyhow? He could’a grabbed that bauble without mah help.”
“Beats me,” the other raider said, “but if it means never seeing the inside of this hospital again, I don’t really care.”
“Yeah, that’s real helpful. Y’all could at least have the decency to drop this here act. I already know that you-”
“Hey!” the other pony said. He was staring straight at Greenhorn. “Who are you?! Come on out, ya little runt!” He started towards the colt, wearing a crazed grin on his face.
Greenhorn didn’t think. He ran from his hiding spot, scooped up the statue’s hoof with his magic, and lobbed it as hard as he could. The raider ducked and pressed his chest to the ground. He looked up to see the hoof sail harmlessly over his head. The Appleloosan who was standing behind him, however, did not. A sickening crack resonated through the air before he slumped to the ground.
The raider snarled. He spun around and reared up his hind legs. Before Greenhorn could react, a sharp blow to his chest knocked the wind from him. He fell backwards, and for a split second, he was confused when he didn’t feel the ground under him. Then he remembered that he had been standing in front of the staircase.
He grunted as he crashed into the uneven slope, sliding downwards as each step smacked against his back. When he came to a rest against the cold floor, his entire body ached.
Okay, Greenhorn thought, not the best idea I’ve ever had. His eyes snapped open as the sound of heavy hoofbeats followed him into the basement.
“You’ve got some nerve, runt,” the raider said. He took his time walking down the stairs, and emphasized each step with a loud stomp. “You hurt my friend back there, and I’ve got a problem with that.”
Greenhorn tried to think of something, anything that he could do, and it occurred to him just how little he knew about fighting. He saw the mare’s fearful eyes staring at him from behind the stairs, and pulled himself up. A green glow surrounded one of the intact jars of sweets on the wall.
The raider stared into the colt’s eyes. He tilted his head in confusion when he noticed that he wasn’t looking directly back at him. Just as he turned his head to see where the colt was looking, a jar crashed into his head, shattering on impact. He screamed in rage, clutching his face as his mane became matted and damp.
Greenhorn wasted no time. While the raider was recoiling from the jar, the colt spun around, reared up, and kicked out hard. He felt his legs smash into the raider and felt a shock of pain that seared through him. He fell to his side and held his leg. He could feel a warm wetness coming from his injury.
He heard somepony start laughing, and when he looked up, the raider was standing over him. One of his eyes was closed and half his face had been dyed red, but he laughed despite it.
“You’re even dumber than I thought,” the raider said, grinning. “Trying to keep us from escaping on that leg? You’ve got guts, kid, but no brains!” He laughed again.
An idea popped into Greenhorn’s head. He focused, and his horn started to glow. The raider noticed this and braced himself. He glanced around the room, ready to avoid any more flying jars. He looked back down at the colt. Greenhorn smiled, and a flash of light filled the room.
The raider screamed a string of incoherent curses. He staggered around the room, lashing out in every direction and trying to land a blow on the colt. Greenhorn blinked the light from his eyes just in time to dodge a blind swipe from his opponent. He’d closed his eyes in time to avoid the light from his spell, but still couldn’t see correctly. That’s what I get for putting all I could into a light spell, he thought. He ducked another attack. Still, it worked!
The raider reared up and bucked the air. He lost his balance and stumbled across the room, towards the corner where the two mares lay.
“Wait, stop!” Greenhorn said. The raider kept going and crashed into the corner. He shook his head to loosen the stray petals stuck to his mane and growled. By the time Greenhorn realized he could see again, he was already charging at the colt.
Greenhorn braced himself. He stood on his three good legs, keeping his weight off of his injury, and waited for the impact. Another flash of light filled the room, accompanied by the brief sound of rushing wind. When the colt opened his eyes, the raider was gone.
“W-what...?”
“I... I got him!” Heavy panting came from behind the stairs as the mare staggered out from her hiding place. She smiled at Greenhorn before falling to the ground. The colt rushed over to her.
“Are you alright?!” he asked. He gave her a nudge.
“What the-? What happened?!” a voice yelled from above. Greenhorn remembered the second raider and readied himself. A figure came down the stairs, and the colt gave a sigh of relief.
“You look like you were run over by a tank!” Fleethoof said. He noticed the mare laying on the floor and rushed over. He placed his head to her chest. “Well, she’s still breathing,” he said. “Now, tell me what happened.”
“We were attacked,” Greenhorn said. He gave a ragged cough and nearly lost his balance. “Where were you?!”
“I... I ran,” Fleethoof said. He sighed. “As soon as I heard those shots. I thought you two were right behind me. When I stopped to see if you were keeping up, you weren’t there, so I ran back here. When I saw that dead raider up there, I... You’re okay, though.”
“I guess that explains it,” Greenhorn said. “I heard the gunfire and hid, but they found us. I tried to fight them off, but didn’t do so well.” His leg twitched, causing the colt to wince. “She saved me.”
“Let me see that.” Fleethoof nudged the colt and took a look at his leg. “You tore it open,” he said. “I need to restitch this, but I don’t have the proper tools. I only have some basic medical supplies.”
“What about her?” Greenhorn looked down at the mare. “Can’t you help her first? She teleported the raider away and collapsed.”
“I don’t know,” Fleethoof said. “I don’t know what’s wrong with her, and I don’t know how to treat her. The best thing to do is to bring her back to camp and wait until she wakes up.” He opened his saddlebags and sifted through them before pulling out a roll of some kind of cloth and a small bottle. “Lie down on your side and hold still. I’m going to clean this and change out the bandages. I won’t let you leave until I can at least do that.”
Greenhorn complied and rested his head on the floor. Fleethoof unwrapped his leg and revealed his injury, which had started bleeding again. The medical pony slipped a sleeve over his hoof and pressed down on the colt’s leg. He uncapped the bottle, then poured its contents over the wound. Greenhorn winced. It felt like cold water, but burned at the same time. Afterwards, Fleethoof wrapped it with fresh bandages. He pulled the slack on the cloth tight and tied it off.
“There,” Fleethoof said. He pulled the sleeve off his hoof and tossed it aside, then put the bottle and bandages back into his bags. “Now we can leave. Try not to put any weight on that.”
Greenhorn pulled himself up. He could hardly move his leg from under the bandages. Fleethoof pulled the mare on his back and started up the stairs. The colt followed, taking care to walk with only three legs. When he reached the surface, he heard a groan. The Appleloosan was lying near the broken remains of the empress’ statue.
“He’s alive?” Fleehoof said. He held his hoof in front of the raider’s face, then felt his chest. “Wow, he’s pretty lucky.” He turned away and nodded towards the colt. “Let’s get going.”
“Wait, hold on,” Greenhorn said. “Shouldn’t we take him with us?”
Fleethoof bit his lip. “That’s... not a great idea. Didn’t he try to kill you?”
“A survivor’s a survivor, right?” Greenhorn said. “Besides, he might not be all that bad.”
Fleethoof scoffed. “What gives you that idea?” he asked.
“I don’t know. When I overheard them talking, the other raider seemed to be kind of... out of it, but this one sounded more sensible.” The colt shrugged. “Maybe we could reason with him?”
Fleethoof sighed. “Well,” he said,” I guess he wouldn’t be able to do any damage if we keep him restrained before he wakes up. Who knows? We might even be able to question him a bit.” He paused for a moment, then gave Greenhorn an annoyed glare. “How do you expect to carry him?”
“Well, uh...” Greenhorn gave a weak smile. “Can’t you? Earth ponies are strong, right?”
Fleethoof stared at him. “You do know that I’m a medic, right? I’m not some bodybuilder.”
“Well, we can’t just leave him here, right?” Greenhorn said. “I can’t carry him, and I can’t lift him with magic. I can help make him a bit lighter, though.” His horn started to glow, and the raider’s hooves lifted into the air.
Fleethoof groaned. “Fine,” he said. “I guess he doesn’t look that heavy. I can probably get both him and this mare back to the camp.” He took a few deep breaths, then heaved the raider onto his back alongside the mare. He grunted, and his legs shook as he started to walk. Greenhorn followed along, his horn glowing as his magic enveloped the load on Fleethoof’s back.
Fleethoof grumbled. “Today is not a good day.”
* * *