//------------------------------// // III // Story: Stories of a Warden // by Rosencranz //------------------------------// A quiet night. A colt entering an old house, bags laden with library books. A light on in the kitchen. He enters it and finds his father, sitting in a stool at the table, a glass in his hoof. Amber liquid sloshes inside the cup. Whiskey. Again. "I'm home." Silence. "Where's mom?" "Gone." "Gone where?" No answer. The stallion takes a long, slow drink from the glass. "Gone where, dad?" "Away." He knows something is wrong now. Very wrong. A chill runs down his spine. "Dad?" The voice is quieter, more hesitant, a whimper. "What?" "Dad, where is she?" "She didn't come home today.” “Dad...” “She's not coming home anymore." There is a hollowness in his voice. Something in the colt’s stomach sinks at that. "Why?" "She left. Went to Fillydelphia." The deeper voice is slurred with whiskey and dripping with disdain. "Is she coming back?" he is almost crying now. He knows he musn't. He fears he won’t be able to hold it back. "No." "Is it because you were yelling—" "—no—" "—and because of the other night when you were shouting about losing your job—" "—no—" "—and because of the black eye?" He is crying now. The stallion is furious. This is disgraceful; nothing is weaker than crying. To have a son so emmasculine is embarrassing. He can fix that. He has to. "No!" "What did you do, Dad?" The words are coming all at once now. He knows he should stop them but he can't. "I didn't do anything!" A glass slammed down on a table. "You're the reason she's not coming back." "What?" "Isn't it obvious? She couldn’t love you!" He has to say that. It has to be the fault of the child. It can't be his. There's nothing wrong with him. There can’t be. They’re all wrong, he’s fine... "Why?" Crying, whimpering, blubbering. A son pathetic in his father's eyes. "Just look at you. Weak, scrawny, miserable...” He stares, searching. Looking for a reason. It has to be there, it can’t be him... “And those!" A hoof pointed at the bags. The books are to blame. She left because the boy is a race-traitor. That must be it. It’s all about the damned books. Without them the son would fly. Without them the son would be great. Without them things would be fine again, alright again, happy again. A family again. "There’s nothing wrong with them!" "I told you!" Shouting now, in a rage, a blind frenzy. “No more of that in this house! It’s useless! They're useless! All of it, worthless, shameful! Don't you get it? You're a pegasus! You don't do magic--you can't do magic. And they know, all of them! Don’t you see how they look at you? How they look at me? Damned race-traitor, that’s why she’s gone! It was you, it was always you! Why don’t you just listen to me, why don’t you just let me teach you? Don’t you want anyone to care about you?" “Stop, just stop--” The stallion grimaces. The boy’s mind is corrupted. Warped by the damned books. Well, he can fix that. He will fix that. Will make everything right again. He has to. The bags are ripped away, the books are spilling out. The father is walking to the fireplace, the son too small to hold him back. "No, no, no—" Pages falling into the flames. "Get off me!" A kick. The books are in the fire and he is sailing across the room... Volume 1 III "And not by eastern windows only, When daylight comes, comes in the light; In front the sun climbs slow, how slowly! But westward, look, the land is bright!" -Arthur Hugh Clough, Say Not the Struggle Naught Availeth" Roads was bored. Unequivocally, inexorably bored. They had been flying all afternoon, and he was sick of it. At first, soaring slowly through the mountain range of Canterlot in the gargantuan aircraft had been fun. What could be better than a bird’s eye view of the frosted peaks’ stark beauty? Just about anything, it turned out. So now he sat, leaning against a tall stack of wooden crates, preening his wings, staring out the windows, and waiting. As he looked out at the snow-tipped peaks, he was sure that the mountains had been majestic to him once. They had definitely once held a timeless beauty. That had lasted about an hour. Now, they were just big stacks of rock, and he was tired of them. He was not in the mood to just sit, think, and wait for the zeppelin to arrive at-- well, wherever they were going. He wanted to talk to somepony, to converse--but Chief and Summer did not seem to share the sentiment. The former seemed to be wrapped up in doing... whatever it was he spent his time doing. At present, this appeared to be simply checking the inventory of the shipping crates. Roads wasn’t fooled, though; he was sure Chief was actually secretly plotting his demise. Summer, on the other hoof, was busy piloting the zeppelin. She had warned him shortly after they took off not to bother her. Apparently these balloons took concentration and skill to keep steady, and she didn’t want to be distracted. She certainly seemed focused at the moment. Glancing at maps and compasses, Summer danced frantically about the controls, steering the balloon around mountain after mountain as it descended, horn glowing as she guided it. Wait, why was her horn glowing? Was she piloting the vessel—turning the propellor and rotating the air fin—all on her own? Leaning on the boxes, Roads studied the busy unicorn. Her horn gave off a blue glow as it worked the engine. The rotor of the propellor, though, gave off a light red, nearly pinkish light. Which meant that—no. Could this be what he thought it was? Surely not. That type of thing was absurdly expensive. But Roads had to know, even if Summer was busy. Hooves clacking on the iron floor, he walked across the undercarriage to her. "Hey, Summer?” “Mmm?” She didn’t look up. “I’ve got a question—is this a Zephyr?" Ordinarily, she would've just waved him away, but this got her attention. It was surprising, coming from Roads. She hadn’t pegged him as the mechanical type--he was so bookish, so indoorsy. "Yeah. You know about that sort of thing? But you're just a spec!" "'Spec'?" "Specialist. Anyway, you know about aircraft?" "Usually, no. The only airship in Equestria to make common use of fully integrated magical machinery in a base model, though? Definitely. I studied them in a few mechanomagical engineering classes that I took back in school," he said. "Of course you did.” She glanced up at him, a thin smirk on her face. He was so excited his wings had fluttered open. "I never got to see them, though, because of the price tag. Oh, this is awesome! This one has a crystalline powering system right?” he asked, peering at the humming metal column behind the navigation table. “A gem enchanted to produce powerful movement spells wrapped in a magically conductive copper matrix? That's what's turning the propellor, right?" "Yeah." Summer grinned despite herself. His enthusiasm was amusing--and understandable. The Zephyr line of aircraft had been heralded in the Equestrian aeronautical community for its innovative use of enchanted, rechargeable crystals to turn propellers and steer the vessel. It was a job that had previously been done by either a powerful group of unicorn aviators, or by a less efficient, less durable, and far heavier steam engine. However, society as a whole--save for pilots and aviators--ignored the breakthrough, because Zephyrs were simply not commercially viable. Because they packed a massive price tag due to the rare gems that powered their engines, they were a rare buy for anypony without a government check. For those with the money, though, the Zephyr were reliable, versatile craft, suitable for expeditions in areas too distant for normal vessels, or in waters too dangerous for most ships. The Zephyr were some of the rarest magitech systems in Equestria--so much so that when Summer had first seen the zeppelin, she had been almost excited as Roads was. "Can I see the energy core? Please?" he pleaded. Summer gave a small sigh. As fun as stomping on the rookie’s dreams would be, should she really deny him now? His enthusiasm was almost amusing, and perhaps she could reward him for brushing up on essential knowledge before the trip. Most specs never even bothered. "Fine," she sighed. Summer slid a panel above the controls open to reveal a pulsating scarlet stone, glowing with the red energy she had been directing into the rotors. Roads let out a gasp as he glimpsed it through the copper wiring. He stared into the heart of the glowing stone until the vessel shifted suddenly, throwing him off of his hooves and into Summer. As the zeppelin tilted wildly, they tumbled over the control panel and crashed to the floor. Summer cursed violently, and shoved Roads off of her as she stood up, desperate to regain control of the craft. On the other side of the deck, Chief, who had been tossed into a pallet of crates, let out a snarl that would put a manticore to shame. "Dammit, Roads, these things take a lot of concentration to fly," she growled as she struggled to right the floundering aircraft. "Hey, you're the one who stopped paying attention—" "And you're the one who distracted me. I told you, these zeppelins are unstable, and if I can't concentrate on controlling it, it'll wreck, so stop bothering me!" she said, clearly frustrated. "I was just trying to see if—" "I said stop bothering me! Do you want us to crash?" Roads could tell that he had been beaten. As the balloon restabilized, he walked dejectedly back to the front of the undercarriage to look out the window once again. He sat for a moment, staring off into the distance. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the mountains receding in the distance, giving way to the forest that was now below them. He glanced down over the rail, inspecting the green tips of the broad trees that swayed below. Life on a balloon, he decided, was perhaps the dullest thing he had ever endured. Sitting and waiting simply wouldn't do. If he couldn't converse with Summer, then that still left... Chief. He could talk to Chief. Why not? Somewhere, deep, deep, under that gruff exterior, there had to be a pony. A pony he could talk to. It couldn't be that hard, could it? Just walk up and ask him something about himself. Everypony’s favorite subject is himself, he mused. He took a deep breath and walked around the stack of crates to find the earth pony staring off into the horizon. Chief gave no indication that he noticed Roads’ presence. "Uh, hey," Roads said timidly as he edged towards the gargantuan. "I don't think we've been properly introduced. I'm Roads." He stuck out a hoof. Chief’s eyes flickered down to the outstretched appendage, then back to the horizon. He was silent for a moment. "Chief," he said in what was more a grunt than a voice. He didn’t move. Letting his foreleg drop, he tried desperately to think of a conversation starter—perhaps if he could get Chief talking, he might worm his way into having a relationship a bit less... hostile. "So, uh, how long have you been working with Summer?" he asked meekly, hoping Chief wouldn’t snap his spine for attempting to speak with him. There was a lengthy silence. Roads wasn’t sure whether Chief was trying to remember the details of his work history—or to decide if he should hurl this new intrusion over the railing. Finally, he gave a curt reply. "A while." "Oh... fascinating," Roads replied. That was vague. Whatever. I can talk about that. "So, uh, what’d you do before this?" he asked. No response. "You were in the Guard, right?" No response. "I just figured you were because, uh, Summer said...” Still nothing. "Just wondering, you know, what your work was like..." "Classified." Chief said finally. "Really? Wait, so were you in one of those secret units? You know, the ones that do all the undercover stuff--spying, espionage, that kind of--" "Shut up.” So much for that. There was a long pause. Finally, Roads piped up. “Well... see you around, I guess,” he said, edging back around the pallet. He cringed as he rounded the corner. That definitely could have gone better. Nothing to be done now, though. Nothing but sit, and wait. Resting back against the crates, he looked out into the distance, and realized that they were quickly approaching the ocean. The pungent scent of fish and salt wafted up to him as he stared out into the waves. He forced himself to relax; there was little else he could do to fight the boredom. With a sigh, he gazed out over the railing into the rippling waters, allowing the scents, sights and sounds of the sea to wash over his senses. He let himself slip into his own head, getting lost in his own thoughts. He reminisced, memories flickering through his head, wispy shadows on an old cave wall. He saw himself, reading; himself, in school; himself, failing a flight lesson. Books in a fireplace... a bleeding eye... his father shouting... Oh, please not this again... His concentration was broken--just in time--as his eye caught swift movement below him. Roads stood up and peered over the railing, curiosity piqued. He stared at the water as a familiar tingling feeling worked its way up his back. It felt almost like a ley line--but that was impossible. After all, he hadn’t drank an Attunement potion since yesterday. And besides, there were only two places where he should have been able to feel a line. One was the Wilds, and that was miles away. And the other... The Triangle. But surely they weren’t anywhere near it yet. He peered out over the bow, searching. If it were indeed a line this strong, it would surely have a nexus somewhere along the—wait, there it was! Nearly a mile away, the waters converged into a raging maelstrom. He shuddered. It was far larger than could have ever been produced naturally. Even from so far away, Roads could make out an eerie whitish glow that stood out against the fading sunlight. Above it, an ominous formation of clouds rotated along with the water below. Perhaps he had been zoned out for longer than he thought. Perhaps they were in the Triangle after all... "Hey Roads, you seeing that?" The pegasus turned to find that Summer had noticed the storm, and was pointing to it in the distance. "Yeah," he replied, crossing the undercarriage and making his way past the crates to the navigator's desk. "What is it?" Just a nexus, Roads thought, and was about to tell Summer the same, when suddenly he realized what it really was. "It's the Sea Legs Maelstrom," he said in a whisper, now even more interested in the whirlpool. "The what?" "It's a famous nexus, named after Sea Legs, the sailor from the First Era who discovered it on a sea voyage in this area. Of course, back then, they didn't know what it really was; so everypony thought it was just an exceptionally large maelstrom. Well, actually, not everyone believed in it because the maelstrom doesn't manifest constantly--it surfaces and sinks all the time. So when sailors went back into the area, it was gone. Everyone thought Sea Legs was making it up.” “Huh. I wish,” she interjected. Roads shook his head. “I don’t. I mean, everypony thought it was just a myth, so if you think about it, we've just discovered a legend!" he said, thrilled. Summer was somewhat less than impressed. "Well, that's great, Roads, but your little myth over there is pulling us off course, and I'm not sure if there's anything I can do about it." She looked so unconcerned that Roads didn't immediately grasp what she had just said. "What do you mean?" he asked happily. "What I mean is that this zeppelin is bulky and slow, and catching a lot of wind. Which means we’re headed right into that." She gestured to the cloud formation roiling over the water. He looked over to see that they had indeed drifted far closer to the maelstrom than Summer had probably intended. What had been at least a mile away was now much closer. "Well turn around, then! Don't fly through it!" Roads felt panic rising in his chest. We're going to fly through the most famous kinetic nexus in Equestria?! "Too late now,” she said with a shrug. “Hey, maybe if I would've seen it a bit earlier, we probably could've turned around. But at this point, the wind is at our backs, and if we turn sideways it'll be cutting across the whole side of the balloon. This thing is made for endurance, not maneuverability, you know." She sounded entirely too unconcerned. They were beginning to pick up speed now, moving swiftly with the air that was being sucked into the nexus. "So that's it? You aren't even going to try?!" His fear was building; he didn't want to die in the first few hours of the trip—or at any other time, for that matter. "Yep. Just figured I'd let you know. You might want to hold on to something so you don't get blown out. Tie yourself down, maybe," Summer said calmly. “It’ll tear us to pieces!” Summer shrugged. “We’ll survive.” "You're crazy! Completely crazy! Chief, do you hear this? Tell her she's crazy!" Roads now had to shout over the sound of the wind. Chief glanced over at them from the other side of the zeppelin and shrugged. He opened a crate next to him, drew a few lengths of rope from it, then began tying down their cargo. "Oh that's just great. Wonderful. A few hours into the expedition and I'm already about to die at sea. That's just great," he fumed. "If it helps, we've never lost a spec this early on," Summer said. "So you get to be the first. Now, don’t you feel special?” Roads glared at her. The clouds were nearly upon them now, drawing closer as the zeppelin barrelled towards them. He turned and grabbed a rope that was strung around one of the larger boxes, anchoring himself down. Gritting her teeth, Summer hunched over the controls as Chief reached up to grab some of the metalwork on the undercarriage. There was a palpable sense of anticipation in the air as each of them finished securing themselves. They didn't have to wait long. After only a moment, the sound of the wind grew to a roar as the zeppelin began to shake and quiver with the force of the turbulence. The craft pierced the grey clouds, rain whipping violently through the windows as the balloon moved deeper into the dark abyss of the storm. Roads braced himself against the cargo as the vessel was buffeted by the winds, ears pounding with the roar of the wind. Lightning cracked across the darkened skies just outside of his window, thunder booming in his ears. The zeppelin nearly turned sideways and he was thrown against a crate, the edge slicing into his forehead. The streaming blood obscured most of his vision. Still, he could barely make out Summer struggling with the controls, straining as she tried to keep the vessel on course. He wasn’t sure, but she seemed to be smiling. She really is crazy, he thought, just before a gust of wind caught the front side of the balloon and jerked it sideways. He lost his hold on the rope and careened into the railing. The backside of the balloon tipped steeply and sent Roads sliding backwards on the rain-soaked metal floor. For a moment, he was terrified that he might fall out of the balloon. Flight would be impossible in a storm this violent. He managed to catch himself on an anchored piece of cargo, and he held himself there, clenching the crate in fear-stricken hooves. He looked up to see that he had slid right next to Chief. The earth pony hadn’t moved an inch. The vessel quaked once again, more violently than before, and he heard a wrenching metallic sound. Somewhere above him one of the metal struts that held the balloon together was ripped from its base. To his right, several cargo ropes were shorn, letting supplies spill freely into the storm. The balloon gave one last shudder. Suddenly an unsettling quiet came over them. The wind died, the zeppelin was still, and for a brief moment Roads thought they were out of the storm. Until, that was, he felt a horrifying tingle that spread throughout his body, a twisting, stinging feeling the likes of which he had never experienced before. Moving to the side of the undercarriage, he stared out in awe. They were in the eye of the storm. A sickeningly large wall of clouds circulated around them, but there was no more wind. Instead, there was only a glowing mist and a strange magical hum. Roads gazed down to see that they were hovering over the center of the vortex, its heart glowing in the rippling water. The nexus... A formless mass of magical energy that moved everything around it with a force unparalleled. It was massive and terrible, beautiful in its interminable power. The ultimate vindication of his study. The peace was broken as quickly as it had started. The zeppelin soared into the other side of the cloud bank, and was jostled and buffeted even more intensely than before. As biting winds cut through the cabin, Roads clumsily made his way back to the center of the deck. He grabbed another rope as the floor beneath him heaved and shook. There was a loud crack as another piece of the metal framework was shorn from the underside of the balloon. As the undercarriage lost another support, it tilted crazily. In his peripheral vision he could see that Summer was now slumped over the control panel. She had tied herself to the nearby navigator's table to keep from slipping away. The crystalline engine was running at full power, the propellor straining to move the vessel out of the storm. They were being sucked backwards, but Summer managed to keep the zeppelin angled into the wind, giving the air as little purchase on it as she could. As the unicorn strained to keep the craft upright, they moved steadily away from the heart of the storm. They flew more and more easily as they increased their distance. After a while, they finally escaped the pull of the tempest. As soon as they were clear of the raging storm, Roads and Chief moved to help Summer. She had collapsed onto the control panel, horn glowing feebly as she strained to keep the vessel in line. It seemed she had used every last iota of energy keeping the zeppelin under control. "Are you okay?" Roads asked. "Yeah," she panted, a smile spreading across her face. "That was awesome." Roads rolled his eyes. "You’re insane." Her only reply was a shrug. "What do we do now? We can't really keep flying, not like this," Roads said. He gestured around at what remained of the cabin. It was in shambles. Most of the cargo had come loose and was spread across the floor, the contents of the boxes sopping wet on the metal floor. Above them, the latticework that held the zeppelin together was twisted and mangled, many of the iron struts ripped from their bases. "Now?” she asked. “We land, I guess." She pointed out the window, and Roads followed her hoof to see an island rising in the distance. In the fading daylight, he could barely make it out. The sun sank behind the massive stretch of land as it set, painting its trees in a bloodred glow. In its center was a cylindrical, volcanic mountain, covered on all sides by trees waving steadily in the dying light, casting long, flickering shadows across their fellows. Pockets of darkness, hidden away from the sun, flickered serpentine and ethereal through the trees. The entire island was moving, eerie in its splendor. For a split second, Roads wanted to resist her suggestion. "Why there?" he asked, eyeing the land in the distance. "Why not? It's exactly the sort of thing we were hoping to find out here." "What do you mean?" "Here, look at this," Summer said. Opening one of the waterproof drawers of the navigator's table, she pulled out a map and spread it across the desk. She pointed to one area. "We're right here, right in the middle of a part of the Triangle that's totally uncharted. See that island? It's not on the map. And it's huge. Even if we hadn't just nearly torn the Zephyr in half—" "—You mean, even if you hadn't nearly torn the Zephyr in half..." Roads pointed out. "—that would still be the sort of place we would need to set down and map out." "And, if it's this close to that one line, it's sure to have more run through it..." he said, now a bit more optimistic about the prospect of exploring the island. "Uh... Sure, I guess," Summer said, one eyebrow cocked. "Well, alright then," Roads said, satisfied. He walked back across the zeppelin, leaving Summer to pilot the vessel. _________________________________________________________ Within an hour, they had reached the island. On one side, there was a vast beach, where they landed and moored the zeppelin. It was designed to be docked in any environment, thank the Goddess, so they had little trouble. Roads stepped quickly out onto the sand, glad to be back on dry ground. He lay down, exhausted, legs splayed, wings open. His rest was interrupted when a heavy box landed in his lap. He looked up to see Chief scowling at him. “Get to work. Gotta unload what’s left while the sun’s still out.” Roads stood and helped Summer and Chief as best he could. As they unloaded food, water, surveying equipments, and the tents, he idled along, carrying whatever he could manage. It wasn’t much. He was dismayed, however, to find that his tent was missing. "What do you mean it's gone?" he asked Chief, who towered over him, holding the inventory list. "We lost a lot of cargo, your tent included. You'll have to go without it." "But—" "Allocation of resources goes as follows: Summer. Me. You. Got it?" "But—" "Don't argue," Summer chimed in, "There are two tents left, and good luck taking mine. If you want, you can see if Chief'll let you double up in his." Roads looked up at Chief. Chief glared down at him. "I'll sleep outside," he decided. "Alright then. We'll sleep here for the night. Tomorrow we can move camp further inland. The light's fading, no use doing it now," Summer told them. So they set out their tents while Chief disappeared into the woods on the edge of the beach to go get firewood. Roads and Summer popped the tops off of the food crates and set up the tents. A moment later, the earth pony returned hefting a stack of logs. Roads looked at him curiously. “You didn’t take the axe.” Chief just stared at him. “How’d you do that without the axe?” Chief set the logs down in the sand and shrugged. “They just break off,” he said. Roads blinked. He opened his mouth to say something more, then stopped. It wasn’t worth the effort. Turning, he saw Summer magically build a small campfire between the tents. He walked over and sat down on a rock beside it. She rummaged through her sack, dug out a few tins of beans and a pack of dry rice, cooked them, and offered a plate to Roads. He took it and ate heartily, starving after such a rough day. Chief, on the other hoof, happily found himself a few “dry ration bars”—which to Roads resembled nothing more than slabs of concrete—and retired to his tent, chewing contentedly. The other two sat and ate silently, Summer too exhausted to make small talk, Roads too distracted by the scenery to care. Eventually, Summer finished her dinner and, taking a swig from her canteen, moved to her tent with a quick ‘goodnight.’ Roads returned the gesture, took a sleeping bag from one of the crates, and spread it across the sand. He lay down on his back and gazed up into the moonlit sky, wondering what mysteries hid in the jungle, waiting to show themselves in the days to come.