Chapter 5
A Healthy Dose of Psychosis
The sun was beginning to set far to the west when the air above the untamed Everfree forest was disturbed. Those who possessed the knowhow and a decent amount power and skill could, though an effort, detect the pulls and pushes in the fabric of magic that signified the spells of another. Even in the Everfree forest, where magic was unchecked and often dangerous, one could still feel it when a magical being altered the flows and ebbs.
Even the strongest and most knowledgeable, however, would not have been able to feel Amseal as he almost literally slid into existence out of nowhere, his disconcerting smile still very much intact. It wasn’t so much the fact that he was good at hiding his use of magic, which was still true. Rather, it was because he operated completely outside it’s influence that his presence and actions were cloaked so well. He might have appeared equine, but he was vastly more alien than the being that he had just talked to.
“Well,” Amseal said aloud, talking to no one in particular, “I can’t say I’m particularly impressed. Humans always seemed so weak to me, despite their propensity for chaos and violence. One would think that such a brutish creature would have adapted to be stronger at the very least.”
Dispassionate contempt aside, Amseal couldn’t help but chuckle at the idea of twisting the human bit by bit until he finally snapped and started butchering everyone in sight. Still, that certainly wouldn’t help the plan. And speaking of which-
That line of thought was put on hold briefly by a wrenching, agonizing spear of pain in Amseals back as one of his vertebrae popped out of place. The smile on his face never wavered, but his eyes contracted slightly, and a single tear of crimson blood ran down his cheek.
“Oh how I detest this form,” Amseal said cheerfully. Twisting his foreleg in a way that should mean he would never be able to walk again, he placed his hoof on the offending bone and violently jammed it back into place. As the pain lanced up and down his outwardly immaculate form, his unnatural smile widened.
He waited patiently for the quaking waves of agony to subside. As he did, he let his mind wander, pondering his next move. It was clear that this human had a unique potential that had yet to be unlocked. Hopefully Amseal had remedied that. It was integral to the plan that Garth master his gifts as quickly as possible. For his plan to succeed, Amseal needed all the power he could muster from the strongest beings he could find. Speaking of which…
Amseal turned his lusterless eyes towards a city upon a lone, distant mountain. His eyebrow twitched in irritation. He hated that city. The opulence of those who lived there disgusted him. He very much doubted that any of them would retain their sanity for more than an hour if they found that their wealth and possessions were gone.
Worse still, each thought themselves superior to all others solely based on their uncommon wealth, fabulous possessions, ownership of commodities, or even their birth. In reality, all were equally worthless in Amseal’s eyes. Few, if any, had any discernible talent or notable power. They’d all find out how little their precious claims meant.
Still, there were a few beings of note that lived within Canterlot. Most prominent among them were the Alicorn sisters, though they held no interest to Amseal. Many years ago, Luna might have been a possible candidate, but that time had long since passed.
There was, however, one who lived there that DID interest him a substantial amount.
With that in mind, he dipped into his reservoir of power and slid once again into nonbeing, leaving not a trace of him behind.
Several hours later, just below the trees…
Captain Evergreen Shadow snored loudly in his bunk. It’d been too long since he’d last slept in an actual bed, and he was making the most of it while he could. Granted, outpost bunks were hardly the most comfortable beds, but when you had spent weeks in the field, sleeping on beds of leaves that hardly did anything to alleviate the cold, hard ground, even a prison cot would be a welcome change.
Outside, it was fairly still, save for the regular two-pony patrols. The evening was quiet and warm, the sun had just fallen below the horizon, and the guards were at relative ease. Still, the gate guards were immediately wary when a rather ragtag-looking group of ponies approached the gate.
“Halt!” barked an armored unicorn mare from the palisade ramparts. She bore the insignia of a private. Surveying the travel-worn ponies, she shouted, “Who goes there?”
A bearded yellow pegasus stallion wrapped in a dusty grey traveling cloak stepped forward.
“I am Morning Ray,” he called up to the guard. Gesturing back towards the rest of the group, he continued, “I speak for my people, the Trotcantern tribe. We seek shelter for the night.”
The mare was taken aback by this, and glanced over at her pegasus partner, who had been manning this station for a lot longer than she had. He shrugged.
“It happens from time to time,” he explained. “A roaming tribe will pass through once in a while. If they need to travel through the forest, they will occasionally ask to stay at an outpost to avoid the nocturnal predators.” Walking over to a nearby table, he flipped through a thick tome, stopping at a specific page. “Just ask for their tribal seal. I’ll cross reference it. If it checks out, we’ll let them in.”
The mare nodded, then turned back to the elder Pegasus.
“Advance and present your tribal seal.”
The Pegasus nodded, then rummaged through his saddlebags. He fished out some sort of trinket, and held it out. The unicorn guard activated her horn and grasped it gently in her magic. Lifting it over to her, she examined it. It appeared to be a round amulet made of a single maple leaf made of gold stretched over a gnarled branch tied by vines into a circle. The indent of a hoof mark encircling a silver sun was clearly visible on the leaf.
After she described the amulet, her partner gave a nod when he read the Trotcantern log. They checked out alright.
“Stand back as we open the gate!” She called down. “Be ready to submit to a search.” Morning Ray did as he was told, moving back to join his tribe.
Within the outpost, a trio of unicorns lined up beside the gate as a pair of earth stallions slid the bracing log aside and swung the gates outward. The trio of unicorns immediately ran out to meet the wanderers, casting about them with soft-glowing incantations designed to detect spells of concealment and spells to reveal magical camouflage. However, finding nothing, they deemed the travelers to be free of deceptive illusions, and allowed them to move into the camp.
The unicorn gate guard ran down to meet the tribal chieftain as the gates swung shut with a boom that resounded through the forest.
“So, Chief Morning,” she began, giving the elder pony a respectful salute, “What brings you to the Everfree? Passing through on a trade route, I take it?”
“Close enough,” Morning Ray rumbled with a nod. “We’re traveling to Appeloosa to trade with the Buffalo tribes. From what we understand, they recently ran across a cavern of rare Heartstones in one of their ancestral caverns.” He stroked his grey beard, a thoughtful look upon his wizened face. “I know they don’t like trading with outsiders, particularly the Appeloosans, but we have a few… Artifacts of our own that may interest them.”
“’Artifacts?’” the guard asked, frowning. She glanced over at the lead scanner, who shrugged. “What artifacts?”
As Morning Ray waxed eloquent about how his tribe discovered artifacts seemingly of Buffaloan make near some ruins, his tribesmen went about setting up camp, pitching canvas tents and starting a few cooking fires, all under the watchful eyes of the Equestrian soldiers. At the unicorn guard’s request, the tribal elder walked over to a tarp-covered cart and fished out an ornate but weathered staff. The white wood appeared to have been sun-bleached, and seemed to shine in the moonlight. It was adorned with strands of many-colored yarn woven in an intricate fashion. Feathers and beads hung at the end of many strands, although many strands floated free and featherless, perhaps losing their accoutrements to the passage of time. Adorning the top was a bleached buffalo skull.
Noticing the unicorn regarding the skull with trepidation, Morning Ray explained that ancient Buffalo witchdoctors would craft these staves and cap them with the skull of the previous witchdoctor of the tribe, then plant the staff at the entrance of their village with the staves of past witchdoctors. According to Ray, it was a tradition meant to honor their holy men as well as a means of warding off evil spirits. The Trotcanterns had found this particular item in a canyon within the Eerie Desert, at the site of an ancient Buffalo village, long since consumed by the passing of ages.
“We found this and many other artifacts there,” he finished, replacing the staff in the cart. “By all rights, they belong to the Buffalo tribes, as treasures of heritage. Most of the staves there were ruined, and a lot of what we were able to salvage isn’t in the best condition. Still,” he added with a sigh, “We figured that these items would be appreciated by the descendents of those who made them. It seemed better than letting them turn to dust in a long-forgotten ruin.”
“And, meanwhile, you hope that they will be grateful enough to share their heartstones?” the young guard guessed with an accusatorily raised eyebrow.
“Well, it only seems fair,” Morning Ray said, a slight bit of defensiveness creeping into his gravely voice, “I mean, I would figure that they would be grateful to have relics to remember their history by, not to mention the effort we made to bring them that far. To let that go unrewarded would be downright inhospitable.”
“And what if they don’t? What if they take offense to the idea of a strange tribe of ponies poking around something that may well be a site of great importance to them, one that they perhaps might have WANTED to remain untouched?”
Seeing the root of the unicorn’s trepidation, the old chief guffawed.
“I understand where you are coming from. However, we have a long-standing relationship with the buffalo tribes. They asked us to keep an eye open for artifacts of theirs on our travels. Trust me when I say that we wouldn’t dare do anything that would intentionally cause a grievance.”
Appearing somewhat mollified, the unicorn nodded.
“Well alright then,” she said, bowing to the old earth pony. “I apologize for jumping to conclusions. I’ll let you get back to minding your tribe. I’ll let the quartermaster know to provide you with whatever your tribe needs, given fair recompense, of course.”
“Of course,” Morning Ray replied, bowing back. “And thank you for your hospitality.”
With that, he turned and strode towards the cook fires. The unicorn guard, meanwhile, made her way back up to her post, all the while fighting a nagging feeling at the back of her mind.
“Ok, what’s on your mind?” her partner asked.
She jumped at the sudden break in the silence since the end of her conversation.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re biting your lip and your brows are bunched up. You always do that when something is bugging you.”
“I do not!” she stated indignantly.
“Do too,” the Pegasus replied simply. “So let’s have it.”
Biting her lip unconsciously again, she threw a covert look at the tribe, particularly at the weather-worn chief.
“I don’t really know, to be perfectly honest,” she said. “But something about them… something about him isn’t right. Why didn’t we hear about them from anyone? How is it that none of the patrols saw them?” She pawed the ground nervously. “For that matter, his story didn’t add up. He mentioned that the buffalo tribes don’t like trading with outsiders, but mentioned that some of their artifacts would interest them. When I brought up the fact that the buffalo might take exception to the idea that strange ponies going through sacred grounds, he suddenly changed his story, saying that his tribe has a close relationship with the buffalo tribes.”
“Maybe it was a simple memory slip?” the Pegasus said, with a joking tone, though his smile didn’t reach his eyes as he gazed at the chieftain, military precision entering his posture for the first time since the unicorn had met him. “Old age does have a tendency to make one forget certain details…”
“It does. But something like that seems a bit more than a minor detail.”
“No arguments there.”
“So what should we do?”
“Well, they haven’t turned hostile. Until then, we can’t do anything other than watch them.”
“Understood…”
“But perhaps you should wake the captain, in any case.”
The unicorn nodded, and turned. She hadn’t even taken a step, however, before she noticed a guard on the ground rush from the medical tent to the officer barracks. She sighed in relief. At least she wouldn’t be the one to draw his ire for being awoken so early. Cheered by this, she set off at a trot, down the ramp from her position at the gate towards the barracks.
Chief Morning Ray, in the meantime, casually walked among his people, looking about casually. Each sweep of his gaze ensured a good look at the outpost, giving him a feel for the layout and positions of its guards. He eventually came to a stop in front of a olive-bodied, golden-maned earth pony mare with a cutie mark of three hearts who, under pretext of stoking a cook fire, was actually tapping the ground intently with her forehoof. Beside her, one of the few unicorns in the group, a silver stallion with a blue mane, appeared for all the world to be asleep, propped up against a log. His cutie mark was that of a stone cracked in half and filled with crystals; a geode.
Sitting down next to the pair, he rolled his shoulders as a young colt poured him a bowl of potato and mushroom stew. He took a sip of the rather earthy-tasting gruel before turning to the mare.
“So?”
“I’m not picking anything up.” She said quietly, gazing at the flickering flames as she continued her tapping. “I’m not getting a sense on any unusual magical frequencies in the earth. That might mean that whatever fell out of the sky isn’t here.”
“Or…?”
“…Or, it could mean that whatever it is, it isn’t touching the ground, or is being surrounded by a sensory blocker. I think the former is more likely. I’d be getting some sort of bead on it if a sensory disruption field was blocking it. At the very least, I’d feel the field, which would tell us where it is.”
“Well, it has to be something,” the unicorn beside them said softly. His lips barely moved as he talked, making him seem to the casual observer to be sleep-talking. “Because I’d know if it wasn’t blocked and not touching the ground.”
“Hmm…” Morning Ray took a few more sips from his stew. “Far Strider, how many guards populate the compound?”
“Thirty-eight, from what I can sense. Seventeen are in the barracks, four in the kitchens, three in the med tent, four manning the gates, two at each, the one that just ran from the med tent to the barracks, and the four that scanned us when we came in. Four are also patrolling the perimeter walkways. I guess I should say one at this gate, since that unicorn went over to the barracks as well.”
“Heartsteel, can you get a read on any special abilities?”
The unicorns face tightened slightly. The air about his horn shimmered with a very subtle silver glow for split second as a faint ripple expanded outward from it with indiscernible speed, then was gone.
“There is a unicorn in one of the barracks with a great deal of stored power, and certain… quality… that I can’t quite identify. He seems to be the strongest here. I’m getting another one in the other barracks, not quite as powerful. I get the smell of brimstone… perhaps fire? Or explosions? A Pegasus on the catwalks smells of ozone, a lightning affinity. A couple of earth ponies have the sturdiness of boulders, rock affinity, obviously. The head doctor has a numbing feel to her, along with an energizing effect. Other than that…” His face tightened again, then he opened his ruby eyes for the first time, bemusement upon his face. He sat up and turned to the mare. “Far Strider, how many did you say were in the med tent?”
“Three. Two at a table, one on a cot. Why?”
“Because there are two beings on two cots.”
Silence seemed to echo outwards from the unicorn.
After draining the last of his stew, Morning Ray broke the silence, signaling to the blank-flanked colt who had brought him his stew. The youth skidded to a stop before him with a salute. Far strider stiffened, a look of worry crossing her face.
“What can I do, chief?” the sky-bodied, golden-maned unicorn colt asked, focusing intently on the old stallion.
Pulling the youth in close, he took on an exaggeratedly conspiratorial air. “Aethergold, could you go for a walk around camp for me? I need to know what goes on around here, and you’re just the stallion for the job.”
Looking around furtively, he leaned in and gave the chief a sly grin.
“You can count on me, sir! I’ll get the lowdown on everything about this place.”
“Good.” Morning Ray said, clapping Aethergold on his shoulder. “Pay extra attention to the doctor’s office. If you see anything strange, let me know, ok? And don’t let the guards know. They won’t hurt you, but this is top secret, ok?”
“I won’t let ya down chief!” With that, the young unicorn scampered off.
The old chief straightened as he watched the youth disappear into the night.
“You’ve raised a fine young lad, you know, Strider,” he said. He gave the worried mother a reassuring grin. “I’m sure his father would be proud of the stallion he’s becoming. And you needn’t worry so much. You know as well as I that the Equestrian military wouldn’t harm a child.”
“I know that,” Far Strider replied, sighing deeply, “but it’s hard to convince myself of that. I know he can fend for himself well, but I still worry.” She smiled ruefully. “Mother’s instinct and all.”
“I understand, my dear,” the grizzled stallion said gently. “Don’t worry. We aren’t here to pick a fight. We just need to identify whatever it is that fell from the sky and leave at dawn. We’ll bring the party back to the camp, report to Elezar, and set up a trap. Eventually, they will have to move whatever it is. That is when we’ll acquire it for ourselves.”
“But, if something should happen,” Far Strider began, a tone of desperation tingeing her voice, but Morning Ray cut her off.
“I make you this promise, Far Strider,” he vowed, “that should the worst happen, one way or another, Aethergold will be taken care of.”
Neither pony broke the other’s gaze, until, at last, a single tear formed in the mother’s eyes. She closed them, and smiled, knowing that the words were true.
Silence reigned for a time, as many of the tribal ponies moved about, tasking themselves to keep busy with the cook fires and ensuring the tents were set for the night.
“Do you think Elezar will uphold his end of the bargain?” Heartsteel asked, speaking for the first time in what seemed like ages.
“I’ve known him for years,” Morning Ray replied smoothly. “There’s no reason why he wouldn’t.”
“None that we know of, at any rate,” Heartsteel grumbled. He shook his head. “I still don’t trust him. No one knows what happened that night with him and Aethersprite. How do we know-”
“Because I say so!” the old chief snapped quietly, causing both Heartsteel and Far Strider to flinch. “Are you saying you don’t trust me? After everything I’ve sacrificed to keep this clan together? If so, you can leave. I don’t need disloyalty at such a critical point.”
Mare and stallion shared a look, then glanced back to the wizened old stallion, who seemed to collapse in on himself, his calm, self-assured aura crumbling.
“I’m sorry, Heartsteel. You didn’t deserve that. I know you have only ever had the best interests of the clan in mind. But I need you to trust me, one more time. I know it’s hard. I had trouble following my own sire’s commands. But I promise that I won’t lead you astray.”
Heartsteel said nothing.
“I’m sorry. Perhaps, when you lead the clan, you’ll understand… son.”
“Hmph. And perhaps, when I lead the clan, we won’t have to deal with whatever kind of eldritch abomination Elezar is. And we’ll have you to thank for it. Father.”
--
In the medical tent
--
Through sheer force of will, I pull myself out of the enveloping darkness of my mind, and force my eyes open. I instantly regret it as I get both eyes flooded by light from a lamp directly overhead. I groan at this, and squint as I attempt to sit up.
“Woah now, slow down,” says a calm, soothing female voice to my right. Through the blanket that covers me, something pushes me back to a prone position. “Don’t push yourself too much. You’ve had a rough day. Just take it easy.”
“Well, could you get that light out of my face, at least?” I ask, squinting, trying to see through the glare at whoever pushed me down.
“Just a minute. I want to run a few tests first.”
I hear a pair of desynchronized footsteps that seems inordinately sharp-sounding, and I have the weirdest sense of…
… oh shit.
“Doctor Patchit, the subject’s heart rate is spiking. Should I sedate him?”
“No, he just needs some time to adjust.”
No.
Nope.
I squeeze my eyes shut. I’m dreaming. That’s all. Just a really weird dream.
Uh huh.
Yup.
Dreaming.
I’ll just wake up any moment now.
.
.
.
Any moment.
.
.
.
Ok, I’ll just give myself some help. Pulling my right arm out from under the covers, I reach over and sharply pinch the opposite shoulder. I even dig the nails in a bit. It definitely hurts, but I don’t feel any different.
“You know, it helps, I could stick you with a morphine shot.”
I suck in a sharp breath. Holding my hand up to shield my eyes, I open them, and search for the voice. Finding it, I realize that all the earlier stuff hadn’t been a dream. Well, at least the part where I was conscious. Because, once again, I find myself face to face with a talking horse. Or rather, another talking unicorn.
Alright. Two possibilities. One, I’ve lost my mind. Two, those blue walnuts made me high as fuck. Three, I died, met Death, Life, and Fate, was given a second chance, and sent to a world of MAGIC FUCKING UNICORNS to find a conveniently ambiguous way home without knowing anything about this place. AT ALL.
The first is highly probable. The second is fairly improbable, since it highly revolvs around certain elements of the nigh-impossible third to be true. But the fact remains that I have a talking unicorn waiting for a response and, insane or not, I had manners.
“At this point,” I start, trying to prevent hysteria from coloring my words, “I don’t think it will. There is a possibility I am high right now, and I don’t think morphine will mix well with whatever it is.”
The red bodied unicorn frowns at this. A clipboard and pen behind her are enveloped in pink glow that matches her mane, and the glow that surrounds her horn.
“Nurse, I didn’t see anything in the report about any sort of intoxication, did you happen to-“
“Fuck lady, let a guy entertain his fantasies, would ya?” I groan at her. My hand claps itself over my eyes.
“Well,” says a voice to the left, which I can only assume belongs to ANOTHER unicorn, “actually, he did have these in his pack, ma’am. I wasn’t sure what they were, but Peppercorn scanned them, and they don’t contain any stimulants, depressants, hallucinogens, or toxins.”
Removing my hand, I glance over to the source of the voice. It’s not a unicorn this time. This horse doesn’t have a horn. However, the turquoise equine before me is almost stranger, in that the damn thing has wings. What. The actual. FUCK.
One of said wings gently nudges a couple of the blue walnuts. Well damn. I was hoping they were hallucinogenic.
It would be easier that way to explain talking unicorns and horses with wings.
“Odd,” says the unicorn. Irony? “I’ve never seen anything like these before. Do you mind I take a few of these for documentation?”
Oh, wait, she’s talking to me.
“Yeah, sure, go ahead.”
She looks at me with an odd expression.
“Look, you are going to have to calm down.”
Ok. That. That right there. THAT TEARS IT.
I sit bolt upright, ignoring whatever residual injuries I might have as I point a finger at the rather shocked-looking red unicorn doctor.
“Calm down? CALM DOWN? Ok, look here lady. In the past forty-eight or what the fuck ever something hours, I’ve been shot at, blown up, and DIED after saving someone I barely know from getting killed. I FUCKING DIED. But guess what? My day didn’t end there. I met DEATH HIMSELF. And Life herself. I MET FATE. I MET MY OWN WORST GODDAMN FEAR. Do you have any idea what that is like? Oh, and how’s about this: they work up the goddamn NERVE to tell me that my death was a MISTAKE. That IT WASN’T MY TIME. But that’s alright, they say. You can put it right, they say. All you have to do is walk through this portal to a place you know nothing about, full of jack knows what all, and find your way home. What’s that? Directions? A clue? Pfft, you’re a fucking man. Grow a pair and grab a compass, because you’re on an adventure to find your DICK and your own way home. Oh, and as a welcoming gift from this world, here’s a FUCKING MANTICORE. Oh, wait, was that too much? Oh. Here’s a talking horned horse, I hope THAT makes things better! Oh wait, NO I DON’T! Here, take a nap and relive your worst goddamn memories on repeat, with the volume cranked up to motherfucking eleven! And if life aint enough of a bitch, here is a winged horse and ANOTHER unicorn, who’s got the BALLS to tell you to CALM DOWN. Lady, if you went through all that, and someone told you to CALM DOWN, and you didn’t tell them to GO FUCK THEMSELVES WITH A HOTSAUCE-SOAKED CACTUS, I would seriously question your sanity. That said, I do have a shred or two of decency left. So, with that in mind, and with the utmost respect, FUCK YOU.
My voice having cracked several times during what had to be the finest verbal tirade of my life, I promptly lay back down, slam my eyes shut, and wish a long, slow death on the cosmos itself.
Breathe in.
Breath out.
Breath in.
Breath out.
I sit back up.
“Ok, for what it’s worth, and I know it probably won’t be worth much after that, I apologize.”
“Meh,” the unicorn shrugged. “I’ve had worse.”
“What.”
“Besides,” she continued, as if she hadn’t heard me, “if you’ve really been through all that in such a short span of time, I can’t blame you for losing it like that. I’m not hurt, so no blood, no foul.” With that she trotted over to my side and held out a hoof.
I stare at it for a second, the blind fury draining from me as I look into her bright eyes, then shrug.
“Eh. Can’t argue with that I guess.” I grasp her hoof and give it a shake.
At this, her smile is replaced by a look of utter bewilderment.
“What?” I ask, confused by her confusion.
“What are you doing?” she inquires uncertainly, looking at my hand.
“Uh… handshake?”
“What now?”
“I thought that’s what you were going for?”
Now it’s her turn to go, “Uh… Hoofbump.”
“What now?”
At this, the winged horse, which I had assumed had been shocked into silence, bursts into raucous laughter at our mutual awkwardness.
I’m not sure what’s worse: culture shock or being laughed at by a winged horse with hyper-saturated color and a tattoo of a winged heart on his butt.
“Ok, like this, bro,” he says, walking over to the doctor, who raises her hoof. Raising his own, he clacks the underside of his hoof against hers.
“Ok. I get it now. So it’s like brofist.”
“Bro what?”
“Bro… oh never mind.”
“Well, good to see you’re up,” says a familiar voice. From behind one of the walls, the same green unicorn who saved me from the manticore strides towards my bedside. Looking over at the red unicorn, he continued, “Looks to me like he’s good to go, doc, and not a moment to soon. We need to get him to command, ASAP.”
Wait, what?
“Captain, that’s a bad idea. He just woke up. I’m not sure how much residual damage he sustained. It’d be better to keep him off his feet until we are sure he’s good to go.”
Time out a second.
“We don’t have that kind of time. Something’s come up.”
Hold on.
“Captain-“
“ALRIGHT, DO I GET A SAY IN THIS?”
The captain and the doctor both look at me, startled.
“Look, I appreciate you guys saving me, and I promise I’ll pay you back, but I’ve got a lot to do, and a very short time to do it, so, if you’ll excuse me…”
With that, I throw off the covers and swing my feet out of bed. For whatever reason, my boots and pants are still on, but my shirt and ABU blouse are nowhere to be found. All that covers my torso is the blood-soaked bandage.
“So where are you going, then?”
Um…
.
.
.
Fuck.
“Actually, I don’t know. But I have to keep moving.”
“Well, I know where you can start,” says the captain. “You can come with me, help us learn about you, what you are, where you come from, and how you got here. In return, we could help you with… Whatever it is you are doing.”
“Captain, with all due respect, you know nothing about who I am or what I am capable of. You have no reason to trust me, and no way to confirm that my interests are not aligned against your own, or those of your nation. Given that, I in turn, cannot trust you, because you made that claim without knowing anything about me. As an officer of your respective military, it is your responsibility to put the safety and well-being of your country and people before all else. Thus, your offer to help me do ‘whatever it is I am doing’ is void by the simple fact of my existence.”
“An impressive deduction,” The captain replies, his emerald eyes piercing my own. “But fallacious. If what you said in your little speech is true, and if by chance you ARE dangerous, then it is in the best interests of my nation to help you return wherever you are from.”
“How do you know I wasn’t lying?” I respond, matching his gaze.
“Between the trigger that set your speech off and the desperation in it, it’s very apparent that you aren’t. As for your being dangerous…” At this, his stern look softens, and his eyes become sympathetic, “I don’t believe that you would purposefully harm an Equestrian who hasn’t wronged you or harmed you.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Call it an intuition. Besides,” he concludes, smiling softly, “most of us prefer to give a potential friend the benefit of the doubt.”
“Well, how can I trust you?”
“Because an Equestrian will choose Harmony over conflict any day.”
I don’t know what it is, but something about that rings so true that I’m inclined to believe him.
“Look, whatever you are is probably vastly different from us ponies, both physically and culturally. But I promise, you can trust me when I say we will help you.”
“If you knew me, personally,” I say, pain coming into my voice, “you’d know exactly how much you are asking of me with that simple request.”
“Then I’ll prove my own trust in you when I say I’ll trust that you will not harm any innocent ponies if I let you walk free. But you have to come with me now.”
“I guess I’ll have to, for the time being.” Standing, I walk over to him, and hold out my hand. “In my culture, it’s tradition to seal an agreement by shaking hands. Shaking empty hands proves the two parties show trust in each other by casting aside their weapons.”
“Then, perhaps that is something I will adopt to show my trust,” the captain says, placing his hoof in my hand and allowing me to give it a firm shake before parting.
“Ok, so let me get my effects, and we can be off.”
“That reminds me,” the unicorn doctor says. “I was going to ask this when you woke up, but you kinda sidetracked everything.” From out of my pack, surrounded by the pink aura and POINTED DIRECTLY AT MY HEAD, my pistol rises. “What exactly is-“
“OH SHIT, NO! PUT IT DOWN!” I shout. Startled, she proceeds to drop it straight to the ground. I guess one of them had managed to cock the damn thing when they were looking it over, because as soon as it hits the ground, the gun snapped off a single round, which by some miracle did nothing more than drill a crater right between my feet. Everyone in the room jumps at the report, but no one jumps as high as myself. Somehow, I launch myself high enough to latch onto the ceiling lamp with a white-knuckled death-grip.
“JESUS H. CHRIST, WOMAN! DON’T TOUCH THAT AGAIN!” I shout with the decorum that befits the situation. The lamp, on the other hand, lost its grip on reality at that precise moment.
As well as its grip on the ceiling.
Both of us came crashing down upon the cot, which collapses upon itself until all three of us hit the floor. All in all, not a very fun time.
Crawling out of the wreckage, I stumble over to the gun, cock back the slide, catch the chambered round, and release the magazine.
“Ok, quick lesson. This is a gun. It is a very dangerous weapon, and shoots a copper-jacketed, 9 millimeter-diameter lead bullet at a shit-ton of feet per second by utilizing a controlled explosion. That bullet can penetrate light personal armor and soft tissue with relative ease. Best-case scenario, that bullet goes straight through you without touching any bones, leaving a small entry wound and a significantly larger exit wound. Normal case, it strikes a bone and ricochets, causing significant internal damage. Worst case, you die. This weapon features a detachable box magazine that can hold 15 rounds. The controlled explosion that launches the bullet also reloads the gun. This means I can shoot it 15 times while only needing to pause to reset my aim. This thing is REALLY FUCKING DANGEROUS. So, if you please, DON’T FUCKING TOUCH IT.”
Looking over the incredulous ponies, my gaze comes to a stop on the doctor, who seems to have dislocated her jaw at some point.
“By the way, doc. I think that,” I say, jerking my finger at the hole in the ceiling where the lamp HAD been, “proves that I am good to go wherever I damn well please.”
Grabbing my pack, I turn on my heel and head for what I can only assume is the bathroom.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a code brown to take care of before we move on.”
--
Canterlot
--
Canterlot was always busy. As the Capital of Equestria, there was always work to be done. As such, it was always alive with the movement of thousands of hardworking, diligent ponies. Even deep into the night, ponies would bustle from building to building, ensuring that the workings of the country moved apace.
Not only was Canterlot the seat of government and a constantly moving city for the bureaucrats and buisnessponies, it was also a mecca for culture and art, as attested to gravity-defying, almost magical architecture. Home to many theatres and art museums, it was also host to many beautiful botanical gardens and zoological parks. One place that contained elements of all four was the Canterlot sculpture garden and maze. Statues and busts depicting epic heroes, evil creatures, and masterful magicians adorned the park. Grand fountains topped with tributes to harmony dotted the vista. At the center of it was the Canterlot Hedge Maze.
And at the center, reflecting over the thousands of years of his existence was Discord.
Taking the form of the draconequus, the most cobbled together and chaotic of all the creatures of this so-called world of perfect harmony, Discord was known to most as the spirit of chaos itself. Few existed now who knew the truth behind his existence.
Not that it really mattered.
Looking over what had been his home for the last few millennia, he wondered for a moment what had drawn him here. Time and again, he found himself pondering the oddest thoughts as he was pulled towards this spot. Perhaps it was that, after staying in one place for thousands of years, one starts to call it home.
A frown came to his face lopsided face.
No. A home was for the ordered mind.
Chaos had no home. Not a world of harmony.
So why had Celestia brought him back? Oh sure, she said that it was for constructive purposes, but they both knew better. Chaos could not be constructive. The idea was so ludicrous that he almost laughed.
Almost.
He felt more like raging. Freeing him but putting him in chains of guilt was cruel, even by Celestia’s standards. Forcing him to turn his back on his own nature, by making him choose between it and the one friend he had…
That was evil.
Oh, he had no doubt she thought she was doing good by making him reject himself, but then, that is the great cruelty of power. It blinds one to the negative aspects of their actions.
Oh, she’d pay eventually. They’d all pay. On that day, they’d rue the day they made The Embodiment of Discord reject his own reality.
And on that day, Death would pay for turning Life against him.
A storm of pure chaos roiled within him.
And from on high, Amseal smiled. This was going to be far too easy.