//------------------------------//
// X - Unforgivable 
// Story: Where Loyalties Lie: Ghosts of the Past 
// by LoyalLiar 
//------------------------------//


X


Unforgiveable


- - -


        "What the hay do you mean train robbers?" Rainbow snarled at her earth pony companion.  "You think I'm just gonna–"  Rainbow's words were cut off when a powerful hoof pressed against her lips.  

        "They're still here, Rainbow," Soldier On warned in a harsh whisper.  She released the pressure from Rainbow's lips after a moment, and glanced down at the body of the unconscious earth pony stallion in the center of the floor.  "And yes, they are train robbers.  Ask Deadeye if you don't believe me."  Her gaze shifted sharply toward the stallion by the windows.  "What have you got?"

        Reckoning answered in the same forced hush as he peeked between their blinds.  "Six of them are already heading out.  I count two single-pony wagons, loaded up with trunks.  They're going east, toward Brayce Canyon.  The rest of the group is gathering up close by.  There's somepony fighting..."  Reckoning's voice trailed off.

        "What?" Rainbow asked quietly.  "What is it?"

        There was a pause as Reckoning gathered his thoughts.  "That foal, Rocket..."

        "What?" Rainbow shouted, lunging up to the window.

        In the distance, the little blue colt who had proven an inspiration to Rainbow three days prior was struggling with a dusty brown earth pony, kicking up a small storm of dust.  In front of Rainbow's eyes, a hoof struck the foal on the back of the neck, and he crumpled into the legs of the grown mare.  

        Rainbow didn't scream or shout; in a single motion, she unfurled her wings, turned, and threw herself to the door.  It slammed open before anypony else could react, and she flew into the central hallway of the train car.

        Two stallions, both earth ponies in light clothing, were waiting.  The first to react to the blur of radiant fury called out.  "Hey, you!  Sto–"  The words didn't last long in his throat when Rainbow's hoof connected.  He crumpled just as the other stallion began to move.

        Rainbow was ready for him, but they never came to blows.  The cabin wall exploded in a blinding maelstrom of splinters and paint flecks.  Amidst the chaos, Rainbow saw Soldier On's forehooves wrap around the unfortunate robber's neck.

        The crack was quiet, yet deafening.

        Trying to wipe the thought from her mind, Rainbow flew forward.  The same lethal hooves that had just killed the bandit caught her by the chest and pinned her to the floor.

        "Rainbow Dash, stop," On ordered, as if Rainbow had any other option.

        Rainbow shook her head, crying out in desperation.  "They have Rocket!"

        "How will your death help?" the enormous mare asked, stepping fully out of the hole she had bucked in the cabin wall, even as she maintained pressure on the young pegasus.  "Can you fight a dozen bandits alone, Rainbow?"

        "We have to do something!" the pegasus shouted back.

        "No, we don't."  On leaned heavily on Rainbow's chest as the smaller mare began to struggle.  "This isn't our fight.  San Palomino has its own guardsponies."

        "So we're just gonna let the foalnappers get away?"

        "For now, yes."  On loosened the pressure on Rainbow's chest, and the pegasus sucked down a deep breath.  "They shouldn't hurt this 'Rocket', if he's a hostage.  Now go back in the cabin.  I'll get rid of the two breathing ones."

        The casual nature of the statement set something off in Rainbow, but her irritation was short lived.

        "Uh, On, we've got a problem."  Reckoning called from within their cabin.  "One of them is doing a head count.  They know these ones are missing."

        "Damn!"  On looked around, though her mind seemed elsewhere.  "Alright, new plan.  Reckoning, Rainbow, take the survivors and dump them off the other side of the train.  Then go up to the engine and get us moving again.  Knock out the engineer and drive yourselves if you have to.  I'll take this one, see if I can't make a distraction.  With luck, I'll get the foal...”  She hesitated.  “I’ll get Rocket back."

        The mare moved back into the cabin, and pulled from their closet the large bag holding their equipment.  With an impressive speed, she donned her bladed shoes, and the bandoliers that held her spares.  A moment later, her custom made duster coat concealed the weapons.  She took only a moment to glance over herself, and then moved back into the hallway.

        Rainbow's stomach churned at the way the dead stallion's broken neck flopped around when On picked him up.  She found her tongue tied as Reckoning walked up to the huge hole in the wall On had bucked through.  "Are you going to be okay?" he asked the departing mare.

        "I've had bigger crowds than this chase me in Stalliongrad."  Soldier On was resolute.  "But if I don't make it on the train, don't stop.   I can run the distance.  I'll meet you in the closest town, or Salt Lick if that's the next place we hit; find a shady bar or hotel or something, and keep your eyes open.  You might have to go on without me, if Flag or the rangers catch up before I do."  Then she turned around and charged down the length of the train, the dead train robber bouncing on her back with every stride.

        Rainbow was entranced for a moment, snapped out only when Reckoning nudged her shoulder.  She turned to find him garbed in a dull vest and a wide brimmed hat that seemed a cross between a fedora and Applejack's signature headpiece.  His machete was sheathed under his good wing.  "Grab your gear, Rainbow.  We need to get moving."

        He tossed a brown poncho decorated with a gentle white pattern at Rainbow; she struggled into it quickly.  Even as her head wrestled with the fabric, he slung a simple belt over her shoulder so that it wrapped around behind her left wing.  The weight of her own hoof-crafted sword tugged down lightly, but in some strange way the pressure was comforting.  

        "Now, let's go."

        The few cars between their cabin and the engine were completely empty, and they passed at a full gallop in nothing more than a blur of doors and wood paneling.  Soon, however, they reached the last door.  There, Reckoning held out a hoof, and drew his machete.

        "If they stopped the train, there might be somepony here," he whispered.  "Be ready."

        Rainbow nodded, but she didn't draw her weapon.  She wasn't ready to use it.  As the door slid open, she lowered herself and took a deep breath.

        The rank stench of wet copper filled her nostrils, alongside the acrid smell of coal.  She realized what it was even before she could really see inside the engine. 

        Blood.  It wasn't some gory scene from out of a horror story, or the mad temples of Discord in the Daring Do stories.  Instead, it was just a single puddle, spilling out from a slit in the throat of the engineer.  It had pooled around his hooves, staining his coat and soaking the floor, yet there was somehow less than Rainbow would have imagined, as if the loss of his life had taken no more effort than spilling a small jug of water.

        Shaking his head gently, Reckoning sheathed his weapon and stepped forward, staining his hooves.  With a gentle touch from the tip of his left wing, he brushed the stallion's eyelids shut.  "Nothing we can do for him now.  Pull that lever there, Rainbow."

        The train lurched when Rainbow pulled the throttle, and Reckoning lurched with it.  His left wing shot out, but it wasn't enough to steady him, and his wounded side slammed down into the pool of blood lying atop the hard floor.

        "Whoa, Reckoning!  You okay?"

        "Fine," The stallion grumbled.  He rose gently to his hooves, stumbled, and collapsed again.  His broken wing and splint dripped with a painful stain as he again tried to stand.  

        Rainbow put a wing under his belly, and lent him her shoulder.  She found herself surprised at how cold the fresh blood was, but more troublesome was just how light her friend had become.  Even through his now-stained vest and the various knickknacks he'd stored in its pockets, she could feel his ribs clearly.

        "What's wrong with you, Reckoning?"

        "Thirsty," he muttered, leaning heavily against her side, and spreading the stain of blood onto her coat.  "Heat's getting to me, Dash.  Just... help me over to the controls there."  Together, the two pegasi limped toward the numerous levers at the face of the engine's roaring furnace.          

        Rainbow recoiled at the heat.  "You sure you want to be here?  I can stay, and you can–"

        "Do you know how to drive a train, Rainbow?"  He gave her one of his distinct smiles, though the wooziness in his visible eye left Dash less than amused.  "Relax; I'm giving you the hard job.  There might still be more of them on the train.  I'll be right here when you get back."  He slumped against the wall.  "If you could make it ice water, that'd be fantastic, kid."

        Rainbow nodded with much more determination than Reckoning's half-conscious, jestful nature seemed to suggest.  Turning around, she set back down the length of the train.


- - -


                "No, Scootaloo, for the last time, you may not go after Rainbow Dash."  Rarity pinched her muzzle with a hoof as her magic struggled to stitch a straight Manehattan seam in the dress on the model before her.  Both her needle and her hoof twitched, the latter further agitating her frazzled mane.  It was only when a purple-scaled claw came to rest on her withers that she took a moment to breathe.  "Thank you, Spike."
 
                "Do you think you should rest, Rarity?"
 
                The dressmaker nodded, allowing the drake to guide her to a couch.  "Perhaps you're right, Spike.  I seem to not be myself today."
 
                In truth, Rarity hadn't been herself for almost a week, since the nearly violent departure of the Apple's would-be hired help.  With Spike's help, she'd been able to manage, but she felt bad using him as such a crutch.  Still, she had her obligations–one of which was taking her turn minding Scootaloo in Rainbow Dash's absence.  The little filly wasn't making Rarity's recovery any easier.
 
                "But it would be totally safe!  I wouldn't have just Rainbow.  Mr. Reckoning would be there too!  And Resistant–"
 
                "I'll hear no more talk of that name, dear," Rarity interrupted rather forcefully, before rolling over on the well-cushioned chaise.  "Spike, be a dear and go see if Sweetie Belle is quite done with her bath."
 
                "No problem, Rarity."  The dragon bounded upstairs to the home part of the Carousel Boutique, leaving Rarity alone with Scootaloo.
 
                The filly wasted no time taking advantage of the situation.  "Come on, Rarity.  You and Rainbow's friends always get to go on cool adventures and fight monsters and stuff!  we never get to do anything."
 
                "If you think confronting Nightmare Moon or King Sombra is our idea of 'fun', Scootaloo, you have a great deal of growing up to do.  And in all honesty, I'm surprised you're still interested in any sort of adventure after what happened with Mr. Ink."
 
                "No way!  That was super cool, even if it wasn't as cool as Rainbow Dash."  Rarity buried her face in a hoof.  "How come Rainbow and Twilight and Mr. Ink get to go on cool adventures without getting yelled at?"
 
                At that comment, Rarity chuckled.  "Scootaloo, here's something I think you can understand.  You see, Rainbow Dash didn't tell any of her friends she was going on an... 'adventure', as you so optimistically put it."
 
                "Huh?"
 
                "She simply up-and-left.  We didn't even know she had left Ponyville until Fluttershy got you down from her house.  Of course, then we were able to put together what had happened, but it was too late to go after her.  That isn't to say we don't want her back, and in fact, you'll find that we're all very cross with her."  Rarity sighed.  "I just don't understand it.  Why couldn't she at least tell us she was leaving?  It certainly doesn't seem very loyal to just run off without saying so much as a word."  Rarity let out a very ladylike growl of annoyance and stomped a hoof on the frame of her couch.
 
                All of Carousel Boutique shook violently.  Slowly, Scootaloo and Rarity both turned their heads to stare directly at her idle forehoof.  The grown mare lifted the offending limb, rotating it slowly and examining it with curious eyes.  Surely she couldn't have put on that much weight... right?
 
                Then the building shook again, followed by a gale of tremendous wind that rattled the windows and sent a flurry of snow through the formerly-closed door.
 
                "What was that?" Scootaloo bothered to ask only once she was already halfway out of the boutique.  After momentarily bemoaning the cleaning her floor would need, Rarity followed.
 
                The 'that' to which Scootaloo had so aptly referred seemed at first to be a simple mismanagement of the weather.  The absence of its lead weathermare had not done good things for Ponyville's weather.  Clouds were out of place, snow was falling unevenly, and to top it all off, an enormous airship in royal blue and gold was plowing through the sky.  In fairness, most of the ponies in the small town agreed that even Rainbow Dash would have had trouble with the third problem.
 
                As the huge balloon and the somewhat smaller wooden craft hanging from its belly lowered toward the center of Ponyville, Rarity and Scootaloo joined a growing crowd in the town square.  Ponies had huddled together both to resist the strange and obviously magical winds of the vessel, and to see what exactly had brought the exotic craft to their small town.
 
                Rarity found herself wishing for a scarf, as a huge sort of sonic 'thud' emanated from the airship, rattling all the buildings and sending up a new flurry of wind and snow.  To her gratitude, some stallion stepped in front of both her and Scootaloo, absorbing the brunt of the weather.
 
                "Why thank you, my good sir."
 
                "Eeyup," the unmistakable stallion replied, before turning back to the ship.  "Any idea what's goin' on?"
 
                "Your guess is as good as mine, Macintosh."
 
                The gondola of the airship settled with surprising calm near the fountain in the center of town square, at which point a gangplank was quickly lowered in an aura of pale blue magic.  The ponies of Ponyville stopped what they were doing to watch who would come down.
 
                The first was a middle-aged mare with a coat of blue tarnished by wrinkles and graying hairs more likely caused by stress than actual age.  Beneath her gold helmet, she scanned the crowd with a cruel and analytical gaze, as if weighing the value of the civilians.  When she was unable to find her objective amongst the curious faces of the crowd, she continued down the gangplank calmly.
 
                "That's Lieutenant Flag," Scootaloo told the two grown ponies standing over her.  "She works for Mr. Ink."
 
                "Delightful," Rarity muttered, with rather more sarcasm than she had intended to reveal.  "Just what Ponyville needs.  More guardsponies."
 
                "She got in a fight with Mr. Reckoning at the bar in Canterlot."
 
                Rarity's brow dipped.  "It seems I'll have even more stern words for Rainbow Dash when she returns.  Now hush, darling.  Somepony else is coming."
 
                The next mare was more familiar to at least a few of the ponies in the crowd, even in rather different garb than she would most often be known for.  Barely thirty years old in yellow, crested with fiery orange, she swept her eyes slowly over the crowd behind shaded purple glass.  The smiling love of the spotlight that dominated her public persona was gone on a stern face. Its absence and her charisma were enough to set Ponyville on edge.  Her goal was business, and her business would be unpleasant.

                "Ooh!  That's Spitfire!"
 
                "Yes, Scootaloo, I recognize her too.  The Captain of the Wonderbolts.  Princess Celestia knows Rainbow Dash can't avoid talking about her for ten minutes on end."  Rarity rolled her eyes.  "Perhaps if you stay here for a moment, I'll have Spike take you to get an autograph or something."  A brief flicker of recognition flashed over Rarity's face, and her gaze flickered back toward the Carousel Boutique.
 
                Little did she know that in the basement of Carousel Boutique, Spike and Sweetie Belle had discovered a huge hole leading to the burrow of a Diamond Dog gem smuggling syndicate, who had made off with a huge portion of the Boutique's stock.  Or, at least, so Spike would claim when Rarity found a huge chest empty later that day.
 
        The last to emerge was an ancient mare, of a pale gray coat and a sheer white mane.  Wrinkles dominated her face around the squinting red of her eyes–wrinkles of stress and a hard life that stood in stark contrast to the forced smile on her jaw.  Rather than her companions' concerns, she looked at the gathered crowd with bemusement.  "I wasn't exactly expecting a reception like this, Flag.  Did I win the lottery?"

        A few ponies in the crowd chuckled, but the joke was lost on the pegasus of the Cutie Mark Crusaders, who shivered with wide eyes as the old mare leaned on the metal brace surrounding her right foreleg and limped her way down the gangplank on creaky knees.
 
        "Is something bothering you, Scootaloo?"
 
        "She's... the olden pony."
 
        Rarity had to crawl back in her memories to recognize the name.  "From Rainbow Dash's ghost story?  That's rather rude, Scootaloo.  I'm certain she's another respectable mare, or–" Rarity cut herself off when the pony in question began to speak.
 
        "Hello, Ponyville," she called out, in a somewhat creaky voice.  "It's been a long time since I've been back here.  My name is Captain Vigil.  My companions here are Captain Flag and Lieutenant Spitfire.  I'm sure some of you stallions recognize her as the centerfold from last summer's Special Edition of Sports Photographed."
 
        Good-natured laughter and a few whistles from less-than-tasteful stallions in the audience generally overrode the sour glare Spitfire offered Captain Vigil.  The old mare continued speaking when the noise died down, not offering the Wonderbolt a chance to voice her irritation.  "I'm sure my companions would love to spend some time here in your beautiful town, with its gorgeous..."  Vigil trailed off as her eyes scanned Ponyville for a notable landmark.  After nearly fifteen seconds of silence, she settled on a choice with a severe drop in enthusiasm.  "...fountain."  Sighing, she regained some of her momentum.  "Unfortunately, we're here on urgent business from Princess Celestia.  If you would all return to your homes, that would be wonderful.  For the moment, we're looking for a miss..."  Vigil glanced down at her hoof, where it wasn't hard to guess that a name was written.  A bit of snow sloughed off her hoof, explaining the struggle the older mare had reading the name.  "...Ra-arette?"
 
        White Flag mimicked Rarity's earlier motion, rubbing a hoof against her temple.  "It's Rarity, ma'am."
 
        "Well, when you're a hundred and seventy-five, we'll see how well you can read," Vigil snapped.  "Anyway, Ponyville, that was your cue.  Show's over.  Nothing to see here."  Shaking her hoof rather daintily, as one might expect of aged Trottingham noblility, she dispersed the crowd.  Soon, only Macintosh, Rarity, and Scootaloo were standing in the square with the guardsponies.
 
        Greetings were simple.  They began with Spitfire.  "Oh.  You."
 
        Rarity winced.  "I'm so sorry about your face, darling."
 
        Captain Vigil had to suppress a chuckle at the bluntness of the comment.  White Flag clearly didn’t see the humor, however, and stepped forward.  “Miss Rarity, we don’t have time to deal with...”  Then the mare paused, thinking.  “...whatever past it is you have with the Lieutenant.  You reported an attack by Soldier On?”

        Rarity nearly tore out her mane.  “That’s what this is about?!  I reported that a week ago!  I could have walked to Canterlot in the time it’s taken you!”

        White Flag removed her helmet and handed it to Spitfire.  The Wonderbolt grabbed it in a wing without any word.  Her mane freed, Flag brushed back her mane, and then looked Rarity straight in the eyes.  The guardsmare’s gaze was frigid and judging.  “The Royal Guard aren’t a bolt of lightning.  We don’t have magical relics to protect us; only instincts, training, and a few slabs of metal.  If I rushed six ponies after Soldier On, I would have the blood of six ponies on my conscience.  So if you think for one moment that–”

        “Calm down, Flag.”  Vigil advised as gently as she could manage, placing a hoof atop the unicorn mare’s back.  When the armored guardsmare had taken a few breaths, she stepped back, and Vigil took her place.  “You’ll have to forgive her, Rarity.  Flag’s been doing a very hard job for a long time.  You probably can’t tell from where you’re standing, but she’s managed to get Princess Celestia’s horn a rather good distance up her–”

        Macintosh brought his hooves down on Scootaloo’s ears, and consequently nearly crushed the poor filly’s skull.  

        “Not in front of her!” Spitfire shouted, gesturing to the same unfortunate youth.

        Vigil chuckled.  “You know what the great thing about being really old is, Spits?”

It was a testament to her authority and respect that Vigil wasn’t attacked on the spot, given the terrifying glare she earned from Spitfire.  Uncaring, she continued her speech.

“I can say whatever I want, cause I’m ‘senile’.”  She accompanied the final word by standing up on her hind legs and making airquotes with her forehooves–an impressive feat, given the brace restraining one of them.  Once she had all four hooves on the ground again, Vigil returned her attention to the other ponies present.  “You, Apple... are you Mary Ann Smith’s grandson?”

        Macintosh nodded.  “Eeyup.”

        “Figures your family would still be here.  It really has been a long time.”  Her eyes glanced between him and Rarity, before settling on Scootaloo.  “Your foal is adorable.”

        “What?” Rarity turned a bright shade of red, and it was likely Macintosh would have done the same in his stammering fit, were it not for the natural color of his coat.  “You think–  I, never–” Only halfway through her sixth broken thought did the seamstress realize that Vigil was quietly and knowingly chuckling to herself.  “Ah.  Really?  I must say, ma’am, your humor is rather coarse.”

        “Bah, some ponies just don’t get it.  But you do, don’tcha, Flag?”  After letting the ensuing silence hang in the air for a moment, Vigil sighed.  “Right, well, maybe you’re right, Rarity.  Your letter suggested Rainbow Dash, Dead Reckoning, and Soldier On were traveling together toward Suida, correct?”

        Collecting herself, Rarity nodded.  “That’s what... she... seemed to be suggesting.  I made clothes for them, for the desert.  At the time, I didn’t know...”  Rarity let her voice trail off.

        “Was it just the three of them?”

        “To my knowledge.”

        “Were they armed?”

        Rarity looked up.  “That mare–”

        “Soldier On,” White Flag supplied.

        “Yes, her.  She didn’t have any weapons that I saw, but she threatened Spike, and Twilight’s friend, Miss Solo, with a pair of those garish iron farming shoes.”

        Flag pinched her muzzle.  “I knew sending that mare with Sparkle was a bad idea.  We’ll have to hope Captain Ink finds them.  Have they left for Stalliongrad, Rarity?”

        “They left almost a week ago.  In fact, I believe it was later that same night.”

        “Perfect.”  Flag’s voice oozed sarcasm, as her hoof traced patterns in the snow.  “Did On and Rainbow leave that night as well?”

        “That afternoon, there was train heading for Appleloosa.  Twilight and I thought it would just be her, until Rainbow and Mr. Reckoning disappeared.  When we got Scootaloo here down from Rainbow’s cloud-house, we confirmed it.”  Rarity gestured into the distance, where Rainbow’s glorious home was visible through the light clouds still depositing snow on the town.

“Is that a Silver Lining?” Spitfire asked.  “Where’d she get the money for that?”

“He’s her grandfather,” Flag muttered casually, not looking up from the patterns her hoof was making in the snow before her.  “He pays the property taxes for it too; she can’t afford it on a weathermare’s salary.”

 Rarity’s eyes widened.  “How do you know that?  And for that matter, what gives you the right to invade her privacy?”

“She’s a Bearer of Harmony,” Flag said, her tone the very definition of factual business.  “We keep tabs.”  And then, without changing her tone in the slightest, the older mare added another simple thought.  “Legally speaking, mining gems on land you don’t own is an imprisonable offense.”

“Lay off, Flag,” Vigil warned.

The unicorn sighed.  “Scootaloo... you’re the filly Rainbow Dash brought to Canterlot not long ago, correct?”

“Yeah.  She’s my sister.”  Scootaloo stepped forward.  “I remember you.  You weren’t very nice to Mr. Reckoning.”

Rarity was expecting a stern answer from the mare.  Instead, she looked Scootaloo in the eyes.  “You’re right.  I wasn’t.  Sometimes, ponies need tough love to learn from their mistakes.  But right now, Scootaloo, we’d like your help.”

“Huh?”

“Beg pardon, what?”

        “Flag, what are you–”

        The new Captain of the Royal Guard ignored the complaints of the others present.  “I’d like you to help me bring Rainbow Dash and... Mister Reckoning back.”

        Big Macintosh stepped forward, his hoof dragging through some of whatever figures Flag had put in the snow.  “Ya can’t just take her away!”

        “I think you’ll find, Mr. Apple, that Scootaloo is a ward of the state.  And as a result, on my authority as Captain of the Royal Guard, I can do exactly that.”

        Macintosh moved to take another step forward, and Flag’s horn ignited.

“Now, now, there’s no call for that.”  Vigil stopped Mac’s approach with one hoof against his chest, while her other seemed enough to lower the aura from Flag’s horn.  While the hoof on Flag’s shoulder dropped quickly, the one the ancient mare had placed on Macintosh only moved lower, rubbing sensuously across his body.  “So if Scootaloo isn’t your filly, does that mean you’re single?”  Her hoof keep going, first between his front legs, and then reaching under him toward the more reserved parts of his body.  Vigil completed the act by biting her lip, and dropping her eyelids halfway.  

The look in Vigil’s eyes would haunt Macintosh’s dreams for the rest of his life.  “Nnnope!” he managed to yelp, before turning tail and galloping away full tilt.  The two unicorn mares present seemed unamused, but Spitfire and Scootaloo shared a barely-contained chuckle at the fleeing stallion.

“See, Flag?” the earth pony asked, her voice returning to a much closer approximation of seriousness.  “Much more efficient than trying to teleport somepony his size.”

“I’ll try to keep it in mind, ma’am,” Flag answered flatly.

        Rarity cocked her head.  “You were going to try and teleport him?”

        “Hostile teleportation,” Flag replied, rubbing a pulsing vein on her brow.  “A trying spell, even for a younger mare than myself.  I know better than to fight an earth pony of his size from that close.”  The allusion in the words was lost on nopony present.

“Really?  Awesome!  How far could you teleport him?” Scootaloo asked, her curiosity piqued.

“Not very far; across town, maybe.  It’s based on the subject’s weight.”

Scootaloo jumped up.  “How far could you teleport me?”

Flag stared at the pegasus filly with a brow raised for a moment, dragged her hoof very rapidly through the snow for about three seconds, and then looked up again.  “Thirteen point six miles... give-or-take.  That would be as far as opposite end of Sweet Apple Acres, if my mental map is to scale.”

“Cool!  Do it!”

Flag rolled her eyes, and then shook her head.  “I’m sorry, Scootaloo.  It seems I’m... a bit tired.  Go see Spitfire; I’m sure she’ll be happy to share her quarters on the ship.”

Spitfire winced visibly at the comment, but held her tongue nevertheless.

        “Now hold on–” Rarity began.

        “No,” Flag answered.  Then she turned, and waited for the Wonderbolt to guide her new ‘protege’ up the gangplank to their ship.  Once they were gone, she stepped up to the white mare, until their horns were nearly touching.  “Now that I can speak candidly, let me be clear.  I need Scootaloo for the exact same reason that I chose the ‘Captain’ of the Wonderbolts over a dozen more militarily talented soldiers.  My first priority is to bring Rainbow Dash back alive.  Bringing her back unharmed is a secondary concern.  Do you follow, Rarity?”

        “I believe I do,” Rarity responded, though her strained tone made it all too clear that she wasn’t happy about the situation.  “She isn’t just a token to be traded.”

        “Everypony is a token,” Flag replied, as she moved to turn and walk away.  “If you don’t believe that, look up my name in a history book.”  

Rarity’s nose crinkled up, and her horn sparked to life.  A moment later, a ball of snow collided with the back of Flag’s head, painting even more of her coat white than her mane naturally managed.  “Don’t you dare hurt her.”

After a delay came simple words.  “I promise,” the guardsmare lied.  “Captain Vigil, we should be leaving.  We’ll catch On at Razorback Ridge.”  With a flick of her mane, the new Captain of the Royal Guard rid herself of the last remnants of Rarity’s snowball, and climbed the gangplank.  

Rarity watched the airship take off a few moments later, silently praying that Celestia’s chosen would be kind enough to spare a little filly the harshness of their world.


- - -


        There are some constants in the hearts and minds of ponies; unyielding stone and steel that built the soul of a pony, whose bending or cracking can just as easily destroy a life completely as change it for the better.

        The Commander afforded himself no time to reflect on his own brokenness; his attention was devoted to the destruction of another.  Though his body was still too broken to truly fight, Khagan's torture had given him a weapon.  Now he stood, his shoulder pressed against the doorframe of his tiny cell, with his own rear femur sharpened into a blade that jutted from between his teeth.  His tongue darted with a surprising familiarity around the improvised handle, allowing speech with a surprising clarity.

        "You're sure they're there?"

        "What, don't you trust me, Commander?"

        "I don't have a choice," the stallion muttered to the figment of the Draconequus lingering on the wall beside his face.  Discord smiled, shaking his head.  The Commander concluded his thought simply.  "I'd rather not."

        "You are going to keep your promise?"

        The Commander growled, though he had no time to answer.  The door began to creak open, and his faded brown eyes grew more focused in the light leaking from the outside hallway.  The jailer, One-Tusk, walked into the room.  The Commander only had a second at most as realization dawned.

        For Celestia's bodyguard, that was all the time in the world.

        The blade of pale bone wasn't sharp or long enough to decapitate the boar, as he would have preferred while wielding Commander Hurricane's legendary blade.  But where the Gladius Procellarum was long and sharp, the jagged blade of bone was thin and pointed, sized perfectly to fit between the ridges of a boar's spine.

        The stallion's legs were too weak and too wounded to catch the body, so he let it slump to the ground.  A sharp jerk of his neck retrieved his gruesome blade.  He knew he had no time for hesitation, so his parting words were brief.

        "May you find the peace you were never given in life."

        Then he ran.  The motion was jarring and painful, marked by the limping of his right hind leg and the occasional missteps of the others, even despite the torturous regenerations Khagan had inflicted.

        There was no time for words, but his only companion had no need for sound to converse.  "Wait, what are you doing?" the carving running along the wall beside the stallion asked.

        Escaping, the Commander answered in silence.

        "I told you help was coming, not that you needed to run off on your own!"

        Aren't you supposed to like chaos? the Commander wondered, as his mind retraced the passageways of the desert fortress.

        "I like not being a lawn ornament an awful lot more!" Discord snapped back.  "That means I need you not to do anything stupid!"

        The caves were a network of tunnels carved from muddy red stone and supported with rotting timbers of wood from water-starved trees.  The only lights were from the tiny windows set into the walls where they curved across into the ceiling; despite the roaring heat and blinding brightness of the Suidan badlands, the tunnels were dark and thick and foggy.  They suited the Commander perfectly, half-blinded as he was behind the pain of his every step.  He'd carved the pathways slowly into his own memory with every step he was forced to take between his cell and the outer grounds of the fortress where Khagan's chosen had the honor of tearing him limb from limb day in and day out.  He'd watched them fight over who would get to rip his hooves off, or smash out his teeth with boulders one by one.  And each time, Khagan's magic would undo the damage, that the suffering might continue.  

                A part of the Commander screamed to fight the huge boar, but the knowledge of the task's futility won out.  He could no more fight their warchief than raise the sun with his own hooves.  Even the average boar was beyond his talents without the aid of ambush, as broken as his body was.  And so, in the dark hallways he ran.  His shattered wings, looking almost black in the shadows, flapped uselessly at his sides.  The broken bones had fused in the passing of months with the warchief's aid, their crests facing backward toward his single cutie mark, and the wretched scar that had stolen its partner.

        Each time he rounded a corner, cold blood surged through his heart.  Would there be a boar waiting?  Would he run face-first into Khagan himself?  The empty halls were a gamble over a miracle, but there were still too many things that could go wrong.

        Disappointed by the stallion's lack of a response, Discord 'spoke' up again.  "If you could escape this whole time, why wait until now?"

        I didn't know the way out; I had to memorize the right path whenever they carried me outside.  I needed an escape route, which you've provided.  And I needed a weapon."

        "What about your magic sword?  And the armor–"

        Not worth dying over.  The Commander's eyes momentarily glanced down a path that led deeper into the fortress.  Yet despite his memories, he knew better than to endure temptation.

        His hooves carried him to a window set lower on the wall than the others, and glanced outside.  What he saw brought a smile to his face.  Discord had been right.

        A caravan of camels, with their wagons and their wares, had pulled up outside the narrow entrance to the boar fortress in the muddy red crescent of a cliff wall.  Even the conquering barbarians had need of trade, and only the nomads were hardy enough to brave the Suidan wastes.  The boars had abandoned the inner fortress in search of trade and company.  Even Khagan himself was there, looming over the goods at no less than thrice the height of the camel traders.

        The visitors were garbed in their traditional clothing: light linen coats and turbans, wound around their faces so that a simple tug could create a veil or a visor to protect against the sand and the dust of the deep desert.  An easy disguise to hide a pony, with only a fortress worth of boars standing in his way.

        His staggering run carried him to the singular opening in the cliff wall, where the inner fortress opened to the sheltered valley surrounded on three sides by the moon-shaped walls.  There, he pressed himself against the shadows and silently thanked his maker for the deep blue tone of his coat.  

        I need your help, Discord.

        "Well, I don't know what you expect me to do," the Spirit huffed into the Commander's mind.  "I told you, the long distance takes a lot of magic.  I can do maybe one trick, but I can't make anything too big for you.  You want a small sandstorm or something?"

        It was a perfect lead-in; a different stallion might have made some clever comment about chaos or deceptions.  But the stern face of the Commander simply shook back and forth slightly.  No, Discord.  Not a distraction.  A disguise.


- - -


        Rainbow was the first off the train, unrestrained by the heavy doors of the passenger cars.  Her first glimpse of Hogden was a quiet town with a rampant surplus of pig pens and wheat fields.  Ponies went about their business in simple clothes, save the pair of black-suited stallions approaching her.  They looked a bit like government types, save for the friendly smiles they wore with clear practice.  A pair of nametags labeled them as Brother Statement and Brother Impossible.

        "Hello, ma'am," the stallion named Statement called out.  His mouth opened to deliver another sentence, but he was cut off when the rest of the train doors flew open, and a crowd of terrified ponies flooded out upon the quiet town.  The two stallions stared in confusion at the unrestrained confusion, until Impossible seemed to give up on understanding and returned his attention to Rainbow.  

        "Do you have a moment to talk about Princess Celestia?"

        Rainbow scowled.  "What about her?"

        "You see, ma'am, we represent the Chur–"  



        The words stopped instantly when a third stallion joined the scene.  Dead Reckoning seemed to be feeling much better when he stepped down onto the planks that made up the train-station platform.  The pale, almost papery body of the train engineer hung limp on his back, gathering the attentions of the civilians in the desert town.  Even the town's namesake pigs stared in uneasy interest from nearby pens.

        "Wh... what happened?" Impossible stammered.

        "The train was attacked," Reckoning told them as gently as he could, even as his eyes scanned their curious garb.  "You're from the Church of the Sun?"

        "Yes," Statement nodded.  "Are you a member?"

        Reckoning shook his head.  "This is not the time.  I'd like you two to bring the passengers to your local church.  Get them food and a place to stay.  If you have a pegasus, have them fly to Salt Lick and get a team of rangers.  And take this one..."  Reckoning set the drained corpse gently onto the train platform.  "The train company should be able to find his family and let them know."

        "Of course," Impossible noted.  "But what about you two?"

        Reckoning adjusted his flat-topped near-cowpony hat and smiled.  "Doing Celestia's work, colts.  If you see a mare about four feet tall come in from up the tracks, send her to the saloon for us."  And with that utter lack of explanation, Reckoning started off into town.

        Rainbow watched as the two religious stallions shared a concerned glance, but both must have decided not to press the one-eyed pony for further information.  Rainbow walked off the platform after her friend, and it was then that a question came.

        "Are you Rainbow Dash?"

        Before the mare in question could answer, Reckoning turned and spoke.  "You know our cousin?"

        Statement shrugged.  "She's been in the newspapers enough; I'd wager most ponies would recognize that rainbow mane.  Not too common... but I guess it runs in the family."

        "Heh," Reckoning chuckled, his eye turning toward Rainbow.  "Well, last I heard, Rainbow Dash still lives up north near Canterlot.  Now, we're a bit busy, stallions, but I'll be sure Princess Celestia hears about your assistance."

        As if he had spoken magic words, the two suited stallions rushed off into the mass of panicked passengers, struggling with all their might to bring order to the chaos.  Reckoning waited for Rainbow to catch up, and then immediately set his hat atop her head.

        "What was that for?" Rainbow asked, once everypony else was out of earshot.

        Reckoning grumbled.  "You're too famous, Rainbow.  Come on.  I'll buy you a hat."

        "Then why'd you give me this one?"

        "So we can walk down the street to the store," Reckoning answered.  "I like that hat."

        Hogden was a small town, with one major street of storefronts along a dusty road of packed red soil.  A few ponies mulled about, but most had been distracted by the chaos at the train station.  Rainbow watched as they charged past, paying no mind to the two young pegasi wandering further into town together.  

        She recognized most of the buildings.  A salt-lick and cantina named 'Dusty's', a general store, and a proper inn were among the more notable buildings.  Soon, however, her attention was drawn to the huge structure of whitewashed stone and plaster at the far end of the main street.  Two huge steeples framed a wide facade with open window-frames devoid of any glass.  Between the steeples lay a huge gilded emblem of the sun, matched perfectly to the style of Celestia's cutie mark.  The glare from the metal was blinding.  

        "What's that building?" Rainbow asked her companion.

        "The Church of the Sun," the ex-Honor Guard explained.  "They worship Celestia as a god..." Reckoning stared off for a moment.  "...Celeste, the way they say it.  Praise her for raising the sun and driving away evil.  It's kinda funny, actually.  She hates being called a goddess."

        "So why doesn't she stop it?"

        Reckoning shrugged.  "They aren't hurting anypony, unless you count getting annoyed when they knock on the door to talk to you."  Reckoning chuckled slightly.  "I've never bought into that sort of thing.  You can ask your dad if you want to know more."
        
        "My dad?"  Rainbow cocked her head, and had to catch Reckoning's hat with a wing to keep it from toppling into the dirt.  "You're kidding, right?"

        "'Fraid not, Dash."  Reckoning's good wing wrapped over Rainbow's poncho-covered back, and pulled her toward the far side of the street.  "He never talked about it much... Never really talked about anything much.  But he always prayed before we went out on a mission."  Looking up, the stallion realized he'd reached the door to the shop. 

        The door to the milliners swung open without creak or resistance, and the two pegasi paced inside.  Rainbow's nostrils were filled with curious, unfamiliar scents.  Oils and lotions mixed with what could only have been drying felt and tanned leather.  The place felt as old as the rugged stallion sitting behind the counter, glaring at the 'young'uns' in his shop.  

        Reckoning seemed bored with the displays, but Rainbow found her way around.  

        "What're you lookin here for?" the shop's owner asked.  "Most kids your age wouldn't know the importance of a proper piece of headgear."

        "We aren't most kids," Reckoning answered with a bit more edge than Rainbow was used to hearing in his voice.  "Got any Boss of the Plains?"

        "For her?"  The older stallion scoffed.  "I'd sooner sell her a sombrero.  She doesn't have half the size to wear one of those hats right."

        "We don't care how it looks," Reckoning pressed.  "She needs something wide-brimmed, to keep the sun off her face while we're traveling."

        "Look, kid,"  Reckoning's glare grew narrower at the sounding of the three-letter word.  "A hat means a lot more than just keeping the sun out of your eyes.  It says a lot about the pony wearing it."

        Rainbow looked up, with a gray bowler hanging from her hoof.  "What's that supposed to mean?"

        The stallion, who could only be described as 'grizzled', shrugged.  "Just the way hats work, miss; at least, down here in the San Pal, they do.  One good glance, and you can tell a lot about a pony.  Are they practical, or adventurous?   What do they think of themselves?  Rich or poor?  Dangerous, or full of hot air?"  He gestured to Rainbow.  "Or when a mare is wearing her coltfriend's hat."

        Reckoning snatched his hat off Rainbow's head with a dexterous flip of his good wing, and deposited it on his own head.  "There.  Happy?"

        "Well, it works for you," the store owner answered.  "But for her, I'd recommend a cady."

        "A what?"

        The hatmaker lurched out from behind his counter and across the room to a display of straw hats.  With a deft hoof, he flipped a flat-topped straw hat with a royal blue ribbon onto Rainbow's head.  Her ears folded down not only from the pressure, but from his invasion of her space.  He stepped back and smiled.  "There you go!  Perfect!"  With a hoof, he gestured to a mirror.

        Only a moment later, Reckoning's wing had throw the hat back onto its rack.

        "What do you think you're doing?" the shopkeeper asked.

        Reckoning growled.  "It looks moronic.  She's not in a barbershop quartet!  Give her something with some spine!  How about a Panamare?"

        From there, the conversation only grew more abrupt and more forceful.  The two stallions yelled and pointed hooves, and generally made a mountain out of a hill of hats.  Rainbow's head was beginning to throb from the would-be machismo of the two warring factions.

        "Then just give her a fedora!" Reckoning yelled, grabbing a hat from the wall.

        "That's a trilby, kid!  And I'd sooner cut-me-own-throat than sell one of those to an impressionable young mare!"

        "Guys!" Rainbow interrupted, flaring her wings to grab their attention.  In the ensuing silence, both Reckoning and the physically older stallion slowly turned until their eyes were locked on her, and the garment gracing the top of her head.

        It was a wide-brimmed thing, like a cowpony hat, with two distinct ridges that ran over the crown.  Beautiful tan felt was wrapped in a single piece of blue satin ribbon, pinned in the front with a small golden bead.  The left side of the brim had been folded up and pinned to the side of the crown with another flat rounded pin; this one was larger, and centered on a gemstone striped in all the colors of the wearer's mane and tail.  

        "A... slouch hat?" the shopkeeper muttered, his mouth slightly open.  "Why didn't I think of that?"

        Rainbow looked down at the floor and crossed her forelegs.  "This good, Reckoning?"

        The stallion struggled for words, until finally he had no better choice than to speak his mind.  "You look beautiful, Rainbow."

        "What?"

        The weathermare looked up to find her wounded friend staring down at his own hooves as well.  "I said it looks great, Rainbow.  It fits you well."  He turned to the shopkeeper.  "How much?"

        “One hundred and twenty-four bits.”

        “And here I thought we killed the train robbers,” Deadeye mumbled as he retrieved his money.

        A few words, a clatter of coins and the swish of a well-oiled door later, Rainbow and Reckoning made their way out of the small shop.  Her poncho fluttered in the dusty wind, rattling the transparent sword strapped to her side.  She stepped toward Reckoning, and for a moment, she felt the pressure of his presence through his vest.  Then he casually stepped away, and the comfort was gone.

        Unlike the entrance to the hat shop, the saloon doors creaked and groaned as the two ponies entered.  Without hesitating to address the mare behind the bar or the regulars who glanced up from their drinks, Reckoning spotted an empty corner booth and moved straight into it.  Rainbow followed close behind.

        They sat, eye to eyes, in total silence, until the mare from behind the bar wandered over.  "Can I get you two some drinks?" she asked, with an accent that made her sound rather airheaded.  "We've got some special licks with mint in 'em today, if you want."

        "Uh..."  Rainbow shrugged.  "I guess we'll take waters."

        "Just the one," Reckoning cut in, even as he tilted his hat forward to cut off the waitress' view of his eyes.  "I'm not thirsty."

        Rainbow stared at her friend in confusion, and then placed a hoof atop his.  The strange chill of his flesh only worried her further.  “Reckoning, just get yourself a drink.  You almost passed out on the train.”

        "I'm fine, Rainbow," Reckoning growled through gritted teeth, as his hoof slid out from under hers and up under the brim of his hat to fiddle with his eye patch.  "Get your water, and sit quietly.  On will be here soon."

        The mare standing beside their table seemed taken aback.  "So... one water, then?"

        "Ignore him," Rainbow told the waitress.  “Two waters.”

        "Didn't realize you were so thirsty," Reckoning muttered.

        The waitress' eyes jumped between the two, confused.  "Uh..."

        The scout finished scratching his eye-socket, and lifted the brim of his hat.  With a noncommital flip of his hoof, he admitted defeat, or at least the lack of a desire to continue the argument.  The mare scurried off, and Reckoning leveled his attention on Rainbow.  "What do you think you’re doing, Rainbow?"

        "Like you don't know."  Rainbow folded her forelegs over her chest.

        The 'older' stallion's rolled his eye.  "I'm not a foal, Rainbow.  Remember who's almost seventy years old here."

        "So I'm not allowed to be worried about you?"

        "Not when there's nothing to be worried about, no.  I don't need you telling me what I need to drink or eat, or when to go to bed."

        "What's your problem, Reckoning?  What's the big deal?"

        "The big deal?"  Reckoning's good wing flared out, and Rainbow saw the hint of sparks on the tips of his pinions.  The stallion's hoof shook as he pulled the hat from his head, and then ran the same hoof through his mane.  It seemed almost black in the poor lighting of the room, and something about the motion suggested not the age of the stallion's body, but his soul.  He sighed deeply, and his wing folded back on itself.  Only then did he find the strength to look Rainbow in the eye.  "Look, Rainbow, I'm sorry.  This whole business with dying, and your dad, and..."  He shook his head again, and then turned away.  His focus hovered lazily at the far side of the room.  "I'm just trying to make up my mind about some things."  And then, to Rainbow's surprise, he added another thought.  "Looking at you, I really do see Easy Breeze sometimes."

        "Huh?"

        Reckoning gestured lazily with his wing, vaguely outlining Rainbow's silhouette.  "Out here.  But..."  His wing poked the mare squarely in the center of her chest.  "You've got a lot of him here."

        "What?" Rainbow asked.  "Reckoning, what are you talking about?  Where'd that even come from?"

        “I’m just thinking out loud, Rainbow.  Trying to figure things out.”  The stallion removed his hat, and laid it down on the table.  “I thought I’d made up my mind when I made my deal with Luna.  Come back, save the Commander, and leave again.  But now I’m thinking.”

        “About what you could do if you stayed?”

        Reckoning chuckled to himself.  “Something like that, yeah.  I guess I’m just trying to decide if it’s worth it.”

        In the lull between his slow words, the mare from behind the bar returned with two round glasses, sweating onto their coasters in the desert heat.  Rainbow took hers between her hooves.  She’d downed half of the drink by the time the waitress managed to find her way back to the regulars.  Reckoning smiled a little bit, wistfully, and shook his head.  “What about you, Rainbow?”

        “What do you mean?” the younger pegasus asked after a satisfying gasp.

        “What you said back in Ponyville.  You’re in the same boat as me, right?”

        “We haven’t been in the same boat since we took that canoe in Zebrica,” Rainbow told him with a teasing smile.

        He humored the comment with a forced smile, but his eye made it clear he didn’t find any real amusement in her words.  “You’re dodging the question, Dash.  You know what I meant.”

        “Yeah,” Rainbow answered, avoiding his gaze.  “I guess I’m not really done.  You know what I mean?  I haven’t even made the Wonderbolts yet, no thanks to my dad.  And I still have my friends.  You know what I mean, Reckoning?”  With that last comment, she looked straight into his eye, driving home her point.

        He nodded.  “That’s my problem.  Before Zebrica, The Commander was the only friend I really had left.  Everypony else was dead.  My platoon from the war with the griffons.”  He shook his head.  “Easy Breeze.”

        “Did you really know her that well?” Rainbow asked.

        Reckoning couldn’t help but chuckle.  “You don’t want me to answer that question, Rainbow.  The point was, I didn’t really have anypony who’d miss me.  I was getting old.  I knew it would happen, some day; I thought I’d come to terms with that.  But then you showed up...”  

        Rainbow watched the way his eye darted to the side as he sighed deeply.  “Celestia, I sound like a new recruit who’s just met the love of his life, don’t I?  I guess my point is, Rainbow, that you’re my friend.  And there’s a part of me that doesn’t want to say goodbye so soon.”

        “So don’t!”  It seemed like an obvious answer to the younger mare.  “Nopony says you have to.”

        “It isn’t that simple, Rainbow,” Reckoning began, as his hoof moved toward his eyepatch again.  Whatever he'd meant to show her was lost when the saloon's doors slammed open.  

The shaded outline in the door could only belong to Soldier On.  Dust and sweat coated her body, and Rainbow could see a few splotches of blood on her jacket, alongside scrapes and frayed patches around the edges, but her own body seemed entirely free of wounds or damage.         

The huge earth pony scanned the room quickly, spotted Reckoning and Rainbow, and galloped over.  Rainbow scooted further into their little booth, only to be shoved aside even more by the earth pony’s incredible inertia.  

“Whoa!  What happened?” Rainbow asked, as soon as she’d recovered from being thrust aside.

“Let her catch her breath, Rainbow.”

Looking at Soldier On’s face, Rainbow would have guessed she’d aged ten years in the few hours since the train robbery that morning.  Her normally controlled mane was loose, spilling down over her eyes, which darted back and forth between Reckoning and Rainbow with a barely restrained urgency.  The only thing that kept her from speaking up immediately was her struggle to catch her breath.  After a moment of sucking down air, she grabbed Reckoning’s untouched glass of water, and afforded herself a few slow sips.  It was strange, somehow, to see her behaving like a mortal pony, hunched over the table weary and tired.

After the water and the air had restored her, On brushed her mane back from her face with a broad and dusty hoof, and leveled her gaze on the pegasi at her table.

“We need to go.”

“Rangers?” Reckoning asked.  “Or did Flag catch up already?”

On shook her head, taking another sip of her water.  “No.”

“So what’s the big rush?”  Reckoning raised the brow over his remaining eye.  “I mean, obviously the Commander needs us, but you came in here like your tail was on fire.”

On delivered her next words as if they were razor blades sliding along her tongue.  “They hurt the colt.”
        
        “What?!”  Rainbow rose, standing on the cushion of the booth.  “Rocket?”

        On nodded.  “We need to go to Brayce Canyon, and─”

        “Hold your horses,” Reckoning interrupted, placing both hooves firmly on the table.  “I know how you are with foals, On, but let’s be rational here.  Rainbow and I already called for a team of Rangers to deal with the train robbers; I figured that would keep them busy.  The last thing we want is to do is head to Brayce Canyon now.”

        “What about Rocket?” Rainbow asked.  “You said they hurt him?”

        On seemed haunted for a moment, before her resolution returned with a terse nod.  “I had two of them pinned when their leader showed himself.  An earth pony named Zakat.  Called himself Sundown in Equiish.”

        “Wait...”  Reckoning cocked his head.  “A Stalliongradian?”

        “That’s what he claimed.  I didn’t recognize him from the Revolution.  But he knew how things worked.  He stayed well out of my reach, and kept the colt between us so I couldn’t buck a shoe at him.  But I still had two of his stallions.  I told him I’d trade hostages, and then let him go; he agreed.”  On looked away, ashamed and angry.  “I was stupid.”

        Reckoning cocked his head.  “What happened?”

        “He let Rocket go; as soon as he was out of Sundown’s leg-reach, I figured he’d be safe.  I let go of the bandits, and they scampered over to their friends.  Then Sundown turned around.  I thought he was going to walk away, until he drew.”

        Reckoning’s eyes widened in disbelief, just as Rainbow’s mirrored the motion out of confusion.  “Drew?”

On removed one of the shoes on her foreleg, and slid it Reckoning’s way.  She seemed too consumed by her own thoughts to do any more.  Reckoning pulled back his hoof and stomped on the heel of the shoe.  Like a flipped coin, the curve of bladed skysteel popped into the air, before clattering back to the tabletop.  “That’s the draw,” Reckoning explained.  “Comes right before you buck a shoe.  Lots of earth ponies, especially here in San Palomino, buck shoes for weapons; a blunt one will break your ribs, or your neck if you take a bad hit.  Bladed shoes are messier.  Either way, they’re innacurate, even when they’re made for bucking like these one’s I made for On.”  Reckoning noted the little flanged ‘wings’ sticking out from both the prongs of the skysteel shoe.  “Everypony knows you can’t hit a flying pegasus with a bucked shoe; especially not a little colt like him.”

On shook her head.  “He did it.  Hit the kid.”

“Just a blunt shoe, right?” Reckoning asked.  

The pause that ensued put icebergs in Rainbow’s veins.  Finally, the young pegasus could endure it no longer.  “Is he alright?  Is he alive?”

“They wouldn’t let him die,” On answered.  “Sundown needs the hostage.”

“So he’s okay?”

Soldier On’s head moved slowly to her side, reaching under the bloody spots on her coat.  What she pulled out from beneath her jacket made Rainbow retch, and sent spots across her vision.

The wing was light blue, just barely a darker shade than Rainbow’s own feathers.  From its size, it might have been Scootaloo’s.  The clean cut where it ought to have met a colt’s shoulder was covered in mostly crusted blood, though a few drops fell onto the polished wood of the tabletop.  Rainbow could see her reflection on the gleaming surface, just beside the grisly token.  She saw the wrinkles form on her own muzzle, as her shock melted away.  She saw her brow crease down into a wedge.  She smelled the coppery scent of blood, and the salty stench of sweat, and the subtle hint of smoke, as the tips of her own wings grew warmer.

“We’re going after Rocket,” Rainbow ordered.  

“But there are Rangers–”

“They won’t be enough,” On told him.  “They’ll try to negotiate, and Sundown will get away, or Rocket will get hurt again.”

Reckoning held out a hoof as his tongue struggled to keep up with his mind in protest.  “On, Rainbow, this is insane.  There are three of us, and I can’t fly right now!  We can’t take all of them.  Especially not on their turf.  Do you even know where they are?  Brayce Canyon is huge!”

“One of them told me,” On answered.  “They have a camp near Sundown Point–like his name.”

“Let’s go,” Rainbow noted, moving to stand up.  

“Damn it, you two, listen to me!”  Reckoning propped himself up on the table by his forelegs, and thus managed to look the mare in the eyes.  “I spent years doing what you’re talking about in Zebrica.  I had a team of twelve hoof-trained for hit-and-fly tactics behind enemy lines in unknown territory.  Twelve!  And I still lost a guard just about every mission.  You want to take just the three of us?”

“I’ll do it alone if I have to,” On noted with a terrible determination, before glancing back to Rainbow.  “But it seems like I have one partner, at least.”

“Don’t you get it?  It’ll be a massacre!”

On nodded, stood up, and began walking toward the saloon’s doors.  “I’m glad we finally agree, Reckoning.”