Spike walked through the narrow streets, keeping pace with the four other people. This place was different, yet so similar to the bazaar. It was noisy, yes, but the only shops were decorative, and built into the reddish-brown wall of the canyon. What they sold was finer than anything he had seen back in the desert town as well. They sold silks, and leathers. Blades and even a few guns.
The streets were held with neat, stone slabs that seemed to fit so perfectly with one another. The people who trekked these streets were much the same as those of the bazaar. They were probably the same people. There were no trees save a few, and those grew out of the side of the canyon.
Spike looked deeper into the canyon, he could see were it would seem that a river started. Farther than that there was, what looked like, a massive castle. It reminded him of Canterlot. He assumed, that was where they were headed. On either side, he saw where building were built on top of each other. They seemed to be slums, but they were no less interesting. He looked at Applejack, she was still angry, yes, but she could not hide her interest in the city.
Mac, however, kept his solemn demeanor. Silent, as always. People looked up at him, half in wonder, half in fear. But who could blame them? He was twice as tall as the normal man, and his muscles, though not distinct, pulled his reddish overcoat close to him. The fact that his face was covered mostly in wraps didn't help much either. Especially since his only visible eye held such malice. But he could not help it. He had been stared at all his life, even among his native people in Atlas he was tall. He strode on, staying right beside Applejack. In her, he saw something delicate. Something worth protecting.
As the group walked, the buildings showed more, and more craftsmanship. Now they looked as if they were pure works of art, and the people looked as if they were wearing art. The edge they were walking on came to a turn, and they stopped, as if to show off the grandeur of the city. The river, and canyon split off into separate path ways. The river itself went in to three directions, from here. The separate branches were only half as wide as the main one, but that had not stopped them from building next to them either.
Above the main river, Spike found that the palace was no where near as large as it seemed from a distance, but was in no way less amazing. It was built upon a natural arch made of rock, and that had held this castle for many years, and would do so for many years to come.
On the far side, to his left, Spike could see an elegant building built at the end of a small nook that led from one wall, to the other. Before that, he saw what looked like cages with people inside them. There was no doubt what that building was for.
The old man pointed at the palace, his finger wrinkled with age. "That, is where we're going. You'll be appraised, and assigned to your tasks."
Applejack turned her head to him, "What'dya mean appraised?"
"I mean," her turned to look her in the eye,"we will decide how much we value you all. You specifically. "
"Why me?"
"We've already some plans on what to do with each of you, but we need approval."
"Ho-"
"That's all," He put his hand up. "I'm going to tell you."
Applejack glared at him.
The group took the only option given, and went down the steps to their right, and across the bridge to their left at the bottom. All the way across, Spike peered down the river, past the many boats, and ships at the many docks. It led to, what seemed to be, an ocean, or at least some other large body of water. The sun gleamed off of it, reminding him of the time he spent on the boat over. On the far side, there were mountains. Tall, and far. So far that anyone with lesser vision would not have noticed them. Then he realized, just how hot he hadn't realized it was in the desert, canyon or not. He rolled up the sleeves of his jacket, as quickly as he might. Then, he looked over to Mac, eyeing his coat. How could he stand that thing?
After the bridge, they made their way up a stair-case that clung to the canyon wall and bent at the squared off turn, just as the canyon did where two walls met. No one else dared this stair way. It led to the palace, and felt too precarious for anything resembling comfort. Fittingly, each step looked less, and less worn. As if the wealth of those living in the palace radiated outward. Until they were within thirty yards of a narrow cave there was no guard to prevent a fall. And when there was one, it seemed to only be there for its aesthetic looks.
Inside the cave, it felt narrow and constricting, but safe. In many ways, just like being the servant to nobility. Spike felt safe, knowing he would be protected, but felt restrained at the same time. At night this cave would have been completely black, but night was yet to cover the land, and Celestia's grace shined in from the far end. Spike thought he heard Mac mutter something about the cave's height, but dismissed that, and with in a moment, he was blocking his eyes from light they had been deprived of.
Spike looked around. To his left was the palace, and everywhere else there was nothing, save for the rise in earth behind them that contained an opening from which they had just exited. They were at the top of the canyons cliffs, but they felt as low as they could. The two men stood, and looked them over, before turning and making their way to the palace's gates. On either side stood men, holding spears, whose armor was as flawless as the unseen statue's they seemed to mimic. While Spike eyed the sightless landscape around, Applejack looked up to the castle in front of her. Never had she seen something so spectacular.
The wall that separated them was tall, and beautifully crafted of stone that fit together like a puzzle. The gate that lie between the two guards looked golden, and behind that was a path that cut through the only grass in miles. The path, a long stone tiled path, led to a set of double doors. The handles were as gold as the gates, and glinted in the sun. Looking higher, Jack saw the towers of the palace spiking at no particular height. They all seemed to be as random as mountains pushed up from the earth. The ends of the towers were tapered, and ended with no point, but metal balls, save for the tallest of them that ended with crescent of sorts. One would guess that they were gold. She traced the towers down, until her eyes met with the building itself again. Arches connected the palace to the walls that disappeared on their way around the building. These arches held blue shingles that overlapped one another above them. Under the arches were nothing but shadow, a bastion in the heat of the sun.
The older of the two men stepped to the guard to his left. In their native tongue, they spoke. "These are they, the ones who will be contracted," the old man said, plainly.
The guard, a man still in his twenties, nodded. He took his spear, on the end there was some intricate metal work, and placed it in a hole no one knew of but him. The other guard did as the previous, and as if like a practiced skill they turned their spears. The gate creaked open, noisy and scathing to the ear. It sounded like something closer to an abandoned manor's gate, rather than one of such regal owners as those of a palace. Carefully, the party stepped in to the courtyard. Mac kept his head low, and Spike lingered behind just now taking in the palace.
Applejack stayed wary. There was a dreadful silence after the gate had opened. She half expected something to burst from the door. Nothing did, though. Instead, she and the rest of them strode to the tall, daunting doors. She had not heard the gate creak as it closed, but she did hear the clash when they shut, and it made her jump. After that clash, however, that silence resumed its omnipotent hold. The grass on either side seemed out of place, as outside the walls there was nothing but sand, and heat. How could it be alive?
She kept her eyes fixated on the doors. It was some metal. It looked bronze, with long, gold handles. Rectangles rose from the surface of both doors, leaving a few meager inches between them. Take away the doors, and there would be a decorative, circular, arch, longing for their return. This arch was made of stone, and crafted to look as if it were woven to the door.
As they reached one of the doors, the older man reached his hand towards it. He grasped the long handle,and he pulled. Slowly it moved, but only silently. The kind of silence that drove people mad.
Glancing at her comrades, Applejack put a finger in her ear to check for any obstructions. The metal door opening as she did so. Silently the door opened, and silently they walked in. Somehow the foyer in which they walked in to did no seem as silent, but was definitely. On each flank there were marble pillars, connecting the gleaming, brown, floor to the dull, gray, ceiling.
They did not stop to gawk at these works of art, however, they simply walked along them. Though it was impossible to miss the amount of shadow, so much that a person among them might seem to be one. To be seen as a shadow. The only light was a thin window that cut through the ceiling. It let in only the slightest bit of light, illuminating the way in which they walked. At the far end was a cedar door as elegant as the one they had just stepped through, and past that was the only thing letting them know they weren't def.
Only a few feet from the door, and the noise behind it was that of laughter, and partying. Hedonism, and vice. Just before them an orange rip in the floor opened, and a guard identical to the one outside sped up from it. He looked down at them all, and up at Mac, barking orders. The old man raised his hand. In his own language he spoke loudly, loud enough for anyone in this foyer to hear.
"Young fool, let us pass." He said, tiredly.
"Who are they?" He asked, angered.
"These are the commissioned. Don't tell me no one said they were coming."
"The apple farmers? The ones you steal from? Where is the little gentile girl? They said she would be set ablaze before the next tournament."
"They decided they did not want the pest to come with them. No matter, I'm planning on pitting the blonde one against that slave girl from the mountains instead."
The guard relaxed, "She will surely die."
"That is why we're betting on her opponent."
"Oh, I see." He smiled, knowingly. "Carry on." He turned and walked through an orange split in the door, that closed as soon as he went through.
This display, had greatly startled Spike, and Applejack. They glanced at each other. Worried expressions on both their faces.
"Uh, ya'll wanna tell us what that was about?" Applejack asked, slightly concerned.
The old man's younger partner answered, chuckling from the conversation he had just heard, "No, we don't."
The woman looked at him, frowning. She shook her head muttering something. They opened the door, and stepped through it. Torch light everywhere, people in the throes of a celebration of sorts.
This ride was all too frightening, and all too worrying. The moon peeked over the far eastern trees and Applebloom wept, providing the only sound beyond the winds gentle rustling of the distant leaves. Fluttershy held Applebloom's hand and tried to assure the girl that things would be alright.
"I-It's okay, girl, A-Applejack's a tough lady." These words did nothing. Twilight refused that thought. She was deeply worried for her friends lives, and she was sure Fluttershy worried too.
Applejack had said nothing of the farm before her leave, so Twilight could only assume that she was to carry on with the apple picking. It shouldn't be too hard though, she was quite adept in the use of magic. That did not worry her. What worried her was if Applejack, and more so Spike would be okay. She thought of Danial. That liar. He couldn't have been unaware of this situation when he left them at the farm. And now, Twilight was obliged to see to it that these farmer's problems were resolved, or die trying to. And it would probably be the later of the two.
They were rather deep in the forest now, but not so deep that they would be home soon. It would likely be midnight before they would arrive. In this particular space among the trees there was a clearing. On either side were fields of grass that travelers looked down at as they walked and rode on the path. She thought she had seen someone give their carriage driver a note before they started their journey to the farm. That was ever so worrying in its self. She did not trust these people, not after what she had seen. She fought her instinct, insisting in the good of people, but she could see none in these people.
In one second, all went quiet. The little girl's sobbing hushed, ending Fluttershy's attempts at comforting the child. The hooves of the ox stood in its prints, ceasing the roll of the carts wheels. The wind stopped the leaves from rustling, lulling the tree's to into a restful absence of noise. Twilight looked around, this moment of nothing felt off. Fluttershy glanced over her shoulder. Applebloom looked up. The trap was set.
From beyond Twilight's side of the cart, three men, all wearing mycenaen tunics and armor, sprang from fissures in the earth, unseen at night. Spears were at the ready. The women shrieked, as the the driver jumped down from his place and moved behind the ambushers. One of the men dropped his spear, and drew a sword, approaching the women. His comrades at his side. He grabbed Applebloom by the foot, and dragged her out of the carriage, kicking and screaming. If there wasn't the tip of a spear pressed against her throat, Fluttershy would have tried something. All she could do was cry.
Twilight didn't know what to do. She was a pacifist, as was Fluttershy, but this was in every way different. She watched as one of the men grabbed Fluttershy by her hair, pulling her from the cart even more violently than Applebloom. No,there was time for any exception to be made, and now was the time. She raised her hand, a fine, purple, aura enveloped it, she knew what need be done, and she-
The unbladed end of a spear smashed into her nose, breaking it on contact. She threw her head back in pain, mumbling obscenities. Another, thick, crack to the side of the head and she was out. Unable to protect the other two. One of the men grabbed her unconscious body, and dragged her away.
Fluttershy walked, eyes full of tears. If she slowed down the jab of a spear in between her wings would drive her on. The one with the sword simply dragged Applebloom by the hair of her head. She screamed, but it did nothing. The man had a face that looked like that chiseled from stone, as did his companions. Finally, the last kidnapper carried Twilight, aided by the carriage driver. One at her shoulders, the other at her feet.
To Fluttershy, her sight deceive no matter how much she begged that it did. She could faintly see in the light of the moon three graves, about three feet deep. She stopped right in front of the right most. The moon gave aclear view of everything now, washing them in its glow.
She turned around, facing the man, "P-p-please, d-don't," she sobbed. She knew her plea to be in vain.
He said nothing, only raising his spear and pressing the tip into Fluttershy's neck.
Fluttershy slowly got on her knees. A man approached the grave to her right, holding Applebloom by the straps of her overall's. He harshly tossed the poor, screaming, girl in. Fluttershy cringed. "I-I'll do anything, p-please," more attempts to save herself. She had held her bladder tightly, but she could not any longer. It emptied into her pants. She ignored it, still pleading for her life. She cried and whimpered pathetically.
The man said something in his own language.
The sound of Twilight being dropped in to her grave was accompanied by a single from the kidnapper who dropped her.
The three of them exchanged words.
Fluttershy felt like she was in some purgatory. A blade pressed to her throat, and a portal somewhere else behind her. It was only after these thoughts when she realized Appleblooms crying had ceased. Her eyes opened wide from their closed state, No, she thought. The fall. The carelessness of the man handling her.
She cried more, now. She felt horrible. Pathetic, like she could have done something to stop this. Then she felt pathetic for crying. She always cried. She didn't know when it was appropriate, she couldn't help it.
One of them dropped into Twilight's grave and raised his spear high. He looked to the one holding a spear to Fluttershy's throat. He said something she could not even begin comprehend. The man in front of her gripped his spear tighter. It was over, she knew it. She closed her eyes, as the third stepped in to the hole with Applebloom inside. She waited.
A cloud covered the moon, casting shadow on them all, stealing away what bit of light they had and giving them the shrouds of pure night. Fluttershy felt the tip leave the front of her neck, as she braced herself for the pain. There was no pain, nor a drop of blood. She heard a twirl of blades, and the crack of bones, and split of limbs. The gurgled, masculine, shrieks of her captors. She opened her eyes, but the she couldn't tell if she had or not, as all she saw was darkness.
Then, the moon escaped its mask of cloud.
Light was upon them again, and now Fluttershy saw a woman, long pink hair, brighter than her own, wearing black wraps that covered most all of her. The woman pulled a pistol, older than Spikes, and pointed it in the direction of a certain fleeing cart driver. She fired and down he went, looking as if he tripped. She put it back in its place, under a pink sash about her waist. In her other hand she held a spatha. She looked towards Fluttershy. Her face was covered, like Mac's, and held no sympathy.