CHAPTER 6
A DIFFERENT ICICLE
Vindictus Vulnere sat in the equestrian medical tent. He had a needle and thread in one hoof and was stitching the third gash on the left side of his stomach. The deep cuts had been done by three separate weapons, it was just coincidence they had slashed so parallel to each other. The sharp, curved needle punctured his flesh and he pushed it through the cut and back out through the other side or the gash. He then pulled the thread through, feeling it rub against the skin and muscle as he pulled it tight, closing part of the gash. He continued this until it was half stitched, which was when he heard a voice.
“You know, that will look a lot better if you let a medic deal with it,”
He snapped his head up and glared coldly at the mare standing before him. She was small, nearly half his own height, with a long brown mane which had a pale blue streak through it. Her eyes were blood red and her coat was a light grey. Her cutie mark was covered by a military medic cloak.
“I doubt it,” he replied and resumed stitching.
“Give me the needle. Now.” Her voice was much colder now, almost commanding.
“Do your job and leave me in peace,” He replied. !”And nopony needs to get hurt.” His voice was completely devoid of all emotion.
The mare's eyes flashed from red to an emerald green. “You are part of my job. Let me stitch that for you or get the hell out of my tent.”
Vindictus stopped and looked up. He wasn't surprised by the change of eye color, he'd seen unicorns change their whole facial apeparance.
“The last time a healer went near me, I was tortured for two weeks,” he said. “Go and attend to others so nopony gets hurt more than they already are.”
“And Ice Healer by any chance? Don't worry, I may be a harsh mare but I'm not that bad. Trust me.”
“Why should I trust you?” he asked. “I don't even know you.” He felt a feeling of recognition nagging at the back of his mind, but he ignored it.
The mare looked at Vindictus with a look of sincerity, her eyes flashing back to red. “Look into my eyes, it's not hard to trust me.”
He looked into her eyes with that freezing cold gaze of his. “I don't trust ponies I've just met,” He said and looked back down, resuming his work.
“Then maybe you'd better learn,” She said. “Because that stitching is terrible.”
“It doesn't matter,” He replied. “It stops the blood.”
“It may stop the blood but it's not going to heal properly and you'll be VERY lucky if that doesn't get infected.”
“I've patched myself up for over 2,000 years. If I die, I die.”
“And how does it help this war if you die, Vindictus Vulnere?”
“It does nothing for the war,” Vindictus replied. “Soldiers die in war. Nothing can change it. I'll just be another meal for the crows and vultures.”
The mare looked at him. “You may not have heard of me, but I've heard of you. Celestia may dislike you, but she claims you to be one of the best fighters we have. You deserve proper treatment, not butchery.”
“A battlefield is little more than a butcher's slaughterhouse. Ponies go out, get killed and their blood drains from them. The scavengers pick the bones.”
“You think I don't know that?” The mare llifted her military cloak to reveal a freshly sewn wound over her cutie mark, which was a golden pentagram within a black circle. “And that's just from dragging ponies from the battlefield so I an try to send them home!”
Vindictus looked at the cutie mark and instantly had a sharp pain in his head. He gasped and dropped the needle, raising a hoof to his head as the memory of that dream flooded back into his mind.
The mare lowered the cloak and retrieved the needle. “Are you okay?” She asked.
“Ah....” Vindictus looked up. “Who are you?”
“I'm sergeant major Icicle Wishes, trained medic professional,” She replied.
He thought for a moment. He remembered the dream he'd had so long ago, of the 3 ponies playing and the lonely mare in the shadows. He shook his head before looking at Icicle one more time. He stood and retrieved his armour, putting it in his saddlebag before walking out of the tent.
Icicle watched the alicorn leave. “What a strange stallion,” She mumbled to herself before shaking her head and going back to her duties.
It was midnight and ponies were still awake, too nervous to sleep. They were laughing around the campfires, trying to enjoy what could potentially be the last night of their lives. They exchanged stories and spoke about their families and special someponies, recalling their good memories and having an overall good time. The colts were trying to fit into armour which was a bad fit in the first place but it would keep them alive longer than if they were naked. They spoke with fear in their voices and looked around with wide eyes. The older colts, the ones in the 16-17 age group, were ore bold and interacted with the other soldiers freely, thinking they would go home as heroes and not even be slightly swayed by the horrors of war. Then there were the old ponies, the ones with greying hair and smoking their pipes and already ready for the upcoming battle.
Vindictus was standing on his own, as usual. He was standing on the edge of the camp, surveying the large expanse of land and the 3 other camps in the distance. The war would end tomorrow. It would all be over. He turned to walk back to the camp, his dark grey armour clinking slightly as he moved, when he saw a light in the sky. He turned and looked up at it right before it sailed over his head and hit the camp behind him. There were screams and sudden activity as similar fireballs shot from the southern camp to the east and west camps. The battle was starting early, this wasn't right. The south and the East had forged an alliance, they shouldn't be attacking them. Vinny sighed and put his helmet on. The final battle was about to begin and not a single army would help the other. It was every pony for themselves, no aliances, no friends. Only enemies. And when it was all over, corpses.
18 hours later...
Vindictus was lying on the battlefield, a large gash across his throat. The rest of his body was covered in smaller cuts, all oozing blood. He was extremely lucky; the gash hadn't gone through any major veins, arteries or his windpipe. His armour was scratched but nothing serious. It was very bloodstained, though. The thorns and horn blades were the worst, having been used to kill just as many ponies as his weapon. His breath was ragged and short, his body trying to prevent too much movement so as not to damage his throat any more than it already was. His teeth were clenched together hard and his hooves were still clenched around the weapon.
Icy prepared herself for the worst part of her job. Battlefield clean up. She had to decide who to save, and who she had to leave to die. She scanned the field quickly, at first overlooking the large alicorn, presuming him to be already dead. But then she saw him move slightly, so she galloped over quickly and glanced over his wounds. As she looked over Vindictus's wounds, she bowed her head,
"I- I can't save your life, I'm sorry."
He just laughed.
"What life?" He asked. "I was dead before this battle started."
"That doesn't mean I should be happy about leaving you to die." She turned to walk away. He forced himself into a sitting position and thought.
"What about... magic?" He said the last word in a hateful tone, but there was also a bit of fear in it as well.
"You won't let me touch you. Why should I help you if you won't let a healer near you? There are ponies here who would give their hind legs for my help."
He raised an eyebrow. "Well, isn't this ironic? You want to help me, I don't need help. You don't want to help me, I need immediate help." He had a hoof covering his throat to try staunching the blood flow as much as possible.
"I never said I didn't want to help, but I don't want to waste me time on a stallion who'll ultimately refuse help."
He looked at her. "Do you hear me refusing?" he asked.
"You appear to be stubborn, I doubt a few cuts would change your mind."
"You know as well as me that everypony dies. If you refuse to help me, it is your fault I die. It's on your head."
"Join several thousand ponies. All I need is your permission to treat you."
"I thought it was your job to prevent death when you could. You can prevent my death right here and do you hear me saying no?"
"Then shut up and lie still."
"I'm not exactly going anywhere soon, am I?"
She pushed a rag into his mouth. "I said SHUT UP! This is going to hurt." She opened her pack, levitated a 3 needles, several lines of thread and a lot of packing material out. She padded his neck wound, using all three needles to simultaneously stitch up his neck. Vindictus gritted his teeth on the rag and suppressed the urge to lash out when the magic was used on him. Icicle stitched his neck quickly, placing a dressing over it.She sighed, he'd live, even though he still had countless other injuries. She immediately set to work on the rest of the wounds, following the same pattern: Pack, sterelize, stitch, dressing. She had 3 needles going at all times. He frowned. She wasn't using her magic on him directly, why not? He kept his suspicions quiet, though. He'd seen several birds eyeing him earlier. She finally reached a wound on his side, its was a good few inches wide. She sighed, mumbling to herself,
"I can't stitch this.. but if I leave it open.." Her horn glowed an ice blue and a small cloud appeared above them, it slowly kicked out some snow, which Icy directed onto the wound.
A cold pain shot through Vindictus's side as the snow slowly began to mould into his side, creating a patch over the entire wound.
"Argh!" He almost jumped away but stopped himself, gritting his teeth so hard he was almost sure he'd push his teeth into the gums. The snowy patch faded to reveal a fully healed wound, it was devoid of fur, but the flesh was intact, all that was left was a thick scar down the middle. Vindictus nodded towards a stallion who was looking over the battlefield with horror on his face.
"A farmer," he said.
"Don't worry, once I'm done with you, I'll save who I can."
He shook his head. "He'd never killed anypony in his life. Was terrified when he was called to war, and still is. He'll never be able to go back to his old life." He looked over to another stallion. "He was a librarian at Canterlot Castle. He'd never killed anything, not even the spiders he found while cleaning out the shelves. He'd read about war but never thought it would be quite as brutal."
"War is a horrible thing for a pony to go through. And most of the ponies left here won't be nearly as lucky as you. Most of them I'll have to leave to die, or kill them myself to put them out of misery."
"Lucky. I don't believe in luck."
"Well then, you better start." She tied a green tag to his hoof before moving onto the next stallion, placing a red tag on the already dead pony. She continued like this, placing red on those already passed, yellow on those who she was unable to save, and green on those she had saved. He looked at the green tag before taking it off and throwing it on the ground. He spread his wings which, amazingly, were unharmed. He then took flight, flying through the red sky as the sun rose.
The war was over.