//------------------------------//
// Prologue 
// Story: Darkest Ambitions 
// by Llyander 
//------------------------------//


Darkest Ambitions
Prologue


Ardent was often right.  Usually, that was a good thing but today… Today, not so much. Today being right was going to get him killed.
He wasn’t sure how long he’d been running for, or how far he’d covered.  The arctic air burned in his lungs, the snow melting the moment it touched his green crystalline body, steam curling up and into the air, lost in a moment in the driving snow that tried to push him back.  He’d hoped it would erase his hoofprints, make it harder for them to track him, but his pursuers were more tenacious than any bloodhound or griffin and they would not stop till they brought him down.
He tucked his head down lower, shaking it quickly to dislodge the snow that was clumping in his mane, pausing for the briefest of moments to look around.  Night was falling quickly, far too quickly, the temperature already plummeting, his breath forming thick clouds in the air with each sharp, ragged gasp he took, his flanks heaving and glistening with sweat.
He glanced quickly towards his haunches, reassured to find his saddlebags hadn’t got lost in the initial mad dash for freedom.  His knife, though, he’d lost within moments. He’d liked that knife; his father had given it to him all those many years ago.  The bow and arrows, thankfully, were still safely strapped down but to use them he’d have to stop and make a stand and he wasn’t ready for that; not yet, not when he could still run.
He let his breathing slow, his ears perking as he tried to listen over the whistling wind, trying to hear through the hiss of the snow. Had he lost them?  So many times now he’d been sure he’d managed to get clear only to find them still doggedly pursuing him.  How could they track him when he could barely see a yard in front of his face?  His tracks were obliterated within minutes and yet still they remained fixed on his rump like some perverse game of Pin-The-Tail-On-The-Pony.
There. Was that…? Damn. Damn and blast and curse it all to the heavens.  He could hear their hooves drumming, muffled by the thick snow, but they were still coming. He hesitated, feeling the fatigue creeping through his limbs, his legs heavy, hooves aching, chest burning, every fibre of muscle screaming for relief, for him to just lie down and give in and just for a moment, he found himself swaying, his knees starting to bow under him, lowering him down to the soft, welcoming snow.
He was so tired. He’d been running for hours now and he just didn’t have anything left to give, no reserves to draw on.  Even Earth ponies had their limits and he had just about reached his.  His knees sank lower and strangely the snow no longer seemed that cold, in fact is was strangely comfortable as he settled down, his saddlebags shifting on his haunches, the bellystrap drawing tight around his barrel. 
His eyes shot open at that sudden sensation, adrenaline coursing through his veins driving him back to his hooves.  No.  No, no, NO. He’d nearly… He slapped himself across the face with a hoof, snarling bitterly at himself, at his own weakness. He raised his head and there, to his dismay, were five pairs of softly glowing eyes hovering in the darkness.  
“Come on, you sons of Diamond Dogs!” He spat, stomping a defiant forehoof down, “Come and get me! You call that running, you spavined excuses for mules? I haven’t even started to show you REAL speed.”  With that he turned and galloped off into the darkness once more.
He had to be getting close, right?  It couldn’t be that much further to the outskirts of the Crystal Empire, then one of the border guards would see him and call in assistance. He just had to hold out a little longer, just a little more.  The Princess had to know what he’d found, had to know that the Empire was no longer safe.  Not for the first time he cursed his lack of magic.  If he’d just been born a unicorn… But no, HE had made sure there were no unicorns or pegasi in the Empire, nothing but earth ponies. 
Was that a light?  He was sure he could see something glittering on the horizon and that hope added strength to his faltering limbs. He dropped his head down, gritting his teeth as he ploughed through the snow and then without warning, the ground vanished beneath him and he tumbled down the side of a hill, spinning end over end in a cloud of snow.
The first time he hit the ground he screamed as his left hind leg snapped under his weight.  The second time he hit he could only groan in agony as the leg flopped uselessly around behind him, the impact robbing the breath from his lungs.  He slid down the rest of the way, landing in an untidy heap in a snow drift.  
For a moment he stared up at the sky as he struggled to force air back into lungs that felt like he’d been inhaling dragonfire, blinking away the flakes of snow that drifted into his eyes, his world nothing but searing pain and bitter disappointment.  His race was done, time for that last stand.
He’d lost his saddlebags somewhere in the tumble down the hill, but his bow and quiver had landed not far away. Rolling to his belly, Ardent began to slowly drag himself towards them, trying his best not to cry out, stifling his whimpers as he bit down on his bottom lip till the hot, salty taste of blood filled his mouth. This wasn’t fair.  It wasn’t meant to end like this, not here in the snow and the cold, where no-one would ever know what had happened to him.
He could hear their hooves above him, hear them skidding to a halt as they found the ground dropping away.  He snatched up the bow with trembling hooves, awkwardly nocking an arrow with his teeth and drawing it back, loosing blindly up into the darkness in one quick motion.  He was rewarded with a thump of shaft into flesh but there was no cry of pain or surprise, nothing at all. He heard the arrow hit something, he was sure of it!
He drew a second arrow, panting as the world spun around him, pain, fear and exhaustion greying the edges of the world.  A rustle off to his left, the sound of movement to his right and those eyes, always those damnable eyes glowing unblinking in the darkness.  He loosed a second arrow straight into one set of those eyes but could only watch in despair as they dodged to one side and his arrow whistled uselessly into the darkness. 
Soft steps now, closing in all around him. He tried to draw a third arrow but this time he found the bow yanked from his hooves, tossed away into the snow.  The quiver was kicked aside, arrows spilling uselessly everywhere. Were they even breathing?  He couldn’t hear them at all now, not a sound, couldn’t hear anything but a roaring in his ears.
“My life for the Empire,” he spat, defiant to the last, trying to ignore how his voice shook with fear, how weak and hopeless he sounded to his own ears even as the world was fading around him. “For the Princess.”
And then there was nothing.