//------------------------------// // Tasks // Story: Arcadia // by Sir Alexander Wolfgang //------------------------------// Trembling, Fluttershy looked up at the woman who had ended those mens lives. She had done far beyond what Fluttershy could ever do to another human. There was flat, pink hair that came from the top her head, ending just below her elbows. She did not know what to say. She was a killer, but she had saved her life. Gotten her out of a situation that she never thought she would be in. The savior stopped just in front of Fluttershy, Fluttershy who still had tears rolling down her cheeks. Fluttershy who had wet herself not minutes ago. She sheathed her blades, then offered her hand out to the poor girl on her knees. For long, cruel minutes Fluttershy just looked at the hand offered to her, still trembling. It looked like a hand not meant for work it had already done. Then, she took it. She hugged herself tightly, staring into the blue eyes of this woman before her. Then, she hugged her. She hugged her tightly. Like she was her last hope that had shined through, in a cold darkness. Because she was. Fluttershy let go, then rushed to the other graves, hopping down into the one with Applebloom. Fearing that the girl may be dead. She looked at her, no she was alive. Her chest rose,and fell as it should. It would seem that her fall had simply stolen her consciousness. She flashed only the briefest of smiles before getting into the grave that Twilight had been dropped into. The woman’s nose bled as she she lie there, in the dirt. But she, too, was alive. She saw the deads glazed eyes, and almost puked. The woman put a hand on Shy’s shoulder, and said to her “You’re friends, you know where they are, don’t you?” She quickly nodded her head. She really didn’t want to think of what they might have to do. The woman moved past Fluttershy and to the graves. In the graves lay Applebloom, and Twilight. She pulled them both out as best she could, then let them rest on their sides. “Hey, girlie, could you carry the lil’ one?” Fluttershy rushed over to the girl, and gingerly picked her up, and carried her as she would a sleeping child. The other woman picked up Twilight. They brought these two over to the ox cart, and put them in the back, carefully as they could. The nameless woman stepped up to the drivers seat, and took the reins. “W-where, I-I’m sorry, but where are w-we going?” Fluttershy asked, not wanting to offend in any way. “Silly, we’re going to your house. Get in with your pals.” The woman said, as friendly as she could. Was she really the killer? Fluttershy complied, as she would for anyone. They set off on the final journey to there home. Applejack, Spike, and the big man they called Mac all sat in what they might guess was used as an office. They were not permitted to wear shoes, coats or hats here, as they were outsiders. They sat on large cushions the wait in squares cut into the stone. Of course, Mac took up all of the cushion, and the square. Spike looked at Mac. He had not seen him without hitmarge hat, or his heavy coat. He still wore the wraps over his face, but now Spike could see why he chose to wear them. He could see that he was burned, and bore many scars over his skin. His body was much the same way. He was wearing a sleeveless black shirt, so the scars and tattoos on his arms were unhidden. There were a great many of them, like one that seemed to be a sun on his shoulder. A scar cut through it, though. Spike became aware of his staring, and corrected himself. Mac didn’t seem to mind, but one really didn’t know what he thought. Applejack was anxious, and sat wondering when they would be joined, and told what it is they had to do. She wanted her hat back, and she wanted her boots back. Her feet were cold, and her head felt like the top was missing. They were told to wait in here, but apparently they’ve been forgotten. If the door hadn’t opened just then, she may have screamed. “Apoolyek, come with I.” Nothing. “Apoolyek?” Applejack realized he was trying to say her name. She stood up, embarrassed more than she thought she could be, apologizing to a short, round man in purple robes. She stood, and left with him, hating the cold stone that attacked her feet. Now, it was only Spike, and Mac. The air was awkward, and high strung. Spike could barely breath with it, but he kept his cool, as best he could. Mac seemed indifferent. Applejack walked through the long narrow hallways, following a man half her size, she waddled like a penguin. She was close to 5’5, so he was apparently given a poor deal in genetics. She looked in his hand, and saw a scroll of some sort. She didn’t know what it was for, and she usually didn’t care. But in a rather alien world, she did. But there was no way for her to know what was on it. She merely followed the man as if he were a shepherd, and she his flock of witless sheep. They went up, and down stairs, and through what seemed more like tunnels than halls, until they came unto an area where arches separated them from a white sunlight. The floor was made of marble, and the arches were carved of something beyond immaculate. Plants of some kind hung from above the arches, blocking some of the light that reached for the two people in this room. The man stepped in front of Applejack, a furious sweat starting at his hairline. He opened the scroll, and began to read it for her to hear. “‘ou ‘ave been decided upon to fight for you lafe een the sonds of our arena. Your blude maght be spalt but you have been contracted to do so.” He looked up at her, “You have no say.” The only part of his talk she managed to pick up was the part where he said that she has “. . . no say”. “Come again, partner,” she asked. “Arena.” The little man said. “W-what about it?” “You in arena.” “This what you needed me for?” The man nodded, while Applejack scowled. “You bastards, this! This! I thought it was work you’d have me do, that’s murder!” She grabbed the man by his collar, and drew her fist back. Before she could strike, however, there was an orange light, and split in nothing that left a ring with a spear wielding soldier stepping out. The man was prepared to end her if she harmed the man. She could tell. She let go of him, and at the guard. He said something in his own language, and disappeared through his portal. “No violence here.” The man said. “Through door with you.” He pointed to the door behind her. She had no other options. She gave one final ugly look at the man, and went through the door, and into another long hallway. This one was the longest, and most constricting one yet. After what was perceived as hours, and hours of walking, she finally found another door. She could only assume that she was to go through this one as well. She opened the door, and found herself amid men swinging swords at wood, and others being yelled at, while still others wait in cages like animals. It was a closed off area that felt like a cellar, had many grates to the outside. A scarred and bearded man barks at her in foreign tongue. She is cared and does not know what to do. He points at door past a group of men beating another with polished wooden sticks. “Uh, the door?” She asks. “Dqar, dqar!” The man yells. She doesn’t know what to do. He slaps her, hard, and points at the door again. She wants to fight back, but she does not. She complies, because she knows that if she doesn’t she will die. As she walks past the man being beaten she hears him wailing, she looks closer for a moment, and she sees his jaw broken, and his blood splashing all about. She is horrified, and hurries through the door. She slams it behind her. There is a bench, old stains all about it that she knows she doesn’t want to add to. She sits on it. She sits for a moment in silence before she starts weeping, and weeping. She is not going to survive this, and she knows it. Her face falls into her hands. What was she to do? She had never killed anyone, and she hoped she would never have to. How could she kill anyone? The thought of killing anyone put her on edge as it is. She wept. She was going to die here, and she would never again see Applebloom. Spike sat next to Mac, alone in the room. He wanted to ask him something, but he knew he would get a grunt at most. So he sat, and felt awkward next to a lumbering giant, waiting for someone to show him what he needed to do. Either time was going by either agonizingly slow, or a very large amount of time had passed. The only sound he could hear was the thump of his heart. This room was in thick contrast to the gathering of people he saw when he was shown into the palace, but it’s where they told him to stay here, and he was nothing if not obedient. The door opened again, and the same small man from earlier came in, his scroll in hand. He pointed at Spike, and all he could assume was that he was to follow him. He stood, and felt the unsettling cold stone against his feet, and followed the robed stranger. In the long hallway outside of the door, it was clear that the celebration was still underway. The man turned the opposite direction it, however, and he followed him down marble floors, yearning for his bits. They came unto a gilded door, and the small man pushed it open.Behind the door was a stairway leading down, the occasional torch representing light in total darkness. They descended them, and anything Spike thought was silence was here. The stairs went on for what was a true eternity, until they finally stepped into the dim twilight hours of the morning. Before them was a single Water splashed on rock, as he looked up, and saw the steep grey and black stone on either side of the river. Past that was the grey, or blue of the young day. “Good morning,” a voice slightly familiar said to him. Spike looked for it, and he saw the young Elysian who escorted him, Applejack, and Mac to the palace. He seemed out of place without his older counterpart. “I guess.” Spike replied, cooly. “Let’s not dawdle.” He gestured for the short man to leave them be. “Tell me, do you know anything about a siren?” “You mean like an alarm?” “No, I mean a woman who sings so beautifully men crash their ships into cliffs, but as they drown, they try to hear her voice.” “That seems pretty cryptic.” Spike said, almost mechanically. “It is.” “So, what are you going to have me do?” “There is a siren causing our ships trouble. You’re going to end her.” “What?” Were they really going to have him kill another person? “Kill her, boy.” The man said coldly, almost like this was expected of anyone. “I can’t kill someone,” Spike thought of Twilight, the lectures she would give him about life and death when he was younger. “Why not? You carry a weapon, you’re obviously expecting to have to kill someone.” Spike’s hand touched his gun under his jacket, “How did you know I have a gun?” “You hardly hide it.” The man’s face softened, “just how how old are you?” “I’m fifteen.” Spike replied. “Alright then, when I was your age I, and nineteen others, were pit against each other in an arena.” He frowned, “I would have sold my mother’s corpse to be in your position.” Spike remained silent. The man moved to the side, revealing that there had been a small wooden boat, with runes carved into the side. They seemed to shimmer, almost. “Those carvings will insure that you will not be under the woman’s trance. You’ll still be able to hear her, but it will not hypnotize you as it has most others.” “How will I know where she is?” Spike asked. “Stay along the coast, to the south. If pirates do not have you, then you will surely find her.” “Alright, l-I guess I’ll be off.” Spike shrugged, then walked to the boat. He stepped in rather wary of it.” The man stared as Spike rowed out to sea. He did not know if was going to die. But he expected to. The silence was peaceful, and trancelike, to the giant. He knew what he was going to have to do. But for now, he enjoyed the solemn quiet. He felt along his belt for the rope Applejack had left him, and he slowly rubbed it as if it were alive and cooing at his touch. If everyday were like this, he would be truly happy. Beyond happy. He would stay in the beautiful world of his head, and he would not have to think of the illness that the world wreaked of. He would not have to look upon dregs of society, and feel sick at the ilk who call themselves humans. He could forget his past, and focus on nothing. A third time the door swung open, and the same short man entered. He looked at Mac, and Mac stood. The small man almost fainted. Mac was easily three times his height, of not more. After an awkward moment of staring at each other the little one left with Mac following him. Where the small man took the large was far. They left the palace, walking by the drunken fools who attended the party, and out the main gate. Down a path on the side of the cliff, that gave them a view of the later half of the city, and just where the river lead to. After the palace, the canyon opened up, allowing more room for the city the breath, but regardless it built itself atop itself. The river lead to an ocean so far, and so wide, it would take the breath away from anyone but Mac. The only thing Mac wanted was his hat, coat, and shoes back. But regardless, he followed the sad little man until they were on the streets, again. As they walked, the city seemed to be waking up. People came outside, and greeted one another, shops, and stalls opened, workers began their tedious day as the unseen pillars of an ungrateful city. When the duo stopped, they met the edge of the water, graced by sand and grass. Floating in the water mere feet from the shore was a fairly small boat normally used for shipping goods with several young men aboard. On the beach there was the old man. “Good day.” He held a mess of black cloth, a hat, and a pair of boots. Mac said nothing, he only took his things, and put them on. He felt at home under his wide brimmed hat. “I expect you know what to do, Mac?” Mac nodded. “Excellent, miboy. Get to it.” The old man left with the short one, and Mac waded the few feet separating him from the boat. He climbed on to it, and looked at the horizon. Breaking through it was an island forbidden. A tower perched on it, made of stone, and back breaking labor. Mac would go there, and he would slay the monster they asked him to. This would cancel Applejacks contract with these buffoons, and he would be step closer to his sought after happiness. He would rest easy once he beheaded the beast, and he might find even dream of it after it happened. Twilight rubbed her nose. Somehow it didn’t break, after having it rammed with the blunt end of a staff, but is still bled like it was. She sat next to Applebloom at Applejack’s kitchen table, across from a woman who saved her Applebloom seemed so melancholy, and Twilight understood completely. Applejack was like a mother to her, and she was gone for what could be forever. Fluttershy was upstairs, bathing. (Poor girl can hardly hold her bladder as it is. When men with spears jump out of nowhere, she could hardly help it.) The woman across from her spoke so fast, that Twilight almost thought that she was speaking a foreign language. But eventually, she got the jist. Applejack had been forced into an arena, and would surely die if no one came to her rescue. “How do you know all of this?” “I was a spy for Equestria, an’ I tailed them into the city, stalkin’ through the shadows.” “I-I see.” Twilight said. “Applebloom, why don’t you go up stairs.” The young redhead did as she was asked. “Yeah, and I they’re gonna make her kill people, an’-” “Like you?” “Wh-what? No, she’s gonna have to fight, or die, and I bet she’ll be doin’ a lot more dying than fighting.” “Alright, so what do you propose we do?” “Bust her out.” The woman said so simply. “I don’t think it would be quite so simple.” “Don’t see why no.” “Well, there’s probably enough guards to take over a small country, and even if there isn’t, we’ll be run out of the city by even the smallest number of armed idiots.” “Well, I can sneak in.” “But we can’t.” “Okay,” she said slowly, “But I can.” Twilight shook her head in anguish, then let out a small sigh. For the next few moments they sat in utters silence. This was terrible news, yes, but panicking would get Twilight nowhere. So she thought for as long as the silence held. And then she had it, and she asked: “So what do you know about the local flora?”