I don’t know what I was expecting. Perhaps a magical laboratory filled with bubbling flasks. Or an expansive, multi-tiered library rivaling the likes of Canterlot. ‘Another stone corridor’ really should have been at the top of my list, but somehow I’d let my imagination run off with me. Again.
Though no wider than the previous corridors, the lack of randomly-scattered furniture made this one feel quite spacious. Small magical lanterns hung from the ceiling, their pale light dotting the darkness until the hallway swallowed them entirely. Curiously, there were only two doors on each side and positioned close to the entrance. Given the direction I was facing, I wagered it ran somewhere outside the manor. Perhaps the garden, or maybe even out of the estate entirely.
If it was the latter, I had to wonder why we hadn’t come in that way. Was it broken? That our friendship was still too new? Or perhaps that was the entrance being watched.
I glanced behind me just in time to catch Ivory about halfway through the entrance. My eyes flitted to her barrel, where the wall was cleaving her in two. I shuddered.
The surface rippled as soon as her tail was clear. Though nothing else happened, I felt like a heavy vault door had just closed and locked.
Despite all I had to ask her about this place, I had to push my curiosity aside. Any relevant information would have been a mistake to discuss around the prisoner. And besides, we were still on the clock.
A groan snapped my attention to our captive, where he was beginning to stir.
My eyes fell over each of the doors. “We should hurry. Which way?”
Ivory’s horn glowed and the right-side door swung open. “There.”
With a nod, I trotted in.
A quartet of lanterns lit the mess of a room. A table-and-chair set, just like the one from Ivory’s cabin, was loaded up with an assortment of boxes and crates. The containers spilled out onto the surrounding floor, hemming the table in.
A small, dust-covered bed clung to the far wall, barely able to avoid being dragged under the wooden sea. For just a moment, I could see a small white filly atop the blanket; tears streamed down her face, matting her coat as she told her diary that everypony has disappeared.
I shook my head and frowned. Idle speculation aside, the room’s usability was questionable.
That was when I noticed another door on the left, which, astonishingly enough, wasn’t completely blocked off. I raised an eyebrow at Ivory. She nodded and with a touch of her magic, the door slid open.
Just one lantern hung in the tiny room beyond. In fact, I’d say it was a borderline closet. And it was still less-cramped than the other room. Several plain wooden chairs, one of which was missing a leg and a half, were stacked up against the wall. A lonely old end table occupied the centre of the room.
Odd. Why such ordinary furniture had ended up here was just another question on the pile. Although, given the hoarding in the other room, at least some part of me suspected there were sentimental reasons.
The prisoner started to rock back and forth on the zombie; the motion became wilder and wilder, panicked gasps escaping his lips as his bound hooves beat against the zombie’s barrel. Though the zombie cared about as much as the wall, I couldn’t help but feel guilty. Things like that, they change a person forever.
Trotting over to the end table, I motioned to the nearby floor. The zombie quickly complied and Ivory followed up by gently levitating our captive to the ground. His flailing stopped for just a moment before becoming even more frantic.
He flopped around on the floor like a beached fish before he finally collapsed, his panting interlaced with tiny sobs.
I bit my lip and pushed onward. After checking to make sure the ropes were still tightly knotted, I made my way back to the larger room. I removed my scarf and flight satchels, grabbing my cloak and the stallion’s combat shoes from the latter.
After slipping on my cloak, I hurried over to Ivory, who was still watching the crumpled heap of a pony. I raised my muzzle to her ear and whispered. “No names, people or places, keep the zombie out of sight and don’t let him see your face.”
“Of course.” She nodded. We both drew our hoods and reentered the room.
I checked the captive’s bindings one more time before returning to Ivory’s side. “Can you undo his blindfold from here?”
“One second.” Her magic enveloped the knot and the blindfold fell to the floor.
The stallion peered around the room through slitted eyes before coming to focus on us. He blinked several times.
I gave him a few moments to adjust before stalking over to the table with slow, methodical steps. He looked up at me like a foal facing a nightmare and pity tightened my chest. But whatever happened, my partiality had to stay at the door. I couldn’t afford to go easy until I got a better gauge of him, especially since his youth meant the bandits had likely indoctrinated him.
Turning to the end table, I let the combat shoes fall to its surface where they made a resounding clunk.
The stallion cringed. After a long pause, he snapped into a defiant stare, as something deeply implanted was taking over.
I continued to watch him, tilting my head down to make sure he got the message. Although he seemed to have gotten a hold on his fear, the occasional shiver gave him away. I wondered if he would break and say something first.
He lasted about a minute before he blurted out, “W-who are you? W-what do you want?!”
“We are the guardians of Pasture. As to what we want: information,” I said, keeping my voice as neutral as possible.
“Th-the militia? A-as if I’ll tell the likes of you! M-my secrets will die with me!” He flailed against the ground.
Greeeat, a melodramatic tough guy. I rolled my eyes under my hood. “I don’t want your secrets.”
He looked at me like I’d just told him the moon was on fire. “You… don’t?”
“I want to find your prison. Where is it?”
“Why would you want to go down—” His face filled with fake-rage again. “I’m on to you! You-you’re gonna make me talk about weird stuff and get all buddy-buddy so I’ll tell you my secrets! Well, you can’t trick me with your mind games! You’ll have to kill me first!”
I resisted the urge to sigh. This kid was trying to find traps that weren’t even there. But if he wanted tricks, perhaps I could oblige. “Why are you so fixated on death?”
“What are you talking about? I’m not fix-whatever! I-I’m just not afraid to die!” He puffed out his chest, which only served to make his shivers more apparent.
“Really?” I cocked my head. “Because the way you keep hesitating, I’d say you’re plenty afraid.”
“N-no I’m not! I-I’m a ferocious fighter! The Scourge of the Hills! T-travelers quake at my name!”
I took a few steps forward and placed a forehoof on the combat shoes. “Shall we test that? I mean, if you really are a hardened murderer, wouldn’t it just be poetic?”
“I… I…” The stallion became as still as a rock.
I let my hoof drop from the table. “You’ve never seriously fought anyone in your life, have you?”
“Wha—how—No! You’re wrong! I am a proud, ruthless member of G’s Talons!” He threw out his chest again.
G’s Talons, huh? I wonder how many Equestrians would choose a name like that.
I shook my head. “Drop the act, kid. You’ve already given it up.”
The youth went silent, curling up against himself.
“Now, where is your prison?”
“W-why do you even want to know? P-plan on locking yourself up for us?” He almost mustered a scowl.
“The mare you ambushed. We want her back.”
“Hah! Couldn’t take us on, so you’re trying to make me spill the beans on them, huh?!” His face reignited with bravado.
Annoyance bubbled to the surface. I was half-tempted to tell him his comrades were dead. He almost certainly would have broken, but I thought better of it. Aside from being overly cruel, he was just as likely to clam up as he was to talk.
I took a couple steps forward. “They took her hostage and ran away. All they cared about was their own skin.”
“No… you lie! We don’t leave anypony behind!” The youth scowled for real this time.
I tilted my head. “If that’s true, then how did we capture you?”
“They’re… they’re just regrouping! Th-then they’re coming back for me!” he yelled, eyes frantically darting around the room. He was only trying to convince himself now. All I had to do was keep pushing.
“Really, now?” I asked, playing up the skepticism in my voice.
“Yeah! We’re a family! Not like you’d understand.” The stallion was totally unfocused now, just grasping at whatever he could. Not that I could blame him; a lifelong reality was coming apart right underneath him.
A ‘family’, huh? Well, that explains their suicidal zeal.
I stomped a hoof, bringing his attention back to me. “They took a hostage and ran. They’re gone. She’s gone. And she’s hardly even older than you.”
“S-so what?” He flailed again, this time trying to flop away.
I frowned, following him as he moved. “This filly was held at knifepoint, then kidnapped by one of your leaders.”
“A-and why should I care? She-she’s an outsider!”
Ivory trotted over and cut in, her voice getting just a little quieter with each sentence. “She’s a filly. Scared and alone, surrounded by strangers. Wondering what they’re going to do to her. Wondering if she’ll ever get to go home. Or if she’ll ever get to see her friends and family again.”
“How horrible would it be if she never did?” I added. “Is this what families do?”
“Y-yeah! W-we stick together and don’t let anyone mess with us!”
“That’s not a family, that’s a gang.” I shook my head, feeling a deep sadness wash over me. Despite what his so-called ‘family’ done to him, he was still so naive.
Ivory chimed in again, pointing a hoof at the urn on the stallion’s flank. “Your cutie mark… does it have to do with pottery?”
He blinked before shuffling to turn it away from us. “W-what does that have to do with anything?”
“It means you have a choice.” Ivory tapped the floor. “You can let somepony suffer and continue doing so, becoming the villain. The one everypony hates and who has to fear for his well-being every day of his life. Or you can change. Follow your cutie mark—and your heart.”
“I…” The youth stared at the floor.
I tilted my head. “Look, we’d prefer not to do things the hard way. Our number one priority is the safety of that filly. We could turn you over to the real guard, but that’s unlikely to end particularly well for either of you. So how about a deal? If you provide information that leads to her rescue, we’ll set you free.”
“A-all right…”
“I’m listening.”
The stallion turned his attention to the wall, eyes tracing a hidden map along its surface. “T-the lowest tunnel on the far right. Go down all the way down and turn left, then the third right after that. You can’t miss it.”
“From which direction?”
“The short hill.”
I turned to Ivory. “You know it?”
She nodded.
“Can you tell me anything about the guard rotation? Traps? Secret passages?”
The stallion gulped. “I… n-no. I don’t know. I don’t usually go down there.”
Grabbing the combat shoes, I started for the door. “We’ll be back with some accommodations.”
The youth’s eyes went wide. “W-what? You said you’d let me go!”
I glanced over my shoulder. “We did and we will. After we confirm what you’ve told us is true.”
He slumped to the ground, defeated. A part of me told me I was a terrible pony.
I led Ivory back into the hall. Two doors was probably good enough. If we were going to let him go, I didn’t want him having any more information than necessary.
“How quickly can you gather enough zombies for a sizable attack? Or at least a distraction?”
“A few hours. What are you thinking?”
“Given our lack of information, a smash and grab would be our safest bet. And that seems rather fast. Didn’t you send most of them back to their patrols?”
“I did, but I’ve been hiding some spares nearby. I’ve done it with every gang in case they try to force a confrontation.” She stared off down the hall. “For a hideout like that, we’ll need to bring a few more with us.”
I blinked. After the zombies’ performance in the forest, I was almost surprised she had less than full confidence. Which was pretty silly, considering all things have limitations. “And how far to the hideout?”
“About half a day’s travel.”
“All right. While you’re doing that, I’ll gather those accommodations so our ‘guest’ doesn’t wither up while we’re gone.”
“Okay. You might have some luck with the garden.” With a flash of her horn, the wall came alive again; each ripple seemed to leap through the air and cross my coat.
I set my face and trotted forward, a thought stopping me as my muzzle neared the stone. “Oh, and Ivory.”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for the help.”
Her smile was both uncertain and wary, but a smile, nonetheless.