Interview Three: Silver Cypress
12th of Summer's Sun, 4E01
Silver Cypress is a cautious stallion. No doubt his job has something to do with it: For twenty-seven years, Mr. Cypress has been the head of the Knights' Rangers, an organization with roots stretching back to the second era. Originally meant to combat the creatures that would frequently crawl, slither and fly their way out of the Everfree forest to make a meal out of one or more unfortunate ponies, the Rangers have since taken up a position of vigilance and prevention, rather than straight combat. No doubt many of you will have never even heard of them; their numbers are small and their organization fairly private. Only after a month and a half of letters, negotations, and inquiries was I able to secure an interview with its senior member.
An older pegasus, now well into his fifties, Silver Cypress shows the scars of many battles and encounters over his long career. I am immediately struck by a long, jagged scar running down his left side, faded red gouges against his dark green coat and close-cropped silver mane, culminating in a mangled wing appendage that is scarcely a third the size of its twin on the other side of his body. Part of his left ear is missing, and he walks with a noticeable limp on at least one of his legs.
Despite these wounds, the old stallion no less of an imposing figure, standing half a head taller than myself. He speaks with authority as I chat with him at a small outpost on the edge of the Everfree forest.
"I've been a Ranger for the entirety of my adult life. Seen a lot of things come stompin' outta that forest that would make most folk run in the opposite direction real quick-like. Used to be we would see three, maybe four of those monsters a week. Now...well, ain't nothin' comin' outta there. And that's just fine by me.
Speakin' of which, is that what they sent you out here for? To check up on the forest or somethin'? I spoke with someone from your historian guild or whatever the hell, said you were interested in a look-see."
In a manner of speaking. I'm actually not entirely sure what I'm supposed to be looking for; all I was told was that you found something that might be of interest.
"Huh. Well, if he was talkin' about what I think he was talkin' about, you're gonna be real interested indeed. I'd try to explain a bit better, but...some things ya gotta see with your own eyes, son."
At this point a younger stallion comes trotting out of the watch post, a sword swaying from either side. He yanks on a rip cord, letting the swords clatter to the ground at our hooves.
"Here, ya better take one of these just in case. You know how to use one of these, right? No? It's real simple: The pointy end goes in the bad thing. Hell, you don't even have to worry about getting a good mouth-hold on it, what with that fancy horn of yours."
I wasn't expecting to have to be armed, Mister Cypress.
"And I wasn't expecting to have a manticore nearly tear me wide open, but shit happens." (His expression becomes deathly serious) "I'm not sure what you're expecting, son, so let me be outright honest with you: As soon as we cross into that forest, you are fair game for a lot of things out there. The forest, it don't run in time with the rest of the world. Things are different in there. Very different. And if you think for one second that your little quill and paper will save you, you are very wrong.
That said, there's three very basic rules if you're going to follow me in. One: Stick by my side at all times, no matter what. I don't care what you see or what you hear, you do not wander off. Understood? Good. Rule number two: Keep your eyes open and your ears on a swivel. Stay alert, stay alive. And three: If, for some reason, we do get separated, you run. Run as fast as you can back out the way you came. Don't try to find me, and for Celestia's sake, do not start shouting. If you do, you'll just mark yourself as being weak. And the weak don't last in the Everfree forest. Do you understand everything I've told you? Are you sure? Alright, then. Let's get movin'. Darkness comes much faster in the forest than it does out here, and I don't fancy gettin' caught in there at night."
More than a little worried, I set off with Cypress. We cross a second, smaller checkpoint manned by a pair of pegasi. After a brief conversation they let us cross through. As soon as we enter the forest I am immediately struck by how dark it is, even in the light of mid-day. It's also much louder than I had imagined, a cacaphony of unknown creature calls and sounds. I keep my sword in a strap on my saddlebag, though truth be told I would much rather run than try to trust my life with a weapon I know next to nothing about.
"The place you're lookin' for is about a twenty minute walk from here, so stick close." (He looks over his shoulder) "You're wonderin' about the scar, ain't ya? Come on, now. No need to be polite. It's not exactly an easy thing to miss, I know. Remember when I said I was nearly torn apart by a manticore? I wasn't just bullshittin' ya. Happened round about eight years ago, on an otherwise uneventful patrol. I was checkin' on reports of creature activity with my buddy Stonewall. We'd been getting more and more reports at the time; the pointy-headed scholarly types -- no offense -- said it was because of that Nightmare Moon thing, before she was put in her place by the Princess, or whatever happened. Somethin' about increased dark energy or magic or somethin' like that. Made as much sense as anything I could think of.
Anyway, we were on patrol and got attacked by a manticore. You ever see a manticore, Mister Scroll?"
Can't say I have. I'd like to keep it that way.
"Heh, smart thing to say. Manticores are big creatures, with the body of a lion, wings like a bat, and a big, poisonous scorpion tail. And they're exactly as vicious as you'd imagine such a thing to be. One of the suckers pounced on us when we'd landed to fill our canteens in a stream; I was the first to be attacked. Damn thing got its teeth into my side and yanked for all it was worth. For good measure it stuck me right in the wing with that stinger. Stonewall was on it nearly as fast as it was on me, but we ponies ain't exactly scary to a creature come straight outta your nightmares. I was already fading in and out of consciousness at this point, just bleedin' everywhere. I don't remember much from that encounter, but I clearly remember Stonewall shoving his sword right into that bastard's throat, over and over again. Nearly took its head off! Even with most of its head detached from its body it was still thrashing around and trying to stick us with that tail, but Stonewall was always a pretty lucky guy. Didn't get more than a scratch on him, heh heh. Sumbitch he was."
(A small bundle is pulled from his saddlebag, looking like wrapped leaves of some kind. He pops it into his mouth, chews it a few times, and tucks it into his cheek)
"The thing about manticore venom is that it's not meant to kill, only debilitate. Manticores like their meals live and screaming when they're being devoured. And believe me, it debilitates very well. It took a few seconds for that venom to work its way through my system, but once it did...well, felt like I was on fire. Screaming in agony. Stonewall dressed my wound as best he could and hauled my ass outta the forest to the nearest aid station. They stabilized me until I could be moved to Canterlot for surgery. Lost most of my wing, but shit, I'm still alive. All I can really ask for. Poor Stonewall...he ended up gettin' taken out by a pack of timberwolves a few years later."
I'm sorry to hear that. He sounds like he was a good stallion.
"One of the best. But that's the risk you take with this job. Once in a while I still get lingering pain from the venom, likely will for the rest of my life. Fortunate for me I ran into a zebra lady a few years ago who showed me how to make a quick-actin' painkiller. Pretty simple, really: Ya just take a small piece of bark from a shade-leaf tree, wrap a few leaves around it, and bite down. That gets it releasin' a natural somethin'-or-other that dulls the pain. Tastes like bitter shit, though. I add a little mint to it to keep it tolerable."
Silver Cypress is mostly quiet for the rest of the walk. He never complains, even though it's clear he's seen better days. Eventually I ask him what he knows about Ponyville.
"Just as much as anypony else. From what I hear they've still got the entire town locked down, ain't no one allowed in or out. No livin' folk allowed in or out, anyway. I was visiting some family in Canterlot when news started spreading about Ponyville going to hell. We all thought it was a tornado or somethin' like that. What'd they say it was? Ghosts?"
Paranormal activity of some sort. I don't think "ghosts" really conveys it properly.
"Hmm. Well whatever the case, some weird shit started goin' down. I couldn't be bothered to find out more; had my hooves busy with all kinds of big nasties wantin' to make their way out of the forest as soon as I got back. Shitty timing, that."
You said there was an increase in mythological creature activity around when Nightmare Moon was returning. Do you think the subsequent increase in sightings during Ponyville's incident was related?
"Could be. Manticores, hydras, basilisks...these things ain't like normal critters, like bears or wolves. They're drawn to magic, both good and bad. Uh, speakin' of which, you might want to be careful with that levitation spell of yours. Probably not strong enough to draw somethin' out, but ya never know. But yeah, I suppose it's possible. Somethin' powerful enough to spread around dark magic or energy or somethin' could conceivably draw out the big guys.
Spot's just up ahead here, watch your step, this place is lousy with thorns."
The cramped confines of the forest give way to a large, circular clearing. Compared to the rest of the forest, it's incredibly quiet. Uncomfortably so. I'm struck by just how grey everything looks -- besides a few scattered flowers sprouting from vines, everything seems to have had the life drained from it. Even the trees are barren.
"Here we are. This what you were lookin' for?"
I have no idea, but it sure looks like it.
"We found this place just over a year ago. Wasn't this bad back then, just scattered spots where the grass wasn't growing. Obviously it's grown since then. Seems to have stopped a few months back, but it hasn't receded. Just stays here, lookin' like an eyesore for every pegasus that flies by."
Cypress suddenly draws his sword, slashing at a vine near me before I can even react. The vine audibly squeals before reeling back.
"Shit, that was too close. Whatever you do, don't let that fuckin' thing get wrapped around you. We have no idea what it really is, but we call it 'vampire vine'. Looks harmless enough, I know. Let it get those big leaves around you, though, and the bright-red flowers along its length suddenly sprout hollow thorns as long as your hoof. I've seen 'em suck a bobcat dry in minutes. Damn stuff started appearing a little while after the grey splotches showed up."
I am suddenly aware of a high-pitched ringing in my ears; my head starts to ache and I'm forced to sit down for a moment. I try to float my canteen from my pack, only to find that the act of using my magic causes the headache to intensify briefly.
"Hey, take it easy, son. You alright?"
Mr. Cypress, have you had any unicorns come through here with you before?
"Not me personally, no. But one of the other Rangers did. He said it felt 'wrong' out here, like...oh, how did he put it...like it wasn't just 'dark' magic, but a lack of magic. Like a void. I probably should have mentioned that before, but it's been a long time since I've had a unicorn come out here with me. Apologies. You feelin' okay? You sure? Good. There's a few more points of interest if you'll follow me. And stay close."
The ringing in my ears finally subsides, along with the headache, though a dull feeling of emptiness remains. The idea of coming out here in the first place suddenly seems less intelligent. And yet, amidst the grey, lifeless terrain, something catches my attention. It's incredibly brilliant, a shining mote of the purest orange I've ever seen. I am inexorably drawn to it. Cypress' words play through my head, but I remind myself that I am here for answers. Cautiously, I approach the mote of light. It flits away. I follow it. I know I shouldn't, but I feel compelled to. Caution is thrown to the wind as any doubt is cast from my mind, like it was never there. This is great! I feel like a child again!
I find myself laughing as I chase the swirling ball of glowing orange. It leads me to a small stream, where it suddenly stops. I attempt to reach out and touch it, but it's just beyond my reach. It dips into the water and disappears. It feels like I have lost something exceptionally important, and I am overcome by the urge to search for it. I frantically splash at the water to no avail. Just then, the euphoric feeling is gone, as if it was never there in the first place. I realize I am alone and begin to panic. Movement in the water catches my eye; a reflection. I turn around. And freeze.
There, less than a foreleg's distance from me, is a pony. Or at least, something that used to be a pony. Its entire body, from tail to muzzle, is a sickening white. It's not just a color, but a lack of color. Great, black holes stare back from where its eyes should be. I open my mouth to scream, but find myself unable to move. It remains absolutely silent as it slowly cocks its head at me. I am so terrified that I linger on the edge of passing out. A sensation of movement makes it way up my left hind leg, then another. And another. Large, red flowers enter my vision, sprouting from thick, jagged vines.
I realize I am going to die, but I don't care; death would be preferable to another moment of the abject horror that wracks my body. I silently pray for it to end quickly. The deathly pony steps closer, its mouth working up and down, but no sounds come out.
The ringing in my ears returns, louder than before. It's almost painful. I am reminded of Sweetie Belle, and how she had a similar experience with the sound. Half-heard whispers play at the edge of my hearing, like a thousand voices all vying for my attention. At once they stop, a single voice sounding above the rest. I feel the words, rather than hear them. I stare at the horrible visage in front of me, its empty blackness gazing in return.
A blade of pure ice feels as if it is drawn down my spine. And then, as quickly as it appeared, the ghostly pony vanishes, blowing away like a million grains of sand in the wind. The vines recede from my body, slinking away into the grey, dead terrain. Silver Cypress appears from around the corner, wildly swinging his sword at any vines along the way. My vision narrows until darkness is all I can see.
When I awaken, I am in a bed. Later, they tell me that I was carried out by Cypress and another Ranger. They had not expected to find me alive. Instead, the old stallion informed me, it was to be a final effort to find my body. Confused, I ask them why they were so quick to jump to such a conclusion.
"Because," he said, "you were missing for three days."