//------------------------------// // Chapter One // Story: The Wardens of Edgewood // by Vermillion Prose //------------------------------// The workshop was dark, lit only by the brilliant blue aura of magic spilling from the sharp horn of the unicorn sitting at his workbench. He preferred it that way; the unfinished projects strewn about on the racks and other benches could not distract him if he could not see them. Instead, he was solely focused on the intricate components levitating in front of him. Gears moved into place with a motor, a casing sliding over to conceal the magnetic coiling of the electrically driven machine. The gears connected to a socket, and into the socket he tested the fit of several different bits before resuming his work. To the motor, he attached a larger socket of a different variety, with two leads for positive and negative electrical connectivity. As the pieces connected, he moved a screws into place with screwdriver at the ready, and secured them all before adding the custom case he had ordered from a machine shop in Manehattan. His last step was to slide a gently glowing gem into the lower socket, each pointed end securely contacting the leads before he closed the compartment. With a hoof, he applied pressure to a switch on the back and the newly crafted drill whirred into life. Smiling, his cerulean eyes glinting with satisfaction, he carefully set it down and let out a long, satisfied sigh. He tied on a little tag sporting the words ‘From: Sparkhorn.’ Now to just enjoy the quiet moment that follows a job well… “Hey Sparky, how’s it goin’?!” The unicorn let slip a cry of surprise completely appropriate for a stallion his age, horn crackling to life with mage lightning, and whirled to face his aural assailant. In the strobing light from his horn, a pegasus, crimson coat turned purple in the light, smiled from ear to ear, emerald eyes glimmering with mischief. ‘Sparky’ set his face to scowl immediately, steadied his magic, and missed striking the stallion with a weak jolt of static as he weaved past a bench and through the door to the storefront. He trotted irritably out after the pegasus prankster, squinting slightly as his eyes readjusted to the late morning sunlight streaming through the storefront windows. He brushed some of the dust from his workshop out of his cobalt mane and off of his winter grey coat. “Skyrocket, how many times have I told you not to do that while I’m working! That tool is for dad’s birthday,” he snapped, directing his glare at the pegasus. The pegasus responded by simply blowing a few strands of his silver-streaked white mane out of his eyes. “Relax! I waited until you put it down and did your ‘I’m finally done and happy with it’ sigh,” he wiggled his eyebrows in emphasis, the mirth in his eyes undimmed. The unicorn sagged a bit, rolled his eyes, and sighed once more, now in defeat. “So, we still on for lunch?” Skyrocket asked, looking at some of the wares on the display racks in the storefront. Sockets of all different shapes and sizes, much like the one for the drill, sat next to tools and appliances which sported more of the fixtures. In the counter sat gems of an astounding variety of colors, each one labeled with a price in bits. He admired a particularly shiny ruby as Sparkhorn levitated his saddle bags from behind the counter and across his back. “Can’t practice on an empty stomach, now can we?” Sparkhorn returned with a knowing smile. He presented a hoof to his friend, and Skyrocket completed the hoofbump as they turned to head outside. “You have it all set up for us?” As they got to the door, Sparkhorn flipped the ‘Open’ sign to ‘Closed,’ then followed Skyrocket out and locked up the store, tucking his keys away in his bags. Skyrocket stretched his wings, but remained on the ground, enjoying the slow trot with his friend. It was an ideal day to be out and about in Edgewood. Making their way from town center, lined with stores, restaurants, and offices, they reached the fields. Wheat, barley, and oats grew in swaying amber waves over the rolling hills of the countryside, stopping well short of the Forest of Leota. Nearly every home out in the farmlands had a few apple trees, and every now and then a farmer would give a tree a light buck and enjoy a juicy afternoon snack. Many waved at the pair, and both would smile and return the neighborly gesture. Neither said much, enjoying the comfortable silence of a walk with a lifelong friend. Shortly after they had passed the furthest field and were closing on the forest, they arrived at a gently flowing creek. A single, wizened willow tree leaned sagely over the river, and under the shade was a comfortable patch of mossy ground right next to the water. Leaning against the trunk was a picnic basket, just as Skyrocket had left it when he went to get Sparkhorn. “I hope you’re as hungry as I am, because I packed it to last the afternoon,” Skyrocket said, glancing up to the sky and noting it was a bit past noon. “Plenty of fuel for training!” Sparkhorn grinned before reaching out to the picnic basket with his magic. He gave a low whistle. “Boy, you aren’t kidding! This is perfect, Sky.” The pegasus gave a theatrical bow, and Sparkhorn responded with a smirk and a weak punch against his friend’s shoulder. The pegasus responded with a quirked eyebrow and unfolded his wings. He assumed a more ready stance. “What, you want to start now and eat later?” The pegasus flexed his wings and snorted. “I’m game for that if you are.” “Whoah, down buddy. Lunch first, sparring next,” he replied amicably. The pegasus nodded and the two plopped down next to the basket, the unicorn setting his bags down against the tree. Sparkhorn levitated a lettuce and tomato sandwich out to his waiting mouth, while Skyrocket cracked open a sarsaparilla soda bottle with his wing. Sparkhorn magicked another sandwich over to his friend, who planted the open soda in front of the unicorn and cracked open another. The first few minutes were quiet, only the gentle breeze rustling the leaves of the willow and the gurgling of the creek to be heard. Once the first sandwiches were hungrily devoured, conversation could begin. “So what are we gonna practice today? We did hoof-to-hoof the last couple of days, so I think we’ve got that down pretty well.” The pegasus took another bite from his second sandwich, swallowed, then continued, saying, “I know you were all excited about some new technique or something.” The unicorn’s earns perked up at that, and he finished the last of his soda before replying. “Okay, so you know how I’m all good with electricity, right?” The pegasus nodded. “Well, I only figured that out during a thunderstorm when I discovered my talent,” he said, gesturing towards his backside. An azure gem crossed by a brilliant yellow lightning bolt adorned his toned flanks. “I’m quite happy with how I can charge up gems, and it’s quite useful to be able to work on tools and machines and all, but if we want to prove ourselves we’re going to need an edge.” “What kind of edge?” Skyrocket asked, his curiosity piqued. “Well, here’s what I need you to do…” “This is going to be so cool!” Skyrocket exclaimed, hovering above an ominously dark cloud he had ‘acquired.’ “Well, if it goes according to plan, yes,” Sparkhorn began, “but if you hit the cloud just a little bit off or I can’t channel my magic properly this could get pretty messy…” “You’ve been practicing with your lightning bolts the whole time I was gone right?” Sparkhorn nodded, glancing at the scorched rocks nearby. He had been firing off basic lightning spells for the better part of an half hour waiting for Skyrocket to return with a storm cloud. “Then you’ll do fine! I’ve got faith in you, bro.” Sparkhorn simply shook his head slowly before moving under the cloud. He took up a stable stance and began channeling his magic. Skyrocket hovered next to the storm cloud, his feathers tingling as he felt the local static levels build up. The unicorn’s horn fizzed, spat, then crackled with the buildup of energy, electricity coursing from base to tip. The unicorn spoke, his voice strained from effort. “Ready when… you are… Sky,” he gritted out, locking eyes with his friend and giving a nod. Skyrocket’s face remained stoic as he returned the nod. He turned and took his most precise aim at the exact point on the cloud he needed to strike. It was a small cloud, not even worth a shower in its own right, but that didn’t make what they were doing much safer. He reared back and let loose a precise buck. “Now!” the pegasus shouted, barely getting the word out before the cloud gave an almighty crack and a bolt of lightning leapt towards the nearest conductor. Namely, an electrically charged unicorn horn. Sparkhorn jerked as the bolt connected, his nerves on fire and his legs nearly buckling. His muscles burned and he felt an excruciating headache building, but he focused all his willpower on fusing the cloud’s bolt with his magic. The pool of energy began to grow out of control. Realizing what would happen if he let it build any further, he channeled it all away, whipping his head and discharging it all at an available target. With a pained cry a mighty azure bolt of lightning let fly, the backwash knocking down its caster. Sparkhorn tried to look up at the sky, but darkness was constricting his vision as he grasped consciousness with what was left of his abused willpower. Skyrocket landed right next to him, carefully helping him up and looking him over. Sparkhorn felt his vision going back to normal, but his muscles were sore and his ears rang slightly. “You don’t look so good, bro,” he said. “You feel ok? How many feathers am I holding up?” Sparkhorn responded with a scowl and sarcasm, with a foul remark about where he could shove those feathers. “Yeah, you’re fine,” Skyrocket replied with a grin, then gestured to the creek. “You should probably get a drink though. And maybe a look at yourself.” Sparkhorn walked gingerly over to the creek, the ache persisting, and looked down at the water before going for a drink. The end of his horn was blackened, and his mane and tail were singed and faintly smoking, both on end and frizzy from latent static. He dragged a hoof down his face as he took in his new state. “I’m going to need a serious bath before I go home or dad is going to kill me. You know, if I don’t,” he muttered to himself. He levitated his bags over, pulling out a towel. He turned back towards his friend when the pegasus let out a frustrated groan. Where their picnic basket had been was now a slightly smoking crater and burning bits of straw. The walk back was uneventful, the sun beginning its descent towards the horizon. They once again passed the fields, seemingly ablaze in the late rays of the sun. Both admired the familiar view, another beautiful evening away from the bustle of Manehattan or Canterlot. Neither had really experienced much beyond the quiet farming town, but they had heard enough. Skyrocket’s family had moved from Cloudsdale when he was still a colt, and Sparkhorn only knew stories of faraway cities, as his parents had moved out to the idyllic community when he was conceived. Sparkhorn frowned at the thought and the less than pleasant memories it evoked, gently shaking his head to clear his mind. Back in town proper, they went their separate ways. Skyrocket initiated a hoofbump to end the day, and took off after Sparkhorn finished it. His cloud home was on the other side of town center, and knowing his parents, he’d have the house to himself. He’d probably stay up all night reading his favorite action comics. Again. Sparkhorn, however, levitated out his keys and unlocked the door to a single story town house. He stepped into the foyer, which was essentially just a tiled portion of the living room. A charcoal-coated unicorn stallion sitting in an armchair looked up from his paper. His pale grey eyes did a once over of Sparkhorn before he ran a hoof through his matching cobalt mane. “Son, please tell me you didn’t do something foolish again today.” “Love you too, dad, great to be home,” he replied sarcastically, dropping his bags by the door next to a workman’s set with the name ‘Drill Bit’ stitched on. “Look, Sparks, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you, but I don’t want you getting hurt and why is you mane singed?!” Sparkhorn winced, looking a bit apologetic. “I can explain…” Drill Bit facehoofed. “I’ve heard that before. What did you go and do now, stand under a cloud and try to… oh sweet sisters you did,” he finished, letting his jaw drop. “I’m sorry dad…I just…” Drill Bit stood up and made to move towards his son. “Just what, want to end yourself sooner?” he began, sounding fearful. “I miss your mother too, but if you keeping putting yourself in danger…” The emotional stomp of a hoof cut him off. “I’m doing it all so it doesn’t have to happen to anypony ever again!” The room went completely silent. Drill Bit was frozen in place, jaw set. “You’re still trying to join those wardens aren’t you?” He closed the gap to his son, reaching out with a hoof. “I know you want to do good, but you’re fantastic in your shop! You create what nopony else in town can, and you can only do that if you’re in good health to do it…” Sparkhorn sagged. “I know you don’t understand dad, but this is something I have to do.” He turned and started towards his room before pausing. “I love you dad. I’ll see you in the morning.” Drill Bit stood there for some time before making his own way to bed. Sparkhorn sat on his haunches, his father hugging him from behind. He looked at the slight, graceful body lying cold and still before him on the bed. He reached out his hoof, a colt’s hoof, to touch her. Before he could the world spun and he bolted upright, only to stumble through inky darkness. Trees, there were some kind of gangly trees, like ones he imagined would be in the depths of the woods where nopony should go. His pulse was alive as he heard a hissing. He turned, and a horror presented itself. His mind could not process what he was seeing, all gangly limbs and buzzing wings. Hissing and fangs, hostile eyes, glossy with hunger. A buzzing and wicked laugh. Tears flowed freely from his eyes. He could not remember when he started to cry. He began to shout, fear pushing him to scream his terror as he tried to run, but there was nowhere, he could not feel himself move, and the horror crept in, the horrors crept in, he was going to be devoured, the depths were going to consume him… he was… he was…. He was looking upon a dark form, unlike the others. The night mare in his nightmare. She was here again. Her eyes glowed white as she towered over him. Her muzzle opened to speak, and just as he heard the first hints of sound his mind jolted… And he awoke. The badlands are a place of broken ground, jagged peaks, and the closest thing to desolation as can be found in Equestria. Out in these unappealing lands, events have begun taking shape and plans are being put into motion. Dark and musty does not frequently describe the peak of a tower, but the air churned by two pairs of glossy, buzzing wings had a distinctly clammy quality. Dark iron torches lit the room with a subdued burn. Beyond the arcing, peaking windows that encircled the room, dark clouds hung persistently over the badlands. On a marble table, jagged in aspect, a velvet cushion sat an ivory stand of three legs, barbs curving upwards to restrain a faintly emerald crystal orb the size of a drone's head. Changelings, taller than the drones that composed the vast majority of their gangly race, rose from the spiral stairs bordering the room and flew to opposite sides of the orb. As the two settled in, one lazing on a large, billowing winedark pillow and the other leaning against the table, the sitting one spoke in a buzzing voice. "The queen should be executing her plan soon. Are all of our assets in place, dear sister?" A pair of beryl eyes fluttered demurely. A set of aquamarine eyes rolled in response. The next voice was more melodious, a hum in place of the buzz. "But of course. This fool plan of hers is bound to backfire, so I've ensured our house has agents in place for our own agenda." The orb on the table swirled, images of wheat fields, farm houses, and rolling hills bordered by woods flickered, only just perceptible. Vague impressions of armored equines flashed over its surface before quickly fading. "Whether she succeeds or not, we'll have removed one thorn from our side," she mused, slowly walking around the table to stand over her sister. Both turned to look out over the changeling domain. The broken ground of the badlands was dotted with massive tents of tattered tarpaulin, and before each stood scores of changelings. Armored warrior caste moved amongst the drones, accosting any that did not meet the standard their queen had put forth. After all, invasions did not win themselves.