Nopony knows the trouble I've seen
Nopony knows my sorrow
Nopony knows the trouble I've seen
Nopony knows but Luna
"Pinkie, please, is this really the time? I have enough of a headache as it is."
Rarity rubbed her red, sore forehead with a whine. She had coaxed Fluttershy into trying to pry off her horn-cap but all she had gotten for it was aching pain and some irritated, itchy skin. The lock on the device had the same vice-like grip as a territorial crab, utterly refusing to let go. Pinkie Pie's incessant singing only added to her headaches.
"Aw, come on!" Pinkie Pie begged, "I barely have a chance to use my jailpony songs! This is the perfect time for them! Oo, oo, I got another one!" She sat with her hind legs stretched open and thumped the ground between them with her forehooves in rhythm. Her jaunty singing came out with a twang like a plucking guitar:
I hear the train a-coming
It's trotting down the line
And I ain't seen no sun light
For quite a long time
I'm stuck in Foalsom Prison
And days keep dragging on
But that train keeps a-trottin'
On down to San Cantone
When I was just a filly
My mama told me, "Girl
Be a stand-up pony
Don't give crime a whirl,"
But I mugged a mare in Mino
Just to get her pie
When I hear that whistle blowing
I lick my lips and sigh
They had all been locked away in some sort of treehouse jail hut. It sat high and isolated in the branches, with no neighboring structures or planks close by. There wasn't a way up to it or down from it except for a small platform that was raised and lowered with pulleys. The Dryponies had ferried them up in groups, releasing them from the leashes that had conjoined them first. Now they were all trapped up there. Even if they managed to slip out of their bars, there was nowhere to go unless either of the pegasi could free their wings.
Their prison was one room; a simple square chamber which was divided in half by the bars which imprisoned them. The sliding cell door, bars and all, was made of some exceptionally sturdy and hardened wood, resistant to even a mighty buck from Applejack. Thankfully, it wasn't a cramped and claustrophobic space but was instead sizable enough for them to spread out and get some breathing room. However, they had no accommodations other than a barred window which overlooked the concourse and a single dingy mat which covered part of the unpolished, splintery wooden floor. If they needed so much as a drink they had to call to the two guards who were stationed just outside the hut door, on a small access balcony.
"Try again, Fluttershy. I think we're making progress," Rarity requested, already twinging in expectation of the slow, wrenching pain. She couldn't make up her mind as to whether the atrocious horn piece was a worse horror than the damage she was doing to her precious horn and skin, and every several minutes she alternated between seeking assistance and crying for mercy.
"Oh gosh, I don't know Rarity, I don't think I'm doing any good at all. Its really stuck on there. Are you sure you're alright?" Fluttershy asked with reservation. As the soreness on the unicorn's head had grown worse, the pegasus' cautious pulls had only grown weaker.
While the two continued to grapple over Rarity's prison garb and her schizophrenic attitude towards it, Rainbow Dash still hadn't given up on trying to free herself. However, as this point she was mostly trying to flex her wings with half-strength pushes in between minutes of heavy breathing and gasping for air. The smell of her sweat was soaked into the the very vines that she was trying to break. She had worked herself into exhaustion.
"Applejack... come on... try... the knot... again," she wheezed, at last collapsing onto the floor.
"Ain't gonna do no good," the farm pony returned plainly. She was reared up, resting her chin on her crossed forelegs, themselves at ease on the thin windowsill. Her eyes lazily wandered the concourse below, keeping up with the stirring activities of the Dryponies as they rushed to and fro, preparing for something.
"Maybe it's... just about... to give," Rainbow Dash breathed.
"Naw, it was only getting tighter when I fiddled with it. That's a knot for keeps, that is," Applejack dryly expressed. "Unless we get something to do some cutting, you're just gonna hafta deal, Rainbow. Sorry."
The tired pegasus let her head plunk against the floor and laid there quietly, her raspy breath kicking up small clouds of dust. She pulled her head back up after a moment to look at Twilight. The unicorn was pacing relentlessly back and forth in the rear of the cell, her eyes always half-down towards the ground and her mouth always running in whispers to herself.
"How about now, Twilight?" Rainbow Dash asked, voice unhopeful and just shy of disdain. "Can you blast that thing off and free us NOW?"
Spike, still coiled in vines and gag as completely as ever, bounced up from the corner he was sitting in. He stared with wide-eyed anticipation at the pondering unicorn.
Twilight held still for a moment before shaking her head, knowing she was going to disappoint. "No. I... I shouldn't."
Murmuring through his gag, Spike sat back down.
"Come on, Twilight! Why?" Rainbow Dash complained.
"James is free. He might be able to-"
"To do what?" the exasperated pony interjected. She eased herself up into a sitting position and blew hot air out of the side of her mouth. Rolling a hoof in the space next to her head, she snorted with bitter sarcasm, "Yeah, antisocial war guy is really going to talk these headcase ponies into trotting off of their warpath. Just how RELIABLE has he seemed to you, Twilight?"
The targeted intensity in that one word hit its mark dead on. Twilight immediately thought of the man's inconsistent attitude over the past weeks; his passive lethargy that had pinned him down at the library unless somepony else had come along to drag him out; his unyielding insistence that he was alright even when he had been presented with concerns to the contrary; his aggressive unwillingness to ever speak with her about his personal issues. Even when they had been working to solve Hamestown's problems he had isolated himself, like he had been running his own investigation and would only offer his insight when he had been prompted. He hadn't been working with the team, or perhaps he hadn't wanted to.
But she wasn't going to give up. Not anymore.
Hesitant, Twilight tried to express, "Whatever his personal problems are, that's a different issue. Right here, right now, we may need him. The Princess probably thought it would be a good idea for him to come along because he might be able to offer a unique perspective that can-"
"Perspective?" Rainbow Dash dimly laughed, shaking her head. "I bet right now his 'perspective' is that he's already out of this trouble and he doesn't have a reason to stick his neck out for us..." She stabbed Twilight with her eyes and continued, "... cause he certainly didn't seem to care at all when you tried to stick your neck out for him."
Twilight dipped her head. But though melancholy tried to nip at her, its bite had no teeth. In the content of her friend's words she saw memories of James failing to respond to her attempts to help; the darkness and depression he had left her with when she had felt that she had failed. But in the sound of her friend's voice she heard the echoes of loyalty. As always, Rainbow Dash was just trying to protect, in her own way, the ponies dearest to her. Even if it was in an incredibly brash way. The ferocious mother hen side of her friend was asserting itself. In that moment, the unicorn felt thankful to have such a friend.
But be that as it was, escape wasn't the answer here. The route this conversation was taking wasn't helping Rainbow Dash understand that. Twilight needed to come in from a different angle.
The pegasus slammed one solid hoof onto the waiting other with determined action and insisted, "The only way we're ever going to get out of here is if we get ourselves out!"
"No, that's not the only way. We can't let that be the only way," Twilight responded steadily. She sat down in front of her friend. "Look, Rainbow Dash, these... Dryponies already don't like us at all. For whatever reason that is. They're not going to like us any better if we break out of this cell."
Rainbow Dash pulled her head back with a raised eyebrow, the unexpected twist bewildering her. Perplexed, she questioned, "So? What does that matter? Aren't they the ones that have been sabotaging Hamestown?"
"Well, yes, but-" Twilight admitted.
The pegasus determined, "They're villains, Twilight!"
"No!" the unicorn rejected, adding, "I mean, there's something more going on here. I don't know what it is... These ponies have been here for who knows how long but they only started to be trouble very recently." Why? Again her eyes fell into clear rumination.
James had suggested military reasoning. That supplies had been taken and 'weapons' broken in preparation for an attack. But why had they waited so long for that? However, she remembered he had also admitted a reverse scenario was entirely possible. The Dryponies could have done the same thing in an effort to defend themselves by thwarting possible aggression. That fit; they hid until they had believed they were forced to act.
But again, why?
The Dryponies hated Princess Celestia. They had never once used her name, always calling her the "wicked Sun" instead. There was no doubt that Willow Wise had recognized the name when Twilight had spoken it however. Somehow, someway, these ponies were convinced that the Princess was their persecuting enemy, and thus the unicorn and her friends also by association; her hopes for even council had been doomed from the start.
Was it tied to the Dryponies' obvious reviling of magic? For a very, very long time the Princess had wielded Harmony, one of the ultimate magics; it was only recently that it had been given over to Twilight and her friends. Perhaps they rejected Princess Celestia because they knew her as that powerful source of magic? And then on the opposite side of the matter they had readily accepted James, she presumed, because he is magically inert? The second half sounded right at least, but the first... No, no, they had been too specific with their loathing of the Princess. It was something more personal.
But AGAIN, why? What produced this deep-set abhorrence? What missing link tied everything together?
Rainbow Dash frowned. "How much of all this do you really think is a misunderstanding?" she doubtfully questioned. "I mean, they jumped us out of the blue."
A great control came upon Twilight. She was solid and certain in body, and unshakably serious in her eyes. Her words came out with force but at the same time they were completely bare of anger or hostility. Biting maybe, but venomless. Stern maybe, but wise. Hard maybe, but honest. "You know, you keep accusing James of seeing this like some sort of battle, but how are you really being any different?" she asked rhetorically. "You're the one insisting that they're the bad guys. That we need to forcefully break ourselves out."
The pegasus paused, hey eyes twitching and rolling away. She stammered, "Yeah, but, I mean, uh... they... you heard them! They think that WE'RE the bad guys! Out to destroy them!"
"And we'd only be reinforcing their view if we start fighting back," responded Twilight with confident discernment. "Breaking out wouldn't do anything to show them otherwise."
Unconvinced silence spread out from Rainbow Dash. She didn't look ready to surrender, but her fight ran away from her.
Twilight implored, "We're never going to solve this if we can't give them a reason to trust us."
"... And how do we do that from here?" asked Rainbow Dash. The question was devoid of struggle, asked honestly and openly, though the pegasus held on to all her reserve.
"For our part, all we can do is sit tight. It's up to James right now."
Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes, scarcely able to believe the situation they had gotten themselves into: caged like zoo animals with the unsteady, soldier foreigner as their goodwill ambassador. "And if he screws up or makes things worse?" she inquired deliberately.
The unicorn didn't answer.
Applejack, still leaning on the windowsill, perked her head up. Her attention had been seized very suddenly. She pushed herself up and bent forward to get her eyes right up to the bars of the window. "Uh... something's going on down there," she called back warily. "I think y'all better come see this!"
At the top of the ramp was the open doorway into the grand tree. No door; just an archway decorated in flowered vines and hanging strings that held gems and items of whittled wood. Following Willow Wise, James passed through and got his first look at the inside of the palace hollow. It wasn't quite a palace in grandeur; though there was beauty in abundance, there was a certain plainness to it all that echoed humility. Crystals were used to line some doorways and stairs, and more hung from the ceilings like chandeliers, but they didn't feel like flauntings of wealth. They were merely taken from the ample supply of the nearby lake and their easy glow kept the rooms lit. Carpets of simple leaf and grass weren't laid as adornment but to ease walking about the carved grain of the wood. Artistic embellishments were everywhere: murals painted from crushed flowers, carved figurines, engravings and reliefs on walls and banisters, and hanging things and upright fixtures made from crystals. A reverent quality was in them all; placed not for beauty and made only for worship.
The main chamber was broad and tall like the foyer of a theater. It couldn't have taken up the entirety of the tree's depth, not simply because of the trunk's mammoth size; stairs on either side ran up into rooms unseen and occasional doorways passed into halls unknown. The far center had a gathering space that was complete with a ring of short, wooden blocks to use as seats, hewn from the floor. It was partly surrounded with slightly curved walls sporting shelves filled with bark-skinned tomes and assorted knick-knacks. A fat flowerpot of glowing crystals sat in the wall like a hearth, dusting the dry rugs with its multicolored light.
Willow Wise lead him to the gathering space and swept a hoof out, inviting, "Please, sit down."
Obediently he did, selecting one of the stiff seats at random.
The old mare started to ease herself onto a seat of her own but halted when she noticed a few other Dryponies coming down one of the stairways and through the chamber. They slowed down, taking long stares at the man as they went. She turned to go over to them, excusing herself politely, "Do relax and be comfortable. I will tend to you in but a moment."
James kept himself from eavesdropping on whatever she was saying to the other ponies. Aside from still being a little overwhelmed by everything that was happening, he held a strict desire to avoid drawing any suspicion from the old mare. She had handled Twilight with incredible hostility, and he had no idea where her geniality towards him had come from. There was no telling how easily that switch could be flicked if he wasn't careful.
The overheard tone of her voice didn't make whatever she was saying sound terribly important anyway. Certainly not worth the risk. He was keenly aware that he was the only one free and therefore some weight of unwanted responsibility rested solely upon him. Worse that he hadn't the faintest conception of why he had been set free while the others had stayed imprisoned. Of all the times to be without Twilight...
He gazed about to see if maybe he could draw in some information from the environment, though he considered it a remote hope. The depictions on the walls, whether mural or engraving, were elegant and ornate, but somehow they still reminded him more of a collage of family portraits hanging in a living room than a display of museum pieces. Some were images of other Dryponies, obvious from the distinctive markings about their right eyes. But there were other images also. One seemed to be the forest past, with only the beginnings of a village. There was a relief of crystalline caves that almost looked like an enormous geode. One of the smaller murals was a castle-city upon a mountain, very similar to Canterlot. However, the air of harmony was disturbingly absent from the image, leaving it dark and dismal, and the painter had given a certain gross gaudiness to the entire city.
Eying the many items on the shelves, one thing in particular caught his attention. Sitting on one of the low shelves was the whittled figurine of a solitary unicorn. Through Twilight, he had picked up upon the peculiarity of absent unicorns here. The story of abandoned unicorn infants that had been told on the train rested in his mind as well. What was most unusual to him was that this pony figurine here was shown in armor, wearing also a helmet with a brushy crest. The armor of a Royal Guard? There was something so familiar about the tiny statue, too. Had he seen it before? There was some recognizable resemblance of strength and dedication, but to what he frustratingly couldn't place. The uneasiness in him befuddled his recall.
Willow Wise returned after a few minutes, with the other ponies departing out the front. The old mare rested down in the seat she had chosen before. Then, with patient gratitude, so strange compared to what James had seen of her just outside, she said, "I must apologize again, Walking Desert."
He couldn't reasonably run from this situation. Some way or another he would have to engage with her. But no matter how polite she was now, he worried that a single instance of misspeaking might turn her back into that obstinate pony who had aggressively shutdown Twilight. Speaking lightly and deliberately, trying to test the waters, he said, "It's James, actually. My name, that is."
The mare drew her head back and studied him. "Hm... is that what they call you?" she asked, hiding an accusation in her words.
"No, it's... it's my name," he answered, trying to steer clear of all the conspiracy. "It's what my parents called me."
This time, Willow Wise hummed sincerely. Looking him over again, she asked, "And what does it mean?"
Immediately he felt a nervous shudder. Weakly, he replied, "Mean? It means... uh... James. I don't know."
"I am sorry," the old mare swiftly apologized. She could tell she had flustered him and she actually seemed genuinely remorseful she had done so. Like a parent clearing the air with their child, she explained to him, "Here, we remember always names, for they can have much significance. We've known your name since before you were here."
Again he noted that she seemed to see everything through a single lens. One part of him still hoped to keep their conversation out of that realm but another side recognized how committed she was; how impossibly silly it was to think he could dance around it. Still, he quickly spoke up and rambled, "Well, I mean, I'm sure my name has a meaning, it's just... I don't know it, or even why my parents picked it." What a thing to have never asked them when he had the chance. He guessed aloud, "It could be taken from an old story, this... apostle guy. Or I guess great grandpa's name was also James."
"Ah," Willow Wise's eyes lit up, "so, family and history are important to you then?"
James stopped for a quiet moment of reflection, then definitively and resolutely responded, "Yes."
"Then that is something we share!" the old mare proclaimed proudly. "You will learn of OUR history and family quite soon."
"That would be good," he decided. "To be honest, I'm... kind of in the dark here."
A grim anger bubbled up in Willow Wise. Indignant at something invisible, she told him, "Yes, I'm not surprised. The wicked Sun, for all her 'light', loves to keep others drowned in darkness."
There she went again. Losing faith, he tried to clarify, "No, I mean, I don't know anything about you or the other ponies here."
But the mare only pointed at him and declared, "You see? She would send you here to act against us without ever letting you know what you were truly doing! She would make you her blind weapon."
Hopeless. He looked away and uttered, "I wasn't sent here... I chose to come along with the others..."
Willow Wise's lips curled doubtfully. With plain intention, she asked, "Are you certain you did?"
And in that moment, James wondered if he truly had. Princess Celestia had claimed to have left him with the choice to come along or not, but he couldn't remember anymore if, when he had made his decision, he had ever felt like the choice was actually his. Had she made the choice for him, guiding him into it? He remembered that even in casual conversation she had been sometimes tricky... or... had that been just playfulness, and was this remembered deceit new to his recall?
That didn't seem like the kind of pony she was. In the beginning the Princess had spared him because she was a leader who valued compassion. That's what she had claimed anyway... no... wait... that was what he had determined. Only after pressing her enough about it had she claimed it. She had then welcomed him to tag along because... why exactly? She had known something more about what was going on here but she had never revealed it. Why? She had thought... he could HELP with this? Somehow? Or maybe in the beginning, when she had first interrogated him... she had seen the soldier he was and had spared him because she had plans for that aspect of him?
He remembered he had initially protested her offer of going. Actually, wait, no... he had in fact decided not to go at one point. But then he had gone anyway... and... had told Twilight that the Princess had asked him? Now he couldn't even determine which words were real and which were the makings of his own mind.
The dissonance that filled his head churned violently, like rolling rocks beating against the sides of his skull. Everything and nothing made sense at the same time. He KNEW some of the things Willow Wise had said or implied didn't make sense but he couldn't shutter out the thought that they somehow had. And the Princess... Princess Celestia's thoughts and actions...
For some reason, in a brief flash, he thought about his father.
The long silence that James emitted was all the confirmation the old mare needed. She spoke, "Whatever you believe you were given was only her way of getting you to serve her ends. The wicked Sun has only ever had in mind for you... only what she can use you for." The mare leaned in close to him and, with words that came softly yet boldly, as if she were liberating him with some great truth, she said, "That is who she is. She serves only herself."
The two irreconcilable worlds continued to battle away in his mind, giving him a sore headache. But somewhere in his humanity he also knew that, of these two realities, one of them lead to a more terrible existence than the other. And with a wishing hopefulness, not born up from the solid foundation of confirmed knowledge, he took a stand and contended quietly, "Considering everything I've seen... that's a little much to believe."
But with each and every word that came out of his mouth, Willow Wise's face sunk more and more with displeasure. Seeing that, he started to feel gasps of panic and his stand against her distorted reality immediately faltered. He fumbled out, "Granted, I don't really know the Princess that well."
"The truth of her character is well known to us here," the mare insisted firmly. "We do not forget her great and selfish betrayal."
The sudden lead was like a single, blue break in an infinite batch of blackened storm clouds. It knocked some of the confusion out of the man and, asserting better control over himself, he pressed gently, "What betrayal?"
Disappointingly, Willow Wise only answered, "You shall see... soon."
When she saw his posture, all her aged experience was quick to inform her that he was discouraged. Mistaking the reasons for his dejection, she softened again and said comfortingly, "You will come to understand, but you must hear it from more than me. We, Dryponies all, will show you the truth."
James sat quietly a moment longer but then suddenly braced himself. Leaning in with a bowed head, he asked extra politely and with a bit of masked nervousness, "With all respect, Lady Willow, they say that the truth is in the eye of the beholder. If I may be allowed to ask... why do I take your truth over the Princess's?"
As he feared, she did not take his question calmly. Her eyes flared, her lips furled, and her teeth ground together. But to his surprise, she was still so caught up in her vision that he could feel most of her displeasure projecting away from him, being shot like vengeful arrows towards Canterlot. "Why would you ever take her 'truth' at all?" she snarled. "Because in her vanity she coats herself in glory? She holds herself up as a princess, above others? She stylizes herself an inerrant wellspring of greatness and power, that should be worshiped? Bah!" The old mare spat out a disgusted breath and then hissed in warning, "She is a jealous Sun, tolerating no 'truth' but her own. When she shines, she must outdo all other sources of light. No star can glimmer on her watch! She even dimmed the light of her own sister!"
"Princess Luna, you mean?" James perked up, curious. "She's not... trapped in the moon or whatever anymore. She's free now."
Willow Wise reined in her ranting but she looked at him with dubious belief.
He gestured towards the door, out where Twilight and her friends were, somewhere. "The others... did something... they... helped the sisters reconcile." It was too recent a current event to have been in any of the books he had been given. Now he wished he had picked Twilight's brain about it more.
"Doubtless another story to color your vision," the old mare mumbled harshly.
"No, she IS free. I... I met Princess Luna. Very... very, very briefly," admitted the man.
It was on the one night they had been back in Canterlot. After sulking in the garden, drained of life and wishing for a forgetful sleep, he had sought out a guard and had asked to be led to his room. On the way there, under the glow of the rising moon, he had encountered her. Dark and blue, shimmering like the serene, starry sky, had been the Princess of the Moon. The Princess of Night.
They had hardly exchanged more than greetings in passing though. He had been swift to shut down any potential conversation; both from the day's exhausting toil having had slain him and a fixed belief against Princess Celestia's recommendation that he speak with the Moon Princess. Princess Celestia's... recommendation? Now that he thought back on it... it certainly could have been coincidence that he had run into Princess Luna in the early night. That was her castle too, and the chance meeting had been during her hour. But... what were the odds? Could that Sun have tried to set it up...?
He rubbed his face hard. What were these thoughts in his head?
Clearing his eyes, he focused on Willow Wise again and could see how wearily unsatisfied she was with how this encounter was proceeding. Whatever she thought he was had certainly given her predictions that didn't match with how he was presenting himself. However, he still thought that the bizarre favor she had been giving him was perhaps all that was saving him and maybe also the only chance at saving this whole quagmire. He worried about losing it. Straightening himself up, he tried to look respectful and bowed again, saying, "I apologize. I'm not trying to be disagreeable, Lady Willow. It's just... I'm, uh..."
"You are lost, I can see," she finished for him. Her knowledgeable eyes cut into him. "Belonging somewhere, but not able to find your way there. Being trapped, stolen away from where you're needed. Separated from the sinew of your soul."
Her words washed over him and touched him. She was right. A deep sadness settled into his still body, floating with every breath and ringing with every ache.
But it didn't last long. He was broken out of it as she continued speaking, morphing into a tirade, growing ever more hostile and aggressive, "Manipulated. Told lies. Abused. Turned into a tool for the tasks of others. We will clear your confusion. You were MEANT to come here."
These words passed through him completely unheeded, almost unheard even. Nothing about them resonated anywhere inside of him. They were wrong.
"Apologies again," he said quietly, "but I don't like that thought."
"It is natural to be afraid of destiny," Willow Wise stated, the old caring mother coming out of her again.
"I don't know if it's fear," the man intoned with certainty, "but destiny and I had a pretty bad falling out recently."
"You will feel that because the duties of destiny are not meant to be easy ones. Our Drypony destiny is meant to challenge us," the old mare asserted. She held a hoof out towards him, inviting, "The mystery of your coming shows... that your destiny is linked to ours."
Before he could deny her, a heavy humming rose up from outside. It was deep and rumbling, moving through air and tree with equal power. It rose and fell, growing louder and stronger with each rising.
Willow Wise stood up. "Ah! Come! The time is soon," she told him.
"Time for what?" he asked as he got up.
"History."
She lead him out of the palace hollow, but instead of going down the ramp they stood off on the side of the balcony where they could get an uninterrupted view of the concourse.
Down below, the Dryponies had set up a thin fire pit in the very center of the area, and they now had a wide, dancing blaze burning away. Several ponies tended to it, keeping it controlled and letting not a single ember escape. But still, the flickering orange light that it cast consumed the forest. The trees and shrubs and huts bathed in the dreaming light, and the darkness that ran between them seemed to deepen. From out of the shadows of the village, the rest of the ponies gathered around the crackling flames. The entire village was coming together. Each who found a place began to hum from the bottom of their lungs, low and trembling. Louder, then softer. Louder, then softer. It grew mightier with each voice that joined. Their harmony was like the tumbling of waves along the shore, rising with the tide.
Neither James nor Willow Wise turned from the hypnotic scene, but the old mare raised her voice, announcing to him, "Long ago we came to Dryearth Forest and adopted Heartwood as our home. All Dryponies live one history that we remember here together, always. We know who we are. We are Prideheart's pack! Stand witness, Walking Desert! And give your attention as they begin. Learn!"
When the last Drypony found their place in the expanding circles of ponies, the sound changed. The ponies on the outside began to stamp their hooves against the beaten earth in a simple rhythm, like drums keeping time. Then others, closer to the center, did likewise, but their strikes were faster, stronger, and more dynamic. The two rhythms ran in parallel, overlapping here and there, and together they were a melody of thunder. At last, as the storm of stamps carried on, the ponies closest to the fire began to sing in a low, booming, united voice:
Ho-hum! Ho-hum!
Heartwood fire and blaze begun
Ho-hum! Ho-hum!
Enemies now hear our drum
Ho-hum! Ho-hum!
They run! They run!
Flee back to their wicked Sun
Heartwood home, Dryponies stay
Vile magic here can't lay
Earth guard us from foul spell
Safe in your green arms we dwell
Ho-hum! Ho-hum!
Life fought hard and so hard won
Ho-hum! Ho-hum!
Strength together not outdone
Ho-hum! Ho-hum!
Now one! Now one!
Can hunt us now, there are none
Wicked Sun a traitor true
Hid away in sky of blue
Prideheart fought the dark alone
Never did Wicked atone
Ho-hum! Ho-hum!
To her light we won't succumb
Ho-Hum! Ho-hum!
We wait until the time has come
Ho-Hum! Ho-hum!
No Sun! No Sun!
Freedom from the evil one
She seeks so to hide her shame
On us she lays unjust blame
Our lives again she will claim
But our fight she will not tame
Ho-hum! Ho-hum!
Now one! Now one!
Ho-hum! Ho-hum!
No Sun! No Sun!
The crowds backed away from the fire, revealing two ponies who stayed standing close to it. They stood on opposite sides of the blaze, staring each other down through the inferno. Though the rest of the ponies had moved back to give the two space, they continued to pound their rhythm into the earth and roll their hums through the air.
James couldn't mistake who one of the remaining ponies was. Those thick legs and that massive size; Broken Oak stood on the nearer side of the fire. But he was dressed in a costume! Or so the man presumed, given the theatrics on display before him. A lightened bark, dyed in golden yellow, was fitted over the stallion's body. It appeared like some kind of wooden armor. On the pony's head was a matching bark helmet, complete with a crest of white leaves. Again, James realized he was seeing the almost misplaced iconography of a Royal Guard.
There was another strange oddity about this depiction, though. Built into the helmet, jutting out like a unicorn's horn, was a crystal. It shined softly, like the others found in the village.
The pony on the other side of the fire had a much more extensive costume. Draped over his body was a mesh of teardrop-shaped leaves, sewn together, all flowing in the same direction like scales on a lizard. Thin pine cones, prickly and sharp, ran along his back, from neck to tail. Some even were tied up in the end his tail; a club of spikes. On his back, built from stick and leaves, was a frame which resembled bat wings. A mask was fitted over his face, also sewn up with scaly leaves, giving him a long snout filled with carved wooden fangs. Set just above the pony's eyes, the mask had two eyes of its own: small jewels, blood red in color, burning darkly. On the top of the dragon-visage were three wooden horns; two curved back, and one sat on the forehead and came out with a crooked spiral.
Broken Oak and the other pony began to stalk about the fire, walking slowly in circles around it. They were always on opposite sides and never did they tear their stares away from each other. But they moved differently. Broken Oak walked a straight circle, having only his head turned towards the other pony and always keeping his broad side to the blaze. The dragon-pony sidestepped about, facing the fire and Broken Oak head on.
James shifted uncomfortably where he stood, the déjà vu like a stone in his shoe.
As the two crept around the burning bonfire, they began to sing, trading off verses. First Broken Oak, then the other pony:
Prideheart proud!
Made of strength and honor bore
Protect one and all, I serve
Give loyalty and life for
Even they that undeserve
Wryzard wrath!
Terror of beyond the sea
Darkness wing and magic breath
Power mine and I decree
Worship me or worship death
Prideheart trust!
Shadow over Canterlot
With promise words the Sun swore
Her magic to dragon fought
To make blackened cloud no more
Wryzard crush!
On my prey I do not spy
Harmony or light of sun
You, dear fool, are left with lie
Who stops me now? I count one
Prideheart courage!
Wicked Sun has fled away
Abandoned the dragon strife
But I stand now without sway
I protect these with my life
Wryzard curse!
Pony magic, worthless shield
Evil magic my dread sword
Mercy soft, I will not yield
Suffer now your dark reward
At this, the two stopped moving. 'Wryzard' began to stomp wildly and heave loudly. Those ponies who were behind him joined in, mimicking his rage. As their craze heightened, raising their moans and calls to discordant screams, the wind they generated blasted the embers of the fire towards Broken Oak.
Defiant, the massive stallion stood unflinching as the sparks and flames whipped within a few inches of licking him. The ponies behind him watched in reverent silence. Eventually, when the fervor of the dragon's crowd peaked, Broken Oak 'collapsed' to his knees; all part of the performance. He laid his head low to the ground before he suddenly thrust the crystal horn on the helmet into the earth. With a violent twist, he snapped the crystal apart. Its simple light faded away.
'Prideheart,' horn broken and now defeated, held a hoof over his right eye, as if he were wounded. The dragon and his crowd calmed their noise to a simmer, but they looked ready to begin another storm at any time.
From behind the dragon, a mare emerged from the crowd. She herself was not in costume but on her back she bore a carved figurine. Although a little hard to see from the height he was upon, James recognized that it was clearly supposed to be Princess Celestia. Though... the depiction was awful and wrong. Wings were sharp like swords, her stance was lordly and domineering, and on her head was a massive and overwrought crown.
The Sun-bearer stood behind the dragon. At the base of the Celestia figurine were six differently colored crystals, and they began to shine with an intense light. The dragon's crowd fell quiet and the lizard himself hung his head down, finding the light unbearable. Silently and unceremoniously, he slunk back into the sea of ponies and disappeared.
Still laying 'wounded' on the ground, Broken Oak sang:
Prideheart fallen!
Strong still, with life not taken
But sight carved and magic lost
Sun's traitor truth, awaken
Mislaid devotion has cost
To that Sun I will not slave
Escape away, we will flee
Mine and my friends I must save
Home lightless and magic free
Many ponies came out of the crowd and picked up the fallen Broken Oak. Together, they went and disappeared into the throng.
The whole gathering then came to silence. No hums, no stamps, no noise but the cracks and pops of the fire. From out of the silent group emerged Poppy, who wore a dress that seemed to have been gifted by the forest itself. A skirt of flowing leaves, a tiara of crystals, vines wrapped like bracelets around her ankles; she was a princess of the forest. Now she sang, in a voice clear and high:
The wicked Sun is up high
She crawls along the vast sky
Always with a jealous eye
She hunts for Drypony
Protected by leaf of tree
Her wrath glare will never see
The day when we will be free
A land for us only
A place where no magic stalks
Away from our hunter hawks
Found by the Desert who Walks
True home for Drypony
Firm against Sun's rancor spite
Hold against her wicked light
Against encroach we must fight
Until our way is free
Heartwood home 'til home supreme
Prideheart's legacy redeem
Fulfill our Drypony dream
A land for us only
Completing her verses, Poppy bowed before the great fire. All the Dryponies, even Willow Wise up on the balcony, did likewise. With a silent prayer, under the flashing flare of their central flame, the ceremony concluded.
James gripped the balcony rail tightly, twisting his hand around it.
"... oh my God...," he whispered dryly.