//------------------------------// // With Great Power… // Story: Guiding Him Down a New Path // by Sai-guy //------------------------------// The speck hovering among the clouds, watching over the bay, must be my wife. Cadence, she was a sight for sore eyes — even as just a dot. Still, we were, by my reckoning, an hour-and-a-quarter out. I had responsibilities, though, so I tried putting my thoughts of being wrapped in her powerful wings out of my mind. From his position in the air above the Dancing Leaf, my lookout called down some observations, and I issued orders to my crew. Then, I turned my attention downward. When we’d left, my charts had been a couple months out of date. Between the winds, tides, and occasional sea monster attacks, the local branch of the Cartographers’ Guild faced a constant battle to keep track of the shifting sand bars. They put out new charts like clockwork every four months, but more than three months later, they were as accurate as a blind pony’s dead reckoning. The port authority usually sent out ponies to help bring ships in partially for that reason, but they’d stopped bothering with that for me and a few other unicorn captains, those of us who had a way to compensate. I didn’t usually think about my cutie mark, but Squall’s letter had it on my mind. A sextant, for my keen eyes. Since I’d gotten it, they’d only gotten sharper, as I learned new spells to improve them. They all had their place, some for seeing at night, some for magnification, but probably the hardest one to dig up and master let me get away with never needing to sound for depth. To be honest, casting spell wasn’t that hard, but it placed a huge mental strain on its caster. When I lit my horn, my leylines spooled out through the focus of my vision. They fed visuals back to me, letting me see everything they penetrated. Through the deck, the cargo, the hull, and the water, I could see the sand below, and bedrock passed into my vision whenever it cropped up high enough. I just tried to avoid looking through ponies — it made me want to puke. I grabbed the wheel and navigated by hoof. For the most part, unicorns could only control a single type of leylines at a time — trying to do more was like trying to move all your limbs in different patterns all at once. It was possible if you trained for it, but it was far easier to compensate other ways. After a few minutes, I needed to rest my mind, so I looked up. Not wanting to recast the spell, I let my leylines sweep up, my vision blurring and curving. I leaned on a railing — that nauseated me like no storm could. Shaking it off, I searched for Squall again. Gone. Probably picking up Rising and Gabriella, given the time. Rising and Gabriella burst from the schoolyard as they caught sight of me. “How close is Dad? How much longer?” he asked, bounding alongside me. “Und mine parents, they are close, yes?” Gabriella kept up easily, her talons clicking on the cobbled streets. I smiled and quickly nuzzled them as we made our way down the street. I wasn’t taking them home; we were headed straight for the docks. All through my shift, I’d watched as the Dancing Leaf approached. By now, they were only about half an hour away, maybe less, and I told them as much. Luckily, we took twenty minutes to get to the docks if we ran. Rising had, of course, timed us before. We drew some odd looks as we dashed down streets and around corners. Rising panted as the docks came into view, but Gabriella and I still breathed evenly. “Keep going. I’ll see where they are,” I said before taking off. A great headwind blew at me, which helped me ascend effortlessly, and I spotted Guiding’s ship. We still had time. They were almost here, but still needed to dock and tie off and all that good nautical stuff. A crack from below drew my attention. A second and a third followed it, and I finally placed it: rope snapping. Ice gripped my heart as a wall of shipping crates gave way. It felt like everything went in slow motion as the crates tumbled towards the crowded street. “Look out!” I screamed. Light blazed below me, and my body tingled. A sea of red surrounded the boxes, and they reversed direction, rocketing off into the sky. Dear Princesses, that magic hadn’t been used on me, and yet I’d felt it… and it had felt incredibly familiar. I twisted to find Rising — it was not hard. A corona of power surged around his horn, and his eyes shone a hot white, which hurt to even think about. How he shook and trembled hurt more. His forelegs buckled, and he tumbled to the ground, his horn still shining. Dimly, I was aware of all the unicorns clutching their horns, but I only cared about getting to my son. As I dove, Gabriella shook him. “Star! Rising Star, stop! Ze danger has passed!” I slammed to the ground and pulled him to my chest. “Mommy’s here. It’ll be alright. I’m here…” “Good,” he mumbled as he slumped against me, the light mercifully leaving his eyes and his magic fading. “Did I…?” “Everypony’s safe. You did great. You did so great,” I said, stroking his mane. His eyes closed, and his muscles relaxed. He must have passed out. After a few moments, Gabriella asked, “Squall, is Star okay? What happened? I have never seen him lift anything weighing more than himself — how did he manage it?” I didn’t get to answer before the ponies in the street crowded us, pushing and babbling and thanking us, which I would usually welcome, but when my son was unconscious, I found it a lot less fun. Looking around, I saw mostly unicorns and earth ponies with a smattering of zebras. That meant we could ditch them. I turned to Gabriella. “We’re going. Now.” She nodded, and we took wing. I cradled Rising against my chest. I had only one place in mind, and as Gabriella and I rose into the wind over the rooftops, we rushed to the Dancing Leaf. Baltimare erupted with light. I and all my unicorns staggered under the onslaught. “What in Tartarus—?” I knew that magic beneath all that raw power. “Rising!” Oh Celestia, what had happened to him? A moment later, I got my answer, as a tangled web of his leylines flew off into the sky. They bled magic, pouring it out into the world from their severed ends. I felt like I’d been bucked in the neck. I crumpled to the deck, a strangled cry dying in my throat. It shouldn’t have been possible. It wasn’t possible. He couldn’t have had that much magic to give — he’d just be a shriveled husk of a foal. Princesses, not my son too… It was like Dad all over again. I hadn’t realized I was crying until my tears were brushed away, and it took me another moment to realize it had been a claw to do it. Gregor stared at me, his crest raised. “Captain Guiding, what is ze problem? Some of your crew collapse, and you begin to cry. Are we under attack?” “N-no. My son… his magic…” I swallowed and shook my head, a tiny motion. Gertrude pointed off into the sky. “Zat is him, no? Ze one who looks like you, as I remember.” Turning, I saw Squall flying towards us, carrying our son in her forelegs. She was still functioning, so by some miracle, Rising must still be alive. “Thank Celestia,” I said, slumping against a railing. Gertrude tilted her head. “I still do not understand this custom of thanking your princesses when they have done nothing. We do not thank our king unless he has…” She trailed off as I glared at her. This was not the time to discuss cultural differences. This was time to either celebrate or call EMTs. I stood, biting my lip as Squall and Rising, and Gabriella too, approached the ship. Seeing her face let me finally breathe again. She kept checking up on him as she flew, and you don’t check dead bodies, not like that. When Squall got to the railing at the edge of the ship, I opened my cabin’s door and asked, “How is he? What happened?” She landed and passed our son to me. I took him in my magic and cringed. His body seemed fine, but magically, he was a mess. His leylines were tattered, broken off, or even missing. As I carried him into my cabin and laid him on my bed, a new one bubbled up from inside him. I shuddered. Magical overload, it had to be. After Squall explained what had happened to me, it confirmed what I’d assumed. That had been Squall’s guess too. Gabriella looked between Rising and her parents, almost fidgeting. They nodded to her, and her head whipped towards me. “Will he recover? Star will be okay, yes? He is… a good friend to me.” I nodded. “Don’t worry. He’s going to be fine. He’ll probably wake up in eight, maybe ten hours, and feel like he’s got the worst hangover ever. Not that I have any personal experience with this, but from what I understand, it’s one of those things that if it doesn’t kill you, it makes you stronger.” Squall laughed once. “Yeah, this is the sort of thing you hear happened to your cousin’s friend’s niece who lives in Canterlot. Nopony ever thinks their filly or colt will put out over thirty thaums in a single spell; that’s the sort of thing that pretty much guarantees entry to—” My eyes went wide at the same time as Squall’s. “Out. Please, get out now. This room is about to get very, very cramped, or my name isn’t Guiding Star.” “But I want to stay with Rising!” Gabriella said, scooting closer to him. From the side of the room, a whine and a green glow filled the room. “After,” Squall said. “We just got extremely busy with higher education.” A rush of displaced air preceded an old unicorn stepping into the room. “Highest education, actually, both in literal and metaphoric senses. Canterlot nobles and their height restrictions on Cloudsdale and Los Pegasus, you understand.” From what I remembered of my history classes, those had been lifted over three centuries ago. More importantly, what types of leylines were those, surrounding him? I’d never come across any like them in my life… but they felt like déjà vu. “Pleased to make your acquaintance. I am Stop Watch, head professor of Chronomancy at Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns, unicorn of the fifteenth order, and, as always, the first recruiter on scene. I must say, you made a good decision to send him to us; he graduated a full year-and-a-half early!” I had to keep my jaw from dropping, and Squall’s wings flared out. Fifteenth order? I was only a fifth, on track for sixth by forty. That stallion couldn’t have been much over sixty, could he? With time magic, though… He smiled widely at us widely, too widely. “I’ll see you in six hours four minutes nineteen seconds, when you make your decision. I’ll bring the paperwork by hoof! Tootles.” His head whipped to the side, and he stared at the wall. We all turned to look at the spot, but there didn’t appear to be anything special about it. “Oh yes, this was unpleasant. Earplugs?” he asked. I regarded him for a couple seconds before catching Squall’s eye. She shrugged with her wings, and I turned back to face Stop Watch. “Thank you, but I think we’ll be fine.” “Your ears won’t be thanking you, but suit yourselves.” Another burst of magic later, he disappeared. The griffons stared at us. We stared back. Gertrude opened her beak and, after a second, said, “Zis is not normal, I take it.” “No,” Squall replied, stretching the vowel. “It’s really not.” Gertrude picked up Gabriella. “We will give you privacy. Best of luck go with you.” Gregor echoed his wife’s sentiments. As they opened the door and walked out, Gabriella looked back over her shoulder, crestfallen. Her father and mother stopped and looked to the side. “Another not normal thing approaches, Captain Guiding,” Gregor said. I let out a long, slow breath and ran a hoof through my mane. As reflexively as turning my head to look, I extended some of my leylines through the wall in the direction Gregor’s head pointed. Outside, a bunch of magic, which felt a lot like what Rising had done earlier, hurtled towards us. A vaguely pegasus-feeling ball of leylines touched down onto the ship’s deck. A moment later, the griffons squawked as a slim unicorn shoved past them. That guy sent warning signals through me; something about this stallion was off. Even with his spell released, his mix of leylines was very odd — it definitely felt almost like a pegasus’ blend. A burst of his magic swung the door closed, and he opened his mouth to speak. “I am Weight Class, a unicorn of the eleventh order, as you are no doubt aware.” Princesses preserve me! I thought my ears were going to bleed. His damned voice was the worst thing I’d ever heard, and I clearly remembered the screams of a six-headed monster that had been struck by lightning. Was this why nopony ever saw him? He surveyed the room, his eyes barely noticing Squall and only briefly stopping at me before his gaze settled on my son. “He’s the one!” Weight Class stomped to my bed. “This one managed a full-cast gravity reversal with amplification. But it was sloppy and wasteful. As the head professor of Gravitasmancy, I can attest to that. In a single class, I could improve his form ten-fold.” His nose rose towards the ceiling as he preened, and my eardrums welcomed the brief reprieve. “But not only that, no, for gravity manipulation is something that any old pegasus can do, and my field is so much broader than just that. In my upper-level classes, I pass my mastery of the other fundamental forces to my students.” I furrowed my brow. I didn’t like how he kept emphasizing himself. Aside from it feeling like having ice picks driven into my skull, I got the distinct impression that this stallion couldn’t be more self-absorbed if he tried. Another bunch of leylines appeared in the room, and for a second, I thought that they had come from Weight Class. But they felt completely different — I actually recognized this type. “Hello,” a warm alto voice said. “I’m Decibel Level, head professor of Audiomancy at CSGU. Your foal is very talented and will most likely attend, so I cordially welco—” Weight Class scowled and talked even louder, his shrieking, grating voice drowning out the rest of her message. “This mare is nothing compared to me, only an eighth order. Little wonder she didn’t bother saying it. And that field is so pathetically light that she needed to cross-train to even make that.” Squall and I looked at one another. Even she knew that practically all unicorns trained in more than one field of magic. That explained his weird leylines; if he was eleventh order and refused to train in fields other than his, that meant he had over ten thousand leylines devoted to Gravitasmancy — over eleven thousand if he was completely neurotic and hadn’t even gotten two thousand through using telekinesis. He struck me as the type of insane purist who would have avoided that, too. “As I was saying before being so rudely interrupted,” he continued, forcing our ears down once more, “my field encompasses all the fundamental fields. Most unicorns erroneously believe otherwise, but I straighten them out. In my highest class, I reveal the secrets of true alchemy, not that fakery, potion-brewing nonsense the stupid zebra do.” I briefly considered murder. Everything I’d suspected about him from the beginning seemed true, and then he only added to it with racism. I ground my teeth as he stared at me, probably expecting shock about his revelation of the deeper nature of his magic. “Get off my ship. Now.” He was lucky I didn’t buck him in the face to get him on his way. Squall snickered, and my ear flicked back to her. His head tilted to the side, and it took him a second of glorious silence for him to think of what to respond. “Excuse me? You can’t tell me wh—” “No, there is no excuse for you, and I can tell you what to do. I am the captain of this ship, and on it, my word is law.” I stepped closer to him and shoved my face in his. “Get off my ship.” I shot my hoof out to point at the door as I opened it with my magic. I made sure to just barely miss hitting him in the face. He blinked and stumbled back almost to the door then glared at me. From my side, Squall took one stomping step towards him, her wings flared out, ready to fight. Weight snorted and turned up his nose then walked out past the griffons still outside, pointedly ignoring them. Motioning with my head, I called them back in. After all that, we needed some agreeable company, and given which disciplines of magic remained, I doubted we would get more visitors. “We listened in,” Gregor said. Gertrude’s eyes narrowed as she glared at the door. “If you vould like, we can dispatch him — free of charge!” Squall burst out laughing, and after the older griffons joined in, even I chuckled a bit. It was a tempting offer. Gabriella seemed to be the only one not laughing. She stood beside the bed, staring towards my son’s flank. My eyes widened. I poked Squall right in the center of her life preserver cutie mark, which I found strangely appropriate. She turned, and we both joined Gabriella in staring. My son had a cutie mark — but I could only wonder how I’d missed it earlier. This was a huge moment. Gabriella looked back to us. “What does it mean?” she asked, gesturing at the image. Its center was a shooting star with two smaller ones breaking symmetrically from it, but they faced upwards rather than down. Smiling, I said, “Star cutie marks have historically been associated with magic, and that’s only increased with Princess Twilight’s ascension. I can’t really say I’m surprised.” Squall raised an eyebrow. It seemed she had a different take on it. “There’s that, but they’re also… well, rising. Maybe —” she grimaced “— it could mean it’s for gravity magic.” “For all of your sakes,” Gregor said, “I hope zat is not ze case. Could it simply be zat he will continue ascending through ze ranks of magehood?” “I like your idea better,” Squall said. “Let’s go with that one.” “You are welcome, but I must admit my ignorance of protocol in this situation,” Gregor said. Gertrude looked between us. “Congratulations of some sort are in order, I would expect.” “Mother, Father, there is no true protocol for this. You can do whatever you wish. Though, there is traditionally a party.” Her gaze seemed stuck on the floor as I swore I caught a hint of blush through her white face feathers. “I would like to stay for it, please. He has become my most cherished friend.” As her parents conversed, I recalled how a griffon messenger had delivered a summons to them about a week ago. It sounded like there was a lot of negativity in what I overheard from them, so I spoke up. “We could probably pull together a cute-ceañera in a few days.” “Atch, zat is no good. It was only though a binding contract zat we gained more time; without one, we have already stayed too long. I am sorry, Gabriella,” he said, turning to her. “But— but he stood up for me when I needed him. Am I not honor-bound to be there for him?” She backed up a bit to sit closer to Rising. I saw Squall go to say something, but I shook my head at her very slightly. She nodded once and frowned before turning away. This was between them, and I felt like bigger, nation-sized forces drove it. Gabriella’s parents went and sat beside her. Placing her talons on her daughter’s shoulder, Gertrude sighed. “You are right. Normally, zat would be a valid excuse, but our king is less lenient now. Were it not for ze strange sight upon our arrival, we would be on our way now. Gabriella, we must go.” Gabriella stared down at the floor between her paws, her wings drooping. “Yes, Mother. Yes, Father.” “Captain Guiding Star, it has been a pleasure working for you,” Gregor said, nodding at me. “But now we must go. Calm skies for your hunting grounds.” I gave the response, keeping an eye on Gabriella. Her gaze kept returning to my son as she said, “Good bye, Squall, and thank you. Living with you and Star was… nice.” Gertrude nudged her daughter and motioned to me with her head. “Oh, and I am sure I would have liked you as well, Mister Star.” She perked up, her head feathers rustling. “Could we return here later, Father?” He looked eastward out one of my windows, toward their homeland. “No… I do not think zat we will. But come — we have dallied too long, and we must fly.” I frowned. Their situation seemed to have gone bad, and I had no idea how to help. As they walked from my cabin and Gabriella cast one last glance back, Squall called out. “Wait!” They stopped, and her mother stuck her head back in over her daughter’s. “Yes? What is it?” She pointed at my enchanted mailbox I used to communicate with my other ships and them. It took me a second, but I got her drift, and I picked it up. I didn’t look forward to getting this sorted out, but it had to be done. I found the leyline which seemed to have the closest destination and then, screwing up my eyes, cut the others. I’d have to find some way to alert everypony to the temporary breakdown of communications. “Take this. You can write to him. Be pen pals!” Squall said, beaming. I levitated it over to Gabriella. “I… Thank you. I will write as soon as I am able. Good bye!” With a glimmer of tears in her eyes, she turned and fled. Squall took a half-step after Gabriella, her hoof hesitating in the air. Then she bit her lip and rested it on our son. As much as I would like to see the griffons off, I had to stick by Rising. I cringed as another leyline oozed from his side and started snaking up to his horn. Along with the tattered stubs of far, far too many of his other ones, it was just like looking into an open wound. For the first time ever, I felt glad Squall couldn’t see them. I turned to her and tried to put his condition out of my mind. “Come on, Squall. Let’s get him into his own bed,” I said, reaching for him with my magic. I stopped short an instant before I could grab him. I didn’t know if that could hurt him or not, and remembering back, I hoped I hadn’t accidentally injured him before. Was this like how you’re not supposed to move a physically injured pony? Deciding not to risk it, I picked him up by hoof and, thanks to Squall crouching, placed him on her wide back. She moved her shoulders, settling him more comfortably over her withers, and I could only appreciate her strength and the way her muscles rippled beneath her coat. Squall sighed. “As good as it was having Gabriella, I missed you. And I think we missed ‘hello.’” I nuzzled her cheek. “Hello, dear.” “Mmm, hello.” The nuzzle quickly turned into a kiss, one that only barely began making up for lost time. When we pulled away, we both sighed at the same time, and Squall laughed. Together, we headed out, and I looked up for my first mate, Wind Whisper, who I found about halfway up the mast. “Family emergency!” I shouted to her. “Keep up the good work.” I didn’t need to check her work; I wouldn’t have given her the position if I wasn’t confident in her abilities. We left, the calls of support from my crew ringing in our ears. I needed to get home so I could finally think.