CHAPTER THREE:
DESSERT
11
Guest Number Four glimpsed the other two for some modicum of pity. As far as the pegasus could tell he must not have found any, for he only lowered his head towards his untouched pastry without another word. In two large bites he finished it off, chewing without closing his mouth and, by the looks of it, not relishing a hint of its flavor. His mouth worked away on his main course while his eyes lost what little light they had held deep within. To an empty shell, Sombra had worn him down.
When nothing but crumbs was evident on his plate the pegasus felt that tightness in his chest again. More observant of the deathly scuffle across the table only minutes ago, he had almost forgotten the rules of the night. When every dish was cleaned and accounted for, a loser would be announced. If the overwrought death of Guest Number Two was of any indication, it would come hard and it would come loud.
A moment ticked by.
The fire pit roared on.
No one played their swan song.
“Just do it already…” the bruised stallion pleaded, tearstained eyes glaring at his empty plate. “Just do it!”
“But you’re not done yet,” Sombra said gravely, as he hovered over the uncompleted dish that had belonged to Guest Number Six. “I told you earlier, I don’t like to waste food. There is still a plate to eat, and you will be the one to finish it.”
Guest Number Four eyed the half-eaten pastry brought before him as new tears trickled down his cheeks. “We were never meant to survive this…” he mumbled to himself. “We were… never…” Then he started doing something that sent harsh shivers up and down the pegasus’ spine.
He started to laugh.
“Hehehehe…”
As he giggled and guffawed he shoved the last remaining pastry in his mouth, most of it breaking off while it clipped the edges of his laughing jaw. Although the pegasus thought he would surly choke trying to perform both acts at once, he hammered his food down while every other breath expelling a new wave of laughter.
In the silence of the room it was terrifying.
“What are…” the pegasus wheezed out, unable to take his eyes from the horrid display.
That was when he caught King Sombra out of the corner of his eye, that smile from earlier in the night returning to the corners of his mouth. Clearly he was enjoying the show.
“Ack!”
The insane laughter ceased in a heartbeat as the stallion coughed up what bits of flaky crust remained in his mouth. Around his neck he wrapped two hooves but they were of little use. A second booming cough sent a small torrent of bloody specks onto his empty plate, while his eyes grew much redder than before. For a few moments he almost chewed at the air before he faced the King during the last few seconds of his life. He didn’t even look mad at the outcome. He only held an expression that seemed to ask, Isn’t this what you wanted all along?
With a flat smack his head collided with the table near the edge of his plate, causing his empty wine glass to spill and his untouched utensils to jostle around. Only a few moments later did the pair of serving ponies come to collect the body, as well as Guest Number Four’s now useless silverware.
The King somberly watched as they went about their business, not nearly as invested as before, almost as though the struggle to get to such a point should have been easier and with less hassle overall. But the pegasus had never thought the King viewed the lives of others as much as they might.
“Now only two remain…” Sombra whispered to no one.
The pegasus felt the older mare’s foreleg grip his own again along with a reassuring squeeze. The first time he had found it odd. This time he clung to it sharply while his nerves shook out of his control.
The King turned to his remaining guests. “Perhaps we will skip the sorbet portion of the evening. Some of our guests haven’t been on their best manners, I’m afraid. But I’m sure you’ll find the dessert to your liking.”
He rang his little bell again.
“Final course,” he said.
12
Before the last meal was brought to them, one of the servers asked the older mare to cross to the other side of the table, probably in a bid to keep the guests in a more sociable arrangement. Without hesitation she crossed to the other side and sat opposite the pegasus, smiling daintily as she unfurled her new napkin to set on her lap.
Guest Number Five never thought he hated the King more than he did then.
He was going to make them watch each other. Possibly in the hope that we’d curse our selected opponent while one of us choked to death on his extravagant food. And what would Sombra do when the night ran its course and his final guest trotted back into his miserable Empire? He’d most likely sleep like a filly while counting how many times he could imagine Guest Number One fly past the window before the sandpony claimed him for the night.
But again, that was only if the King actually slept at all. And considering he didn’t eat…
“I hope it’s not too simple,” Sombra said, as the last two domes were set on their plates.
When they were revealed, Guest Number Five was taken back by their lack of extravagance, but also something much larger. Beneath the dome was a generous serving of apple pie complimented with a dollop of cream. Although he had never tried many types of sweetener or creams during his life in the Empire, he had had his share of apple pie in his time. Once a month—sometimes less, if apples were hard to scavenge together—a small group inside his overstuffed house would collect what apples weren’t fit for sale or were to be sent to the tower. When they’d collected enough, they’d hoof them over to the lower-end cook in their place, who if they had the right ingredients at the time, would cobble together a pie or even just a crisp. If they had nothing in the pantry at all to add to their little dessert, the pegasus had always settled for baked apple slices with a small sprinkling of stolen sugar.
It had always been a simple treat, and yet he would consider them as some of the best moments of his life. Those rare occurrences when his housemates would come together to complete something on their own, right under the very nose of their tyrant leader. And now that same King was offering him something close to the same—something undoubtedly better than anything he could have ever had before. Although the pegasus would be hard pressed to believe the King had gone through much trouble for this dessert to reach their plates.
“It has been such a big meal already,” the King continued. “I would hate to end it on such a heavy note. Please enjoy.”
Guest Number Five was unsurprised to find the older mare already a few forkfuls in. She chewed pleasantly, methodically. She was clearly enjoying each warm mouthful.
“This is really good,” she told the pair of them.
While the pegasus said nothing in return, Sombra regarded the mare with a mild amount of awe. “I’m pleased to hear it, Guest Number Three.” The pegasus wondered if that might not have been the first time a guest of his had actually complimented his opulent meal.
But then again, he thought, how many of them come to him completely out of their minds?
With a remarkable amount of ease, the pegasus pushed his plate away from him, the hill of white cream already melting into the perfectly browned crust. After that he took in a shuddery breath and crossed his forelegs over his chest.
This deliberate move caught the attention of the eating mare. With clear confusion she stared at him. “What are you doing?” she asked, more than shocked. “Please don’t do that. Eat the rest. Please!”
The pegasus shook his head. “No. I don’t want to. I’ve already had my fill for the night. Maybe a bit of air will do me some good. I’ve never really gotten the chance to fly before.” He felt his worn smile crumble under the pressures from within. With added effort he tried to hide it from the mare—the one guest he had actually gotten to care about, all while he knew not a single detail about her. Yet there was still something that connected them. They had shared in the exact same night as the other. To a point, they were survivors of the same ordeal. It was a connection that could never be replicated or created again. It was a bond and for him it would be enough to die for.
If I can’t save an Empire from a King, he thought, maybe a single life will be enough.
“No. No! Please! Eat!” the older mare pleaded, more life running through her weary eyes than the entire night prior. “He’ll make you fall if you don’t! Please. There’s still a chance you can get out!”
Guest Number Five disagreed. “I don’t want to. I can’t save everyone, but I can still save you.” His jaw trembled. “If I don’t eat. I fall. And you go home to your son. I can live with that. I can die with that, too.”
The older mare only shook her head at him, each line on her wrinkled face pulled back in deep worry and sadness. She had wanted the same for him but he had pulled the possibility from her. Overall he was glad.
“I’m ready,” he said to the King, who had been silently monitoring their lively discussion since it began. “Do what you want. I refuse to finish my plate. She wins. She gets to go home.”
“She does not get to go home unless I say she can, Guest Number Five.”
With his head bent studiously to the table, Sombra viewed him through half-lidded eyes. Any calm demeanor he had been trying for had been laid aside, as the dark stallion glaring at him seemed to want to do nothing more than swipe at his throat. With upmost disgust he viewed him.
“You think you can bend my rules, pegasus?” he continued grudgingly. “I do not enjoy it when guests think they can outwit my carefully planned evening. Everyone that enters here has the same chance of exiting as well, if they maintain their manners. Tonight has already gone terribly irregular, and I am running exceedingly thin of patience. Especially while good food is being wasted on the likes of you—those who do not understand just how fortunate they are to even share an evening with the likes of a King.”
A bead of saliva dripped from the corner of Sombra’s clenched teeth. He made no motion to clean it.
He continued on in clipped notes. “If you do not eat than you both will fall tonight. I have done so before and I will do so again.” He gave a tight grin. “You wish to be a hero, Guest Number Five? You still might. Finish your meal and let fate decide. Fifty-fifty odds. You’ve already been very lucky tonight, as it is.”
The air had irregularly been sucked from his lungs. He struggled to take in another breath; to even stare away from his untouched dessert. And then that voice again.
“Please.”
The mare was begging to him again.
“It’s the only way.”
Feeling as though his life was barely his to control anymore, Guest Number Five lowered his head to his wedge of pie, only to eat and think of nothing at all.
It tasted like dirt.
13
A few scattered crumbs remained on his plate and already he could feel it coming—a pain in his lower stomach, rising steadily upward. It had been him all along and he took the news with an odd amount of serenity. Maybe while he strangled to death on whatever spell it was that claimed so many lives before, he could take solace in the knowledge that the mare would go on. She would go on to see her son again. It would be enough, he thought.
Or perhaps he’d try and dive at the King one last time while he strangled for air. What else was there to lose? He’d already lost it all.
Only the pain in his midsection stayed where it was, like an uncomfortable squeezing of the guts. He took his eyes from his finished plate and found the mare already looking upon him; that same tired smile warming her delicate features.
“You remind me of my son,” she told him, her smile slowly breaking near the corners. “He worked in the mine—maybe you knew him. He died four days ago and he was all that I had. Some accident, along with others. I never got to see his body, or kiss him goodbye. But I’m sure he was around your age. I’m sure.
“I’m happy it’s going to be you.”
Using what little strength was left to her, she fixed her beaming smile one last time, as a fine thread of crimson edged out the side of her mouth. Her eyes watered but that was nearly it. Afterwards she closed her eyes and sank in her chair until her head came to rest on the polished table, the trickle of blood escaping her mouth eventually spattering on the rich carpet below.
Guest Number Five watched every last grueling detail and felt every muscle and limb in his body turn to mush. He collapsed backward and couldn’t stop the tears from welling in his eyes before cascading down both cheeks. He moaned silently, overwrought with bare emotion.
He had come there tonight to try and save them all. When that plan seemed beyond reason he had instead tried to save a single one of them from their monster of a King. And even that he could not do. The pegasus had felt more misery in his life than a good number of others, but he had never felt as miserable as then… while around him five died while he could live.
Through blurred vision he watched as they took the mare away and cleared her place. They didn’t bother to touch his plate or utensils, perhaps it was to make sure he didn’t lash out at one of them should they enter his space.
The quiet snap of a door told him they had made their exit from the room.
The warm breath on the back of his neck told him Sombra had finally left his chair by the fire.
“Congratulations, Guest Number Five,” the King said, inches away from the back of his neck. “Did you feel a pain in your gut before? I trust it was just your system trying to adjust to such rich foods. You must feel so lucky now, don’t you? Did you enjoy my play of many acts? There are always so many levels of fear during these feasts—sometimes it’s hard to determine how it’ll all fit into place. Tonight may have started rocky, but I believe we ended on a rather satisfying note.”
The pegasus shuttered as two strong hooves gripped the sides of his head, angling him to the left. The disparaging gravity he had felt for most of the night went into overdrive, as his legs felt nearly pinned to the arms of his chair.
“The unicorn had to be the first to go,” Sombra continued in a lecturing tone. “I’ve always loathed unicorns with a passion. They believe they can be in the same league as a King? She was timid and she was cowardly.” Sombra painfully readjusted his view. “Guest Number One took it upon himself to exit the evening. I dislike it when such disruptions enter my dinners. And then Guest Number Four had to only make matters worse.” He breathed heavily on his neck. “For breaking so many rules he had to be the next to go.”
The last time he moved his head he faced it directly ahead of him, where the body of the older mare had just been dragged from.
“The two of you made for such entertaining company,” he told him earnestly. “Neither of you wanting to live while the other had to die. It’s a rare treat, I must say.” Now the King spoke close to his ear. “The taste of fear is bitter at best. If there is no hope in the mix then it is hardly worth going after. I could have brought you all here for simple execution, but like a true King I enjoy a challenge, as well as more refined tastes. While Guest Number Six died in the hostile grasp of another, his fear was constant and overwhelming. He was going to die and he knew it. But not you, and not that mare far past her prime, either. Delicate fear. Controlled fear. Rewarded fear. It is a taste most refined and I seek it above all else.”
Without letting go of his head, the dark King pulled out the pegasus’ chair to stare at him directly. With narrowed eyes he viewed him, that vapor trail of purple smoke swimming in an unseen current along the sides of his head. So it hadn’t been a legend after all. Sombra only had to eat first.
“I thank you for this meal.”
Sombra’s face came in close and the pegasus could only shut his eyes from the sight. Instead of the intense pain he had been expecting, a rough and wet tongue licked one tearstained cheek before discovering the other. The pegasus tried to pull away as the hard hooves gripping him only clamped down tighter.
A second later Sombra pulled away, the purple floating from both eyes oozing out a shade brighter than before. Without a care he unlocked the pegasus’ head and took a few steps away. Safely away from him, Guest Number Five shook in his chair while running both hooves along his wet face.
With weak legs he shoved himself from his seat, unobserving of the lack of gravity weighing him down. As he fell, the knife sitting idle on his lap went to the carpeted floor soundlessly. He glimpsed it with red rimmed eyes.
“Now come and embrace your King.”
Sombra stood to the side of the fire-pit, meeting the pegasus’ eyes and nothing more.
“Thank him for his generous hospitality.”
Carefully, the pegasus sidled his way over. One of his hooves dragged along the forgotten and unseen knife with him.
“If you are too weak to stand, one of my servants will assist you home. I only ask before you may leave a single gift of appreciation.”
Sombra held out one foreleg in a beckoning gesture.
The pegasus only scooted closer towards him, knife still bouncing against one of his dragging hooves.
It would all be worth it, he thought, as he crossed into the shadow of the King. We could all be free. I could save them all. And if he didn’t? Then I’d still die happy, regardless. At least I tried. At least I did something tonight.
“Say thank you, Guest Number Five,” the King said.
“Thank you,” the pegasus said weakly, “for the wonderful meal.”
King Sombra smiled down on him. “Was that so—”
His sentence was cut short as a silver blade shot up through the bottom of his jaw.
14
The pegasus had the oddest sense of déjà vu, as he watched his poor King struggle with the knife wedged in his mouth and directly through the middle of his tongue. With both darkened hooves Sombra beat at the area around his throat in a means to grab at the handle. Those hooves were only met by a small river of blood that was hurriedly escaping his widening wound. On shaky legs he retreated, coughing in heavy bursts that must have been close to eviscerating his lungs.
It looked as though it hurt. Really it did. At yet it wasn’t enough for him.
The pegasus felt newfound energy enter his limbs and came to his hooves. Two steps forward he leapt up and shoved the King backward with an odd amount of ease. With a softened thud (Sombra still had his cape on) he collapsed to his back where the pegasus instantly removed the knife with two steady hooves, before bringing it back down along his throat.
“Why did you ever come here!” the pegasus screamed, his own words barely coherent as he continued his wrath with the blade. “Why couldn’t you leave us alone? Why won’t you die? WHAT ARE YOU?”
Sombra had stopped fighting with his guest some time ago. His legs hung in midair while his eyes stared blankly at the darkened ceiling. Guest Number Five would not bother to close the King’s eyes. They could dry and rot and even that he would believe would be too good for him.
While he climbed off he gave Sombra’s elongated red horn a swift kick that jerked his lifeless head to the side. Either the horn had been real all along, or it was fused on there something good.
Without another moment left to wonder how exactly he’d exit such a place with hooves covered in the King’s own blood, the pegasus picked a door and went for it. Only a few steps in that direction did a voice bid him to stop.
“You think you are the first to dream of such a sight, pegasus?”
He turned and was close to serene while he viewed the standing dark stallion before him. Any trace of some bloody encounter—if it had ever happened at all—had been swept from the room in the few seconds he hadn’t been looking. Even Sombra looked the same as always. Dark and immaculate. Untouched and unburdened.
He continued, “Many have plotted my death but not a single one will see it come to fruition. I am King of this land and as long as it stands, so will I. You are a brave one, I will grant you that, so I hope the sight of my death warms your cold bed at night as you continue to live in my Empire. Consider yourself lucky to be granted such a reward.” He exhaled a long breath. “But this night had gone on for too long, and there is still one more piece of business to attend to.”
The King snapped away in a haze of smoke and reappeared by the pegasus’ side.
With burning eyes he leaned in and whispered to him: “If you ever speak a single word of what happened here tonight, I will rip out your tongue with my teeth. I will know, Guest Number Five. As long as this remains my kingdom, I will surly know.”
15
Eight months had passed since that night and still the questions came.
The first night back had been the easiest, when the pegasus had snuck into his home in the middle of the night, only alerting the silly few who honestly thought he’d make it back. A few older stallions that bunked close to him hugged him without a word. They followed him closely as he made his way to his bed where he didn’t bother lying down; only stare at the floor with muted shock and so much more on the inside. The first question came next.
“So what happened? What happened to the rest of them?”
The pegasus only regarded his housemate with irritated eyes and said not a word. When someone else tried a new line of questioning, he showed them his back and went to studying the cracked wall near his cot. At the time it seemed like better company.
For awhile he remained as such, listening to the steady breathing of others on their bunks, until a set of small forelegs wrapped themselves around him. It was the young mare that had hoped he would make it back earlier in the day. “I’m happy you made it,” she whispered, burying her head into his side.
That would be the first time he’d cry outside the Crystal Empire tower.
Time went on and the questions lessened.
They never stopped completely, but after a time—and after the pegasus kept mute to the nagging inquires entirely—they abundantly ceased in their amount. A month following that horrible dinner and the only times he was asked was during that last day of the month, when a new batch of poor ponies were invited to dine with the King. Somehow certain ponies remembered him from before. Somehow they just knew where he would be after the reading of the names. It was very hard to stay silent in those times.
“What’s going to happen to my son?”
More than a few fathers and mothers asked him the same question or close to the same, fear evident in their eyes and emotions run amuck. Although they had little hope of saving their loved ones from the tyranny of their King, perhaps they thought knowing what was to befall their young enough to come beg for his answer.
Sadly, they were denied each time.
It was eight months after his own evening with Sombra that it finally happened. Someone close to him—someone that he actually knew well enough in this miserable world—had been invited. He had been sitting alone on his bed (a reoccurring image in the months that preceded it), while he again forwent the latest name reading. What exactly was the point when your name had already been picked?
With genuine tears on her cheeks she had come to him, her breath already hitching from the anxiety that must have been welling up inside. Without a word the young mare that had hoped for his return when he himself went to dine, wrapped herself around him, crying into his shoulder.
A deep chill found his guts and the notion of what must have happened only minutes before pulled at his heart like a hook. It wasn’t fair, he thought. It wasn’t damn fair.
“What did you do?” she croaked in-between sobs. “If I can do that then maybe I can come back too. What’s going to happen to me?”
The pegasus only pulled her in close.
16
Most of the others living in his home were still awake and waiting anxiously in the kitchen for her return. Since his presence might have soured their little get-together, the pegasus had remained in their shared bedroom, spread out on his thin cot but not at all close to drowsy.
The one that visited him wasn’t the one he had been hoping for.
“You smell rather good tonight, Guest Number Five.”
While the rest of his body was close to non-existent in the darkness of the room, his red and green eyes almost floated in the black. The purple smoke from his eyes billowed out richly.
The King must have had a fine meal that evening.
“You’ve been saying things you’re not supposed to, pegasus. I told you what was to happen.”
He heard him edge towards the bed, hoofs on hardwood and cape dragging behind.
“Now open your mouth.”
THE END