Velvet Sparkle and the Queen in Stone
By Tundara
Part Nine
Solsday morning burst bright and clear across eastern Equestria, a dawn that hummed with the promise of the growing spring and even more brilliant days ahead.
As was tradition, House Sparkle was in a frantic flurry of activity. There were fillies to be dressed, a colt to be pulled out of bed and forced into his best Solsday clothes, and not nearly enough coffee to cope with the ordeal. Per the norm, a scrum broke out among the older children to see who could get one of the several bathrooms first and avoid having cold showers. Voices raw from shouting, Velvet and Glitterdust marshalled the fillies, scolded those who needed scolding, and in general restored a semblance of order. Cadence remained on the sidelines, watching the well-practiced proceedings. She’d given Tyr a tinciture of laudanum to ease the filly’s cough. To her satisfaction, Tyr was sleeping easier, though the fever had yet to break.
Downstairs it was, if anything, even more hectic.
The kitchen was already in full preparation for that evening’s meal; a fine leak and potato chowder in the early stages of creation while pies were slung into the ovens. They would be joined by puddings, gravies, roasted sprouts, and a particularly wonderful baked salmon for Cadence.
Mrs. Hardtack surveyed her domain, and the bustling ponies, with reserved approval, a stern pinch at the corners of her muzzle. All the staff were aware that her shrewish eyes were everywhere that morning. Already Halfpint and Miss Darning had suffered the full effect of her cold, biting wrath after being caught moving a touch to slow to their duties.
All Mrs. Hardtack said, and indeed all she needed to say for the past few days, was, “Do you wish to end up like Selim?”
The question was enough to make even the most slovenly member of the manor’s staff—the gardner, Mrs. Greenhoof—rush to their job.
None were too sure what, precisely, had happened to this Prince Selim. What they did know, carried by a frightened Miss Darning, was that Her Ladyship had killed him. Most had initially dismissed the idea as ludicrous. If not for Mr. Cane’s stoney silence, all the staff would have believed it to be nothing more than another fanciful spin to an already improbable tale.
But, there was something about the way Velvet admitted to the killing with such casual ease. Coupled with Mr. Cane’s earlier statements, a pall had descended on the manor,that put everypony on the edge of their hooves, afraid of stepping out of line and incurring Her Ladyship’s wrath.
Velvet was painfully aware of the shift in atmosphere after she’d concluded the previous portion of her story.
Elegant and Melody were avoiding her. She hadn’t seen a trace of Adamant or Spike. Even the older Sparkles found excuses to leave the room when she appeared. Only Star seemed to not be avoiding her. Though, to be fair, it would have been hard to notice any change in her disposition with the way she emulated Whisper and Twilight, locking herself away with books and studying.
At least Velvet didn’t feel abandoned by her wives and husband. Whisper was curious about the spells and Dark Runes, while Glitterdust took the story as just that, a story, and made no more meaning beyond a fanciful way to entertain Tyr. As for Comet, he read his papers, played his cards, and went for long walks through the Sparkle flower plantations; no change what-so-ever.
The tension did help propel the children into the coaches in record time, and a little past eight in the morning, they were on their way to Sparkledale’s temple to the Namegiver. As an older, wealthy village, Sparkledale’s temple was a moderate affair, constructed of thick stone worn smooth by the years. The roof, once thatched like the rest of the town, had been given in sequence a red tile roof, then one of tin, and now it sported blue shingles at Velvet’s recommendation. Inside, it was filled with the finest engravings and busts depicting portions of the Book of Names that the Sparkle’s ancestors had enjoyed or found of particular importance.
Given House Sparkle’s history, and Sparkledale’s by extension, these carvings depicted passages themed around forgiveness and redemption. Velvet often found the temple to be at once a comfort and a burden. That Solsday was no different.
Tended by the town’s priestess, Promise Tithe, the Solsday readings from the Book of Names were known for their dryness and length. Although the villagers were faithful to Faust and her herd, the number who went to the services with any regularity typically filled only one side of the temple. It was well known that only the Sparkles themselves attended every Solsday without fail, unless they were out of town.
That Solsday the entire town was in attendance, drawn by an unusual guest.
Velvet’s brow shot into her mane when she stepped into the temple and saw not only Promise Tithe waiting behind the lectern, but the Revered Speaker herself, Blessed Harmony, resplendent in her best white and ruddy robes.
“What’s the Revered Speaker doing here?” Elegant hissed to Melody as the twins were guided by Glitterdust to their usual seats at the front.
The temple was filled to bursting, with villagers standing around the edges or in the doorway. Foals and young fillies and colts sat propped up on their parent’s withers, chins resting between their ears to get a better view. A unicorn had cast a spell to carry the ritual’s words to those who couldn’t fit even in the doorway.
Once the temple filled, Blessed stepped back and sat down on a low bench placed to one side of the chancel next to the choir. On her other side sat a statue of Faust beneath the large, rose glass window. A candle covered alter rested between the statues hooves. From this raised perch, the Revered Speaker had a view of the gathered ponies. She shot the fillies and colts little smiles, and then put on a face of grave attention when Promise Tithe cleared her throat to begin the rituals.
“Well, this is quite the gathering,” Promise said, smiling at all the assembled ponies. Her voice took on a far more officious, droning tone when she began to preach in earnest.
Velvet didn’t pay much attention to the priestess, focusing instead on Blessed. She had little doubt that the nature of Blessed’s visit in some way involved House Sparkle. The Revered Speaker rarely left Canterlot.
Her suspicion was confirmed when, after the last hymns had been sung and the crowd started to disperse, Blessed made her way directly to the Sparkle herd.
She nodded to each of the children in turn as they bowed and intoned together, “Good morning, Revered Speaker.”
“And a good morning to you, little ones,” Blessed said this with an extra bounce of happiness in her voice, directing her smile at Adamant. “I trust you’ve all been good for your mothers since I saw you at the Gala, yes?”
“Of course, ma’am,” they replied, though with some trifling hesitation.
“That’s good,” Blessed said with a firm nod. “I’m sorry, but your matron and I need to discuss some matters and—”
“It’s about Tyr, isn’t it?” The question came from Adamant, the small colt hanging his head a little. “Because Celestia took away her wings and—”
“Glitterdust, perhaps you should…” Velvet spoke over Adamant, shooting her wife a quick look.
The children were corralled, Adamant heard to exclaim as they were herded along, “Did I do something wrong, mother? Why else would a priestess visit us than about—”
Velvet was thankful she couldn’t hear the rest, Adamant’s innocent question buried beneath a surge in the general hubbub and bustle of ponies shuffling out of the temple.
Taking a side door through the High Priestess’ offices, Velvet and Blessed made their way out into the gardens that separated the temple from the town’s cemetery. Blessed wore a look of vague amusement, her gaze lingering on the distant mountain tops more than the path.
“He’s going to be a hoofful and charmer with the mares,” Blessed noted when they were at last alone. With hardly a pause, she added, “What of Sateen? How is your sister holding up with the return of responsibility as the heir of House Sparkle?”
Velvet set her jaw and said in a reserved growl, “Why are you here, Blessed?”
Blessed raised a brow at the confrontational bite to Velvet’s words and the lack of custom courtesy. Unconcerned, Blessed continued to walk along the path with its many flowers. “I am here seeking pieces of Twilights writings.”
“You’re… what?” Velvet’s aggression melted into surprise. She stopped a few lengths behind Blessed, giving the Revered Speaker another appraising look. Velvet couldn’t detect any lies or falsehood in Blessed’s open, grinning face. That said little, as Blessed had earned a reputation for being able to withhold the truth with a talent comparable to Celestia. “You want my daughter’s writings?”
“Just for a short while. We’ve already collected her dissertations and scholastic papers, as well as copies of her so-called Friendship Reports. That was a stroke of genius on Celestia’s part. As I am sure you’ve figured out, the Sisterhood is preparing to write the Book of… Polaris? No, it seems unfair to name just one star. Book of Stars, then? Yes, that sounds about right.”
Catching up, Velvet gave her head a slow shake. “The Book of Stars. Do ponies really need another book? Look how the Book of Love turned out.”
“That,” Blessed let out a long series of snorting giggles, “was a foalish mistake brought on by a bit too much willful naivety and Cadence being a little too… foalish, I want to say, but that is not right. Perhaps we will create a new Book of Love, one without all the potions, curses, and troublesome parts. I shall bring it up at the next gathering of Speakers.”
They moved around to the shady side of the temple and sat down on a bench.
“We are also drawing up plans and looking for donations towards the construction of Notra-Dame de la Etoiles.”
It took Velvet a few seconds to piece together a translation. Her Prench was not as good as her Halla, after-all.
“‘Our Lady of Stars’? You’re building a cathedral for Twilight?” Velvet scrunched up her face as she held in a laugh. “I can tell you now that she won’t care.”
Blessed took no offense, only smiled. “No more than Celestia cares for her own. It is not for her, however, it is for her faithful. Academics, astrologers, astronomers, sages, sailors, and wizards; they will make up the bulk of her devotees.”
“Sailors?” Velvet repeated with unrestrained skepticism.
“Because the stars are used to navigate,” Blessed responded with another of her snorting giggles. “And Twilight has a tendency to leave an impression on the ponies she encounters. I’d not be shocked if nearly all of the five hundred mares on that ship haven’t started shifting their prayers from the Namegiver to Twilight.”
Walking again, they spoke of little other than Twilight until they came to where the carriages had been left. Knowing well her role as Baroness, Velvet asked Blessed over for dinner. She cringed as she clambered into her carriage, already weary just thinking of the evening to come.
Velvet received a pleasant surprise, as waiting in the carriage next to Comet was Two-Step, with Limelight sitting across.
“So, how did it go with… her?” There was a long, drawn out twist at the corner of Comet’s muzzle as he fought back a sneer.
Velvet ignored Comet’s intense dislike of the Sisterhood. The precise details had never been disclosed, but Velvet had uncovered that he had spent time as a young colt under the care of an ex-sister who acted as a governess for House Armour. That the ex-sister had soured Comet’s faith was all that Velvet knew for certain. It was only through a begrudging sense of familial duty that he attended the Solsday services.
His sneer only grew when informed that the Revered Speaker had been invited to dinner, but before Velvet could share more, she found herself pressed for information of a different time.
“Mother,” Limelight took Velvet’s hoof in her own, and clenched it tight, “what happened after the city, Gul… Molgoth?”.
Clearing his throat, Two-Step corrected Limelight in his quiet, sensible way. “Gur Moloch, Limey.”
Limelight’s ear gave an impatient flick. “Yes, yes, what happened after escaping Gur Moloch?”
“I… I thought none of you were interested in the story anymore,” Velvet confessed.
Two-Step waved a dismissive hoof. “It was… disquieting, mother, how you told the story. I know you must be taking liberties with the narrative, as you’re not a bad pony. Or, if you were, you certainly aren’t now. The others know this, especially Shining and Pennant.”
Limelight moved on. “Well, can we please have more of the story?”
“I’m curious as well, dear,” Comet added.
“I… very well. It will keep me from worrying about tonight,” Velvet said after a defeated sigh. “Cadence is going to… Nevermind. So…
A little over one hundred of us pulled ourselves out of those fetid caves that spring eve, exhausted and bruised, but free. Sol warmed our faces. The wind caressed our filthy, wet coats. In our mouths, the crisp air was sweet and clear.
To the north, illuminated in the dying light, stood the jagged face of Sognamount, the great sentinel. Home to the Kotun herds, now the keepers of Ironbark Vale, it had long been a safe region. The Kotun herds were all old and strong, with many Bears among their number to tame the wilds. It was to this vale we marched, stopping only when the little ones grew too tired to continue, falling where they stood into deep, encompassing sleep.
With only the few possessions we’d taken in our harried escape, there was no camp to set up nor take down. We travelled fast, the aches in our legs and backs spurring us as far away from that wretched patch of forest as we could manage.
The trees seemed to loom over us, especially in the darker, untamed reaches near the mountain’s base. These were the woods of the Rocmoor Mountains, of which Sognamount was but the tallest. A continuation of our own Western Mountains, it was a rocky region of steep, misty valleys and cool lakes fed by criss-crossing streams from the mountain glaciers. The terrain was broken, with large, rain smoothed boulders abounding, and many little canyons and gullies.
Before her apprenticeship, the Rocmoors had been Sylph’s home, and, though it had been many years since she last wandered their tracts, she guided our motley herd ever closer to Sognamount’s base.
Eyes followed us, wolves—both mundane and magical—slinking through the shadows at night, kept back only by the fires around which we slept. After the second night, they left, driven off by mournful howls lifting through the dew soaked leaves to the shrouded moon. They were not alone, and at the start of the second week we crossed a diamond dog trail, their armoured, heavy tread unmistakable. The dogs were heading south, and it had been only through them taking one canyon and us another that we had not encountered each other.
“Come, we must take the wilder trails,” Sylph said as she turned us up the mountain. That night, as we sat on the edge of a short ridge, Sylph took me aside. “Between the legs of a one-winged owl, and across the jaws of a sleeping bear, lays the path to the Ironwood. If something should happen to me, you have to lead them to the vale, Velvet.”
I let out a low snort and thumped Sylph on the withers. “You are my oldest and dearest friend, Sylph. I won’t let anything happen to you. This is your herd, not mine. They look to you, not me. If you don’t lead them, than no one will.”
“I do not know if I will see out the season, my friend.” Sylph trembled, and in the moonlight I could see her eyes misting over. But it was her shift to Equestrian that shocked me more. Her use of it during our escape should have surprised me, but I’d been wrapped up in myself at the time. In the days afterwards, it had further slipped from my thoughts as I was pre-occupied with scouting the paths and keeping the herd safe. As the Master Bear, the only Bear, their protection rested on my withers alone. “All this fighting and blood, all the lives taken… I wonder what good it is for… Will the Queen be the saviour of our people? Or are the Eagles right, and she can only bring lasting doom to the disc.”
Wrapping my tail around Sylph, I leaned my head against her withers. “That, I can not say. All I know is that the Queen is the only chance my daughter has at life.”
“We seek to wake a tyrant!” Sylph growled, upper lip pulled back to reveal her teeth. “In every story I’ve read or told, that would make us the villains. And what you did to Selim… The magic you now use so proudly… Vel, I begin to wonder if Sombra is right.”
I lifted my head a little, just enough so Sylph could see my face. Even a small, slight halla such as her was far larger than me.
“This is not one of your Breezy Tales, Sylphy. Life is not so simple. It can not be broken down into who is good, and who is evil.” I jumped to my hooves so I could step around and face her. She arched her head back from me, her hazelnut eyes wide with concern. “There is no one else but us to complete this task. I care not for prophecy, for Algol or Wynn thrusting their burden’s on me, or for that mad wizard’s ramblings. We will save River, and damn those who would stand in our path, be they halla, draugen, diamond dog, or even Celestia herself. I will give my daughter the chance of life.”
I then put on my broadest grin. “Besides, dum-dum, the Queen already saved our foals once. I am certain she is not the monster painted by the Eagles. Let them huddle in fear. We are Halla; strong, proud, and brave.”
A thin, wavering smile spread across Sylph’s face and she wiped her tears away. She leaned down to press her head against mine and kiss me below the ear. “When they write our legend, I hope they remember why we do what we do.”
I returned the kiss. “I have no doubt that you will sing our ballads in the Foxes’ Amber Hall.”
Sylph merely gave a shallow sniffle followed by a shake of her head. She then reached out and touched the dead stone hanging around my neck.
“This looks better on you.” Sylph pulled back her hoof as I craned my head down to peer at the stone. As she trotted back to the others, she said over her withers, “Selim didn’t deserve her.”
The next day, we passed between a pair of entwined trees, their trunks knotted together in such a way as to appear to be an owl’s head, with a low branch like a skeletal wing. On the next, our path crossed a glacier filled canyon, the ice cracking and growling beneath our hooves. A pair of Rocs passed overhead on the third, the colossal birds on the wing to their northern nesting grounds. Their golden eyes shimmered down on us, exposed on the mountain’s slopes and weapons at the ready in case the birds swooped down to snatch one of our number for a meal. They did not, and we breathed easier once they’d flown onward.
The ruddy red lords of the sky had only just vanished into a bank of wild clouds when the din of approaching hooves caught our attention. From a hidden cut in the mountain emerged a war-party of Bears, bronze hued armour flashing in Sol’s light, and the deadly metal prongs on their antlers glinting. Banners of blue and gold, a great cedar imposed upon the shape of Sognamount’s northern face, snapped at the war-party’s sides.
Without a command, the column broke in two and encircled our weary, ragged herd. Behind their helmets, the war-party’s eyes were hard and their jaws set for battle. As they surrounded us, we drew together, younglings in the middle and antlers outward, pillaged weapons at the ready. The war-party’s master stepped forth, easily recognizable by the flowing green cape and extra embellishments to his armour.
“What a sorry, disagreeable lot I see encroaching on Ironbark Vale’s reaches,” the Master said as he broke into a toothy grin. “Who speaks for you lot? Who is your Eagle?”
There were a few muttered words passed through our herd, and then Sylph stepped forward.
“I guide the survivors of Gur Moloch.” Sylph stood as tall as she could, and still she barely came to the Master’s chin.
“You?” The Master spat and he stamped a hoof. “How can you be the lot’s Eagle? You are a Fox, and my baby sister!” His aggression melted like snow in spring, replaced by a warm, booming laugh as he scooped Sylph up and swung her around. “I thought never to see you again, little one. What ever are you doing this far north, and in such ragged company as this? Was your herd taken by raiders as well?”
“Put me down, Holm!”
Master Holm gave another of his deep laughs, this time joined by his war-party as they stamped their hooves and threw back their heads. “Put you down? Have I even picked you up yet? You’re so tiny I can hardly tell! Ha-ha!”
It took some time before Holm released Sylph, and when he did, he kept by her side, a giant, protective shadow. During his initial greetings he must have noticed Sombra and me, but it was only as we were lead towards Ironbark Vale that he mentioned us.
“You keep odd company, sister. I hadn’t realised you’d joined the Waki’nin.” Holm’s words were not said with any ill-will, and there was even a note of respect in the look he cast towards me.
Fast stepping to keep pace beside her brother, Sylph shrugged. “Has there been word from our herd, then?”
“Cherry Blossom Vale has been in contact, warning that members of their herds sought to wake the Queen. I presume they mean you?”
Sylph and I shared concerned glances. I undid the thong holding Llallawynn in her improvised sheath, while Sylph continued chatting with her brother.
“You know me, brother. I just can’t stay out of trouble.”
Holm chuckled, and I breathed easier. “So true. Why, remember…” I tuned out the rest as he began to relive memories of their youngling years.
Ironbark Vale was much like our own Cherry Blossom Vale, a hidden place of magic and beauty. Their holy tree gifted them with ironwood. The tree resisted all attempts at cutting, no saw made by pony or halla could mark its bark. Each fall the tree shed its branches so that it seemed a singular pole covered in gnarled faces. These discarded branches were what the vale’s masters work. Even then, the wood was difficult to shape, taking all the gathered master Badgers to succeed. But when worked, ironwood is stronger than the greatest steel and resistant even against a dragon’s fearsome breath. They’d crafted the first such branches into what seemed to be a thin, frail gate, but one capable of holding off an ogre.
Inside the vale, on layered tiers of what may have been some ancient quarry made in some forgotten age, stood the village. Only the elder’s hall had been completed, and it was to this large, central structure we were ushered through a growing crowd.
All around us played younglings, members of Wolf Lodge tending to the fawns. As in Cherry Blossom Vale, not a single fawn had been stillborn among Ironbark Vale’s herds that year. A statue to the Queen stood beneath the holy tree, an altar covered in offerings of flowers and a few marks sprinkled around a sword and helm, an ironwood cup of bitter ale as the center piece.
Adults ceased their work to help those of our herd that struggled on weary hooves. Beds were found and warm food provided. Most refused the aid with a firm shake of their heads, standing behind Sylph as she faced Cedar Vale’s elders.
At first, I assumed they were the Eagles that had formed the elders of Sognaheim’s herds, instead we faced a council formed of a Master from each lodge.
They stared down on us with at first warm smiles. Their welcome faded as Sombra and I stepped from the herd to flank Sylph.
“So, it is as we were told.” The Eagle elder was a dour faced stag with a pinched muzzle and small, perpetually narrowed eyes. “A second pony in the Taiga, and one who stinks of death and foul things. Why have you permitted such as him among your herd?”
“I do not…” Sylph sputtered, the Eagle’s venom setting her back. Even I was a little surprised, though more at having not been singled out with Sombra. It was an odd feeling. The elders above accepted my presence without question, much as Holm and his Bears had done.
Her thoughts re-ordered, Sylph attempted to defend Sombra. “Without him we never—”
She was interrupted by Sombra placing a hoof on her withers. “May I speak for myself?” After he received a curt nod, he stepped forward. “Elders of Ironbark Vale, I neither expect nor ask for any comfort among your halls. I am Sombra de l’Espanya, and it is by my unknowing hoof that you and all your kind have suffered unspeakable tragedy. It is a burden that I am no stranger to carrying, for I stood at Celestia’s side as she burned the plains of Airegos, and it was I who betrayed her trust and stole every unicorns’ dreams. Murderer, defiler, warlord, wizard, and king; I am all these and so much less. But, what I am, above all others, is one who seeks, with all that remains of his time on this disc, for atonement.”
Sombra took a step towards the elders, but he did not bow. Instead, he raised his head higher still, so defiant and so proud, and brushed back the tattered cloak he wore to reveal the crystal thrust into his chest.
“I show you the mark of my sins, elders, so that you may judge fairly. With all my power, I dedicated myself to these halla before you, to ensure that they would see Sol’s grace, feel the kiss of the wind on their faces, and breath the air as free halla, not as slaves to the Diamond Dogs. I will accept whatever you decree.”
The elders conferred, and then nodded.
“You may remain,” they said, and the crowd let out a breath. “Rest this eve, and tomorrow we will discuss your plans.”
With that, the elders withdrew back into their hall, and we were found places to rest. Singing flowed through the vale that night as our new herd began to recover, our bellies full and our thirst quenched by the vale’s mystical waters. Holm rejoined us at once, guiding the three of us towards the frame of the unfinished hall for the Bears.
“Father!” a voice called from the humming throng. A tall youngling appeared in our path, a wide grin on his equally wide face. Though a few years from his Brou’alla, his shoulders were already growing broad. He skidded into a hasty bow in front of Holm. “I am glad you are home already.”
Holm’s face split into a wider grin as he shucked off his helm and plonked it onto his son’s head. “Indeed! And look at what prizes your father found.” Holm indicated the survivors of Gul Moloch with a wave of his head. “Go on, your keepers will wonder what mischief you’ve gotten yourself into.”
“Is that little Mountain?” Sylph asked as she and I watched the youngling, smiling at his trophy, run off to join his creche-mates. “He’s grown so much.”
Seeing the younglings play made me wonder and imagine what kind of hind my River would grow up to be. She was not a big fawn, at least by halla standards. As if that were not enough, her eyes, so large and bright, and mane would mark her as different. For some reason, I pictured her with it tied back in a braid and tucked into a thick, wolf-hide cloak.
Unseen, a grin forced its way onto my face and a low laugh filled my lungs.
She’d be a nomad, like her parents, and I picture her as a Fox, singing and dancing with no hint of the disc’s weight on her withers. I can not picture her as a Bear, though perhaps she… she… Pardon me, I begin to drift.
With a last chuckle, I put the images in a safe place to one side in my thoughts, letting them warm but not distract.
“Aye. He’s going to be a big one, like his mother.” Holm’s face fell into a melancholy that he shook off as he called for drinks of honey mead.
We did not stay up late. Revelry would come later, for that night all we desired was rest. After sharing with Holm the tales of our travels, correcting key points here and there, or filling in details for the others, we retired to our beds.
I expected to fall right to sleep. There were no small stones jabbing me in awkward places, replaced by a nice mattress of dried grasses and wool, while thick blankets warded off the high mountain chill. It was the closest to laying on a cloud mattress that I’ve ever been.
As I closed my eyes and let the tension of the past several weeks drain away, I found no comfort. Wounds that I’d thought healed, allowed myself to forget, tore open and bled anew.
For so long, I’d refused to acknowledge Growler’s absence, the hole he’d once filled. I squeezed my eyes shut in a futile attempt to block out the image of his smile. His long laugh, sounding so much like the hooting of an owl, assaulted me. I…
Velvet’s voice faltered, the usual rhythm of her storytelling collapsing as she choked. She turned away from the others, gazing out on the fields being tilled in the hopes of hiding her emotions. She didn’t cry, though a few tears made her sight blur.
There was a slight shift to the carriage when Comet switched places with Limelight. He draped a leg around Velvet’s withers and drew her away from the window to press her head against his neck.
He said something in a gentle voice that she didn’t quite catch. The words were unimportant compared to the love imparted by his touch.
For half a mile Velvet mastered her feelings. Not just for Growler, but for all the others she’d lost over the years. From her parents, to her sisters and friends, and so many, many more besides.
Two-Step and Limelight stayed quiet, averting their eyes as Velvet continued to center her thoughts. They feigned to take the keenest fascination in the field-hooves hard at work in the Sparkle Flower gardens, repairing damage caused over night by some wild beast. Furtive glances to Velvet and Comet gave away their curiosity.
As the carriage turned up the long lane to the manor, Velvet wiped her eyes clean with a kerchief. In a voice that cracked at first, but grew stronger as she spoke, she returned to her story.
The next morning came and I was awoken by a rough hoof on my withers.
“Velvet, it is time to get up,” Sylph said with some insistence, more so after I rolled over with a grumble, pulling my quilt over my head. A quilt that was tossed out onto the dew soaked grass beyond my tent. “Oh no you don’t Vel, the elders are expecting us.”
I sat up with my mane and tail prickled like the quills of a porcupine and eyes heavy with the lingering effects of too much mead consumed by a slight frame. Grumbling for a few minutes to ready myself, I conjured a bowl of water and combs then set them to refreshing me. After putting on my black robes, I stumbled out of the tent I’d shared with Sylph and towards the elder’s hall.
The inside of the hall was sparse, as befitted the Halla. At the far end, there stood a half-circle of eight benches. Each elder’s place was marked by an engraving of their totem on a back-rest. Seven of the benches were filled, the elders noting our entrance with stoney indifference. The eighth sat empty, marked by a roaring cougar. Rooms for each of the elders branched off along the walls, two on each side of the ground floor, with narrow steps leading to another set of rooms overlooking the main hall. Behind the benches sat an open door. Through it, a low, round table could be seen.
“Come forward, come, come,” the Eagle elder waved his hoof at Sylph and me. “We have much to discuss and little time if you wish to leave this day, rather than on the morrow.”
Before Sylph could respond—as the defacto leader of the herd it was her right to speak first—the Owl elder let out a long snort and shook her large antlers. “Oh, do we really have to dance around the issue.” She leaned over the rest to stare at me with an intensity I’d not felt in some ages. Her eyes seemed to strip me bare and expose the smallest flaws. I’d have suspected magic, but there was not a hint of it in the room beyond what Sylph and I wore. “You mean to wake the Queen, and we would know why.”
“That’s enough. This is not some interrogation. They are our guests.” The Bear elder thumped his leg-rest twice.
“Her release will be proceeded by these signs three; A pony blessed by stars of Dark and Light hidden from sisters’ eyes; Ravens shadow her steps, Bears towers at her side, and Wolves circle with eyes outward; The disc cracks from a Name, and she will be the Sorceress. So Sayeth I, Clover the Clever, in this the first year of Equestria.”
Sylph held her head low and voice steady as she recited the prophecy that had shaped my life among the halla without my knowledge. It was the reason the Ravens had taken me in, and why the Eagles had desired me gone or dead.
“Velvet is that pony. She bears the Dark Runes, not seen since the last age, and wields Llallawynn. She is of Raven, Bear, and Wolf lodges.”
The Raven and Owl elders both nodded, while the Eagle frowned, then twisted his lips into a smile. “Are you the Sorceress, Velvet Sparkle?”
I cleared my throat as I stepped forward.
“I don’t really care, to be honest. All I care about is saving my daughter. If that means being this ‘Sorceress’, so be it.”
He stroked his muzzle and conferred with the other elders. I began to grow nervous as the minutes dragged on with only the occasional glance in mine or Sylph’s direction.
At one point the Raven elder asked Sylph of our plans.
“We will leave as soon as we are able for Sunfall Stone to meet with the Ravens of our herd,” Sylph answered.
This seemed to satisfy the elder, who returned to the heated debate with his peers. More time dragged on, with food and water brought in serving to create a pause. I began to wonder just why Sylph and I needed to be present when so much of the discussion seemed to be ignoring us. A yawn broke from me just as the elders reached a consensus. Beside me Sylph wavered on her hoofs. Eyes shut, she seemed to be half-asleep herself, though her lips moved as she either talked or sung to herself.
“We have agreed that it is in the best interests of all involved if Master Holm Mountain and his Bears accompany you to Sunfall Stone, and to any point thereafter at his discretion,” proclaimed the Eagle elder with a decisive nod from his fellow elders.
“Masters, Elders, I… We don’t need the assistance. Sylph shook her head, and I found myself peering up at the elders in suspicion.
A hoof slammed into a legrest, the Badger elder snorting. “Tosh!” she snapped. “You are not the only ones loyal to the Queen. She saved how many? The Eagles of the old castles would have us wallow and stagnate, abandoned and forgotten by the rest of the disc. We need the Queen to return. The Halla must be lead into the long needed spring. You will have all the help we can muster, whether you desire it or not.”
The other elders stamped their hooves in agreement, and shouted, “Hear, hear,” and “Too true!”
Sylph and I shared a quiet smile, though neither of us let hope or relief truly blossom yet.
“Then what have you been discussing all this time?” I asked.
“Particulars, the particulars of our assistance, my dear hind.” The Eagle elder’s eyes danced with mirth and a little mischief as he answered. “Behind you we will send runners to all the nomads and to find the other Vales to inform them of what transpires. We will shelter those who followed you from the dog’s deprivations that wish it. Though I doubt it will be necessary.”
I shook my head. “We do not mean to stay past the Summer Moon. That was the agreed upon date that we should move on. Not that it matters. Without the sheers, we can not collect the sprig from the tree.”
“Have faith, Halla, that the way will become clear. There were more than a single set of sheers crafted.” The Badger elder wore a soft, motherly smile as she spoke, and for a moment I felt that she was right. That a path would appear, whether we stumbled upon it or were directed towards its course. The Queen had helped the Halla before, surely she’d help us when our goals were so pure.
“The Summer Moon? Why, that is only three weeks away.” The Owl elder clicked her tongue.
“Then there is not a moment to lose.” I put on a resigned look and set my shoulders for what trials lay ahead.
We left the elder’s hall to find Holm’s Bears and the halla rescued from Gul Moloch already gathered and waiting in ordered lines. They cheered as we trotted down the steps, horns sounding from the grey mountain slopes. Smiles greeted us as we made our way through the throng, and even Sombra bowed his head as we passed.
Sylph jumped to the statue’s base, and in a booming voice belied by her slight frame, chanted.
Arise now, arise, Halla of Iron!
Dread deeds awake, fire fills the night!
Let armour be bound,
And mountain horns sound!
To the Sunfall Stone we march!
A chorus of cheers rose from a thousand throats, and we were off, those who remained in the Vale still chanting as we descended the mountain with Sunfall Stone a month’s march away.
The dinner proved to be a long, uncomfortable affair.
It started off entirely on the wrong hoof, with the Sisters arriving late due to their carriage throwing a wheel. They walked the last quarter-mile to the manor through a freak rain shower, pegasi darting overhead to get it under control. Wet through-and-through, the Revered Speaker and Sisters were ushered into the Blue Salon where a fire waited and they could pat down their coats with towels.
The priestesses emerged, their robes almost blisteringly warm from Mrs. Hardtack’s drying, just as dinner was served, with no time for idle chatter before being seated.
This was a good thing, Velvet decided as she took her place at the table’s head.
Whisper shot Blessed little, angry glances as she took her seat, thankfully far from the Sisters. Likewise, Cadence had never stopped looking anywhere but at Blessed, and once seated she took up a deep conversation with her father-in-law. Unlike his wife and father, Shining conversed with the nearest of the Sisters with a happy abandon.
Unable to hear what was going on at the table’s far end, Velvet focused her attention on Blessed.
“I had been looking forward to meeting Princess Tyr,” Blessed said to Limelight, seated across from her. “The other Revered Speakers have been most curious about this filly. It is a shame she could not be present.”
Limelight pressed her lips together, a look darted towards the distant end of the table where Cadence and Shining sat, as far from Blessed as decency allowed, before answering. “I’m afraid I don’t know all the details. But isn’t it common for all orphaned fillies of nobles to be made wards? The same happened with aunt Sateen, as I recall.”
“Oh, of course!” Blessed gave an eager nod of her head. “Sateen’s ward-ship was sold off, as is usual. That is what makes Tyr’s case so strange and fascinating to the Sisterhood. For a filly who would have inherited a very minor title to be adopted by Princess Cadence. Why, it defies belief! If not for your sister’s Awakening, why, Tyr would be the talk of every gossiping noble from here to Vanhoover.”
Her face a mask of neutrality, not an easy pose for Limelight to maintain, she took a sip of her soup before responding. “You would have to ask my brother. Tyr’s parents were his friends. I never met them myself.”
“That is a very good suggestion, I think I will.”
Velvet let out a short lived sigh of relief. No sooner had she mentally made a note to congratulate Limelight on dealing with Blessed’s queries, than the Revered Speaker was calling down the table.
“Forgive my rudeness, Your Highnesses, but Lady Limelight has made a wonderful suggestion that I speak to you about Princess Tyr. I am still amazed that you adopted her. ”
Cadence’s spoon stopped just before her mouth, an annoyed tick in the corner of the princess’ eye. “Revered Speaker, this isn’t the time. Let’s not spoil our hostesses dinner,” she said in a firm, level tone that carried her dislike back up the table.
Blessed had just readied her reply, it dancing across the tip of her tongue like a stage production of the Hearth’s Warming plays, when Adamant spoke up instead.
“That’s because Tyr is actually an alicorn and over a hundred years old! She told us so.” He added an emphatic nod followed by his big, winning grin.
“Did she now?” Blessed turned to Adamant, sitting just a few places to Limelight’s right, and as such, a far more acceptable conversation partner than Cadence. For her part, Cadence did the only thing open to her and laughed at some non-existent joke from Glitterdust.
“She was playing a game with you, Adamant,” quipped Limelight, swooping in for the rescue. “Tyr is a unicorn, as you know very well.”
“But…”
“She’s an ill filly, Adam,” added Elegant and Melody, throwing their considerable moral weight in Limelight’s favour. “Who misses her mother and father. You can’t believe her stories. Like how she’s had wine with her uncle, the God of Festivals? Or chased storms with her aunt who sings with the winds?”
“I thought it was her great-aunt who was the winds, and a cousin of festivals,” Comet called along the table, following it by turning to his middle son, “Could I trouble you for the salt?”
“It changes, father,” the twins said in smug satisfaction. “Next week she’ll be Twilight’s proper niece.”
“Well, technically, she is, isn’t she? Twilight is still a Sparkle… right?” This came from Star, never one to pick up on the subtleties of a conversation.
Velvet made a little noise at the back of her throat. “Twilight will always be a Sparkle, just as Tyr is an Invictus.” Velvet received a firm nod from Cadence, and the conversation at last veered away from dangerous grounds.
After a brief discussion on the upcoming hoofball season in which it was revealed Blessed was a rather vocal supporter of the Canterlot Casters, the Revered Speaker asked the children if they had any plans about what they wanted to do with their futures. The question was meant for the older Sparkles who’d received their marks, but it was the youngest Sparkle who answered first.
“I’m going to be a War Wizard, like mother!” Adamant proclaimed through the ketchup smeared around his muzzle.
Glitterdust and Velvet shared a concerned look while Blessed merely leaned over and said, “Oh, a War Wizard? No Equestrian university has trained one in a hundred years, you know. You may have to go to the War Colleges in Prance or Hackney, unless you expect to be either Celestia or Luna’s apprentice.”
Face puffed up, Adamant said, in a tone as if he were talking to the village fool, “I know that! But I’m an Armour of House Sparkle. Shiny is an officer, and Twoey is a tictaction. Stallions of House Sparkle are fighters.” He jutted his chin forward after his little speech, one that earned him an amused snort from Two-Step.
“Oh, you are in the army as well?” The question came from the Sister across from Two-Step, innocent curiosity blossoming in her eyes.
“I… uh… No, no, ma’am, I am not.” Two-Step shook his head a little too much vigor, almost sending his spoon flying across the table. “My brother is confused.”
“Am not! You said so yourself, Twoey, you’re a—”
“Adamant, remember your manners,” rebuffed Whisper without looking up from her soup.
Undaunted, Adamant continued. “Twoey is the best there is at Stones. He can beat great uncle Pumice and everything!”
Two-Step’s face gave a slight twitch, the beginnings of a blush starting across his face.
“I’m merely proficient at the game.”
Never one to let an opportunity to further embarrass her brother slip past, Limelight put on a wicked smirk, and, in a voice just loud enough to carry, said to the other Sister, “He’s the youngest champion of the Eastern Division in three hundred years.”
“Really? That is an achievement. But, what’s this about you being a War Wizard, Lady Velvet?”
Velvet held back a grimace by taking a small bite of bread dipped in her soup. Dabbing her lips to stall for a few more seconds, she sighed, and explained. “I’ve been telling my family about my years away from Equestria. During that time I was trained in some foreign magics, but not as a War Wizard.”
“That’s right. Mother is the Sorceress, not some common wizard,” intoned Elegant and Melody in perfect synchronicity. The pair looked at each other afterwards and giggled.
“‘The Sorceress’?” Blessed covered her mouth with a hoof. “I knew you were a capable practitioner, Velvet, but that is some title to carry. You do know the connotations and origins, yes?”
“Of course I do,” Velvet began to say, but was overridden by a flurry of negatives from around the table.
Only Star spoke up in answer. Focusing on her pastries, fork pushing them from one side of her plate to another, she said, “A Sorceress is a mare who can call and bind beings from beyond the disc to her will. In the Book of Names, the last sorceresses belonged to Thuelesia and conversed with the Archons. All their knowledge and spells vanished when the empire fell.”
Blessed gave Star a pleased nod. “Indeed.”
The table grew silent for some time, and, when conversation resumed, it was on more mundane things, the oddity of Sparkledale’s weather, which hoofball teams would do well that year, and subjects of similar natures. Velvet spoke little during this time, not daring to look up from her dish for fear of being asked more about how she’d received her rare title, and what it entailed. The children resumed their usual squabbles and verbal jousting, and a steady hum of happy noise filled the room. At last, the dinner was attaining something akin to a good-time.
It was as dessert was being served, the pies covered in a warm, misty veil as they were placed, that the atmosphere was shattered and returned to its turgid lows.
“Archons…” Cadence mumbled during a lull. She’d been pushing her pie around her plate, a pensive, thoughtful pinch at the corner of her mouth. Abruptly she stood, and called along the table, “Forgive me Velvet, but there is someone I must see and not another moment to be lost.”
“Princess,” Velvet called back with urgency as Cadence leaned down to kiss Shining and whisper something in his ear. “If you are going to speak with who I dread, take great care. She is destruction incarnate.”
“I am aware.” Cadence nodded once and then vanished in a blue flash.