He hit the floor, his eyes glazed over, white film covering their subtle green hue, never again to shine with life. His body breathed, chest rising and lowering, though there was no vitality to his movements. He lived, but he wasn't home anymore. Instead, he was lost and adrift in a sea of darkness far away from the comfort of his own mind.
Sound was the first thing to go. All sounds of life from the city surrounding him went quiet, his own breathing not to be heard by his ears. Not even tinnitus filled with the absence of sound, and it was beginning to hurt. His body did not move – he could not move it even if he wanted to.
Creeping, green fingers of earth, soil mixed in with the sediment, and broken stone from beneath the flagstone that covered the ground reached up, displacing the stonework and reaching towards his prone body. The tendrils wrapped around his limbs, fusing with his fur as green magic flashed up and down the lengths of soils coiling across his form, fitting to his pelt in obscure and arcane patterns that shifted and flowed. His mouth opened reflexively, and the light of the world around him seemed to dim. Had he been able to control his breath, it would have been stolen away by the sights he could see. The half-light was no such thing; it was dimming because his sight was taken from him to look into the veil and its roiling darkness of flitting forms and endless shifting greyness.
Coiling, thick, green-tinged mist spilled from his mouth and nostrils, flowing from his ears and the tear ducts of his eyes, and over his body to hug the ground. The tendrils of earth reached up along his face, curling along his muzzle until they reached past his lips and entered his mouth, their power reacting to the fell magicks of the mist spilling forth from his body, as it tried to retch but was found itself unable to.
And somewhere, amidst the dark infinity, a lost soul screamed.
--=--
"Move!" The solar guardspony grunted as he was busied out of the way by the viceroyalty agents and their pack of dogs-in-pony's-clothing. He grumbled to himself as the lot of them had spilled forth from the city hall not long after the human had left. "You have no jurisdiction here. Your presence here, armed and armoured, is on the flimsiest of pretexts. The Black Isles has no extradition agreement with Equestria, and even if we did, the human has committed no crime. Get out," the lead pony demanded. His voice was level yet with clearly restrained agitation, utterly at odds with his completely calm demeanour. He rounded on the lead guard ponies, or so he thought. None of them had declared rank as far as he was aware.
"You are mistaken. We do not seek to take him anywhere," said one thestral guard, her helmet removed to reveal her light, dusky purple mane. "Merely following up on some concerns we have that are related to him. We just want a chat, that's all." Ghost Writer glanced around the gathered warriors and gave the thestral mare a blank look.
"With two dozen armed guards."
"A very safe chat."
"With spears."
"For our protection."
"Yours?"
"He has been known to be most disagreeable in the past." She flashed him a dazzling, toothy smile. Ghost Writer was unmoved.
"I am not going to let your thinly veiled machinations go unchecked. You have no business in our lands traipsing about with full armour for 'chats'."
"Wouldn't be the first time you've let us do exactly that," dryly commented the white pegasus just beside her. "Wouldn't be the first time we've let you do the same either. Funny how understandings like that go out the window as soon as a conflicting interest turns up."
"Wouldn't happen to be stonewalling us because you'd like to arrange things nicely for yourself, now would you?" the thestral mare continued. Ghost Writer didn't dignify them with a proper answer.
"On behalf of Viceroy Mystic Spears, I am going to have to ask you to vacate t—"
"Uh Sergeant?" They all looked up. One of the royal guard pegasi was flying in the air. "He's getting away. Like, he's kinda sprinting full belt for the sea."
"Well…" The thestral looked back at Ghost. “It seems we won't be getting that little chat at all. Sure would be a shame if he got away, but I suppose we could always find him another day after he leaves the Enclave." Ghost was silent as he turned to look behind him at the hooded pegasus, who shared a look with him. Midnight smiled before turning to Cloud. "Although I suppose while we're here we could see the sights before going home, hmm?"
Before Cloud could respond, Ghost, his partner, and their compliment of Black Guards bolted, dashing off without a word. Cloud sighed.
"And here I was hoping this would be easy for once." He took to the air and flew after them, the winged contingent of the royal guards taking flight with him as the rest thundered forth.
--=--
So of course he went down the wrong street.
Frankly, this was embarrassing. It was a straight shot down to the hairs from City Hall, but did Handy make it? Nooooo. To be fair, he really wasn't expecting the marketplace to be this busy this early in the morning. With most of the merchants having vacated the city, leaving only local traders and whatever mendicants that trudged their way from other settlements, one would expect it to be practically empty.
So of course it wasn't. In his blind sprint, he stumbled into no less than three bakers, a soap maker, five carpenters, a glass blower, a very confused priestess, a diamond dog carrying a bag of coal, a blacksmith, three chicken farmers, a fisherman, and a little old pony in a rocking chair with her pet cat. Once he got through that mess and got back to his feet, paying no attention to the angry shouting or where exactly he was going, he found himself going down an unfamiliar street.
He came to a stop, panting, lungs burning for air. He got a lot farther than he had any business running while in armour, and he was now paying for it. He doubled over, hands on his knees, panting, taking off his helmet just long enough to get his bearings.
He had no idea where he was.
He was at small square between six dilapidated town houses and only two streets leading out of it, one of which led back to the market and the guards who were doubtlessly following. The other led to… hell if he knew. He had stayed out of the inner city by and large. It seemed oddly deserted, nothing stirring but a sad little fountain in the middle and a rather dead-looking tree. He looked back. The street winded to the left and to the right again, and he wasn't clearly visible from the market. He considered his options.
Going back was out. Fighting was… not really an option, as there were way too many of them there and he was not running on a blood high. He was a better fighter now compared to months ago, sure, but numbers would overwhelm anything. He could try talking his way out of it. After all, he hadn't done anything wrong while in the Enclave… Okay, apart from assaulting a woman and taking her blood in the dead of night… and brutally assaulting a couple of changelings, but he was pretty sure nobody would care about that. Breaking and entering, stalking the merchant district with the intent to assault and possibly kill a rogue wizard, association with whatever the hell Jacques was in relation to the law… Okay, there were a few questionable things he'd done since coming here.
He reached into the fountain, cupping his hands and drinking the water, splashing his face while he was at it. The rain had stopped.
"Alright… but that doesn't explain why the Equestrians are here," he murmured to himself. "Royal guards too, straight from Canterlot. That’s at least a week or two's journey by train, probably more. My presence here was only revealed a month ago. How in the hell did the Princesses find out and respond so quickly? Why are they even here? My crimes were pardoned. Equestria had nothing to do with the tournament. I am pretty sure Blueblood is alive and well after our bout. The hell do they want?"
As he was pondering this, he let his newfound abilities to reach out once more, bringing the surrounding lives he could feel into sharper focus on the periphery of his awareness. Perhaps had he not had it turned down when he approached City Hall, he might have gotten an inkling of forewarning of the hornet's nest he was about to stumble into.
"They can't touch me. I'm a nobleman now. A baron, sure, nothing special, but a foreign noble nonetheless. A foreign noble in a foreign country they shouldn't even be in in the first place. I've got nothing to hide."
'Except a changeling, a deal with a certain queen, the entirety of the shenanigans in the forest, just in case the Equestrians decide to somehow exploit that deal I made regarding Gethrenia for the sake of the deer, practically everything to do with Old Magic and how I got to this world in the first place… Okay yeah, fuck talking.' And it was then that he sensed the six figures sneaking up from behind him. Dark and grey in the periphery of his senses, he only noticed them at all due to how the surrounding buildings seemed to utterly lack any life within.
He spun around, just in time to see the brown pegasus diving at him from an open window above. He lashed out with his helmet and sidestepped him, clocking the pony on the head and sending him hurtling to the hard stonework of the ground. He didn't react fast enough to get out of the way of the earth pony though, who dived for his legs, knocking them from underneath him and sending Handy to the ground face first.
He was slightly dazed and couldn't react fast enough before the rest were upon him, pinning each of his limbs to the ground. His face was pushed to the ground hard, as he felt a hoof on the back of his head. "Where are they, human!?"
"Oh for God's sake, who the fuck are you!?" He struggled, his limbs pinned tighter. Each seemed to have the full weight of a pony pinning them down. He heard the groan of the pegasus from behind him as he got back to his feet. He felt the hoof press down on his head.
"I am going to ask you once more, human, where have you taken them!?" We know it was you there that day…"
"What are you bloody talking… ohhhh, so you are the rest of the changelings. I was wondering where the hell you guys were. Listen, now is a really bad time. Can we ju—" The hoof pressed down harder, and Handy let out a cry of pain. "Ohhhhh you fuckers, this is the wrong fucking day to be pissing me off."
"Again, human. Where. Are. They?" Handy gritted his teeth to bite back the pain as the iron-shod hoof pressed down harder. It let up almost imperceptibly as the changeling above him turned his attention to the thunderous noise of a dozen hooves heading in their direction. Handy took full advantage of the momentary distraction.
"Have you checked up your own arse?" The changeling on his gauntleted arm was not holding as tight as it could and was shocked when he pulled it out from under it and reared it back, closed fist, straight into its face. The changelings hissed, and the lead one lifted his hoof to stomp back down. That was all Handy needed it to do as he braced his right arm and rolled his torso, pulling his left arm with all his strength and dragging the light changeling along with it. It yelped as it lost its footing, lifted towards Handy, who dropped onto his side and grabbed it with both arms. The lead changeling snarled at him as the other recovered. One still clung to its legs and the other, the brown pegasus, was facing the direction of the approaching hooves. The poor changeling in his arms flailed its free limbs, trying to pummel away at his armour to no effect. "Wrong day, lads, wrong bloody day."
He bit down.
--=--
"He went down this way! Come on!" Stellar called as she was followed by six of her comrades. Most of the rest of them were stuck navigating the utter chaos that was the markets or checking other streets. She had managed to spot him disappearing down this particular side street. The shadows of the closely aligned buildings ruined the ability to spot him from the light of his enchanted armour, forcing them to ground to scour for him while others remained in the air.
"We've got company," a day guard called. She glanced behind her. Sure enough, one of the Black Guards of the viceroyalty was thundering down the alley after them, followed closely by some bewildered-looking city guardsponies who were apparently roped into the chase. She grimaced and continued on.
“Ignore them, keep going! We have to get to him bef—” Stellar Eclipse skidded to a halt just as she entered into the courtyard, her wings extending to help slow her. The guards following her hurriedly dived to the side, one even launching into the air and jumping over her to avoid crashing into her back. The human stood on the far side of the courtyard, an undisguised changeling held up in his grip by the neck. Five ordinary-looking ponies filled the courtyard, wide-eyed and alternating between looking at the human and the sudden onrush of guards.
“Morning,” Handy said simply. “Had to get my second wind. Hope you don’t mind. Oh, by the way, got a present for ya.”
He tossed the changeling to the ground, causing the other ponies to back up a step, one of them snarling.
“All of these guys? These guys right here?” Handy said, gesturing to each of them with his hammer. “Changelings. Changelings everywhere. Never say I didn’t do you any favours. Have fun, lads.”
The human ran, leaving the guards and the apparent changelings alone in the courtyard. No one moved. The wounded changeling was breathing shallowly at the hooves of the ponies. Somepony coughed.
“So… heh,” the brown pegasus began. “He’s uh… lying?”
The guards charged, and the courtyard descended into a melee of flailing hooves, fur, glittering armour, and flashing spears. The changelings abandoned their disguises, conserving their energy as their horns glowed and spells were cast, offensive blasts of magic that singed fur and winded those they hit, when they weren’t deflected outright by armour. Several took to the air to escape, only to be caught by a number of pegasi and brought back to the ground. Hard. Stellar ducked under the swinging hooves of a changeling before jumping back up, her helmet cracking against the jaw of the changeling before a few precision blows bringing it down.
The Black Guard thundered past the battle, heedless of the commotion and clipping Stellar on the withers as he passed, the half a dozen city guardsponies following in his wake. Stellar glowered after him, looking around the courtyard, seeing the changelings had been subdued, but they’d need to be guarded, tying her unit down, and no pony else was aware they had found Handy.
“Tie them down, You, go get the sergeant!”
“Which one?”
“Either!” she shouted back, taking to the air without another word, following the line of the street from above. It was long and winding, thankfully having no divergences.
She flew to cut him off before it exited into another street.
--=--
If there was one thing ponies had an advantage over humans, it was speed.
Handy found himself throwing passing crates, barrels, and whatever else he could to the ground as he sprinted, desperately trying to slow down his pursuers. What was that? He could always stand and fight? Hahaha, no.
Even taking numbers into account and the fact that Handy was in an enclosed space which he could work to his advantage, several things made that inadvisable. For one, he’d be fighting uphill. While gentle, this narrow street was on a decline. Combine that with heavily armoured miniature horses on full gallop meant bad times for Handy. Sure, he could stop and swing at one, but the guy behind him would just leap over and bowl Handy over with sheer force of momentum, and then it’d be game over.
No, he needed more advantageous ground, and he needed to outrun these bastards long enough to even think about standing and fighting. So, in order to achieve this, rampant destruction of private property was required. The changeling blood helped revitalise him, and he was now good to run all day if he had to. Pity its gifts were useless in terms of an actual fight or, you know, helping him run all the faster. Still, it brought his senses into extreme focus, and he could now feel the black-armoured guard that was heading up the pack behind him.
Very odd, he still felt grey and dark, but he was clearly there, different from the changelings from before too. The hapless clouts following after him were as bright and as vibrant as anyone else though, so no changes there. It didn’t matter. He saw a wooden overhang approaching, held up by thin wooden beams, ramshackle and lashed together. It was holding up an impressive weight of pottery. Handy drew back his hammer and swung at the first beam as he passed. It buckled but still held. He swung at the middle one, and his hammer bounced off of it. He skid to a halt by the end, gripped the hammer in both hands, and swung at the third one. The silvered steel crashed through the wood, which splintered and buckled. It collapsed, the other beams similarly damaged falling as well, bringing the entire weight down upon the head of the Black Guard, who was mere inches from Handy before he disappeared under a hail of broken pottery, soil, plants, seeds, water, and wood.
The alley was cut off, with at least one of the guardsponies caught under the collapsing debris with the Black Guard, whose head just barely poked out as he groaned in pain. He heard the guards yelling to back up and find another way around. Handy briefly thanked God none of them were pegasi. He wasted no time and turned to run.
He got another dozen or so feet, finally making it out of the endless, claustrophobic rows of town houses along the narrow street and onto a broad thoroughfare. City folk dispersed as the human emerged from the street, breathing heavily. His armour shone brilliantly, blinding nearby ponies before he stepped into the shadow of a building, looking around him.
“Where the hell am I?” It seemed oddly familiar but for some reason he couldn’t pin it down as he trudged through the deep rutted streets, the puddles splashing beneath him. He gestured at a hapless pony with his gloved left hand, who squeaked in surprise. “You. What street is this!? Which way to the harbour!?”
“T-That way!” The pony pointed down the street. Handy couldn’t see the harbour for all the damnable townhouses in the way. He was about to make his way in that direction before he was nearly knocked from his feet, something hitting him bodily from behind and sending him stumbling. He just barely caught his balance before falling and whirled, hammer raised.
He felt a cold pit develop in his stomach and bile threatening to rise to his throat.
“You,” he spat, the hatred evident in his voice. The thestral hovered in the air for a few moments before landing deftly on the ground. Her lunar armour was resplendent in the sunlight, the soft purples of the segmented plate that protected her back and flanks accented by the heavier, darker purple gorget around her long neck. Distinctive, moveable pauldrons stylised to resemble small wings guarded her withers, and a light chain hauberk was visible in between the spaces of her plate. Her legs were relatively unprotected by comparison, with the exception of light schynbalds just above her armoured boots. Four long, sharp blades could be seen on her forehooves, currently raised up and at rest. Stellar looked up at him from under her crested helm, careful to tilt her head in such a way to prevent being blinded should he stand in the light. “You dare.”
“Listen. Just listen,” she said slowly, one hoof raised. “It isn’t what you think."
Handy almost let forth an entire stream of profanity and curses at her, biting back only with the thought that he couldn't afford to waste time fighting her here in the streets. He pointed at her, almost accusingly.
"I do not have time for you today, wretch. Stay out of my way." He looked about, trying to find an easy means of escape. She'd catch him on a dead run. It was then he spotted the hanging sign above the smoky glass panes of the building next to him. Curtains were drawn to obscure those that lay within. The creak of the sign on its unoiled hinges, it bore the image of a mare lazily fishing in a stream. He now knew exactly where he was.
"Look, Handy. I know it seems extreme, but we had to get to you in force before the Black Isles realized it and spirited you away."
"I have done nothing to warrant them doing such," Handy said carefully, slowly but surely moving closer to the door of the tavern. Stellar's eyes shifted from him to the tavern, realising what he was about to do.
"Believe me, they don't need a reason. Look, there's trouble in Griffonia. You were at the centre of its cause. We need you to come with us."
"I am not going with you anywhere." His calm answer was both uncharacteristic and aggravating. Stellar gritted her teeth.
"I don't know how you survived. I saw the blast zone myself. The mages scoured it; there was no way what happened could have been survivable."
"Really now?" Handy asked lazily. "Well, here I am. What does that tell you, thestral?"
"You know my name."
"Pity, I don't really care to use it." His hand reached for the door handle but paused when Stellar's wings shot out and her stance lowered, ready to lunge at him should he touch the door. "As to how I survived, it wouldn't be the first time I died. Ask my liege Johan. I've made something of a bad habit of being dead."
"There'll be war," Stellar said, her ear flicking. The human looked up, seeing forms in the distance over the rooftops as Stellar's comrades closed in. "Whatever's happening in Griffonia, between Firthengart and Getherenia, is causing instability along the border. You could stop this, convince your king to see reason before something happens. Do something! You have to come with us."
For the briefest of moments, he hesitated. He didn't want to listen to her, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized she might be on to something. Whatever was happening in Griffonia began with the tournament, as both Johan and Goldtooth were there. He didn't know what was going on, but it was spooking the Equestrians something fierce. He should go back; he did have a duty to do so. But the second he thought of abandoning his course and returning home, he felt a pressure on his thoughts. The thought of going back melted away in favour of focusing on his task of finding old magic users in order to fulfil his geas. To break it was to risk slavery.
"I… can't," he said at last. Stellar stomped her hoof, the metal boot clacking on the cobblestone.
"Explain!"
"I can't." His hand clasped about the door handle. "I would if I could, but I cannot."
She lunged at him, and he dived into the tavern door, putting his weight into his shoulder and forcing the locked door open. She crashed into him, and the pair tumbled into the darkness of the tavern.
--=--
"You sure she said she'd be here?" Cloud Skipper demanded, landing on the street. The few ordinary city ponies had long since vacated. The Black Guard weren't anywhere in sight, but if the alarm bells currently ringing across town were anything to go by, the city guard was being mobilized. "And changelings?"
"Yes sir," the pegasus responded, alighting along with twelve other guards, the majority of them thestrals. "The human incapacitated one and used the others as a distraction. Private Stellar went on ahead to cut him off."
"Well where in Tartarus is she then!?" he demanded.
As if on cue, the body of Stellar Eclipse crashed through the window of the nearby tavern, dragging broken glass, curtains, rails, and splintered wood of the window frame onto the street.
"Well well well, look at this!" a powerful, feminine voice bellowed out into the street, echoed by the sound of strange, blaring music from somewhere deep within the tavern. A cream-coated mare stood proudly on the broken window ledge, her purple eyes dancing with energy. A ragtag, groggy assortment of ponies in various states of hungover and bleary-eyed near-wakefulness emerged behind her, some armed, some armoured, most of the rest just furious at the rude awakening they had received making a morning of punishing headaches that much worse. Shock's smiled wickedly, eyeing the guards before her, her fierce eyes zeroing in on the thestrals in particular, some of whom felt a tad unnerved with the sheer loathing they saw. "Looks like the flying rat bastards showed up dressed for a dance! A hundred bits per cracked skull to the lot of yas!"
The proclamation was met with a cheer of approval from the assortment of drunken mercenaries and part-time pirates, many of whom shook themselves awake at the prospect of making up their lost money spent punishing themselves the night before. The royal guards took one look of the assortment of improvised weaponry being brought to hoof and closed ranks.
"Now hold on! This is official—" Cloud didn't finish as the tavern emptied and his guards were overwhelmed with superior numbers. The entire street descended into a disorganized brawl as the Equestrian royal guards were engaged by the fine, upstanding citizens of Black Port. Flailing limbs, hooves, wings, thrown bottles, broken spears, and missing teeth were all that could be discerned in the shifting mass of fighting ponies. Broken bones, concussions, stale beer, and the occasional blood spill were the participants only reward for joining in on the fun. The guards had a distinct advantage in training, discipline, and better armour, and were slowly getting the upper hoof on their more experienced but simultaneously more bedraggled opponents.
Now if it wasn't for that foul mouthed mare that was currently beating seven hells out of the thestrals like a living storm, they could get over this little hiccup and get the objective.
--=--
Handy kicked open the door to the back kitchen, causing the mare within to snort and wake with a start. He then proceeded to run down the short flight of steps, gunning for the back door.
"Nononono wait—!" She winced as her warning came too late. Handy's boot hit the floor…
…And immediately went up into the air, taking Handy along with it. He let out a yelp of surprise as he fell hard onto his back, his head thwacking the ground and causing his vision to blur. He groaned as he rolled over.
"…The floor's wet. With… a new brew."
"Silver?" Handy groaned, turning back over on the ground, his deer-woven cloak now utterly ruined with beer. Silver Platter smiled nervously from behind her literally bubbling cauldron. A book lay propped up on a stand behind her. There seemed to be several strange circles drawn onto various surfaces using differently coloured chalk, dried herbs, and vegetables hung from various places. A disturbing array of slap-dash, glass instruments filled with many different coloured fluids lined the walls and counters. Handy blinked. "Are you… an alchemist?"
"What? Haha, noooo, no, of course not. Why would you think— Me? Pssshhh, noooo…" she said, with the worst poker face Handy had ever seen. A nervous sweat broke on her brow, and she glanced around once before sighing. "But I uh… kinda always wanted to be. Got stuck here, and the boss lets me practice so long as I help improve his brews."
Handy suddenly felt like never drinking at the Fishermare's Hook ever again. Not only was the head of the kitchen an alchemist, but she was a bad alchemist. Alchemists were dangerously bonkers individuals on their best days. Handy pushed himself up, trying to ignore the blaring music coming from the brick. Why now of all times? He knocked the barrel the beer seemed to be seeping out of.
"What the hell is this anyway?"
"My new batch! I call it Soapy suds!"
"Why?"
"… Because I made it with soap." Handy just stared at her for a moment, then thought about the floor he had just slipped on. He tested it by lightly tapping the front of his boot on it. Yep, that sure was slippery as hell.
"You know what? Good luck with that. Meanwhile, I'm going to do the world a favour." He bent over and, with a grunt of effort, lifted the small barrel up, turning it so the leak was facing upwards and not pouring over him.
"Hey!" Silver Platter shouted as he kicked open the back door and exited. "Hey, you have to pay for that!"
--=--
"There!" the stallion guard shouted. "Stop in the name of th—woahoooaaaaAAAHHH!"
Right before he and the three other city guard ponies slid and tumbled downhill after slipping over the beer slick cobblestones out the back of the Fishermare's Hook, the broken barrel rolling forlornly off to the side.
Handy wasted no time and sprinted as fast as he could to the hairs. Now he knew where he was and it was faaaaar away from where he wanted to be. He had dodged the guards in the marketplace. The changelings had been a bit of a shock, but they proved to be a useful speed bump. Surprisingly large, black-armoured, doom pony bearing down on him in a narrow alleyway? Handy had dropped a roof on him. Pesky thestral responsible for siring him? He had let the good drunken scoundrels in the tavern take care of that little problem for him. And if the sounds he heard from out the front of the building when he was in the kitchen were any indication, they took care of a good number of his other problems too.
So far so good, but his luck was not going to hold up forever. He needed to get to Jacques and Thorax. He needed to get on that boat, and he needed to be gone yesterday.
'How did they even find me so quickly?' he thought to himself, spooking a pony that was pulling a cartload of rubbish as he rounded a corner, right before blinding him in the light of his armour. 'I get it’s been nearly a month, but the princesses should only have gotten word recently and then sent some of their soldiers. They shouldn't be here already if they were going to send anyone at all. Did they have standing orders or something?'
His thoughts were interrupted as he ran across the bridges that had been lowered over the hairs, bridging the gaps between the specialized military harbours that were in disuse over the winter. He skidded to a halt halfway across the second of the five bridges, the brothel barely within sight in the distance. In front of him, emerging from behind a red-painted warehouse was a contingent of halberd-wielding city guard, flanked by the one remaining Black Guard, who glowered at Handy. Or he imagined he did, as the pony wore a full face helm. Above, three pegasi hovered, cumbersome crossbows held in their hoofy grasp, large trigger guards accommodating their hooves. At the head of the contingent stood Twiddle Dee and Twiddle Dumb.
"That's far enough, human! Stand down and you will not be harmed!" Ghost Writer shouted.
"Harmed for what!?" Handy shouted, arms outstretched. "I have done nothing to warrant being chased across the entire city!"
"We are only trying to bring you into protective custody," Ghost continued unabated. "Dangerous foreign elements are currently targeting you. In interests of good faith and good will to our griffon neighbours, we have taken steps to try to protect you."
"Sir, I am a dangerous foreign element."
"Duly noted. Now please kindly drop your weapon." There was the sound of several hooves hitting the wood behind him, and Handy turned to see the remnant of the Equestrian guards. Most of them were solar guards, headed up by the same smirking, golden-eyed thestral mare from city hall. Only she wasn't smirking now.
"Oh for fuck's sake…" Handy breathed. He considered his options. Ponies in front of him, ponies behind him, and water to his right and left. An ordinary person would say fuck it and jump, swimming away to safety. However, Handy was wearing heavy armour, and drowning was something he really didn't care for. His mind raced. The Equestrians and the Enclavers were shouting at each other over something, but he ignored them as he tried to figure out a way through them. He looked up to the town. Nothing seemed to be coming over the buildings, which meant the guards he managed to tie down were staying that way. Thank God for small miracles.
He was keenly aware of the ponies around him. The city guards were confused, nervous, and wary. The ones wielding the crossbows felt twitchy, and that was always a bad thing to have behind a trigger. The royal guards behind him were a roiling mass of restrained violence and aggression, some tired, most frustrated from the chase and confusion. The two agents ahead were unreadable grey blots on his senses. His eyes were drawn up to the crossbow pegasi. More than anything, he had to make sure none of them shot off by accident, considering they were aiming at him. He needed to give them a reason to relax.
He hooked his hammer to his loop.
'This is so stupid.'
He stood facing the open sea, the long arcing walls of the harbour reaching out like arms to welcome the sun on its journey across the sky.
'This'll never work. I can't believe I'm even trying.'
He placed his hands on the top of his head.
'God curse me for a fool. Here goes.'
"I surrender!" The shout cut across the argument from either end of the bridge.
"What?" Ghost Writer asked dumbly, blinking.
"I surrender. I'll come quietly." There was silence for a moment, nothing but the sound of gulls above and the gentle crash of sea water below. Handy could practically feel the thestral mare to his right smirk. No, scratch that, he could actually feel the smarmy confidence from this distance.
"Very good~" she said. "I'm glad you finally saw sense."
"Now come along quietly," Ghost Writer followed up.
"And I'll get right on that." Handy said, feeling a smile tug on his lips. No one moved, and Handy could sense the uncertainty in the ponies around him.
"Just… to clarify. Who are you surrendering to?" Midnight Blossom asked. Handy shrugged his shoulders. Not an easy thing to do in plate, so it just looked as if he was shifting his weight.
"Whoever gets to me first," he goaded. There, he felt it. The uncertainty in the crossbow ponies was shifted. He glanced to his left. Yep, they weren't aiming at him anymore. At least two were aiming at the Equestrians, and the other had his bow aimed skywards for safety, unsure of herself.
It was the Equestrians who took the first step. Handy did not move. It was followed by one of the grey blotches on his senses, either the two agents or the Black Guard. Still, Handy did not move. One by one, step by step, warnings and shouts from one side to the other, each wary of the other's movements, each increasingly focusing on each other than on the still unmoving human in their midst.
'Come on, come on, someone do it. I only need one of you to slip up,' he thought. The halberds of the city guards lifted to avoid risking prematurely perforating the royal guards. The ones that didn't were deftly navigated by the Equestrians, their heads parting to let them pass as they inched closer, which the city guards responded in kind when they came in reach of the Equestrians' shorter spears.
"Back off, Equestrian. You have no right to be here," he heard the Viceroyal agent growl.
"What’s a little asset acquisition between friends?~" Midnight responded, her eyes narrowed at Ghost. "We are friends, right?"
Handy looked down. Nothing beneath him but a foot of wooden bridge, empty air, and sea water below. Theoretically, if you know, he were in an action movie, he'd drop off the edge, catch himself off the side, and swing his way to the other side using the underside of the bridge. And the sad thing was, if he had the right blood in him, that sort of nonsensical bullshit was in the realm of possibility for him. He didn't have the right blood. He sighed as the passive aggression built up behind him seemed to come to a boil. The ponies were literally inches away from each other, and there he was, standing on the edge, waiting for them t—
-THWACK- -THUD-
One of the crossbows loosed, and an iron-headed bolt dug into the wood of the bridge next to a Royal Guard. The bridge exploded. Handy very nearly was knocked from the edge, instead falling to his hands and knees to maintain stability. The two sides clashed, their weapons more or less neutralised as it broke into a full melee. He briefly saw the Enclave Black Guard storm into a trio of Royal Guards, tearing them apart and sending them flying. One city guardsman, a unicorn by the looks of her, was knocked flying over his head and into the water below.
Time to leave.
He spotted an opening and took it, clambering to his feet and running along the edge of the bridge. There were shouts of alarm as ponies realized their folly, but they were all too busy trying to prevent the ponies of the opposing side from getting up after him.
"Wind Chill!" Ghost Writer called out. His hooded companion turned in the air after delivering a kick to a gold-clad pegasus. "Take Bull Horn and go after him. We'll hold them off. Go!"
The pegasus nodded and swooped down low, before taking to the air to chase his quarry. The Black Guard stomped on the helm of a groaning Equestrian before he took off, the ranks of the city guard closing behind him as he passed.
--=--
Blood or no blood, this was getting exhausting.
He had managed to get across the third bridge fully before he felt the distinct grey blotches on his senses separate from the teeming mass on the bridge he left. One was above and another on the ground, both gaining on him. The one above seemed to be… circling him? Fucking pegasi. Maybe he should have bitten one of the thestrals; then all of this would not even be a God damn problem. The sun split through the clouds again and his armour lit up. He felt the pair of grey blotches back off and felt a momentary surge of relief. The hairs themselves were thankfully deserted of people, but he could see ponies on the street ahead of him. He also spied more contingents of city guards galloping down the street ahead to try to cut him off where the hairs ended and the city began again. They all seemed quite alarmed and confused about what was going on, more so when a blinding ball of light flew past them and practically jumped through the doors of the brothel.
A very surprised-looking Sea Crest stood with a broom. Her wide-eyed head snapped around to see who exactly broke the lock on the front door this early in the day.
"Handy? Wha—"
"HI SEA CREST, GOOD TO SEE YOU, BROUGHT SOME FRIENDS, GOT TO GO, BYE!" Handy blurted out and immediately ducked to the right, nearly tripping as the carpet bunched up under him as he hurried up the stairs. Several of the mares, who were themselves still bleary-eyed and yawning, walked up to her.
"What was tha' all about then?" Sea Crest shrugged.
"I don't know, but he owes me a new door. Best find out what's gotten into him before he wakes up the whole house."
She didn't have to wait long.
Bull Horn broke down what was left of the door. The black-armoured stallion was massive and filled the room with a dominant presence. He was followed by Wind Chill, who deftly swooped in under the door frame behind him, snapped his wings shut, and landed lightly on the ground, hooded face looking about. A small gaggle of guardponies slowly filed in behind them.
"What is the meaning of this!?" Sea Crest shrieked, outraged at the intrusion. "Get out! You have no right to barge into my property like this!"
"Ma'am, a fugitive is seeking refuge in your place of business. It is in your best interests to comply and aid us," the baritone voice of Bull Horn boomed, reverberating throughout the room. Sea Crest shook her head vigorously.
"I don't care why you're here. You have no right to barge into anypony's property like this. Unless you have a writ of entry from the Lord Mayor himself, you can just trot along. We've done nothing wrong here."
"Ma'am," the soft voice of Wind Chill spoke. It was quiet, barely above a whisper, but held a weight of authority to it that belied its. "I speak with the authority of the Viceroy. We have permission to enter and search if it is in the national interest. Please, get out of our way." Sea Crest harrumphed.
"Don't think you can have your way with me just because you have a pretty face and a smooth voice, darling. I am well aware of the law. And unless it’s a time of war…" She smiled and allowed her eyes to become half-lidded, leaning into his face. "You need to present a writ of entry from the Viceroy too if you want to try that route, smart arse~"
Wind Chill scowled at the madam. His eyes darted around the room at the apparently wary looking comfort mares. His practiced sight picked out details his more violent companion would have missed. Bull Horn made to move forward, but Wind Chill's wing shot out, preventing him from doing so. He looked down at the pegasi.
"Go outside. Surround the building. He can't escape," Wind Chill ordered softly. The Black Guard stood for a moment and looked like he was about to answer before obeying the command and leading the city guard out. Wind followed after them.
"Good boy~" Sea Crest cooed. Wind Chill paused to shoot her a nasty glance over his shoulder before finally following the soldiers out. The door was levitated in magic and leaned up against the door frame. The discretely hidden weapons and blades the gathered mares had been preparing were, with relief, placed back into their hiding places. "Now, I do believe I am owed an explanation… as well as a rather lot of money, I should imagine."
--=--
Finding the hidden door and opening it was harder than Handy remembered, but then again he had been a bit out of it when he first used it to enter the secret passage between the brothel and the townhouse. He emerged from the wall of the corridor like a vengeful spirit, causing a young pony who was apparently balancing a bucket of ice and water on his back to jump and spill the bucket on the floor. Handy ignored him, lost in his rambling curses.
"Of course, of course! Why not! The day I figure out I can leave and find the real target, I get this shit landed on me!" he muttered spitefully as he knocked open the door to his room, gathering up whatever he had foolishly taken out of his pack to carry with him. Several things were going to be left behind. Food, the occasional knickknack he had managed to pick up in the market for a pittance, the Daring Doo book he had managed to purchase on the sly. Shame, he was just getting to the good part, as far as good could be applied to such schlock. I mean, Daring getting up and singlehandedly fighting off five goons with two broken front legs and a wing that was currently suffering some kind of petrification curse? Handy called bullshit. The author was off her rocker if she expected people to swallow that. Still, Handy always did have a weakness for terrible fiction.
"Changelings, Equestrians… Oh sure, chase me across a Goddamn city, I could use the exercise. Everyone can go fuck themselves! Oh, but it makes more sense to reveal yourself now. What’s the worst that could happen? Equestria has no reason to go after you, not here! Honhonhon, I am French!"
None of that mattered now, unfortunately. The hapless young lad Handy had spooked was busy trying to get his bucket, staring forlornly at the spilled contents on the floor. He jumped with a yelp and started off down the hallway after Handy kicked open the door to Thorax's room. Nope, no changelings there. He sighed in frustration and rounded, heading back into the corridor. Hopefully, Jacques was still here. Thankfully, it was unlocked and Handy opened it, stepping on the ice water that was seeping over the wooden floor.
"Jacques, you son of a bitch. You had be—" And for the second time that day, Handy slipped and fell, this time face forward. What he saw left him speechless and was enough to throw him off balance. He pushed himself off the ground, staring up in disbelief. He tore off his helmet, rubbed his hand on the water on the floor, and splashed it across his eyes. Yep, he sure did see what he thought he saw.
There, staring right back at him with surprised looks on their faces was Jacques, lying on his back. And Thorax curled over his stomach. In her changeling form. He shared a look with her, then the covers closed over her eyes, a subtle indication that he was on his own in explaining this.
"I— You— You are— Why— What— ALL THIS TIME!?" Handy struggled, words failing to come to him. Jacques cleared his throat, laughing nervously.
"Listen, Handy, mon ami, it… it uh… it isn't…" He took another look at Thorax, still draped over him, then to the bed and the covers that were half covering them, then back to the apoplectic human on the ground. He sighed. "Oh le Tartare avec lui toute, ce sera plus drôle de cette façon. This is exactly what it looks like."
And Handy descended into spouting unintelligible, angry-sounding gibberish, picking himself off of the ground and, presumably, swearing to himself. At several points one may perceive he might have been speaking some form of coherent language, but it wasn't English, before slipping right back into gibberish. Thorax took the opportunity to crawl off the bed, slipping into her disguise quickly, and closing the door to the hallway before anyone else looked in. Jacques was about to get up too, right before Handy's fists clasped about his neck, lifting him off the bed and slamming him against the wall.
"You sold me out!" Handy shouted.
"What?"
"The City Hall, dozens of them, Equestrians, and those spooks you had me meet a month ago, them too with soldiers of their own. How much was it worth to send me right into the wolves' den!?"
"I have no idea what you are talking about! Let go of me!"
"Let go of him!" Thorax demanded, interposing between the two and pushing Handy off of him. Jacques slid down the wall back onto the bed below, rubbing his neck.
"I never sold you out, sanglant enfer. What are you on about?"
"You sent me to deliver a packet to the Lord Mayor, and what should I find when I walk in there? Dozens of Equestria's finest, the two shady characters who brought me along to see a month ago, and what happens? As soon as I am out of there, I am running for my life."
"But that doesn't make any sense…" Jacques said, eyes darting about as his mind worked. "Why would… oh merde."
"What?" Thorax spoke up, "What’s wrong?"
"I thought I could keep them happy so long as they thought I was the one keeping an eye on you. And the Equestrians… dozens you say?"
"Oh, and half a dozen changelings. I thought you took care of all that!?" Handy growled at Thorax.
"I did! I don't know where they came from. I was just lying low here to avoid them."
"Oh yeah I'll bet, just… Gah, my mind is— I can't take this. Look, Jacques, I don't have a lot of time. I lost most of them by throwing an army of thieves and whores at them."
"…You what."
"I improvised! It doesn't matter. I lost them in the brothel on the way here. I need to find my way to the harbour. And money. I need a secret way out. You know secret things. Make it happen," Handy demanded.
"Just calm down for goodness sake, Handy. I did not sell you out!"
"Well it sure looks that way from where I'm standing!"
"Why would I do that!? The entire point of that meeting was to set things up so that the Viceroyalty wouldn't do anything to you, because I'd be wherever you were!"
"And why should they care about that at all!?"
"Because I am a spy, alright!?" Jacques threw his arms up, frustrated. "Troubadours, ponies like me? The Black Isles regularly uses ponies from traveling communities as their eyes and ears on the continent. Most ponies do. We're everywhere; we fit in easier than non-ponies; we're not as distinctive as Enclavers or Black Islanders, and we know where all the… shadier dens are. It’s good money. They got their hooves on me after I… Well, let's just say there's a reason I live in a city now. I was trying to protect you, protect you both while you were here. I wasn't expecting Equestria to drop a detachment here in Blackport out of the blue!"
"Well then, where did they come from, hmm? And the Black Guards?"
"The kingdoms have a long running understanding, but never something this… drastic. There must be an Equestrian ship in port. There's no way they could have crossed the border and the viceroyalty is only acting now… and if Ghost Writer brought Black Guards to get to you first, that means they were always planning on preventing you from leaving. They never told me… We need to move you. Now!"
"While this is all very interesting," a sweet, gentle voice cooed from the doorway. They turned to find Sea Crest entering the room. "But you wouldn't be planning on running out on a bill, would you, sweetheart?"
"Oh, heh, Sea Crest. Look now’s not a good time, Jacques said, tapping his forehooves together nervously.
"Oh yes, I can see that, what with soldiers tearing down my front door. You do keep such interesting company." She cast a knowing look to Handy before looking back at Jacques. "That'll be, oh, I don't know, a month's rent for three ponies, the cost of replacing a door, and hmm, it seems two of the doors up here have broken locks, busted open even. I wonder who could've done that."
Jacques gave Handy an exhausted look. Handy for his part, coughed and put his helmet back on. Jacques just sighed and reached into the drawer by the bedside, grumbling. He hoofed out a key and levitated it to Sea Crest.
"Junction four, lockbox nine, let the teller know how much you want and you'll find enough in there."
"And if I don't?" Her voice was sweet and subtle, her eyes lidded and her smile genuine, but Handy swore he saw Jacques shiver.
"I'll… make up the difference." Thorax raised a questioning brow at him. He waved her off with a hoof.
"Very nice. Now, with that unpleasantness out of the way," she said, hoofing the key away into her saddle. "I don't know what sort of trouble you're in, boys, but it’s a doozy. I take it you need the express exit before the oh so valiant boys in black march up to my humble front door with their writ of entry?"
"That would be appreciated. Have they locked down?" Jacques asked. Handy looked to Thorax to hopefully get a clue as to what was being talked about. She shook her head.
"Mostly. The tunnel is open for the next, ohhh, five minutes? You might want to hurry." Jacques went wide-eyed. His horn grew incandescent and his sword, belt, cloak, and hat whizzed to him from about the room as he leapt off the bed.
"Vite il faut nous dépêcher maintenantmaintenantmaintenantmaintenant!" he shouted faster and faster as he hurried past the Madame, leaving a blinking Thorax and Handy in his wake. Sea Crest smiled at them.
"You might want to hurry after him now. It’s never a good sign to see him panicking, after all."
That was all the motivation the two of them needed to hurry after the stallion.
--=--
Secret tunnels for ponies were wider than the ones human built would be. Unfortunately, they were just as short, forcing Handy to his hands and knees, trapped behind the pair of ponies, in utter darkness, trusting the swishing tail of whichever of them was in front of him that they knew where they were going. You see, he made the mistake of not taking off his helmet, limiting his head movement and overall vision.
However, on the up side, he gained the ability to give adequate incentive to whoever was in front of him to hurry up in the form of the bladed wings on his helm.
Perspective was everything, really.
"How far does this go?" Handy demanded. He was shushed.
"As long as they need to," Jacques whispered back. "And keep it down. You don't know who's just above you down here."
That was about as noisy as they got, although Handy could've sworn that once they were into the tunnel, he heard grinding stone somewhere behind him.
And so it was they travelled in silence, an hour, maybe two. They went from the hidden door in the surprisingly well-stocked cellar of the brothel all the way to… the fishery.
"You have got to be kidding me," Handy said, nose wrinkling at the stench. Despite appearances, given the wooden flooring, the wall of the fishery met the stone wall of the harbour where it met the streets of the city above them. So it was they pulled back a wooden panel and emerged into the dark interior of the very fishery he was in earlier that morning. It was still deserted.
"Come on, quickly!" Jacques hissed. "We need to find you a way out of the city."
"I have a way out," Handy said. "There's a ship in port. Captain is only here for a few more hours before he sets off. I need a way of bribing him to take me on as a passenger."
"With what!?" Jacques quietly screamed. "I don't have anything to lend you. You're going to have to stowaway."
"Oh yeah, real inconspicuous. How the hell am I going to clamber aboard without anyone raising a fuss?" Handy countered. Thorax sat by the water side, thinking, her tail swishing as she considered something.
"What, you expect me to know!? I got us out of the hideout and to the harbour. I can't work miracles, Handy!"
"Well, what the hell am I going to do!? It’s not as if I can just pass myself off as a pony, now can I?"
"Actually…" Thorax tried to begin but was interrupted.
"I never said you should! Vous ingrat, constamment en colère, déraisonnable, lourdaud insoutenable!"
"Okay okay, look," Handy said. "You know what? Fine, thanks. Thanks for everything I'm just… It’s been a bad day, alright?"
"You actually can—"
"It’s fine. Its’ fine, really, just… I am out a lot of money because of this. You're a friend, Handy, but consider it from my point of view. I'm on the Viceroy's list of pet spies. I just stuck my neck out for you. Can you appreciate where I am coming from?"
"Yeah. Yeah I guess," Handy admitted, pacing back and forth, rubbing his gloved left forearm. "Still doesn't solve getting me from here to the ship without being spotted."
"Oh well, let’s just solve world hunger while we're at it."
"Oh, don't give me that, and how long has this been going on anyway?"
"Has what been going on?"
"This!" He gesticulated wildly, indicating both Jacques and Thorax.
"Oh, that?"
"Yeah!"
"…A while."
"Well, if you two are done interrupting me," Thorax said, her voice deadpan. "I might have a solution to the problem."
--=--
"And when were you going to tell me this?" Handy demanded, now seated on a crate, gently rubbing his arm. He had brushed against a rusty fishing hook that tore along his left arm. The cut had healed up instantly thanks to his blood high, but it left a splash of red slowly drying on his arm.
"Oh yes!" Thorax said brightly. "How about I tell the blood sucker, who I am alone in the forest with, that he gains the ability to shift how ponies perceive him when he is hopped up on changeling blood. That sounds like it'd be great for my health." Her face dropped as she gave him a wry expression. Handy bounced his foot on the floor, thinking. If he could pull that off without meaning to, could he do it on purpose?
"So… you can change your form? Like a changeling?" Jacques asked.
"I don't… think so. When I saw him do it and I realised the illusion for what it was, I could see through it after shaking it off," Thorax added
"Look, as fascinating as this is, we do not have the time right now. We need to get out of here and to the Ironmonger."
"The what?"
"It’s the ship currently in port," Handy said, waving his hand. "The only one here actually." That gave Jacques pause.
"But if it’s the only ship, then—"
Just at that moment, there was a tremendous crashing noise coming from outside, the sound of a wooden warehouse collapsing in on itself. It was followed by the ground shaking. They stumbled, shouting in the fishery as its fixings were dislodged and knocked to the ground. Soon, even the shouting was silenced. A whooshing noise filled the air, as something pulled the air into a central point somewhere outside. Briefly, all noise was muted. It was hard to breath, and the air felt pressurized.
And all at once, it was let out.
A tremendous green flash of energy and the sound of an explosion rocked the entire harbour. The wooden boardwalk outside, and the fishery along with it, shuddered and rolled, lifting up and crashing back down. The fell light overpowered the daylight, reducing everything in darkness that was not touched by the sickening green glow that spilled in-between the wooden panels of the walls. The entire building groaned as the wood settled and cracked. Handy picked himself off of the ground, his vision blurred and dizzying, his head pounding as if something were hammering at it to get in. The air felt heavy as his ears rang. The other two were in worst states, the two of them clutching their ears and writhing on the ground. Handy stumbled over to the door of the fishery, eyeing the ceiling warily as the wood continued to groan and threaten to give way. The water below them seemed to be receding.
He pushed on, opening the door.
Black Port was a city in chaos. The sky was darkened, the clouds circling around a veritable hole in the sky itself, pulled in from the sky around the city as if drawn into a vortex. The harbour was wrecked, several sections having collapsed into the water completely, with little else other than the harbour master's house still standing. The merchant district was devastated, the fine townhouses of the wealthy trading class desiccated and ravaged from the blast that had levelled an entire warehouse utterly.
He could barely see, low down as he was, what was going on above. There were pegasi in the air, a lot of them. The tell-tale glints of armour made it easy to distinguish the Equestrians from the Black Port guards. A strange, blueish glow emanated from the epicentre.
"You can't be seriously…" Handy breathed, looking back at the other two, then up at the fishery around them. It would be safe just to leave them there. Jacques being closer, he lugged him out the door. He was still insensible from whatever had happened, and Handy couldn't get him to react. Next he dragged out Thorax, still in her disguise thankfully, and he propped both of them by the harbour wall. If nothing else, they wouldn't die if the building collapsed. He looked back up. Old magic, it had to be, but it felt wrong. But why now? A month of searching and nothing, but why now? Now, for some reason, the warlock made his move? Could it be Thunder was here after all, and the note he got regarding Manehatten was mistaken? He had to find out.
It felt like his armour was filled with treacle, his movements feeling heavy and slow as he ascended the steps back up into the city. Vaguely, he could hear panicked screaming in the distance as ponies ran from the centre of the catastrophe. He saw a few bodies in the streets, mostly guards. All were alive but clutching their heads, writhing like his friends had been. A few soldiers were standing, their bodies tense and trying to struggle on, their head bowed and faces twisted in concerted effort. The few who noticed Handy did little more than bat the air with their hooves in his general direction. Their feelings were erratic, in pain and scared, panicking yet not thrashing about. What the hell was wrong with them all? The worst Handy was getting was a very bad headache.
He moved on, the pounding on his head increasing with each step that took him closer and closer to the source, moving along the street overlooking the harbour. On and on until…
He saw it.
It was a pony, or at least it looked like one. It floated in the air, a metre off of the ground. The pulverised stonework and earth beneath it radiated out from it, the centre of the dent it had made in the earth. The broken beams and shattered wood of the warehouse around it stood like the skeletal bones of a desiccated carcass, blackened as if burned. The creature was covered in a hard, rough surface, like stone and soil that had been hardened by a furnace. Its eyes were large, glowing a bright yellow like the most intense fire. Its cavernous mouth opened impossibly wide, deep blackness within which spilled forth in a foul-smelling smog that dissipated as it dripped and fell, turning to smoke and disappearing in the air. It was wreathed in fell energies, the air shimmering and warping around it, pulsing as the blueish green glow intensified. Several Royal Guards and at least one of the Black Guards lay nearby, a testament to the foolishness that had wakened the beast.
The creature turned to regard the human. Its mouthed opened, and a bestial scream erupted from its throat, too loud to have been possible in a creature so small. The very air was repulsed in the wake of its voice, warping and distorting as the sound travelled to his ears. The sound reeked of malevolent intent, and Handy felt weakness in his legs. His armour began glowing in tandem with the pulse of energy in the magical aura around the creature, shimmering in its own right lowly, glowing incandescent at intervals when the magic washed over him, whipping his cloak back. The creature bore down on him with hatred in what passed for its eyes, in which nothing could be perceived but a mindless hatred for all that surrounded it.
So why did it feel so scared?
He heard heavy landings behind him and turned. Several of the Equestrians had landed, having seen him from above and braving proximity to this… thing when they saw him approach it. He would have felt sickened when he recognised the thestral at their head had he not already been trying to contend with the almost physical sense of dread and revulsion he felt from the old magic in use less than ten feet away from him.
"Wait!" Stellar called out, flanked as she was by two solar pegasi. One was cradling her head with a wing. "Stop, don't go near it!"
"Oh just bugger off!" Handy shouted back, trying to be heard over the roaring winds and the sound of the creature's own roars. He looked back at Stellar, noting the cuts and bruises she bore from the delightful little distraction Shocks so thoughtfully provided for him. She looked to be in as much pain as everyone else. "I have to find out for myself."
"Find out what? Handy, what do you know about this!?" Stellar shouted, trying to take another step forward, each one a difficulty in itself. The other pegasi and thestrals, Enclaver and Equestrian alike, were hanging back, unwilling to get closer than they already were. They tried to keep their distance from the thing that seemed to be incapacitating anyone who drew near. He could see a lot of them slowly descend back into the city, one by one, evidently fearing giving out in mid-air and falling to their deaths. Handy sighed once.
"This!" Handy said, unhooking his hammer and steadying himself as another roar from the creature seemed to shake all of them. "This is the same thing that knocked you out on the train. This is what caused the calamity at the festival at Firthengart. This is why I've been haunting this city for a full month trying to find. This!" He gestured at the creature. "This is why I cannot go back to Griffonia until I am sure its threat has been eliminated. Go tell your princesses that if it will ease their concerns. Everything was going fine until you bastards showed up and ruined it all!"
"But what… what is it!?" Stellar managed. "What are those voices?" Voices? Handy didn't hear anything. Handy looked at the creature that still hung in the air before them. Every ounce of its physical presence oozed dread and malevolence. Yet it still hung there, not attacking anyone. And yet Handy could perceive that the pony at the heart of it was scared out of its mind, manically so. Something was wrong here.
"If I do my job right, you'll never have to find out," Handy said simply, though he doubted he could be heard over the roaring wind. He trudged on down into the shallow crater the creature had created. Each step was more difficult as he drew nearer, the pounding on his head more forceful and painful, the franticness of the creature's emotions more pronounced and crazed.
The world began to make less and less sense. The blue light was incandescent and he could barely perceive anything other than the creature before him, screaming at him. His knees buckled and he fell to the ground, catching himself before completely collapsing. The pain was almost unbearable, and his limbs didn't seem to want to respond. Someone was shouting behind him, but he couldn't hear. He couldn't even think. He crawled on the ground before pushing himself to his feet. The creature was inches away, bellowing into his face. It smelled foul and rotten, its countenance twisting the more Handy looked at it.
It took a phenomenal effort, but Handy managed to raise his hammer over his head and brought it down. The metal struck the crown of the creature's skull. Splintered rock and dried earth broke off of it as it shrugged off the blow, once more bellowing in Handy's face. But not once did it strike back. Handy struck again. Each time the pressure in the air lessened, the pounding on the inside of his skull slackened, and it became easier to breathe and to think. The light in the creature's eyes grew dimmer and dimmer, the foulness dripping from its maw lessening as its jaw began slipping back into normal proportions. More and more of its 'shell' flaked off as he struck. But as he did so, the magical aura around the creature grew wilder still, unstable. Someone was approaching him from behind – he could feel them. Each hammer blow he delivered lessened the creature's area of effect.
At last, the glow in its eyes diminished, and in its place were the eyes of a pony, rolled back into its skull. The irises slid back down to look out at the world, a milky grey film that covered them melting away, revealing the colours of its eyes. Handy brought the hammer back up and, with a shout, brought it back down on the pony's skull, finally breaking through its shell of stone utterly with a tremendous crack.
And then all was white.
Handy came to his senses a dozen feet away, his armour glowing and a lancing pain through his head. It was almost debilitating. He took a moment to roll over to his side, groaning as everything seemed to ache and hurt all at once. The sky was brightening up, the clouds drifting apart, and the air felt normal. Gone was the heaviness that had felt like it was weighing him down. He pushed off the planks of wood that lay on top of him. His helmet was gone, lying in a puddle a short distance away. His hammer lay not much farther beyond that. The Equestrians were gone. He vaguely made out a tail jutting out over the top of a pile of wreckage. Whatever just happened had knocked them silly as well.
He got up, hearing shallow breathing nearby. There, in the centre of the whole mess, lay a thin, blue earth pony stallion. It lay huddled, forelegs curled up under him, shivering and in obvious pain, his eyes screwed shut. Handy could feel that he was in pain, terrified. He certainly looked the part.
Light blue coat, earth pony, stallion, weird magic. But it wasn't Thunder. Handy had no idea who this pony was. He looked vaguely familiar, however. Like he had seen this pony about the harbour every now and again, but he had never seen anything to draw his suspicion before.
And it was easy. Far, far too easy. He recalled the fight with Thunder. The pony had more or less floored him, and that was even with him hopped up on thestral blood. His first fight with Crimson had not been easy either, yet this guy just… stood there. He stood there and took it, not once lashing out or defending himself. Just screaming and reducing people to gibbering wrecks on the ground. There had to be something he was missing.
"Who the hell are you?" he asked quietly, holding his side. The pony didn't answer, curling up on the ground in pain. Although for all that, it didn’t seem to be from Handy’s hammer blows. Hell, there wasn’t a mark on his head. Strange. He looked up. The skies were clear, the pegasi either been knocked out of the sky or had descended beforehand. The guards who had found him were littering the ground around the ruined warehouse, out cold. He was tired, aching, and his head felt like it had a hot, burning brand skewering it. He looked down at the pony one more time, contemplating his options before leaving the poor bastard to the dubious care of the ponies of Black Port. It wasn't Thunder. Thunder was in Manehatten, and Handy had a boat to catch. Given his geas wasn't giving him trouble over it, he guessed it was a decision in keeping with its rules.
He stumbled over to his helmet and hammer. Sure enough, his helmet seemed to have a rent down the side, from behind the bladed wing right down to the bottom. No wonder it came off so easily. His attention was drawn to his right by a groan. He looked down to see Stellar Eclipse sprawled out on the ground, the unconscious body of another pony on her back. He paused. He ran his forefinger along the head of the hammer in his hand as he thought about it.
She was right there, helpless. It could be passed off as the effect of the magical blast. He could take his revenge now and be done with it. Just tear off that helmet and a few good strikes and it'd be over. He'd have some measure of closure. He looked around. The harbour and surrounding merchant district was deserted. Whoever was still here wasn't conscious. He could do it and then just slip away. He looked back down at her. The cold empty feeling that had taken the place of the rage that welled up within him at her trespass against him struggled to force his hand.
No.
It wouldn't do, not here. No, when he got his revenge, he wanted her to actually be able to stand, just so he could have the pleasure of making her fall. He rotated his jaw at the thought.
"One day, vampire," he said quietly as he turned to walk away. "One day."
--=--
Considering the time he had left to work with, Handy was of the opinion that he did well.
The old magic, whatever effect it had on the ponies, had knocked them out cold for a good twenty or so minutes. He wasn't sure what the area of effect was, but everyone in or around the harbour was out for the count, the skies were clear, and that was good enough for Handy.
Pity he couldn't find Thorax and Jacques. They weren't where he had left them, and the fishery still stood strong. He couldn't afford to waste the time looking for them. The harbour bell sounded from out on the harbour walls, signalling the tide and the opening of the gates. If the ship, the Ironmonger was going to leave anytime today, it was going to be now.
Handy ran to the far end of the harbour, using the street above it as entire sections had collapsed into the water. He did indeed find a ship, squirreled away at a pier on its lonesome between a rope maker's building and something that vaguely resembled some kind of ironmonger's store, with the comically oversized, painted, wooden anchor on the roof of the building.
He'd comment on the joke of a ship named the Ironmonger weighing anchor next to an ironmongers with an anchor, but he was in a bit of a hurry. The ship was a simple, dark oaken wood construction with a rusted iron bullhead for a figurehead. There was a surprising lack of ponies on board or around it, but the ones that were on board were out cold, and that was fine with Handy. He hurried across the gangplank, pack safely secured around his waist, and made it aboard. He felt awkward and unsure of foot on the shifting boat but made do. Now, where would be the best place to stowaway on a ship?
Clearly Handy had not thought this through as he figured the best place to hide would be one that, it turned out was checked literally every day by crewmen. And that was the storage room near the bottom of the vessel.
It was confusing, navigating the near darkness below deck, the cramped conditions only more so for someone of Handy's stature. He almost outright stepped on a pony's foreleg by mistake, the sailor sprawled out between what looked to be a cask of porter and a rack filled with onions. Eventually, he found his way to the store and, sure enough, it was packed. He already started hearing people move on the deck above him, so he hurried up, closing the door and fumbling in the darkness to try to remove the bulky and cumbersome armour, managing only his remaining gauntlet and pauldrons before saying fuck it and putting a huge stack of bags filled with grain between him and the door. He found an open box on the ground and stared at it.
And stared at it.
All this time, everything he went through, and he'd be leaving Black Port the way he came.
Locked.
In a box.
It wasn't even that it was too small. It could fit him fine if he brought his legs up to his chest, a difficult prospect giving what he was wearing. He heard cursing coming from above and resigned himself to his fate. Handy was going to have to be the box vampire once more.
Resigning himself, he hurriedly worked away at his armour. Practiced or not, trying to take off armour by yourself, in the dark, on a rocking ship in a cramped space was enough to reduce anyone to a frenzy of frustration.
He managed it, bundled up the majority of his armour in a sheet complete with his packs and stuffed it as quietly as he could between the wooden box and the wall. That was to say that it was distressingly loud, at least from Handy's perspective. But no one came close; the voices he heard seemed to be distant, coming from above him or from outside. He wasted no more time and clambered inside.
As he did so, the disturbance caused a couple of the bags of seeds to fall off of their pile and land on top of the crate, slamming the lid shut much to Handy's surprise. But he didn't complain. He waited.
And waited.
And waited some more, waiting for the ship to set sail to leave the port. It didn't go anywhere. Not for another hour. Or the one after that. Or the one after that. Finally, at long last, he began to hear commotion, hoofsteps everywhere above him, shouts and orders and the groan of wood under strain. There was the distant rattle of metal on wood coming from somewhere to the front of the ship, and the vessel dipped alarmingly to the side as Handy felt the ship finally set off from the harbour.
And just as he was about to relax, someone kicked the door to the storeroom in.
"Un-bucking believable!"
"Calm down, it could've been worse."
"Oh, I'm sorry, you're right, Skippy. I sure am glad nopony died. Only a casualty list as long as my tail, a catastrophe that more than likely the Viceroy will pin on Equestria so Princess Galaxy doesn't get her bridle in a twist. Oh, and he got the buck away and the only one who knows where he went is in the hooves of those, those—!"
"Calm, down," the stallion said. There was a pause as the mare evidently didn't calm down, muttering to herself. "We are lucky they are letting us go like this at all and the matter is being argued above our heads. Not our fault we followed orders."
"If you think the commander—!"
"The commander doesn't know which guards went. Princess' orders – we'll be alright. Look, go for a walk up on deck, calm your nerves. If nothing else, we'll be back in Equestria before you know it.
'Wait a minute… I know those voices…'
"Heh, don't you mean, Griffonia?" The mare chuckled. The stallion cleared his throat.
"Now in fairness, this ship was in fact coming from Griffonia. Not the captain's fault he ran into an 'extraordinary patrol vessel' of the Royal Equestrian Navy and received a handsome sum for acquiescing to quartering."
'…No,' Handy thought. 'No, no, nononononono,'
"Hmph, well, I don't want my first stint as sergeant to be such a disaster. I'm just… We were so close!"
"I know. Look, go take that walk, and we can discuss this later. I only dragged you in here before you exploded in front of the soldiers."
"Yeah," she said, sniffing. "Although I wonder what this captain is carrying. Smells good whatever it is."
I absolutely refuse to believe this. This is not happening. It isn't. No, go fuck yourself, universe, you aren't doing this to me, not today'
"I'm sure plenty of things he'd rather we not find out about. No go on."
"Fine…" she said as she closed the door behind her. The stallion stayed where he was, and Handy heard him sigh, as well as the sound of hard metal hitting wood and that of a body flopping against several bags worth of granular material. It was quiet for a time.
When I open this lid to peek out, it will be just a random sailor pony. No one else and certainly not what I think it is.' Gently, so very gently, he pushed up on the lid with his head, a not inconsiderable task given the extra weight not lying on top of it. He managed to lift it barely more than a crack to let only one eye spy out, but that was enough.
And there he saw the white pegasus with light blonde mane lying back against the pile of grain bags, the porthole window open and sunlight pouring in illuminating his resplendent golden armour.
Handy was most certainly on the very same boat as every single one of the royal guards he had been seeking to escape.
'Oh,' he thought, his brain working to process the sheer fuckery he had landed in. 'Bollocks.'