Mortal Coil

by Reeve


V - Clemency

I snapped into a crouching position almost instinctively while Lyra flailed about next to me for a second before joining me by my side. Together we saw the camp was in absolute chaos, our fellow passengers of the Siren were either running away, crying for help or huddled behind rocks or shrubs in the hopes that our attackers would not find them. The attackers themselves were engaging our guards, from where I was I counted four of them, all armed with swords or spears and wearing steel plate armour that shimmered in the dying light of the campfire.

While they definitely seemed better equipped than Hammerhead and his men, they were outnumbered and our escorts fought with savage ferocity. I don’t think the attackers expected the caravan to be protected; we later reached the conclusion that they were just bandits looking for easy prey to rob. I had once witnessed the Canterlot guards practicing their manoeuvres, it had all seemed so measured and precise, but this… this was madness. If there was any notion of fighting with honour in these stallions' heads, it had escaped them when the fighting started.

Both parties were content to strike mercilessly at their opponents, while our protectors had no qualms about ganging up on a single attacker. I could see Hammerhead specifically, taking on one of the attackers on the far side of the fire. The stallion stood no chance; Hammerhead brought his maul down hard on his sword hoof causing him to scream out in agony as it fell to the ground. Without a second's delay he swung his maul again, smacking the attacker in the side of the head causing his helmet to crumple and his whole body to collapse to the ground.

The other attackers weren’t faring much better, another lay motionless on the ground, while the remaining two were already fleeing further into the pass, one hobbling behind as he pitifully dragged one of his hind legs which I figured had been broken during the fight. Hammerhead’s men made no attempt to pursue them, a pair of them went to round up those of our own who had run away while the others stowed their weapons away and went around the camp, trying to calm everypony down. I turned to Lyra, we were both breathing heavily while her eyes were wide and terrified, I imagine I looked the same to her.

“Are you both alright?” Hammerhead asked, walking by us.

“F… Fine,” I stammered. As he made to walk on I called after him. “Who were those ponies?”

“Who knows?” he replied nonchalantly. “Dragoons maybe. It really doesn’t matter who they are, the bottom line is they were a threat and we dealt with it.”

With that he carried on, seeing to the other ponies shaking in shock and fear. He really did deal with the threat, but I wondered to what extent he had gone to. Standing up on shaking legs I began making my way across the camp to the figure that Hammerhead had taken down. Lyra called after me but I ignored her, my attention was completely focused on the still body of the attacker. When I reached him I knelt down beside him and looked him up and down.

He was a pegasus stallion, not much older than myself by the looks of him. Now that I was looking close up, I saw that his armour wasn’t as fine as it had appeared from a distance; it was well worn and bore the marks of seeing much conflict before this one. I turned my focus to his head, a trickle of blood was seeping out and pooling on the ground. Reaching out I took hold of his helmet and tried to remove it, a difficult task considering how badly it was caved in, but I managed it after a few hard tugs. Once it was off I was relieved to see that he was still breathing, although his breaths sounded ragged and pained as they came out. One of Hammerhead’s men approached me from behind and looked down at the body before crouching down next to me, producing a small first aid bag.

“You… you’re going to help him?” I asked with a mixture of surprise and hope.

“We aren’t killers,” he replied solemnly before adding, “If we can avoid it. I’ll patch him up enough that he won’t die from the injury, but that’s as much as we can do for them. If their friends don’t come back for them after we’ve left this place I doubt they’ll survive.”

I gulped at that thought, but rather than objecting I opted to leave him to it and returned to where Lyra still sat, lost in her own thoughts.

“Is he… you know?” she asked nervously.

“He’s alive,” I replied, which allowed her to relax slightly. “But… he says we aren’t bringing them with us. They’re going to leave them here tomorrow for their friends to collect.”

“Do you think they will come back for them?” Lyra asked uncertain.

I didn’t reply, just bit my lip and sat down with my back to her. The truth was I didn’t believe they would, the idea that the kind of ponies who assaulted what they believed to be an undefended caravan of innocents could also give a damn about their comrades was unbelievable to me. We didn’t get much more sleep that night, nopony did. Our guards who had previously been taking it in shifts to watch over the camp now stayed awake and alert. When morning finally came and Hammerhead ordered us to move out, I couldn’t help but look back at the two bodies next to the dwindling fire.

“Lyra,” I began, lagging to the back of the group.

“Yeah?” she replied as she slowed down herself.

“I think I’m going to do something very stupid,” I explained as I began removing my satchels with shaking hooves. “Hold onto these for me, will you? If things go badly I don’t want them taking these.”

“Them?!” Lyra exclaimed as I thrust the satchels and leather pouches into her forelegs. “Rarity, don’t!”

“Just cover for me,” I begged as I began back tracking. “I promise I’ll catch up.”

Lyra opened her mouth to shout after me but then forced herself to shut it. Turning away with an exasperated sigh allowing me to begin heading back towards the camp. We hadn’t travelled far from it, so it didn’t take long to reach it and find both the figures still lying there, the fire now almost completely extinguished. I was relieved to find that they were still both groaning and shifting about in their sleep. Once I was there I set about gathering more dead branches and lumps of moss to throw into the fire, I didn’t want them getting cold.

Once the fire was burning brightly and sending a strong plume of smoke skywards, I sat down next to the stallions and began waiting. After the first half hour I was starting to get fidgety, after the first hour I was pacing back and forth. By the third hour I was losing all hope that anypony would return for them. I dropped to the ground, a feeling of hopelessness washing over me. When I first went back to the camp I didn’t really know what I had been hoping to accomplish, had I been feeling altruistic and just wanted to make sure they were warm and taken care of while they waited, or was I just being selfish and wanted to see their rescue for myself so I wouldn’t have to feel guilty?

Whatever my reasons had been, it didn’t seem to matter then as I was convinced their friends weren’t coming back for them. The fire was getting low once more and if I didn’t set off soon I might never catch up with the caravan. I could feel my eyes beginning to sting with tears at the hopelessness of it all, at the thought of leaving and allowing two stallions to die. I also felt angry at their ‘friends’, I felt bitter towards the kind of ponies that would rob others using violence and then abandon their own team members to die.

At the time I had a very naïve outlook on life, other ponies and the concepts of good and evil, but eventually I would learn that all individuals were more complex than how I initially saw them, that if I was willing to look I would see that everyone was capable of being good and bad. It may have even started that day when I heard the trundling of a cart across the stony ground and turned to see a trio of ponies coming my way, all wearing the same steel armour as the attackers from last night. One of them rushed forward, I noticed his slight limp and wondered if he was maybe one of the attackers who escaped.

He ran straight past me and fell to his knees beside his comrades, checking to see if they were alright while the other two brought the cart up. The one who hurried forward stood up, sighing with relief.

“They’re okay,” he told the other two who looked equally relived at that news. He then turned to me. “Did you patch them up?”

“No,” I admitted, bracing myself. “That was one of the stallions who fought with them; I was part of the caravan they were guarding.”

The stallion looked at me with a mixture of confusion and shock, I continued quickly before he got the wrong idea.

“They had to move out early so I opted to stay behind and watch over your friends while you came to collect them,” I explained.

“Your guards helped them?” he muttered, almost to himself. “And you stayed with them… even after we attacked you?”

“I… couldn’t just leave them,” I replied quietly, looking down at my hooves.

There was an awkward silence between us while the two bodies were loaded into the cart.

“I can’t believe you would do that for us,” he said in disbelief after making sure both men were comfortable. “After what we were going to do to you.”

“Why did you?” I asked, uncertain that I should be prodding in this direction.

“It was nothing personal,” he tried to explain. “We just really needed the money. I know that doesn’t excuse what we did, and you had every right to just leave these men. Still you didn’t, you’re a good pony, and I owe you an apology for what we did.”

The other two ponies also thanked me, it all sounded very genuine and I was left feeling very light headed from how surreal the situation was. We began walking down the pass together for a while, mostly in silence, but when we eventually came to a narrow pathway splitting off from the main pass they stopped and turned to me.

“Our camp is just up here,” the stallion who had done most of the talking explained. “We’ll make sure they’re okay.”

“I’m glad,” I replied with a little nod.

“Here, since you’re falling behind from your companions you might need this,” he continued, reaching into the cart and pulling out a small duffle bag.

I opened it and found it full of apples.

“You’re giving me this?” I asked in surprise. “But I thought you needed money?”

All three looked slightly guilty at that.

“We actually stole those the other day,” the stallion explained. “We hardly deserve them, and after what you did for our friends here, it’s the very least we can give you.”

I threw the bag over my back and smiled at them.

“My name is Rarity by the way.”

“I’m Cirrus,” the stallion replied, smiling back. “These guys are Cyclone and Zephyr, and the two guys you helped are Eerie and Alabaster. We already talked among ourselves last night after I got back and we’ve decided that we’re going to return to Olympus and try to get real jobs. If you’re ever up that direction and you need help, we’ll be more than willing to give you it.”

“I’m glad to hear that, I wish you all the best in your travels,” I finished.

Once we had said our farewells and the stallions left up the mountain trail, I began making my own way through the pass in the direction of my long lost caravan. As I walked, and occasionally ran to make up lost time, I thought back to everything that happened with those stallions. They had attacked us because they needed money; even our own protectors were accepting money from Equestria despite the apparent risks it presented. It seemed that following the war the economy had taken some kind of major hit; it seemed bad if it was driving ponies who turned out to be quite decent to such criminal acts.

The longer I travelled across Panchea, the more I realised just how bad the war had taken its toll on the ponies living here. Of course I always heard stories while staying in Canterlot, but nothing could have prepared me for the reality of it. I heard tales of armies waging great battles in the Grand Pastures, what I hadn’t heard was how the fighting hurt more than just the soldiers fighting them. It was like a poison, seeping into every aspect of life in Panchea until everypony was suffering because of it.

I hoped that when we reached Pivot, or even Glean, I would get some straight answers as to just how bad everything really was during the war. I ended up being very thankful for the apples Cirrus had given me as I had to travel without a moments rest in order to catch up with Lyra and the others. Once I was free of the pass and I could see the Grand Pastures stretching out before me for many miles I was able to see the caravan off in the distance. As I galloped across the grasslands, feeling the breeze in my face and the long grass brushing beneath my hooves and around my fetlocks (I had taken my boots off so they wouldn’t get too sweaty while I worked to catch up), I was able to forget all my doubts and worries for a while and just enjoy being back home.

I finally caught up to the caravan around early evening beside a small wood. Hammerhead was watching the rear at the time and noticed me sprinting up to them. He didn’t look surprised to see me so I figured Lyra had told him what I had done.

“Did they come back?” he asked, confirming my suspicions.

“Yes,” I replied, absolutely breathless.

“That was a big risk you took,” he chastised. “They might never have returned, or worse they might have come back and tried to rob you again.”

“I left my stuff with Lyra,” I explained. “Just in case.”

“You’re still wearing clothes which look like they could fetch a fair price,” he continued. “And you’re a mare.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?” I asked indignantly. “Do you think I can’t defend myself?”

“That’s not what I meant,” he stated darkly.

I left him at the rear as I trotted up to Lyra.

“Holy Celestia you’re okay!” She exclaimed upon seeing me. “How’d it go?”

“Much better than I expected,” I admitted. “They came back for their friends and they were surprisingly friendly too.”

“Friendly?” Lyra repeated, giving me a sceptical look.

“Yes, friendly,” I asserted. “They even gave me some apples that they had stolen the other day and apologised for what they tried to do.”

I threw her one of the apples as I spoke which caused her to quirk an eyebrow.

“Well then, talk about not judging a book by its cover,” she said, biting into the apple.

“You already used that line,” I pointed out.

“It’s a good line,” she replied simply, giving a little shrug.

We came out the other side of the wood to find the farmlands of Glean before us; it was good timing too as the sun was beginning to set once more. Lyra mentioned that if we wanted to rent a room somewhere we would have to pay for it ourselves. We agreed to share a room between us and when we crossed the farmland and entered the town itself we set about looking for an inn. We found an inn very quickly; in fact we found a number of inns, what was harder was finding an inn that was actually open.

In fact very few houses had lights shining out of their windows, while quite a few of those that didn’t had ‘for sale’ signs posted outside them. We eventually found a building pertaining to be an inn that was thankfully still open. Leading the way in I found myself in a rather spacious communal dining area, with the kitchen visible from behind the bar where a tired looking stallion sat, doodling on a napkin. The place was very nice, I imagine it attracted quite a few patrons before whatever happened to drive so many ponies away from this town.

“Excuse me sir,” I began, announcing our presence and causing the old stallion to jump with surprise at being addressed. “Are you open? As in, are there any rooms available for rent tonight?”

“Open?” the stallion repeated as if he couldn’t believe his ears. “Certainly we’re open!”

“Good,” Lyra said before sticking her head out the open door to shout to the others that we had found an open inn, before popping back in with a smirk on her face. “Because you’re going to be seeing quite a lot of business tonight.”

The little old pony looked ready to faint at the influx of customers; we were the first in line to book a room, receiving our key and being directed upstairs. Obviously he couldn’t show every individual to their room so we made our own way there. Just like the first floor, the bedrooms were very comfortable and appealing to the eye. While I had never been to Glean, everything I had heard about it was that it was a backwater farming village, I never expected to find a gem like this here. I was particularly pleased to see the en suit bathroom, and was content to remain in it for half an hour before Lyra hammered on the door.

“Are you done yet Rarity?” She asked, sounding irritated. “You’re not the only one who stinks.”

“Just a minute darling,” a called back, slipping into my old habits as a result of the pampered feeling. “Cleanliness is a particular vice I haven’t been able to indulge for quite some time, you can appreciate that I’m trying to savour this moment.”

“I wouldn’t say being clean is a vice,” Lyra pointed out through the door.

“My father certainly would after I spent hours at a time in the bathroom,” I replied in a reminiscent voice.

“Well please don’t take hours this time,” Lyra begged. “I need to get cleaned and I was hoping we could go downstairs to get a proper meal. Keeping in mind that it’s getting late and we need to sleep at some point if we’re going to be setting out early tomorrow morning too.”

I relented after that and forced myself out of the tub, I left the bathroom as I towelled myself dry and Lyra rushed past me. The first thing I heard after the door was shut was the sound of the toilet seat being put down. I didn’t bother to get redressed once I was dry, we would only be going down stairs after all. So while I waited for Lyra to emerge from her own bath time, I set about cleaning my clothes. I would never say I was an expert at magic, far from it, but there were a collection of spells that I did pride myself on, spells that usually aided in my work.

One such spell was being able to clean clothes and fabrics using only my magic, particularly handy in this situation as it made no sense to put on dirty clothes after going to the effort to clean yourself. Once Lyra was finished we made our way down stairs and approached the bar once more and placed an order for two large bowls of stew. Before we went to one of the many empty tables I noticed the napkin the manager had been doodling on, it showed a pair of stick figures brawling over a doughnut with a label reading ‘the last doughnut in the world’, I got a smile out of that as we sat ourselves down.

When the old stallion returned and set our food down before us, which looked and smelt amazing, I decided to ask him about the town.

“I noticed a lot of houses seem to be for sale,” I began. “And we couldn’t find any other inns open, what happened here?”

“What happened?” he replied, looking at me as if I had two heads. “Where have you ladies been hiding? The war happened. When those damn rebels came in here and burned the crops and slaughtered the sheep, most ponies lost their livelihoods, selling possessions and property was their only choice. If I wasn’t indoors I would spit at having to bring up those blasted rebels.”

Clearly put into a bad mood, he stormed off back to the kitchen leaving me and Lyra to eat our food in awkward silence. The rebels had won the war, and from what I heard it was a pretty decisive victory, it gave me chills to think the kind of ponies who burnt crops and butchered animals were the ones now running this country. When we were done we returned to our room to catch some much needed rest, Hammerhead intended to reach Pivot tomorrow evening, which no doubt meant we would be leaving Glean at the break of dawn to do so.

As I felt myself drifting off, I thought I heard sounds coming from downstairs. I was too tired to pay it any heed however so I told myself it was just another customer arriving late. I was able to get to sleep very quickly after that.