CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
THE HEART’S DOOR
Snow laughed, her gentle voice carrying a maturity that made him hark back to his days as a child, and his mother, Willow.
“Tell me about her.”
Rush paused, staring at his hand halfway to the bowl of rice.
“I…”
The white mare spoke quickly. “Rush, I’m so sorry. Please, forgive me… I shouldn’t have asked such a direct question. It’s clearly a subject that causes you pain.”
He shook his head slowly, eyes closed, willing the images of his mother away. They’d grown apart as he’d grown. She’d become cold, distant, even more so after his father died and she re-married. The man who became her husband, Nasta’s father, was one who treated her well enough, and was even pleasant with Rush. It was just…
“No. Snow, it’s I who should apologise to you. You’ve been so kind to me; the least I can do is to tell you about… her.”
The mare held up a hoof. “Dearest Rush, there really is no need if you don’t wish to.”
Snow gave him a smile, that special smile that made him shiver inside. He knew it was wrong—he hadn’t known her for very long after all—but somehow, somehow he saw the way she gazed at him, the way her lips curved up and her eyes sparkled, as something she did only for him; his special smile.
Rush sighed contentedly. Those large purple eyes could easily melt the most frozen of hearts, and his was no exception. She lay peacefully beside him, a bowl of water, cloths, and the medicine chest sitting close to hoof nearby; more for him than for Snow. Her wounds were nearly all healed now, and he marvelled at how quickly she’d recovered. It made him smile.
Snow gave him a light nudge with her muzzle. “Something’s making you happy!”
He nodded. The effortless way she had of lightening his mood was like a reflection of the sunburst on her flank. Rush still felt weak, but Snow’s ministrations had brought him back from the brink of death. It was strange how he’d not been surprised to see a walking, talking… What did she say she was? Alicorn? Yes, that was it. She said she was an ‘alicorn’ from another land, far away. A land called…Equestria.
Just hearing the name or even thinking about it, for some reason he couldn’t explain, brought tears to his eyes. He was falling apart. Years of isolation, years of being completely alone and keeping his heart locked up, then along came a being from another land, another world even, and she broke down his walls as if they’d never existed in the first place.
Rush sighed and took a sip of the water Snow passed him. “How are you feeling? Your wounds, are they healing properly?”
Snow lifted her head, shaking the pink mane from her eyes and inspecting some of the still-healing cuts. “You have a light touch with your sewing, Rush. I think you could even teach me a thing or two.”
He hung his head. Having to push a needle through the coat of such a beautiful mare; it was a travesty, an act that…
“Come now,” she admonished, lifting his chin with a hoof. “You did what you had to do, and you saved my life. If you hadn’t come along when you did, I’m not sure that I… Well, I’m not invulnerable. You’ve seen that more than anypony.”
Rush leaned back on the bed of reeds that Snow had made for him, using her beautifully embroidered blue covering as a blanket. He’d protested its use, but she’d tapped him on the nose and told him to ‘stop being silly’. He couldn’t argue, not with her. Never.
He looked up at her. “Snow?”
“Yes, Rush?”
“Could you please pass me the box, the small wooden one from the shelf?”
“Of course.”
He hated asking her to do things for him, and not just because he was a fiercely independent man. No, Snow was just so perfect, so pure that he felt that by asking her to lower herself to perform such menial tasks, it would tarnish that pristine creature somehow and she would vanish before his very eyes, becoming nothing more than a memory.
No, the thought of losing her, of being in that solitary empty house once more without her, was unthinkable and filled him with dread. In some ways, it was a hell he’d made for himself, and he didn’t want to go back to how things were. Not now. By the gods, was he really that selfish?
Snow tapped the small box with a hoof. “Is this the one?”
Rush nodded.
Snow’s horn glowed, the golden aura spooling out, surrounding the box and lifting it effortlessly from the shelf. Her magic was incredible, a word that barely did justice to its wonders, but it was simply that—amazing. He’d never seen anything like it; not even in his wildest dreams had he seen such a spectacle. To be able to float objects around at will—just think of the amount of reeds he could carry with that! He chuckled to himself, making Snow lift an inquisitive eyebrow as she sat back down next to him and placed the box by his hand.
Rush took off the lid. “Do you like tea?”
Snow clopped her hooves together happily. “Oh goodness, yes!” He held the box up for her smell, the mare taking in the aroma. “Exquisite, truly exquisite.”
Smiling, Rush pulled himself over to the teapot and began to prepare two cups. Snow hurried across and wrapped her forelegs around him. “No! Rush, don’t exert yourself. You shouldn’t be moving about yet.”
He paused, a hint of irritation passed through him until he looked up into her eyes. Sighing, Rush, nodded and let her guide him back to the bed.
“I don’t have many guests up here,” he said quietly, “and even fewer who appreciate the fine leaves of this tea. Snow, I don’t want to ask, but…please, will you be my hands?”
The mare smiled and nodded happily. “Of course, I’d be delighted. Now, what do I do first?”
Step by step, Snow began the process of making the tea. Boiling the water, warming the cups and pot; it was all so familiar to her, but back at the castle, she had ponies to help her do this now. Here, in this world, in this house, she could be herself. Nopony was shouting for her, nopony was demanding she make decisions or pass judgements. Here, there was just her and the human male…Rush.
Finally, the tea was poured out. No sugar, no honey, nothing, just the water and the leaves sending their alluring aroma out into the room. Snow breathed it in luxuriously before taking a sip.
“Oh Rush,” she sighed, feeling the warmth run through her. “It’s…wonderful.”
Rush’s heart was in his mouth; he was warm himself and not just from the tea. Snow’s velvety voice made him feel like he wanted to curl up like a cat by the fire. She was right, though—the tea was excellent. Snow had followed his instructions to the letter, but there was something else there, something in her movements that told him she’d done this before and didn’t really need his instructions at all. She fascinated him.
With a deep breath, Rush stared up at the ceiling and took in the smell of the tea. “Willow.”
Snow, suddenly distracted, cocked her head. “Hmmm?”
“That was her name. My mother, Willow.”
The white mare sipped her drink and settled down beside him. “Willow…yes. Tell me about her.”
Rush closed his eyes for a moment, thinking back, leafing through the pages of memory in his mind, the pages of a book he’d kept sealed for a long, long time. He had loved her of course, hadn’t he? When she’d died, he’d not really…
“Rush?”
Shaking himself, Rush looked up at Snow who was gazing at him intently.
“I’m sorry.”
He took another sip of the tea. “Willow was the local village healer. She lived with my stepfather, who was a warrior in the employ of the local lord.”
“Stepfather?” Snow looked genuinely confused.
“I never knew my real father; mother never told me who he was. One time I asked her about him, came right out with it at breakfast, but she just shook her head and told me never to ask about him again.” Rush stared at the floor. “I never did.”
“Oh, Rush…” Snow took his hand and gave it a gentle rub with her hoof.
“No, it’s my own fault really,” he said, sighing. “I should have made more of an effort. When she passed away, it was too late of course. Far, far too late…”
A small blue bird flew in through the window, landing on snow’s horn, and began singing.
“She wants to hear you story too, it seems!” Snow giggled coyly. Rush smiled, holding the teacup in both hands to steady it.
“There’s not an awful lot more to tell. Mother taught me my trade and wanted me to follow in her footsteps.”
“So why didn’t you,” Snow asked quietly.
“The war happened.”
“Oh.”
Her head drooped slightly, the little bird suddenly taking flight and disappearing out the window, back into the forest. The air felt a little colder now, despite the fire burning merrily beside him. Rush cleared his throat.
“There’s always a war. Sooner or later, someone wants what somebody else has got, or someone’s offended somebody over something nobody gives a damn about. Then the lord suddenly remembers he employs people to kill others for him at his beck and call.” He shook his head. “They found out I had some skill with healing, and I was sent to the lines with some rudimentary weapons training. The next thing I knew, I was fighting for my life against people I’d never met nor had any reason to fight in the first place. I thought I’d just be healing the wounded and sick… What a fool I was! I was just fodder for the grinding wheels of war just like everybody else… dispensable, meaningless.”
Snow shuffled forward and poured Rush another cup of tea. He stared into the flames of the fire as she gave her beautiful mane a quick shake. “Nopony is dispensable or meaningless, Rush. That’s something I want you to remember.” She looked him in the eyes. “You are not dispensable, nor are you meaningless.”
He nodded gratefully and continued, “After the war, I returned home and found mother had ‘arranged’ a marriage for me.”
“Arranged?” Snow seemed surprised.
“They don’t do that in your home?” he asked, genuinely interested.
“No. We are all free to choose our partners. I know some races still do that, but it seems so…archaic, somehow.”
Rush shrugged. “Tradition. Good for some things, to help everyone remember their heritage, but sometimes it’s a bloody millstone.”
Snow gasped in surprise at his words, her hoof flying to cover her mouth. Rush held his hand up in apology. “Snow, I’m sorry! Please, I don’t have many people to talk to up here and—”
“Please Rush” she cut in, “don’t give it another thought. I…I suppose you could say I’ve led a somewhat sheltered life. Please, continue. I want to know more about the fascinating man who helped me.”
‘Fascinating man’ eh? Rush chuckled. “Very well, my lady.” He scratched his head and took a gulp of the tea. It was just as good when it had cooled as when it was still hot. “My wife and I weren’t married very long. We had a child, Cherry, and…” His words caught in his throat as he tried to get them out.
“And…she…” he coughed, “The two, one day were…” Rush reached up to his face. What the hell was wrong with him? He felt the dampness on his cheeks and brushed them with his hands. Tears?
Snow reached out and took the teacup from him as Rush stared at the wetness on his hands in disbelief. He hadn’t shed any tears over them since he’d buried them, all those years ago. So many years ago…
He barely felt the warm forelegs hugging him as he gasped against the sobs that wracked him. Damn it all! All his emotions, all these buried thoughts and feelings he wanted to keep buried; they were all bubbling up like water in a well. Was it Snow that made him act like this? The proximity of someone who had entered his…what? His heart? He stared down at the white coat, the golden sun on her flank. Rush could feel a peculiar sense of calm spreading through him together with the warmth from her body.
“It was bandits.”
Snow murmured, “Bandits?”
“Lordless soldiers. No money, no home, just armed, lost, and dangerous. They take what they want with no compunction. One day, I was at the lord’s castle, tending to his wife who was having a complicated pregnancy, when we heard about the bandit raid.”
Rush rubbed his head. “When I got home, they were…gone.”
“Gone?” Snow asked quietly.
“Taken. Sometimes it happens. They’re taken away into slavery to be sold off to the highest bidder. Other times they keep them and…” His voice trailed off. He didn’t want to talk about this, and yet, being so close to Snow, he wanted to tell her everything, to open the floodgates of memory and let it all spill out before her.
Snow’s magic glowed, and she lifted the cloth, wiping his forehead down. He hadn’t even realised he’d been sweating. “You don’t need to explain,” she said quietly. “Even in my world, there are beasts who do such unimaginable things. Evil always hides best in plain sight.”
Rush stroked her hoof, lifting it to his face and felt the warmth against his cheek. “I tried to find them. I searched; for weeks, months, maybe even years, I looked for them. I enquired in villages and even at bandit camps posing as one of their own.”
Snow stroked his hair. “Did you ever find them?”
“I did.”
“Were they…?”
“No. They’d joined them.”
“What?” Snow’s voice rose in surprise. “They joined the bandits?”
“It happens.”
“Rush! Surely not, couldn’t you…”
“I couldn’t! I tried, Snow, I tried, and I tried, and I couldn’t do anything! They wouldn’t listen; they didn’t even seem to know who I was any more. My wife and I hadn’t been close, but Cherry… She… She tried to kill me.”
“Oh gods, Rush, your own daughter?”
He nodded. “I barely escaped with my life.”
“Did you ever see them again?”
“I did.” Rush clenched his hands to attempt to stop them from trembling.
“So what…?”
“Help me up.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Please, just…help me up, Snow. Please.”
Pain hit him like a sledgehammer and he staggered back, held up by Snow’s magic. Concern was written all over her face. She saw him looking at her and nodded her understanding. He wanted to do this himself; it was important to him. She moved closer, letting him lean against her for support. Carefully, slowly, Rush began to move forward. Gods, his leg felt like it was on fire! He swayed and caught hold of Snow’s neck. For a moment, he fought the pain, hanging onto the white mare, panting into her neck. Her wonderful scent filled his nose and lungs, filling his soul with her kindness. Snow reached out a foreleg for him to take, but he shook his head. No, this was something he needed to do, and do it he must.
The two of them reached the front door, and Snow opened it to the fresh midday air. Rush could feel its vibrancy entering him, the light no longer blinding. It infused his spirit, giving him the drive to go on. He nodded to Snow and headed around the side of the house, up a narrow track that led to an open area that had been felled of bamboo. Snow pulled up short, her eyes falling upon the two neat stone cairns in the patch of ground in front of her. The area was clearly regularly tended and cared for, the boundary carefully defined with a small fence and some winter plants. It was peaceful here, the small blue birds singing in the branches of a large tree that overhung the ground almost reverently.
His legs barely supporting him, Rush gingerly took a few flowers from a planter and brushed the snow from the cairns. Carefully, he placed the white blooms upon them and quietly spoke a prayer. Snow moved up alongside him, her ears drooping and her head low.
“I…I don’t know what to say, Rush. I’m sorry for your loss, I truly am.”
Rush nodded. “I am as well; it should never have happened, never.” He turned to face her. “You may not think me such a kindly man when I tell you what happened to them, but I want you to know. If you hate me afterwards, then so be it. I won’t have you believing I’m some sort of saint that lives the life of a hermit in the hills.”
Snow watched him intently, waiting for him to continue. Rush was clearly fighting some inner battle, desperately trying to open his heart to her. With a cough, Rush caught a length of bamboo and leaned on it, his grip so tight his knuckles went white.
“I killed them.”
He looked up at her, waiting for her judgement, her hatred of him. Naturally she would—who wouldn’t after hearing that? Still, he wouldn’t have any lies. No, he cared about her too much to stain their friendship with deceit.
Snow sat on her haunches and eyed him carefully. “Truth?” she asked.
Rush nodded.
“My name is not Snow.”
“I know.”
“My name is Celestia, Rush. I am the ruler of my people back home in Equestria, a very different world from your own. There are no humans there.”
He looked back at the final resting place of his family. “And yet you are here, with me.”
Celestia nodded. “I am.”
She stared at the cairns, her heart going out to the kindly reed worker. She knew there was something about him that intrigued her, but had no idea he harboured such pain as this.
Rush sighed. “They came to the village, a large group of bandits hell-bent on killing, stealing, and gods know what else. I could smell the burning houses, the screams of those trapped inside. With Nasta and some of the others, we managed to rescue some, but others…others weren’t so lucky. I tried, I tried so hard…
The princess smiled sadly. “I know. I know enough about you to know you would have done everything in your power to help the others.”
Rush harrumphed. “Are you so sure? Do you know me so well, Sn—Celestia?”
She could tell his heart was breaking without even looking at him. The pain in his voice, his body language; she wanted so much to hold him and tell him it would be all right. But it wouldn’t, would it? Nothing could bring back the dead, not all the magic in the world could do that. Instead, she just shook her head sadly and waited for him to continue.
“They killed the village elder, and were taking several of the girls off when we caught up with them.” He looked at one of the flowers, staring at the delicate white petals. “Myself, Cray, Nasta, and several of the retired soldiers.”
He knelt down on the ground, groaning with the effort. It was hurting him, his wounds not just on his body but in his heart. Rush stared off into the distance, to a time and place only he could see. His hands were clenched into fists.
“My wife, Lina, my daughter, Cherry, they stood there, facing me. I thought they couldn’t recognise me at first, that they were mistaken, that I was mistaken. It was so surreal, I couldn’t quite grasp what was happening.”
Rush squeezed his eyes shut. “They… They attacked me, both of them. Cherry nearly killed me with her first strike, the spear slicing down my side whilst Lina almost gutted me with her sword.” Celestia looked down into Rush’s eyes as he spoke, the strain of recollection cracking his voice. “I…I was quicker, stronger. They fell, Cherry first and then…and then Lina.” He chuckled ironically. “Do you know what? They never made a sound, not a single sound! They just… They just fell. They were lying there, on the ground in front of me, on that filthy dirty ground…”
Tears poured down Rush’s face, his fists wringing the edge of his shirt. “She looked up at me, smiling. Cherry… She looked up…and do you know what she said? Do you want to know what she said?”
Celestia closed her eyes. “Oh, Rush…”
“She said… She said…’I love you daddy’. Do you know that? Do you know how that felt? I killed my own daughter! Gods above, I should have been the one who died that day. There’s never a day that goes by when I don’t wish I’d simply let them strike me down. I don’t belong here, Snow, I don’t…”
Celestia lay down beside him and took his head in her hooves and brought him to her, stroking his hair as he cried out his grief and pain. She had an idea something like this lay within Rush. She had glimpsed his dreams, felt the hidden ice within his heart, a coldness that hadn’t quite taken him completely. Although he was alien to her in appearance, he was still who he was. He was still Rush, the son of Willow.
She nuzzled him gently, her voice low, soft and reassuring. “You did what you had to, dearest Rush. You had no choice. If you’d let them kill you, the villagers would have killed them, or they would have done terrible things to those innocent girls they were taking. At least they passed on at the hands of a loved one. You do have a kind heart, Rush, a heart that loved his wife and daughter very much.”
He was shaking, and not just with the sobs that were wracking his body. The princess needed to take him inside and quickly before he caught a chill. Carefully, she helped lift him, and he silently let her lead him back into the house to lie down by the fire.
Celestia refilled the kettle and gave the fire a little encouragement. She was worried about Rush. The physical injuries were one thing, but this was something that affected him on a deeper level, an older wound, one of the heart. He had a faraway look about him that she’d seen before, after a battle, when a soldier had seen things no pony should ever have to see. If left untreated, it could be damaging to him. She would have to do something, and a fresh pot of tea was the first port of call.