//------------------------------// // Chapter Twenty Nine - Unwelcome Visitations // Story: When The Snow Melts // by Bluespectre //------------------------------// CHAPTER TWENTY NINE UNWELCOME VISITATIONS “Good morning, Sleepyhead!” Celestia nudged Rush with her muzzle, chuckling to herself at the muffled groans he made. She smiled happily since her magic was almost fully restored now. Another day at most and she would be able to open the portal back to Equestria. Such a spell would be a huge drain on her power, though, and the last time she’d opened one had been after she’d been fighting for her life. The fact that she’d managed to open a portal at all spoke of the desperation of the situation. As it had transpired, the spell had been more ‘thrown together’ than planned, and now here she was. Finding the route back to Equestria wouldn’t be too much of a problem. She’d simply need to ‘retrace her steps’, in a manner of speaking. The issue, however, was that if anything went wrong, trying the spell over again would require rebuilding her magic reserves once more, and that could take a very long time. Celestia gave her mane a shake. She’d been away from home for too long; who knew what had been going on there in her absence? Maybe… Maybe Equestria had fallen! Maybe… Maybe Nightmare Moon had taken her over home completely and— She sighed—it was all fruitless speculation, and pessimism wasn’t going to do anypony any good, least of all her. Their forces had lost the last battle, certainly, but not the war. The royal guard was still loyal to her and kept in reserve back at the castle. The envoys to the dragon had yet to return, and she had high hopes that she could bring them to her aid. Her generals had cautioned her against committing them all to the Battle at River Valley, but if she had then— A hand on her neck brought her back to the present. “Tia? You have that look again. I know you’re worrying about home.” The hand began to stroke her, and she closed her eyes. “You’re right, Rush. Worrying fixes nothing, of course. We’ll be going home soon, and then I’ll be taking care of matters once and for all.” Celestia had a determined look on her face that Rush found strangely appealing. She was strong, both in body and in mind, a talented and intelligent mare that made his heart soar every time he looked at her. Feeling her soft coat against his skin was such a wonderful sensation that he began to stare at his arm. What would his own fur feel like? What about hooves? He wouldn’t be able to grip things very well though—that could be a problem. “Now who looks like they’re worrying!” Rush looked up at the princess and laughed. “Sorry! I’m just wondering what it’ll be like to be the ‘real me’, fur and all.” Celestia lifted his arm with her hooves. “You already know.” She placed one on his chest. “In here, you already know.” “What I can’t understand is why my mother changed into a human when she arrived, and how you don’t look human. Is it some sort of magical effect?” Rush asked curiously. The princess nodded. “It is. The portal Willow passed through was built before I was born. There is a magic within it that transforms whoever passes through it into a semblance of the people who live on the other side.” “You made your own to come here, though?” “I did, and a very hasty one as well. I have never had the need to perform any transformation magic before, and I confess that I’ve not really studied it in great depth. What you see now is who I am.” “Your hair’s different here,” he noted idly. “You saw what it looks like in the nether world. Does it… trouble you?” Rush shook his head, lifting her mane in his hands and letting it run through his fingers. “It’s who you are, Tia, not what you are that matters to me.” Celestia reached out and took him in her forelegs and kissed his forehead. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Tia, if I’m coming back through your portal, won’t I be… you know… human on the other side?” She raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps, but the truth is, Rush, I don’t know.” “Oh…” A delicate hoof bopped him on the nose as a pair of large purple eyes gazed into his. “No moping now, Mister. I don’t care if you’re human or pony, alright?” “Mmmm.” “Alright?” she asked again, lifting his head in her hooves. “Yes, Miss!” Rush reached out and began to tickle her. Celestia jumped and began to howl in laughter as the onslaught began. She laughed like she hadn’t in an age, tossing her head and kicking her hooves. “Stop!” she gasped. “Great gods, Rush, stop! I can’t take any more!” “Do you yield, my lady?” “I do! Rush, please, I do!” Rush dropped to the floor beside her, a huge grin on his face. For a moment, he wondered if he had gone too far. She was a princess, after all, and he— “GOT YOU!” Celestia pushed Rush to the floor and attacked his ribs, sending him into howls of helpless laughter as he thrashed on the floor. “Never underestimate the power of the mighty Celestia!” The princess laughed as the two rolled around the small wooden house like a pair of hyperactive children. Eventually, the play came to a gasping halt, and Rush had to reach up and wipe the tears of laughter from his eyes. “That wasn’t fair! You ambushed me!” he laughed hoarsely. “You deserved it, you rotter!” Celestia giggled, her chest heaving. She rolled onto her side and watched him as he composed himself. He was a fascinating being, and one who made her feel alive when all she had felt for so long was… nothing, only the blandness of an eternity of duty. Rush rolled onto his side to face her, his heart beating so fast that he had to gulp air down to try and calm himself. Still… she was so close, so beautiful, her eyes so clear and bright. He reached out and brushed the hair from her muzzle, moving closer towards her. “Tia…” Celestia felt a flush of warmth run through her and leaned forward to meet him. After all this time, those terribly long years of loneliness, emptiness; on another world, she had met him. Perhaps she had something to be grateful to her sister for after all. “Rush?” The princess stopped, her eyes opening wide. “I know, I heard it too.” Rush picked himself up and hurried to the window, peering out of the crack between the shutters. There was a large group of villagers approaching, most of them, if not all, armed. He recognised a few, including… Nasta? Yes, and Cray as well—they were still alive! Suddenly, he felt embarrassed about not going down into the village to see if they were alright, but events here had taken precedence. “Tia, stay inside and don’t say a word. I’ll get rid of them.” The princess nodded. Rush knew these people, and would know how to deal with them. They were probably looking for that young thestral again. “Rush!” Nasta charged forward, grabbing him in a bear hug and laughing, lifting him off the ground. “Good gods, Nasta! Calm down, will you!” Rush pushed the over-enthusiastic man away, brushing his clothes down. “I’m glad to see you as well, but why’ve you brought half the village with you?” The one Rush recognised as Chert, the village's gang boss, stepped forward. “I’m glad to see you’re alive and well. Rush, wasn’t it?” Rush bobbed his head. “Yes, thank you for your concern, but I’m still alive as you can all see.” Chert eyed him up and down. “Why didn’t you come down to the village, Rush? We’ve all been worried about you.” “Yes, why didn’t you?” someone called from the back. “What are you hiding up here?” “Yeah!” There was a general muttering which sent Rush’s hackles up straight away. This wasn’t a group here to check he was safe. There was something else at play here. Something he didn’t like. “Chert?” The boss waved his hand at the crowd. “Shut up and let him speak, will you?” “When everyone started running, I fell down a gully and broke my leg. I managed to get home, and I’ve been recovering ever since. What else is there to say?” Nasta stared at him. “Good gods, Rush. I’m… I’m so sorry! I should have come back for you. I shouldn’t have left you out here on your own.” He bowed low and began to shake as Rush placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “It’s alright, Nasta, it was every man for himself that night. In all the confusion, I didn’t know if anyone had survived the attack. I didn’t think I would for that matter.” “No, it's quite the miracle, isn’t it, Rush?” a heavy voice boomed out from the crowd. They all turned to look as Cray the village blacksmith emerged from the throng, a look on his face that Rush had never seen before. He didn’t like it. Normally a fairly dour man, more at home in the smithy than dealing with people, the Cray that stood before Rush now emanated a cold heartlessness that was at odds with his memory of the man he knew. “Miracle?” Rush repeated levelly. “Maybe the gods blessed me that night, Cray. They saved you as well, apparently.” “They did, Rush, they truly did.” Chert held up his hand, addressing the crowd. “Well, thank the gods you’re safe, Rush. Now that that problem’s been put to bed and we’ve satisfied ourselves that Rush is still alive, we can all go home at last.” He laughed. “I don’t know about you lot, but I’m bloody freezing!” There was a general mumbling of agreement and laughter, some of the villagers turning to leave. Cray took a step forward, a quizzical look on his face. “Just a minute, Chert. Something’s not right here.” Rush felt a jolt of ice cold run down his spine. What was he up to? Chert raised an eyebrow. “For the gods’ sake, Cray, what more do you want? We’ve not seen any bandits, spirits, gods, or who knows what else since we’ve been out here freezing our bits off in this bloody cold. This has been a wild goose chase and you know it!” Cray smirked, the bitterness in his voice barely concealed by the sickly grin that spread across his face. “The witch is here…” Rush balked. “Witch? What the hell are you talking about, Cray? Have you lost your mind?” The blacksmith shook his head, projecting his voice for all to hear. “The witch saved you, Rush, the very same witch who murdered your niece and butchered our brothers and sister in the forest while you hid. Of course, you had nothing to fear, did you? You knew you would be safe because you are in league with that evil creature!” Rush gripped his reed knife’s hilt. “Have you lost your mind, Cray? This isn’t like you. What on earth is this insane babble?” He turned to Nasta. “Don’t tell me you believe this lunacy? Chert, you too?” “I don’t know, Rush!” Nasta held his head in his hands. “There’s an evil in the forest—bandits or spirits, I just don’t know!” Chert spoke up. “Can any of you see a witch here? No? Maybe she’s hiding behind a tree, under a rock, maybe inside your bloody head, you damned fool!” Cray rounded on him. “The warrior of the moon goddess told me she takes the form of a horse, a terrible, dread creature with wings and a horn she uses to impale her victims!” There was a loud round of murmuring, several of the villagers looking frightened and glancing nervously at the forest around them. “What do you see?” Cray shouted dramatically. “Look! Look in the snow!” One of the villagers shouted out. “There’s hoofprints, hoofprints in the snow!” “They’re everywhere!” “It’s the witch!” “Oh gods preserve us, it's here!” Weapons began to be readied, the villagers huddling together for protection. Chert shouted over the rising tide of panic. “It’s a bloody forest! Of course there's animal prints in the snow! Cray, shut up, will you? You’ll cause a riot!” Cray held up his hands for quiet, then turned to Rush with a sly smirk. “Then let us look inside the reed cutter's home.” One of the villagers called back. “There’s nothing in the workshop. I've looked—it’s empty.” “Then let's look in the house and we’ll be on our way then,” Cray said calmly. “It's not a problem, is it, Rush? If you’ve nothing to hide…” Rush backed up toward the door. “How dare you, you damned vermin. You come to my home, make wild accusations, and invade my privacy and my home?” “Open the door, Rush!” Cray said aloud, moving forward. Rush drew his reed knife. “You take another step toward my house and I’ll cut your stinking throat!” Silence fell, nobody moved. Chert was the first to speak. “Rush, please, I know you’re upset, but put the knife down, eh? Nobody needs to get hurt today.” “You’re right,” Rush said quietly. “Nobody does. Chert, get these people out of here and don’t come back. All I want is a quiet life and to be left alone. Don’t you people understand that? LEAVE ME ALONE!” An arrow shot out from the crowd, embedding itself in the door beside Rush’s head. There was a pause as the world held its breath. “STRAN!” Chert yelled, but it was too late. The crowd surged forward, hands grabbing Rush and yanking him away from the door. With a great shout of triumph, Cray kicked the door open and charged into the house. “See!” he cried. “The witch is here! The evil that has tainted our village and our homes is before us! The warrior of the moon goddess spoke truly!” Celestia stood quietly, watching the humans before her. She remained silent as the fearful yet emboldened press of humans pushed into the house. Chert shouted and yelled to his men outside to regain order, but the overwhelming sense of anger and pent up fear was proving a potent mixture for the villagers. Rush lay flat on his face, held down by several of the crowd, and felt his arms being tightly bound. A gag was rammed in his mouth and he was hauled to his feet as a voice called out from inside his home: “Get ropes! We’ll take the witch back to the village with us.” Inside, several of the larger villagers had pinned the princess to the floor and held swords to her throat. Cray smiled to himself, reached into his bag, and took out a small pouch. Tipping the contents into his hand, he leaned down to the princess and whispered in her ear, “Lord Rend sends his regards, bitch.” Suddenly, he grabbed her muzzle and rammed the powder into her nostrils, making her gag and thrash in panic. Celestia choked as the burning substance flooded through her nose, throat, and lungs. A terrible sense of fear gripped her, its bitter embrace contrasting with the raging heat inside her body. Her magic… it had gone! What had that monster done to her? Rush watched in helpless fury as the princess was eventually carried from the house, her legs bound, a sack over her head, and carried upside down beneath a pole like a hunting trophy. Rage, cold and pure, ran through his veins. These people, these…things, how could they? Cray, Nasta, they’d betrayed him, they’d betrayed the princess! If he could free himself, if he could get loose, he’d show them; he’d send them to their precious gods with a smile on his face. Chert pushed through the crowd with his men, shoving them out of the way until they were surrounding the princess and Cray. “We’ll take them back to the village, but I tell you now, Cray, ALL OF YOU! This is NOT a lynching and anyone… ANYONE who tries to injure either of them will answer to me!” “Why are you so keen to help them?” “Yeah!” Stran drew his sword, silencing any more dissent. Chert held out his hand to the tattooed man, addressing the angry villagers. “I’ll tell you why. It’s because I’ve seen too much killing, too much cruelty. I’ve seen babies torn from their mothers; I’ve seen parents burying their sons and daughters. Things most of you would never even begin to imagine, I’ve seen with my own eyes. And yet through it all, I have remained who I am… a man, a man who still believes in respect, honour, and the strength of the human heart.” He turned to Cray. “I understand how angry and afraid you all are, and we will take these two to the village. There we will wait for the proper authorities to deal with them.” “Proper authorities?” Cray laughed. “The governor is dead! We can’t wait any longer. Let us kill these two and be done with it!” “Haven’t you heard a word I’ve said?” Chert rounded on him. “Don’t you think the lord would have noticed his governor’s men were missing? Don’t be a fool!” He turned to the villagers. “Are you so keen, so desperate for blood that you would kill one of your own? What if you’re wrong, what if you make a mistake? Would you want that on your conscience? Don’t you think the memory of Willow deserves that we show her son some dignity?” Nasta stood before them all, holding his hands up for quiet. “I lost my Blossom to that beast. I want the damned things head on my wall!” Cray nodded, and the crowd began to cheer. “BUT!” Nasta shouted. “I owe Willow a great deal for who I am today, and I will not see her son killed when have not heard in his own words what his relationship with this creature is. I say we wait for the lord to send his men and let them deal with them. Let them bloody their hands, not us.” “Yes!” someone shouted. “Let them do the dirty work!” “We might be cursed!” Chert rolled his eyes. “Does that satisfy you, Cray? Does that fulfil your desire for death?” Cray looked ashen. He opened his mouth to speak, but Chert cut in quickly. “Good! That’s that settled then. Stran, make sure nobody wanders off now.” The effect of being flanked by armed gang members had a remarkably calming effect on the villagers. “Come on, everyone,” Chert called out. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”