CHAPTER THIRTY NINE
CRY OF THE ALICORN
“CEASE FIRING!” Stran bellowed. “Damn it, listen, will you?!” The tattooed man kicked one of the other gang members, who quickly lowered his long arm from the open window and gave a garbled apology.
Chert slapped him on the back, treating him to the first smile he’d been able to muster since...
“Boss? Lord Ire’s looking for you.”
“Bloody hell. Alright, I’m coming.”
Squeezing past the wounded and exhausted warriors crowding the stairs, the gang boss reached the atrium and looked about at the horror that had overtaken his home. The back rooms had been transformed into a makeshift hospital, overflowing into the corridors, guest rooms and, as he’d found out, even his own bedroom. He tutted to himself. It was going to take a hell of a lot more than a scrubbing brush and soap to clean this mess. In fact, it may be simpler to just build a new home, one with extra rooms, a new bath house…
“Ah, Boss Chert! Come out, my friend, and smell the air.”
“The air?” Chert sniffed.
Ire leaned in conspiratorially. “It’s the smell of victory.” Momentarily disarmed, the boss scrubbed the back of his head, opening his mouth to speak before Ire jumped in. “We’ve won! We’ve done it, Chert, we’ve bloody well done it!”
“Oh…”
Ire stared at him in disbelief. “Oh? That’s all you’ve got to say? Oh?” Ire flung his arms up in an exaggerated display of frustration. “We’re alive, man, gods’ damn it! Can’t you take it in yet?”
Chert hung his head. “I can, but at what cost, my lord? I’ve lost so many of my people, my friends…”
The young lord’s expression changed. “I know. I’m sorry, that was insensitive of me.”
“…The fog’s lifting.”
The two men looked up at the sky. The eerie orange glow had all but receded, the pervasive fog thinning out and even the smoke dying away. Ire sheathed his sword, looking out at the area in front of the main house. With all the fighting and the limited visibility, he had focused only upon survival. Now, the terrible cost of his plan to have Saru killed became all too apparent. It had cost too much, far too much. The reward for defeating that man and his clan wasn’t worth… this.
Chert stared past him at the bodies. “My gods…” he whispered. “What have we done?”
The corpses, mostly wearing the yellow of Saru’s clan, carpeted the ground, looking for all the world like monstrous flowers set against the white backdrop of churned snow. He turned to look at the remains of his home and sighed.
“There’s going to be a lot of work to rebuild our home. The village looks more like a battlefield than a farming community.”
Ire nodded. “Don’t worry about that, Boss. I’ll cover the costs.” He dragged over a box from beside the door and sat down, his muscles shrieking in protest. Grimacing, the young lord leaned back against the wall. “Any chance of a cup of tea?”
Chert laughed, the sudden merriment causing those nearby to stop and stare in amazement. He couldn’t help it—the combination of such a bizarre situation, his relief at being alive, and the incredible joy at finding his Swallow unharmed when he thought she was dead; it was all too much.
“I’m sorry,” he choked, the laughter dying away. “I think I need one too.”
The two men sat on the porch, quietly watching the dribs and drabs of his forces wandering back from the village. There was a good chance some of Saru’s men were still out there, of course, but there was time enough to hunt them down later. Right now, all Ire wanted to do was rest. Before long, he’d have to return home and maybe even visit the late Lord Saru’s castle. Perhaps a change of ownership was in order?
Ire closed his eyes and took a deep breath, allowing the feeling of tension to slip away. Was this what it had been like for his father? Constantly fighting to stay alive, counting the dead and wounded after a battle? The bulk of Saru’s forces now lay scattered and broken around the village, some in heaps. A few had been captured, of course, and would be given the chance to join him or be stripped of their positions and wealth as was customary. It was harsh, but at least they would live. He tapped his chin thoughtfully. Maybe… Maybe there was another way? His mind wandered back to the enigmatic white mare, the princess from another world. She had a fascinating outlook on life; her pragmatism and optimism were inspirational. He shrugged to himself. It was a shame he couldn’t have spent more time with her.
“Lord Ire. Boss…”
The young lady wearing a bandage across her forehead knelt between them and began arranging the delicately painted tea pot and cups. Ire watched her as she worked, her nimble fingers moving the finely made porcelain as if it were a part of some intricate dance. She was clearly well-practiced, and just watching her was fascinating. There was a moment where doubt crossed his mind and then dawning realisation.
“Belle? Belle!” Ire grabbed her in a tight embrace, making her squeak in surprise. “Oh gods, sorry! I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Belle shook her head, opening her mouth to speak just as the young lord pulled her back into an embrace. “Belle,” he said quietly, “I thought you were dead. I tried to find you, but with everything that was happening, all the smoke… How?”
Belle smiled, gently pushing the uncharacteristically emotional lord away. “I don’t know, really, my lord. I was helping with the wounded when I left to collect more blankets from the storeroom.” She bent down, rearranging the now upset tea service. “There was a huge bang, and then I found myself wandering outside surrounded by smoke and fog. I couldn’t see or hear anything!”
Belle’s eyes took on a faraway gaze. “And… And then I heard a voice, one that seemed to appear in my head rather than my ears. Isn’t that strange!” She shrugged to herself, smiling. “Whoever it was, was on a big black horse, and led me back to house where one of the boss’ men took me in to be treated. You know, I never had a chance to thank the rider who helped me. I didn’t even see his face…”
Ire stared at Chert, who shook his head in wonderment. “A big black horse…”
**********************
Nasta shook with cold, the heat that he’d generated in the fighting having left a sheen of sweat that was now beginning to freeze on his skin. Petal fussed around him, wiping him down and checking for injuries.
“You should come inside. There’s a fire there for you to get warm by.”
Her husband shook his head. “I can’t, love. There could be more of them out there.”
Petal rolled her eyes. “There are more than enough of the boss’ men here to protect us, and we haven’t seen any more of those soldiers in ages.” She rubbed his back. “Come on inside and get warm. You can come back out afterwards.” Nasta went to protest, but Petal tapped him playfully on the nose. “You won’t be any good to anybody if you’re too cold to move now, will you?”
Laughing, the tall man shook his head and put an arm around his wife. She was right as always, the unsung hero of his home and the holder of the keys to his heart. He gave her a kiss on the forehead before looking up at the sky. “The fog’s lifting at last.”
Petal smiled. “Looks like the nightmare’s over then. We should give thanks to the gods we’re all safe.”
Nasta sniffed. “The gods…”
“Hmmm?” Petal looked up at him quizzically.
“It’s nothing,” he said cheerfully. “Come on, let’s make sure Cray’s family is alright. They’ve had a rougher time than most.”
Petal nodded, the two of them disappearing into the crowded interior of the mill.
*******************
Thorn couldn’t stop shaking. He was cold… so, so cold. He sat in shock on the sand, holding his father’s armour and battle axe. The others had already left, leaving their dead on the field after singing them to the next world. It was the way of things.
The young warrior stared into the distance. His mother had been taken, his father slain. What was he to do now? His tribe would raise him of course—they always did with those who’d lost their parents—but it was a bitter pill. Hefting his father’s gear, he unclipped the cloak from his pannier, using it to wrap everything in. It was heavy, but now he had the responsibility of carrying his father’s soul and memory, as well as his armour and weapons. It was a burden he would gladly carry for the rest of his life.
Thorn took one last glance towards the direction his mother had been taken. He wouldn’t cry; he wouldn’t mourn. He would remember…
The world swirled around him, transitioning from the black sand and dark sky to the dimly lit interior of a wooden house. A human stared down at him, a worried expression on his face. “Storm Major, can you hear me?”
“Yes.” His voice was hoarse. “Water… please.”
The human he recognised as Rush passed him a bowl of water that he drank down, slowly at first and then in long drafts. Raising his muzzle, he gasped and quickly lost all strength.
“Don’t push yourself, Major,” Rush said levelly. “You’ve been badly hurt, but at least I’ve managed to get the bullets out of you.”
Thorn blinked, refocusing on the princess whose horn was glowing faintly. “Celestia…”
Her eyes were closed in concentration, but upon hearing his words, opened one to gaze down at him. “Be still, Thorn. I can’t help you if you move about.”
Rush passed him another bowl of water that was infused with some strengthening herbs that he’d had drying in the workshop. Thankfully, the thief who took his medicine chest hadn’t stolen those as well.
“Your… magic…” Thorn whispered weakly.
“I have enough spare for this, but no more. When you’re well enough to walk, I shall open the portal, and then we will be on our way home.”
Thorn hated weakness. The tiredness that dulled his senses and made his body feel heavy and lethargic was infuriating. Without his armour, he felt naked too. Had that human removed it? Or had… No, he couldn’t think of that now. To have a mare, let alone a Celestian touching his armour, his father’s armour… it was scandalous. She wouldn’t know, he supposed—thestral customs and practices were no doubt alien to Equestrians—but the sanctity of a warrior’s armour was inviolable. The same applied to mares—the stallions never touched their armour, save in the gravest of situations. Fights had broken out, even between mated couples, over such acts, and some had even been killed. Now, he wasn’t so sure. Just being in the presence of Celestia, away from his people, he began to wonder whether such a rule was really worth fighting over. Tradition had to worth something, though, hadn’t it? Damn it all! He had to get out of here and back to his own people. These thoughts were poisoning him.
The golden light winked out. “I’ve done what I can, Rush, but I dare not do more. I have barely enough to open the portal, and who can say how long it would take to restore my magic if—”
Rush placed a finger on her nose. “Stop. It’ll be fine, Tia. We’ll be home soon, and then we’ll be able to… well, see your castle.”
“See my castle…” Celestia suddenly began to laugh, her eyes sparkling in the dim light of the fire as Rush started to shake with mirth. For the first time in a long time, the wooden house on the hill was alive with the sound of joy.
Thorn opened an eye and shook his head slowly. “Foals…” he muttered.
*******************
Thorn awoke to the sound of birds in the forest chirping happily. He checked himself over, finding that he was, surprisingly, still in one piece. The dreadful wounds he’d received had been bandaged well, and he even felt fit enough to attempt to stand. Taking a deep breath, he tried moving his legs before a jolt of pain pulled him up short. Magic and skilled healing aside, there was no substitute for time, it seemed.
Looking across the room, the human and the princess were curled up together. He had to admit, they made an unlikely pair, and it was a relief the lad hadn’t been killed in the fall. Despite his weak appearance, Rush had proved himself more than capable. How he had been able to withstand Rend’s onslaught was quite remarkable. Thorn took a mouthful of the water that had been thoughtfully left out for him while he pondered the events of the last few days. Watching Rush sleeping, he couldn’t help but feel there was something off about the strange being. He looked human, but there was something about him that made him stand out from the others. Rush had a strength inside him, a bearing that made him look like he would be more at home back in the Beyond.
Thorn smiled to himself. He’d be happy to fight beside him, but certainly not on his back again! He couldn’t think of anything more unnatural than having another living thing ‘riding’ him like that. He shivered. He’d look forward to telling the colonel of his adventures over a flagon of… what did Equestrians drink again? Cider? Hmmm, maybe not, then. He liked something a little stronger, a drink that could take the roof off your mouth and strip the lacquer from your armour; a stallion’s drink.
Finishing off the water, Thorn thought of home, his house of crystal in the Beyond. His wife had been a warrior like him, strong and proud. She could drink him under the table, and in fact, that was how they’d met. Both of them had collapsed drunk in the great hall after a fight against one of the lake creatures, and one too many rounds of balta. By the goddess, he’d suffered for that the next day, but still, waking up next to a warm mare had been something to be happy about. That particular one was to be his mate and mother of his son. He missed her…
A yawn from the sleepy duo brought him out of his revelry. The human was stretching and doing what was universal to male both equine and human… scratching. Thorn chuckled.
“Good morning, Rush. Sleep well?”
Rush shrugged. The warmth from Celestia was so inviting and comforting, he didn’t want to move away. The room was still cold despite the fire, and snow lingered here and there that he hadn’t managed to get around to moving. Not that it really mattered, anyway. They’d be leaving soon, so long as Thorn was fit enough.
“Morning, Major.” He yawned. “How do you feel?”
“Not bad, considering I had more holes in me than a colander,” Thorn quipped. “You have quite the talent, lad.”
“Don’t thank me. It was Tia who did most of the healing work. You had quite a fever and had us worried for a while.”
Thorn raised an eyebrow. “Tia?” He thought for a moment. “Oh… Celestia.” Rush flushed bright red, his reaction making the major chuckle to himself. “Nothing wrong with that, Rush,” he said calmly. “Love comes in all shapes and sizes.”
“I—!”
Celestia stirred, stretching her legs and gave her wing a quick preen. It was still quite sore, despite binding it last night. She glanced across at Thorn and the now bright-red Rush.
“What are you two chattering about?”
Thorn gave his mane a shake. “Nothing to concern yourself with, Princess. Rush was about to help me to my hooves so we can get ready and on our way.”
Celestia shook her head. They must think she was deaf as well as stupid!
Rush moved around to the major’s side, checking his bandages before deciding on the best way to lift him. “Is Rend...”
“Dead?” the major replied calmly. “Yes. I’m afraid I have a confession to make. I borrowed your ‘device’ to help him on his way to the next world.”
“Device? Oh…” Rush nodded to himself. He’d never found out where that thing had come from, but was damned glad he’d never used the thing himself. He glanced up to see Celestia giving him an inscrutable gaze and quickly resumed his work without another word.
The rest of the morning passed quietly, with Rush checking over Thorn’s injuries as well as the princess’ and his own. Rush had to admit, they were a sorry-looking lot, but it could have been a lot worse…. a hell of a lot worse. He felt a pang of guilt for not seeing if Nasta and his family were safe, but there was no way he was going back into the village now. Now, it was time to go, to leave this place and to travel…home.
Celestia and Rush helped Thorn to stand. It wasn’t easy; the large creature was a considerable size despite his bony appearance. Outside, they’d managed to hook up the old sled to some reigns for his armour, which Thorn had insisted on pulling despite Rush’s attempts to change his mind.
The sun was well up in the sky now, the snow already dripping from the trees as it melted. Despite the beautiful morning, being warm was still the order of the day, and Rush had jury-rigged the last of his blankets for them all. Fortunately, they proved quite serviceable despite the faintly musty smell from long storage.
Thorn stood outside the front of the house, looking out at the forest as Celestia walked up beside him. Her voice was calm but held a note of regret. “Major, when we return…”
He shook his head. “I know, Princess, but please, right now let’s consider ourselves to be travelling companions, yes?”
She smiled sadly. “Yes… travelling companions.”
“Where’s the boy?”
“He’s saying goodbye.”
Thorn raised an eyebrow, looking up at the sun. “Shouldn’t you be with him?”
“He doesn’t need me there, Thorn. They’re his family.”
“If I were Rush,” the thestral warrior said, stretching out a leg, “I would want you there with me. You know how he feels about you.”
Celestia watched him for a while, unsure what to say. Taking a deep breath, she let out a long sigh and glanced back at the tracks Rush had made in the snow. Without another word, she turned and headed towards the back of the house. She found Rush kneeling before the stone cairns, the last resting place of his wife and daughter. The bamboo trees around the clearing rustled eerily, making her shiver despite the warmth of her blankets. Celestia stood there quietly as Rush carefully brushed away the snow from each of the cairns and placed flowers on them. Clapping his hands together in prayer, he spoke a few words she couldn’t hear. She didn’t want to, anyway. This was his time, his last time with them.
She closed her eyes and said a silent prayer for the souls of the two departed, ones whom Rush had shared a part of his life, and his heart. Celestia heard him approaching and opened her eyes just as he wrapped his arms around her and held her silently.
He stayed there for a while before he spoke, “Tia… I’m sorry, could I just hold you for a while?”
The white mare reached a foreleg around him. “Of course, you don’t need to ask.”
Celestia gave him a nuzzle as he held her. His scent filled her nostrils, the smell of blood, sweat, and dirt combined with an undertone of what he was… a stallion. Celestia smiled sadly. It was a shame to take him away from the physical reminders of his life here, but his memory of them would remain, and as long as he remembered them, they would stay with him forever.
Rush eventually released her, kissing her on the muzzle. “Thank you, Princess.”
“Rush, you don’t need to call me a princess, you know.”
“I know. Sometimes, I just can’t believe you’re here with me. I don’t feel I’m worthy of you…”
Celestia couldn’t blame him for allowing the darker thoughts in. This was the greatest challenge Rush had ever faced. To live here most of his life, alone, after losing his mother, wife, daughter, and later, even his niece; she couldn’t imagine how much pain that would have caused him. And now, he was going to leave it all behind. She sat on her haunches and lifted his chin with her forehooves.
“Maybe I don’t feel I’m worthy of you, Rush. Have you ever thought of that?”
“No… I…”
“No more talking…”
Rush gasped as a pair of soft lips pressed against his, taking his breath away. He moved into her, wrapping his arms around the white mare’s neck as she held him close. Breathlessly, the princess eventually broke the kiss, holding him to her chest as her heart began to race.
“We need to go, Rush.”
He closed his eyes, savouring the feeling of her. “I know…”
Gazing into each other’s eyes, they walked slowly back to the front of the house and the waiting figure of Thorn. He smiled at them, a little too knowingly for Rush’s liking.
“Ready to go?”
Celestia nodded, turning to a gap between the trees and concentrating. Gathering the magic, weaving the intricacies of the spell, it was tricky but not beyond her skills. Remembering home, sensing its magic, she homed in on it, using it like a beacon and beginning to knit the strands of the power together. Slowly, piece by piece, the link began to form. It was a lot harder with having only a limited amount magic than it had been in Equestria, with its naturally strong magical field, but with one final incantation and pulse of energy, the spell was released.
Rush and Thorn stared at the large oval of shimmering silver that hung unsupported in the air a few inches from the ground. The surface rippled like the surface of a pool of mercury. Celestia let out a breath, the strain of unleashing the last of her magic clearly showing on her movements.
She turned to Rush. “Let’s go home…”
He smiled, turning back to Thorn, who was lying in a pool of blood on the snowy ground.
“Oh, how touching…”
Celestia gasped sharply, backing up. Her horn glowed momentarily and then winked out. “You…!”
The dark figure of Rend stood near the downed major, casually discarding the crossbow and hefting his axe. The thestral had discarded most of his armour now, the snow beneath him dark with his own blood, yet the cruel white gleam in his eyes remained as bright as the last time they’d encountered him.
Rush’s hand gripped his sword. “Why?” he snarled. “He was your comrade, your commander, and you shot him in the back!”
Rend laughed. “You think I’ve killed him? Oh no, human, I haven’t killed him. He’s just napping, for now.”
Celestia drew her halberd and strode up beside Rush, dropping into a fighting stance. “We’ll take him together.” She staggered suddenly. “Oh no, Rush, I… I can’t keep the portal open much longer… I’ll...”
Rush saw the princess falter, the strain of using the last of her magic showing clearly on her face and in her movements. He glared at the young thestral. “Let them go, Rend. It’s me you really want. It’s always been me.”
The warrior stared at him. “You? How you flatter yourself, human! It’s the princess I want, or more specifically, her head.”
“What’s wrong, Rend?” Rush asked in a strangely calm voice. “Can’t you admit the truth? I don’t mind, you know; you can have it all, all of it. You know it’s what you want.”
Rend cocked his head on one side. “What are you talking about?”
“This world, Rend.” Rush stared him right in the eyes. “It needs a leader, one who is strong and brave. You can be that leader. You don’t need Celestia; you don’t need the goddess of the moon. All you need to do, to have it all in your hooves, is defeat me.”
Celestia gasped, “Rush, no!”
Rush turned his head to her slightly. “Get Thorn out of here, Tia. Quickly.”
“No!”
“Tia, for the gods’ sakes, get him away from here. I’ll be as quick as I can—just get through the portal and keep it open as long as possible.”
Celestia hurried to Thorn’s side. Grabbing him, she began to haul him to his hooves. “Come on, Thorn, come on!” She glanced back at Rush and snorted, pouring the last of her strength into moving the heavy thestral.
With painful slowness, the major groggily managed to stand, blood from where the bolt had glanced off his skull running into his mane. He seemed unfocused, lost. Probably concussion, Rush surmised, but at least he was alive.
Rend pawed the ground, smoke rising from his muzzle. His anger was now fully focused on Rush. “You foul piece of human scum, you think you have the right to challenge me? I am already the ruler of this dung pile, and all your kind will soon bow before me. But not you… you have the audacity to stand there and lecture me? I will make you grovel at my hooves and plead for your passing to the next world to be swift!”
Rush stood firm, his sword ready. “Thorn was right,” he chided. “You really do talk too much, ‘my lord’.”
With a shriek of rage, the bloodied and ragged form of Rend hurled himself at Rush, his blood spattering the ground as he charged. The force of his attack forced Rush back, the reed cutter quickly sidestepping to avoid the worst of the impact. His sword flashed, taking a slice from the thestral’s shoulder.
In his delirium, Rend didn’t even notice. He raised his axe and swung, time and time again. Sooner or later, the human would tire and then he would have him, then he would have the witch and the traitor too. It was so easy, so simple! His plan had been flawless, even down to using that fool as a walking bomb! He laughed as he fought—the look on the blacksmith’s face when he’d threatened to kill his family had been priceless! He didn’t even know who they were, and yet the human had pleaded with him, begged him not to kill them. These humans, they were so pliable…
Rush’s sword swung time and time again, whether connecting with flesh or steel, none of it seemed to make any appreciable difference in stopping the maniacal creature. At the back of his mind, he could hear Celestia shouting to him to hurry, to be swift. But how could he be? Despite his injuries, Rend was still terrifyingly strong. Horrible realisation dawned as Rush realised he’d made a fundamental error—he’d underestimated his enemy.
With frightening speed, Rend smashed his hooves into Rush’s already injured chest, hurling him to the ground in a sprawling heap. Howling in triumph, he stamped down on Rush’s sword arm, grinning madly as he felt the bone snap beneath his hoof. Rush screamed in pain, echoing the princess’ own cry of anguish from the other side of the portal. She was doing all she could to keep it open. He had to do something to try and kill this monster and reach her. He had to…
And then he saw it.
Hanging beneath the monster’s neck was the box, the intricately, beautifully carved box hanging beside the bottle containing the powder that the thestral used to induce his battle madness. With a speed born of desperation, Rush reached up and snatched the bottle from Rend’s neck. Flicking off the top, he rammed the whole thing into one of the thestral’s nostrils.
Rend jumped back in surprise, but in so doing, inhaled heavily on instinct. The contents of the bottle roared into his system, the empty container falling to the ground as he pawed at his nose, trying to dislodge the powder. It was too late. The haj was like a molten torrent of white-hot rage and agony running through his veins and nervous system.
Rush backed away as the thestral screamed, foam pouring from his nose, blood flowing from his ears and eyes. Pulling himself back to his feet, he reached down and picked up the thestral’s heavy axe, testing the weight with his good arm. The beast was flailing around in absolute torment as Rush advanced on it, hefting the deadly weapon.
“Time for the reign of Lord Rend to come to an end.”
The axe fell.
“Rush! RUSH!”
Celestia’s voice seemed to be coming from a mile away, the silvery glow of the portal shrinking fast. He made to run but stopped and looked behind him… the box!
“Rush! What are you doing? Come on!”
He ran back and snatched the box from Rend’s steaming corpse and sprinted for the portal. The glow was beginning to fade away, his passage home shrinking faster and faster as he ran.
“RUSH!”
Celestia’s panicked voice was farther away than ever now, the portal fading away before Rush’s very eyes. In a final desperate move, he leaned back and threw the box as hard as he could towards it, watching the precious object arc through the air and vanish into the last remnants of the silvery light.
*********************
“Rush?”
Celestia stood in the darkness of the forest, dappled sunlight playing through the thick canopy overhead.
“Rush…?”
Thorn hung his head and closed his eyes. He didn’t want to see this. No matter who she was, be she the enemy of his people or of his goddess… to see the pain on such a beautiful creature’s face was too hard to bear.
The princess reached out a hoof to the place where, only moments earlier, the portal had stood. The shimmering silver light was gone, the sheer absence of it sending a chill through her heart. Where was he? He was right behind them, and then… then that monstrous thing had attacked them, and he said he’d be following them through, so where was he?
She trotted around in a circle, staring out into the trees. “Rush? RUSH! Where are you?”
Thorn couldn’t take any more. He shakily rose to his hooves, gritting his teeth against the pain in his legs, and spoke as softly as he could. “Princess, please… he’s not—”
“HE IS!” she shouted, rounding on him suddenly. Thorn backed away quickly as Celestia’s eyes bore into him, the piercing light of magic searing through them. “He’s here! He must be… you saw him!” The princess stomped her hoof, the warm familiar tingle of the Equestrian magic field quickly beginning to fill her.
Thorn watched in amazement as Celestia’s dull pink mane and tail began to shine and take on a life of their own, filling with colours as varied and vibrant as a rainbow. The princess was visibly shaking now, her horn glowing as she tried again and again to re-open the portal.
“Why? Why can’t I open it? Why won’t it work?!”
“Celestia, I…”
The princess spun round, the halberd held in her hooves as a wind suddenly sprang up around them. Thorn’s eyes went wide as the white mare, the serene and noble princess of the sun, transformed into a creature that struck his heart with a sensation he hadn’t felt in an age: fear.
Golden light flooded the forest, Celestia’s eyes changing from their familiar purple to colourless orbs of burning white light. Her mane, like her anger, pain, and fury, swirled like it was held in a tempest. Pouring out her agony to an unforgiving world, the princess screamed…
Thorn hunkered down as the magical storm of helpless rage and suffering howled, tearing trees from their roots, scattering shattered branches, rocks, soil and the very fabric of the world from around him. Her cries echoed with the emptiness in his own heart, the loss of his mother, his wife, the cruelty and soul-crushing misery of a pointless eternity of existence.
Gradually, the light began to fade and the princess lowered her head, her face soaked with tears. He couldn’t look at her, not now.
Thorn’s ears picked up the echoing sound of approaching hooves. They would upon them in moments, but were they Nightmare Moon’s forces or Celestia’s?
The white coats and golden armour of the ponies were all the answer he needed. “Your Majesty! Thank the gods you’re alive!”
Celestia stared at the pony, her face suddenly an unreadable emotionless mask. The newcomers stared around them at the devastation in shock, before one of them spotted the injured and ragged form of the major.
“Thestral! Kill it, quickly!” One of the ponies raised a crossbow, yelling in surprise as it was yanked away from them in a sudden golden glow of magic.
The princess turned to face them. “No. Leave him.”
“But, your Majesty, he’s—”
“I said LEAVE HIM!” Her voice boomed through the wreckage of the forest as her anger flared once more, making the ponies back away and bow. She shook her long mane and faced Thorn. “This… This is your fault. Your kind, your ‘goddess’, all of it.” The princess advanced on him. “If you hadn’t chased me down like baying hounds, if that beast hadn’t attacked us…”
A tear rolled down her cheek, dropping onto the ravaged ground. “Why, Thorn, can you tell me why? Why do I feel like this, this pain? Haven’t your people taken enough from me already?” Her eyes closed tight as her voice shook. “Where is he, Thorn? WHERE’S RUSH?”
He didn’t reply. It wouldn’t do any good—she was lost in her own world of heartache and sorrow, for which there was nothing anypony could do to ease her suffering.
Celestia briefly glanced back at her ponies, before turning her attention back to him. Her timeless purple eyes stared down at him, every part the ruler of Equestria, the goddess of the sun, the nemesis of Nightmare Moon.
“Go back to your people, Storm Major, and tell them this. Nightmare Moon, your ‘goddess’, need not send anypony else to look for me. I will come looking for her.” The princess’s voice lowered menacingly. “She wants war? I will bring her such a war that will make the very heavens scream for mercy. And for those who oppose me…”
She leaned down and stared him right in the eyes. “I will show none…”
Thorn closed his eyes, listening for the rumble of hooves to fade away, replaced by the quiet sounds of the forest and the heavy beating of his heart. Slowly, he tested his legs and shook himself off. So, this is how it would end, was it? War… complete and total destruction of one side or the other. He could see it, smell it in the air. He had seen it in her eyes; the pain she’d suffered from the loss of the one she loved had tainted her heart, colouring her once proud and calm demeanour. Nothing would stop her now, and the goddess help them when the wrath of the sun was brought to bear upon them. He knew deep inside that the end was coming, and soon.
Taking a deep breath, the major lifted the rope for the sled in his mouth and began pulling it through the fallen debris. It obviously wasn’t meant for this sort of terrain and dragged heavily, but if nothing else, he wanted to get as far away from that place as possible. All he could hope for now was that the princess’ heart would recover before she drowned the land in the blood of her enemies.