CHAPTER FORTY
HOPE'S FLAME
Celestia sat in the castle’s throne room, the vacant seat beside her emblazoned with the crescent moon of her errant sister. The torches flickered on the walls, sending long, dancing shadows across the floor and walls. The way the light played with the eye made it seem like shadowy figures writhed amongst the pillars to some unheard tune from another world.
Her eyes were dry. There were no more tears to shed, and shed them she had. The princess had cried, howled, and raged, sending her castle staff running in terror. No doubt there were some now who thought their ruler had lost her mind to grief, not knowing why she was acting the way she was. Nopony knew, and it would remain that way. It was for the best. What they didn’t know couldn’t hurt them. It didn’t mean, however, that she had given up hope.
Each night, or whenever she could find time away from her duties, she would go to the hidden libraries, the secret places within the castle, and read the dusty old tomes in the hope of finding a way to recreate that spell. Her sorcerers had told her emphatically that without specific notes or the particular ‘chords’ of the incantation, there was no telling where, or even when, the portal could take her. In short, it was nigh-on impossible to recreate the spell to return to the human world and Rush. The gateway portal that Willow had used in the castle had also proved to be a forlorn hope; its magic had somehow become scrambled and unusable. Why this was, she had no idea, but she had tried… gods, how she had tried.
At first she’d raged, screaming at her court sorcerers for their incompetence, their pessimism and failure, when really, it was herself that was at fault. She was the one who had cast the spell; she was the one who hadn’t been able to keep portal open. Her magic had returned shortly after arriving in Equestria, but it was too late, far, far too late. Now she didn’t know if Rush was alive or… dead. Celestia shook her mane angrily. No! She couldn’t think like that; she would find a way. Somehow, someday, she would. Right now, though, the armoured pony walking toward her required her attention.
He was a large unicorn stallion, grey-coated with silver inlaid golden armour and piercing yellow eyes. He bowed. “Your Majesty.”
Celestia bobbed her head in reply. “General Dray, report.”
“Your Majesty, our forces have been pulled back as you have requested, and orders given to the divisional commanders. We will be ready tomorrow morning to begin the operation.”
“Good. And our special units?”
The general smiled knowingly. “They went into action this morning, your Majesty.”
She didn’t return the smile. What they were doing, and how they were doing it, wasn’t the Equestrian way. It was ‘their’ way: victory at any cost, no matter how terrible. Attacking the homes, the camps, the food supplies; hit and run tactics to confuse and divert the enemy whilst she prepared to entice the bulk of their army to a place of her choosing. She had learned well from the thestral Rend; learned and adapted. Soon, they would see the folly of attacking her home. Celestia lifted the small key that hung from its fine gold chain around her neck. The box that had once held it was safe on a shelf in her bedchamber, valueless to anypony but her. She closed her eyes, remembering the look in his eyes as he had offered her the gift, the innocent box Rush had found at the market and given to her, not realising its significance and power.
Rush. He had given her the box for no other reason than his desire to see her smile, to express his feelings for her. And now, now she would use that gift to bring down her enemies and smite their ruin upon the fields of Equestria. It would be brutal, harsh, and merciless, but Equestria would have its peace back, and it would be a peace for everypony. A peace for Rush, for when she brought him safely home.
The general stood quietly, waiting for the princess to continue. He was used to that faraway gaze now. It had been there ever since she’d returned from wherever it was she had been. She had changed. No longer the overconfident and headstrong ruler he remembered, now Celestia was more calculating, driven, with a hard streak that would take the fight to the very heart of their enemies. Right now, she looked like what she was: their leader, their ruler, the one they could all trust with their lives. She could and would win this.
Celestia took a deep breath, letting it out slowly before casting her purple-eyed gaze back to the general. “And what of my other request, General?”
He bowed. Goddess, he’d been dreading this moment. He steeled himself and continued. “It was as I feared, your Majesty. Captain Silver Spark lost his life in the defence of Equestria at the Battle of the River Valley. I was able to find several eye-witnesses who confirmed his bravery and skill that day. They stated that he’d managed to fight off several minotaurs single-hoofed, allowing many of our warriors to retreat.”
The princess nodded solemnly. She already knew, of course. She just wanted to hear it from somepony else, one who knew him or had known him.
“What was he like, General, as a pony. Tell me honestly.”
The general nodded, letting out a breath. “He wasn’t well liked, your Majesty. A quiet, brooding sort of stallion who many thought was too dark to be a leader of ponies.”
“What did you think?” she asked quietly.
“I would have trusted him with my life,” Dray replied with conviction. “He was a good soldier, honest and true in every sense. That’s why we couldn’t understand why he let that thief escape after we had her cornered. It made no sense to throw his career away like that, for what?” He shook his head. “I wish I knew why.”
Celestia gave a small smile that never reached her eyes. “For love, General, that’s why. The mare he loved, the one who bore his child, was the thief.”
“My goddess…”
The princess shook her mane, the rainbow of colour rippling behind her like a waterfall of pastel colours. “He was demoted, stripped of his rank, and sent to work with the new recruits. Eventually, he volunteered to lead them in the Battle at River Valley. You know the rest.” Celestia turned to look out the window. “Thank you for indulging my curiosity, General Dray.”
The general bowed. “Your Majesty, if I may…?”
“Yes?”
“Silver Spark’s personal effects were never cleared out. With the war, his chest was left as it had been, and I was able to have a look through it.” He sighed. “He had no next of kin, but… he left this. I don’t know if it may be of interest to you?”
His horn glowed purple as he magicked open his pannier and floated out a small object. Celestia gestured the general forward, and moments later, the object was carefully placed in her outstretched hoof. The princess stared down at the locket, gently opening it with her magic. Inside, the image of a chocolate-brown mare with a white mane and violet eyes smiled back at her.
“Willow…”
The general’s brows drew down. “Your Majesty?”
She shook her head. “It’s nothing, General, nothing at all. Would you mind…? I’d like to be alone now.”
“Of course, your Majesty.”
The veteran warrior bowed, taking several steps backwards before turning and leaving the hall. Celestia waited until the doors closed before lifting the locket and wiping away a stray tear.
“Willow…” she murmured. “I’m so sorry. I tried to help him, to save your son, but… I failed.” Her body began to shake as the tears began. Despite her promises to herself, regardless of how much she knew she had to be the strength and drive behind her people to save them from the eternal night, her heart hurt so.
“Tia…”
Celestia closed her eyes and faced away from the bearer of that majestic voice. She didn’t want to see her now. She didn’t want to speak to her…
“Tia, look at me. Don’t hide your face, my daughter.”
The calm, steady voice of her mother had always been reassuring when she’d been a foal, yet now she didn’t want anypony to see her grief. Why was she here anyway? Had she come to lecture her?
Celestia wiped her eyes on her foreleg and faced the golden-coated mare. “Come to admonish me, Mother? To tell me how foolish I have been?”
The golden mare shook her head sadly, the blue-grey constellations in her mane and tail flowing with the eternal magical flow of the universe. “No, Celestia. We spoke of this long ago, of the pain and emptiness that follows when you lose one you love.”
Celestia closed her eyes and choked back a sob. “What do you want, Mother?”
The goddess smiled, walking over to Celestia and looking into her eyes with her piercing silver gaze. “I want to help my beloved daughter, that is all. You will allow me to, won’t you?”
“Help me?”
“To find this lost pony. Rush, I believe he is called, yes?”
“Mother…” Celestia’s heart leaped into her mouth. Could it be true? Her mother and father, so notoriously distant from the affairs of mortals, had left their daughters to their own devices and had kept decidedly quiet on all matters, even the war. Yet now, the goddess herself, her own mother, stood before her.
“Celestia, your father does not know I am here. There is little I can do directly without going against him, but I can still offer ‘advice’.”
The princess’ ears perked up, her heart thundering. “Yes?”
The goddess smiled sadly. “Do you have something he touched? Clothing, hair, anything?”
Celestia searched her memory. Rush's makeshift cloak had been lost in the forest when her emotions had raged out of control, but…
“The box!” she exclaimed excitedly. “The wooden box the key was in. It’s in my bedchamber; I can—”
“No, not yet.” The goddess held up a hoof. “Listen, you need to seek out a unicorn mage by the name of Starswirl the Bearded. He has been tinkering with ancient and forbidden magics for some time now, something that your father and the Eternal Herd are furious about. However,” she smiled, her eyes twinkling, “he knows a great deal about portals. When you find him, show him the box and tell him that it was held by Rush. He will know what to do.”
Celestia shook her mane, her mind a sudden turmoil of thoughts and emotions. “Mother, I know you are skilled in prophecy and portents. Can you tell me where and when I will meet this mage? Please, I know you well enough to know that you already know…”
The goddess gently placed a hoof of Celestia’s mouth. “You know I can’t do that, my darling daughter. There are rules that even I cannot break, and I have done more than I should have already. You know that I would do everything within my power to heal the pain in your heart if I could.” She planted a kiss on Celestia’s nose. “You know I would. We love you very much, Tia, you and Luna both.”
Celestia hung her head. “I know…”
“Farewell, my daughter, and remember what I told you.”
The princess looked up to where the goddess had been standing mere seconds ago. Now, only the emptiness of the hall remained, her mother already back with the Eternal Herd and her temperamental father. It was so typical of her mother, offering a tantalising piece of hope, only to find it wasn’t quite what you expected it to be. Riddles and conundrums she didn’t need. What she did need was to find this mage, find Rush, and then all would be well in her world regardless of Luna, thestrals, and who knew what else.
With a simple spell, the princess amplified her voice. “Guards!”
The doors opened, and an armoured pony stepped into room, snapping smartly to attention. “Your Majesty.”
“Find the royal courier and our head of intelligence. Send them to me. I have a task for them of the utmost importance.”
He clicked his hooves smartly, bowed, and rushed off to act upon her request. Celestia smiled. It was all coming together now, piece by piece, the picture beginning to take shape and reveal its final secrets. She lifted the small key up to her muzzle and kissed it tenderly, her eyes staring off into another world.
“Rush.”
************************
Nasta leaned back and stretched, treating his boisterous family to an expansive yawn. Petal slapped him on the shoulder playfully, sending their girls into fits of laughter. Meal times had always been important in their household, now even more so. They were a special time for Nasta, one of togetherness and thanksgiving for their safety and that of many of their friends in the village.
So many had been lost: Cray, Huro, Jinu, and countless others whose remains were now buried in the hastily constructed burial mounds on the village’s perimeter. The smoke from the funeral pyres had lasted for almost a week, an eerie reminder of that terrible foggy day.
“Dear?”
“Hmmm?”
“You’ve got that look again. You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?”
Nasta nodded, glancing up at Petal. “A little. I just wish, you know… that he could be here with us now.”
Wing snatched up a piece of radish and slurped it down as her sister made a grab for it. “Daddy? Why won’t Uncle Rush have dinner with us?”
Nasta shrugged. “It’s just his way, love, that’s all. He has his own life to lead, and that’s that. You’ll see him again at the next market anyway.”
“We could certainly do with some new matting, and your uncle is the best reed worker in the village.” Petal chuckled, although there was a sad undertone to it that Nasta picked up on, making him ponder her words.
Sera grabbed her sister’s pudding, holding it just out of reach as Wing desperately tried to take it back. “He’s the only reed worker in the village!”
Wing began tickling Sera until she finally relented under the onslaught and was able to retrieve the sweet treat. “He doesn’t live in the village, silly. He lives in the hills with all those funny trees.”
Sera pulled a face. “Uh! Who’d want to live in that creepy place? It would be so lonely and quiet. I’d hate it!”
“At least he’d have some peace and quiet away from noisy little monsters like you two!” Nasta quipped, a broad grin on his face.
“Hey!”
Petal laughed, taking a dainty portion of her own meal before speaking in a conspiratorially low tone to her husband, “She’s got a point, though, love. It’s been so long. Why not go and invite him down here for dinner one evening? It can’t be good for him being up there all alone all the time.”
He sighed. “You know what he’s like, Petal. Rush won’t come. He’s stubborn like that.”
“It isn’t healthy to live with nothing but memories, dear. Please, at least try? For me?” She reached across and gave his knee a squeeze.
Nasta relented. “Alright, if it means that much to you. I’ll go up in the morning.”
Petal nodded, smiling. Nasta was a good man, if a little scatter-brained at times. Still, she thanked the gods that their family had been saved the horrors of that day in the depths of winter. Now, much of what had happened had either been quickly and conveniently forgotten by the villagers, or embellished to the point where many simply laughed the stories off as superstition. She remembered all too well the screaming, the fear pervading the families taking shelter in the mill when Saru’s men had attacked. The evidence of that dreadful day was buried not that far away, but the village had its way of coping with tragedy, and one of those was to forget it ever happened. She shook her head and sighed inwardly. In truth, she suspected that her husband’s reluctance to travel up to the wooden house was more down to his memories of what had happened the night the young ones were killed than anything since. He’d always been such a happy-go-lucky sort of fellow, but whether he showed any physical signs of it or not, the emotional scars were still there. She knew; she could see it in his body language and his eyes. Regardless, he was still the man she’d married all those years ago, and she loved him.
Nasta let out a sudden squeak as Petal hugged him. “Petal? Wha—?”
She looked up and tapped him on the nose. “Oh shush. Do I need a reason to hug my husband?”
“No…” he said softly, embracing her and kissing the top of her head. “No reason at all.”
*******************
The winter was dying away, and new growth was already beginning to sprout through the still lingering patches of white. Spring would be here soon, and the end of winter festival. Nasta trudged through the muddy ground that was beginning to steam in the warm sunshine. In the distance, the river roared, the snow melt having helped to swell it well past its usual size.
The wooden house sat quietly on its own, with only the workshop to keep it company. A small trickle of wood smoke lazily rose from the top of the roof, dissipating into the cold morning air. Nasta took a deep breath. He hated coming up here. It wasn’t because of Rush, of course. It was just… memories. He knocked on the door.
“Rush? Are you in? It’s Nasta.” Only silence greeted him. Carefully, he pushed open the door and peered inside. “Rush? You there?”
His voice echoed slightly in the empty interior. The small fire burning away was evidence that someone was around, or at least had been very recently. He checked the workshop, but that was also empty except for a fresh batch of reeds awaiting the next stage of the workers craft. So, he’d been out already then, but where was he? Realisation dawned on Nasta. He’d be there with them, wouldn’t he? Pulling his belt tighter, he headed around to the back of the house.
Rush was kneeling in the snow before the stone cairns, his hands pressed together in prayer. Nasta stood and watched him for a moment as his step-brother knelt there, unmoving. It was strange seeing Rush like this; he was normally so practical and serious, perhaps even a little dour. To see him like this, with such a sad look upon his face, he looked ‘lost’ somehow. He shook his head… No… Rush was just like him—it was the world that had changed. It had changed and left Rush behind, trapped in the fog.
He waited until Rush stood, wiping the damp snow and mud from his knees and turning to face him. By the gods, he looked so old! How long had it been now? Weeks? Months? The look in Rush’s eyes, the lines around his face, the haggard look of his body… it was like he’d been here for years, if not decades.
Rush stared at Nasta, his face devoid of emotion. “Hello, Nasta.”
“Rush, how have you been keeping?”
The reed cutter snorted. “As well as expected.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude.”
“No, it’s alright. They won’t mind.” His eyes stared off into the distance. “It’s been so many years now, I can’t even remember their faces anymore.” He began to walk towards the house. “Come on, let’s get a hot drink. You look frozen.”
Nasta motioned towards the third cairn, the earth beneath it considerably larger than the rest. “Rush? That…”
Rush stretched his back, rubbing his arms to get some warmth back in them. “He deserved a burial, Nasta. I cannot forgive what he did, or forget, but he didn’t deserve to be left for the forest beasts to tear apart.”
Nasta’s eyes bulged. “Didn’t deserve it? After what that thing did?”
Rush shrugged. “It’s dead, Nasta. Whatever else you want to say about what it did or what I did, you can’t change that fact.”
Inside, Rush topped up the kettle and put it back on the heat. Nasta looked around at the interior of the wooden house, his gaze falling upon the large blue blanket hanging from the rafters. The beautifully embroidered golden images were a strange contrast to the darkness of the room.
“That was hers, wasn’t it?” he asked.
“It is hers,” Rush replied quietly. “It’s here for when she comes back to collect it.”
“Rush…”
He looked up at him from under his brows. “She’s coming back, Nasta. I know it in my heart and my soul. One day, the princess will return, and I’ll be here to welcome her.”
“Rush, you can’t stay up here forever on your own, dreaming of shadows and—”
“Did you come up here to lecture me?” Rush glowered at his stepbrother.
“No, Rush, I came to—”
“I don’t want to hear it, Nasta! I just want to live here in peace, and if that means that I spend the rest of my life ‘dreaming of shadows’, as you put it, then I damned well will!”
“The village is always there if you need it, and we have room for—” Once again, Nasta was cut off, this time by Rush’s snort of disbelief.
“The village?!” Rush shouted in indignation. “What did those scum do for me, for her? They threw us in cells like common criminals and were more than happy to abandon us to that animal, Saru, when he came calling.”
“It wasn’t like that, Rush, and you know it.”
“Oh, I know it alright! He would have killed me without batting an eyelid, but what he would have done to the princess would have been unimaginable! Those vermin, those stinking humans, they’re all the same!”
“Humans are not all the same, Rush, and you’re one of them too, aren’t you? For the gods’ sake, man!”
Rush rubbed his face with his hand and shook his head, turning away from his stepbrother. “Nasta… I… I’m sorry.”
Nasta got up, walked over to Rush, and put an arm around him. The man was freezing cold and shivering, though not from the bite of winter, he suspected. Moving Rush’s head gently to his chest, he held him, the tears staining his tunic as Rush’s tears flowed. He’d never seen him like this, not since his wife and daughter had died. It was unsettling. A change had come over Rush, a despondency and sadness that cut deeper than any wound. He looked into the fire as Rush wept.
“I wish I could bring her back for you.”
Rush’s voice was a bare whisper, “I know…”
“You loved her, didn’t you…?”
Rush said nothing, huddling up into a ball of grief that Nasta couldn’t even begin to understand. Gradually, the shaking subsided and he wiped his eyes with his sleeve. His voice was an echo of his heart, full of pain, emptiness, and loss.
“I don’t belong here, Nasta,” he said quietly. “I never did.”