//------------------------------// // Chapter 11 - Fida // Story: The Mark of Eran // by Tofazz //------------------------------// Fida Saif scrunched his snout; he was less than happy to be this far away from Trixie and Athaal, especially after he found out what had happened earlier today. His mind conflicted between his need to hold her close, comforting her when she needed him, and his loyalty to his brother. He had decided the moment he met them at the rock, seeing his beaten up brother and the terrified look upon Trixie: He would ask Athaal to release him from his duty and ask Trixie to move together with him. Where he was not sure, but as long as they were together he didn’t mind. No more of this reckless traveling, no more danger. He would live life as a family stallion, and he hoped with his whole heart that she would want that as well. What she said after their night together still made him worry. Attempting to push his mind over to something else, he tried focusing on what lay ahead. The linac camp he had discovered upon his initial scouting trip was stationed far away enough for them to be no immediate threat, but once he blew the signal horn they would need to move fast, if he needed to blow it at all. They had agreed for him to only use it if there were linacs approaching the graveyard. If it was only one, he would be able to take it out; if there were more than that, he would need to gain their attention and draw them away. An unnerving idea, he thought. It would at least mean that the Equestrian army would come to their aid rather quickly. He could only hope that they managed to move quickly and reach the graveyard before anything happened. He had a great view of the area between him, the graveyard and the border of Equestria. From the tree top he had found he could almost see all the way to the camp itself. It was barely hidden behind the back of a large, red mountain topped with a green oasis. The mountain stretched upwards and even further into the land of Equestria, slowly acquiring a grayer color; they had named it Twassil, the mountain that connects, but he was sure it had another name in Equestria. From its root sprouted lush forest from the water falling down, traveling from the top of its part in Equestria to give further life to the desert. He imagined the grass and trees being softer than those he rested upon, which the sun had left dry and sharp as razors. Coming around the back of the mountain he spotted two large forms making their way towards him. He quickly covered himself in a large leaf from the tree and remained unmoving. It took a painstakingly long time for them to get close enough for him to even make out some details from them. It was no doubt linacs making their way towards the graveyard. Once they had their backs turned to him he began his descent from the top, flaring his wings out and gliding forward. The sun quickly scorched his wings and forced him to land earlier than he had hoped, but he managed it without a sound. He began to stalk them from a safe distance, checking the readiness of his horn at all times. He embarked upon the large dune, carefully pushing aside the grass and bushes that grew there; keeping a fixed eye on the two linacs walking in front of him. They had the same markings upon their backs as the ones from earlier. He was certain, however, that they had a different color underneath the yellow stripe, as if their tribe colors had been painted over. One of them also had large scars running down his side, most likely from fighting another linac. Several ideas floated around as to why; one was that they had begun to gather under a single leader. Which would also explain their organized patrolling of the desert. It was all new behavior for Saif, and he had read quite the amount about the linacs under his training. Nothing had mentioned them being sentient to the level of organizing like this. Seeing them headed straight to the graveyard, he quickly scurried over their path behind them.  Saif didn’t understand magic very much, but he could imagine the level required for the ritual Trixie would perform in the graveyard would create big flashes and some sound. Any closer now and they would be able to see everything. He needed to act within the next few seconds. He began to move behind them, close to the border. If he could get them to chase, he would need to meet the army if he were to survive at all. He imagined flying would be easier, but they wouldn’t have any interest in him then; he needed to stay grounded for a little while at least. Besides, the heat would force him down quickly. Even this far north it was still unbearable. Confident that they hadn’t noticed him just yet, he huddled down underneath a large rock, cooling what little he could in its shadow before he needed to run for his life. He took a deep breath, attempting to force his heart to a resting pace, but the mere thought of what he was going to do made it hammer in his chest, and adrenaline began to hit his joints. A sense of excitement struck him, much like the first time he went on a mission after his graduation. Perhaps he would miss this when he settled down, but it would be a small price to pay. He looked forward, spotting a large gathering of stones and red mountains a mere hundred paces to his left. Being so much smaller than the linacs, he would be able to hide there if needed, where he could draw out the time. He put the horn to his lips and took a deep breath, readying. Then he froze, hearing heavy breathing close to him, quickly followed by sand moving as a great weight walked upon it. His heart froze as he saw the scaled snout of a linac plunge towards him from behind the rock. In a second that seemed like hours, he saw how the purple pupil of it changed size as it focused on him, a mad glint within much like the one he saw the night he got the horn. His eyes refused to close, and his body shook violently seeing the scaly head leaning even further in, the white flesh above the teeth visible. A large gash was apparent on his neck, coagulated black blood made it look like a void of nothingness. As it snarled, showing teeth shining with its poisonous saliva, he snapped out of the freeze. He flung sand into its eyes and began to run towards the stones as the linac howled in anger. Not gaining more than a few seconds lead before he heard the thundering form behind him, he knew then that he wouldn’t have time to fly away. Linacs had rumors surrounding them that they could jump high enough to grab hold pegasi flying too low. The stone gathering he saw earlier was getting closer, but from behind he heard the growls nearing as well. His chest constricted as he focused his eyes forward, squinting. A burning sensation slowly emerged from within him, each breath stinging. Reaching the small mountain, he frantically began to search the edges for a way in. Once he found a crack, he slipped in, huddling as close to the center as he could. The linac attempted to stretch towards him, growling in anger as it got no more than its fist inside. Saif sighed, tried forcing his pulse down again. He was safe for now. Hearing the linac hammer at the stones, it was undoubtedly just a matter of time before other animals or linacs would hear the noise and come to check it out. He reached for the horn, looking down in terror as it was missing from his side. He tossed his head to the side, scanning the area around him, hoping it had been lost within the crack; his muscles jolted together as he saw it behind the beast threatening to kill him. He had no choice. The warning needed to be sent. Going against a linac alone wasn’t at the top of his list of things he wanted to do, but, like last time, the situation called for it. He only hoped that the linac would grow tired in the heat quicker than him, for one mistake would cost him his life; one mistake could cost him his newfound dream. Taking a deep breath, he slammed his hoof to his side, expanded his wristblade and readied it. He forced his breath to slow down, focusing intently on the movements the linac had towards him. The moment he saw the claws come close enough, he shot his hoof forward, digging the blade deep within one of the fingers of it. It roared in anger and pain, jumping a good distance back, giving Saif room to get out with one quick leap. Immediately he had the horn over his shoulder again, his hoofs burying deep into the soil as he stopped abruptly. The linac had its focus on him once more, and it leapt forward. Saif ducked and sliced at its tail as it crashed into the stone behind him. His hope for an easy way out was put on hold as the beast turned towards him before the sound of the crash had vanished. The irises of it widened in anger as it eyed the pegasus, measuring him. It leaped forward, clawing after the pegasus as he barely managed to keep up with the speed the attacks came at. Saif tried getting a few stabs in, but the dodging required all of his focus. Then a sudden overhead swipe took him off guard, clasping down upon his tail, effectively stopping him. He drilled the wristblade down in the scaly palm of it, and, through more roars of pain, it struck him with one hand as it pulled the other back, sending him into the rocks at high speed. Jolts of pain traveled up his spine and stars danced over his vision as the loud crack of ribs came upon impact. He wheezed slightly, blood passing his lips, coloring the sand red. His muscles trembled as he regained his hoofing; if not for the adrenaline, he would not be able to stand. The linac rushed at him once more, its mouth open like the serrated maw of the abyss. Saif tried to move, but his hoofs were frozen in place. Only by reflex did he pull the aquamarine blade from its sheath upon his chest, and quickly put it in front of himself. The linac crashed into him, both thundered into the rocks, Saif feeling more bones breaking upon impact. Its teeth bored into his neck and shoulder, the light armor of the watanï offering little resistance. The blade, easily broken by the impact of the large creature, burrowed into his shoulder, together with the serrated teeth of the linac upon his neck and chest. His own blood seeping out from the wounds, mixing with the black of the linac. Saif coughed, a rattling sounded deep within his lungs as he took a breath, making it clear that he was bleeding internally. He tried to will himself to move with little success, and he laughed. The linac lay unmoving upon him, dead as the blade had penetrated its tiny brain. Then he laughed even louder, a desperate laugh. Then he cried, just as loud, a cry that would chill even the toughest pony to the bone. A mix of tears and blood painted the linac’s large head, Saif cried at the cruel touch of fate. For once he had had somepony other than himself to fight for, someone other than his brother, he had something to look forward to, somepony to hold close, just for it to be taken away from him so easily. He fiddled the side for the horn, struggling to operate it with only one hoof able to move. Each tiny breath hurt him, but he forced himself to take a last deep breath. Perhaps he would not survive this day, but the life of many others would be safe, if only he could blow the horn. He closed his eyes, forcing himself to stop sobbing, and he blew, the sound almost as loud as the linac’s roar. He dropped the horn onto the sand, and laughed manically, cursing his own luck, before he looked up at the sky for the last time. *~*~*~* Athaal walked beside Arien, making sure the old pony was faring well. Even with the white healing formula attached to his shoulder, he didn’t have enough strength to pull Moxie forward. He was thankful that Arien had offered his assistance once more. He looked next to him where Trixie walked, supporting him as best as she could. Each step he took sent a jittering sensation of pain rushing through him. After countless hours of this, it became more and more obvious that she strained herself to keep him on his hoofs, for she flinched slightly each time he buckled. She did not raise her voice over it, for her stubbornness did not allow it. At first the entrance to the graveyard seemed like a black dot in the green and orange wilderness, soon it opened up like a gaping maw, threatening to devour anything that came close to it. The path they had walked vanished as they neared, what before could have reminded them of a distinguished road turned to overgrown walkways almost impossible to see. They entered the abyss with heavy hearts and lost thoughts; they were so near, and yet it could all end horribly for them all. The white aura of unicorn magic lit up the black walls, a terrifying vision for them. Critters with glowing eyes followed them as they passed, roots twisted into wicked forms hung from the ceiling and protruded from the walls. The further they went, the heavier the air smelled of dirt and mold. Water dripped from the roots and onto the soil, making it rich and soft to walk on. In time, time that seemed like days underneath the ground, they saw light shine as the path expanded to a great, vast valley. Here, there were no signs of life apart from them; the last life was left in the cave they traversed. Athaal shuddered, large curved rib bones sliced up towards the sky, some broken, and some whole, in their awe inspiring size one could only imagine the size of some of the dragons that roamed the land. Smaller bones were scattered on the ground, not much larger than a pair of ponies; some even had remnants of decaying flesh upon them. Between the foul smell and horrid vision of the blackened meat Athaal decided it was a fitting place for a dragon to take its last fiery breath of life, and hope bloomed within him as he saw the end of their journey. Arien unhitched the stretcher and placed Moxie carefully on the barren soil. He then began to turn his head, looking at the place they were at. “Pretty massive,” he simply noted. Athaal huddled on the ground next to Moxie, placing his hoof upon her forehead and throat. Her breathing had become shallower. “Yes, it is, let’s get this over with. Could you go and find the bone marrow? The fresher, the better,” he ordered and pointed toward a secluded area of the graveyard. Arien quickly nodded and sped off. Trixie gazed upon the two, freezing as Athaal turned to her. The unicorn hesitantly began to place the different ingredients out, and shifted the pages in the book, stopping as she reached the middle. Her hoofs shivered as she placed the vials, opening them up so she could withdraw the powder from them easily, almost knocking them over in the process. The loud clink of glass against glass was the only sound near them, making it sharp and mind piercing. Athaal jumped around by the sound and leapt over. “Careful!” he hissed. “I am careful!” Trixie snapped back at him. He furrowed his brows and rose his head towards her, his mouth stopping as he attempted to speak. Trixie’s whole body shook as she tried her best to glare defiantly at him. But for all that she tried to remain stoic and angry, he saw something else. She shivered, her eyes wide as she looked at him. Her mind betrayed her body, showing her true emotions. Her teeth jittered together and in the corner of her eyes moisture began to gather. She turned her head slightly away from him and put a hoof over her muzzle, trying to hide how she bit her lips together. “I am careful…” she squeaked once more, her lower lip trembling as the words passed. Athaal felt witless as he watched her trembling body, he never knew casting a spell would put such strain upon her. He rested a hoof upon her shoulder. “I didn’t mean to raise my voice, it’s just that... I can’t bear the thought of losing her. It’s a fear that I have lived with for the past few days, and it can still come to a reality if we’re not careful,” he slowly pulled her in, his stomach doing a short stab within him for his gesture. “Thank you…  I really mean it, I’ll make sure that you get home after this.” She sighed and closed her eyes, giving no answer, rather she pushed away from him, slouching her body down and seemingly wanting to vanish. Athaal stepped back and stared confused at her, wondering if he had done something unjust, if he had breached a custom over in Equestria. The lack of answer annoyed him, but it was not for him to decide her answer. If one chose not to speak it would be rude for him to ask any further, the thoughts of her inner mind were hers and hers alone, she would only need to speak them if she thought it necessary. The strain put upon her mind was massive, as well as the strain they had experienced the last day. Now that they were here, Athaal could almost cry tears of joy, but he dared not to before he could see Moxie open her eyes again. At the side of his view was Arien waving him over. As he hobbled over the general spoke, “There’s a newly dead dragon over here, but we need to cut the bone out.” Athaal cast a look behind him, seeing Trixie reading the book near Moxie. He nodded and followed Arien as he led the way over. After a short walk they came close to the dragon. Luckily, it wasn’t a large one; it was almost small enough to be counted as a drake rather than a dragon. Athaal ran his hoof down the side of the golden scales of the body, feeling the toughness in them. Its wings were curled up to his body, the light skin between the willowy bones had been the first to decay for it was riddled with holes. From the mouth it had many snake like growth, almost making it look like a beard. The head was tilted slightly to the sky and its crimson red eye gazed upon the blue sky above where it once had roamed freely. It became quickly obvious for them that the stomach had softer scales and would be easier to cut, but the thigh bones would grant more marrow. Arien placed a hoof upon the decaying hind leg. “How much do we need?” he wondered. Athaal drew his sword and poked a few times at the scales. “I’m not sure, I think if we take one of the larger bones it will be enough; a thigh bone,” he answered absently, marveling over the magnificent creature that laid before him. Once part of the ruling race of Equestria, no other being able to stand next to it in power, now to serve another purpose. Athaal closed his eyes and prayed for the soul of this dragon which would help them complete their journey; also praying its soul would find peace in the endless halls of the afterlife together with its kind. Then he slid the sword up underneath one of the scales and yanked it up, sending a loud crack over the graveyard. He continued to peel off the scales, becoming more and more appreciative that he didn’t have to fight one of them; with each movement of the sword sending jolts of pain through his shoulder, it would have been his last fight.  Arien came up next to him and drew his own sword and began to aid with removing the scales. The dragon was fresh enough for it to bleed as some scales got ripped out instead of breaking. Soon the black skin of the dragon became visible, looking soft to touch, while the red pooled over it. Athaal ran his hoof over the large scale less area and wondered about just how recently this dragon had died, for the muscles were still soft with no rotting apparent. He shrugged and positioned the blade once he found a proper place, then pushed it forward, quickly penetrating the tissue, and as he sliced blood began to gush out, pooling at their hoofs. Athaal halted slightly as he felt the warm liquid hit him, by how it bleed it couldn’t be more than half a day old. He touched the skin again, feeling warmth radiate beneath his hoof; perhaps, he thought, it was the fire magic that kept it warm longer? He shrugged, knowing he still had little time to waste and continued. Arien stepped up and began to help, cutting off pieces, tossing them on the ground with a plump sound. They worked tirelessly for what seemed like hours, but the sun above betrayed their notions of time. The blades slowly turned dull as more and more of the white bone became visible. They finally reached the top of the femur. At first they tried a quick, hard pull, with little effect, only when Athaal struck the joint with his blade multiple times, they gained some effect. It tilted over and only remained up due to its attached lower limb. They quickly hammered the joint and the large femur fell to the ground with a thud. Athaal lifted it up over his shoulder and began to drag it forward, the bone sloping after him on the ground, being almost twice as long as him. Half way he stopped, giving his shoulder rest before he continued forward again. The scraping on the gravel echoing as the only sound produced apart from the gusts that whistled through the valley now. He grunted as he finally reached where Trixie waited for him, soon as the bone hit the ground he drew his sword again and cracked it open; revealing the dark red bone marrow within. He sighed in relief and halted as he saw the horrified look upon her face. His hoofs bloody from the work, along with most of his coat; it was understandable for her to wonder. “Are we ready to begin?” he asked. She snapped out of her revery, her face turning to a mask of still fear once more. “Yes…” she squeaked, voice crackling with pent up emotions; emotions Athaal had no understanding of. He slid over to Moxie’s side, choosing to rather focus on her than to give more of his energy on things he wouldn’t understand. Sitting down next to her, he carefully woke her and placed her head upon his lap. The black mark had visibly expanded, pulsing with life as it stretched over her eyes. Running a hoof through her cherry mane, he hummed softly. Her eyes slowly opened, no white left within them; her beautiful orange iris was completely surrounded by a void blackness. Just the sight of it made him want to flinch back, but he swallowed the shock and continued to hum, as he had done so many times for her. Her smile resonated with his tune, just barely, for it was weak, weaker than what he had ever seen. He lifted her up, placing her in the groove of his neck, cradling her back and forth as he still hummed for her. “We’re here, Moxie, we made it. Everything will turn out fine,” he whispered after a few seconds, and he glanced over to see Trixie watching them, quickly returning to the magic as she saw him returning the stare. “I’m sorry, Athaal…” Moxie squeaked, her voice a dry husk of the soft one he was used to. He pushed aside strands of her mane. “Why?” he simply asked, uncertain why he felt tears beginning to gather up in his eyes, and his throat clenched together. The faint glimmer in her tears seemed like pure diamonds as the sunrays hit them against the black in her eyes. “I’m sorry for all of this, you would be better off without me, everypony would be… I’ve brought you nothing but pain and trouble.” Her hoof carefully touched the wound on his shoulder, her lower lip trembling. “This is my fault… I’m sorry for what pain I’ve caused,” she said, voice choking back tears. Athaal’s vision blurred from the moisture building up, his heart knotted and skipped a beat as he realized what she was trying to say. “No, no, no, Moxie,” he started, turning her head towards his, forcing her attention to him. “We’re here, our trip is over for now. You’ll be fine, and don’t you dare to think otherwise.” Tears from her eyes flowed freely as she looked at him. “I can’t…”Moxie stopped, her eyes closing once more. “I love you…” her voice lingered through the air, a hollow, shaken whisper. “What about what you said earlier today?” Athaal shouted, his muscles trembling as he tried his best to remain in control. “We’re going to be parents, Moxie. I need you for that. You promised me that you wouldn’t give up.” Gaining no response from her he took hold of her shoulders and shook them, first carefully, then desperation took hold over him and made him shake much harder. Still no reaction from her. He felt his body droop down over her, losing all semblance of strength. “Then what are you doing now…?” he asked with a broken voice. He screamed, maybe he hoped it would wake her, but it was a scream of desperation, filled with all of his hurt and pain. Followed by mournful wails as he clutched the lifeless body of his wife tighter to himself. Over the sound of his own cries he heard the hiss of magic, Trixie focused intently as her white aura embraced the ingredients. The golden dust pulled from the urn, flowing around her as if it were a wave of water that danced in thin air. The blue liquid from the other urn joined the dust, and together they undulated in sync around the unicorn in a way that Athaal could only consider beautiful, and it filled him with hope. It was what they came here for. Till now it could all have been in vain, but as the magic danced around the unicorn it all seemed to fall in place. The ingredients twisted together flawlessly, twined together like a web, yet never merged in mix. The air around her became littered with pearls, some white as newly fallen snow and others green as the most pristine emeralds; and soon pearls of the whole rainbow filled the air around the unicorn. Lastly the magic siphoned the marrow from the bone. The marrow centered in front of the unicorn, while the dust and liquid continued their mesmerizing dance as the incantation was spoken. Athaal cradled Moxie again. “She’s doing it, Moxie. Just you wait, it will be fine,” he sniffled, his voice breaking as the knot in his throat became too much. “You just have to wait a little longer, for me… wait for me… there’s so much more of life we have to see. I can’t be a father without you… I don’t want to be anything without you! I need you…” The ground underneath Trixie crackled as makeshift lightning struck, and winds whipped her mane upwards. Her horn lit up with intensity Athaal had never witnessed before; the light striking several hoofs forward, looking like a blade slicing through the air. Her eyes glowed the same way, so bright with white that her irises were completely gone. The orbs around her now shook violently, thundering together in their bright colors. The wind around her howled as it grew into a sphere of sand and dust, the sound growing so loud that it rang in his ears. Athaal remembered that Rishad had told him that the magic of Eran was no trifle trick, but this was far beyond his wildest dreams. He imagined the terrifying power that rushed through the veins of the unicorn. “Athaal, move away from her, now!” Trixie bellowed, her voice no longer soft, rather thundering with unchecked power. With only a second’s hesitation, he placed Moxie down and quickly moved away, ending up at the same place as Arien, both standing wide eyed and terrified. The moment he was clear from her, a magic lance shot between the two mares. The colors of the ingredients mixed together with the magic, lightning crackling as they moved together down the lance towards Moxie. As soon as they hit, he saw her writhe in pain, more and more as they all merged within her. His first instinct was to jump in, to remove her from the pain, but he realized that no matter what happened now, it was not up to him; he was rendered powerless as his wife and Trixie began to levitate above the ground. The lightning around the lance faded, and a black substance became visible within it; traveling towards the unicorn. Trixie’s eyes, now back to seemingly normal, filled up with terror as she saw the blackness traveling towards her. She flinched as something pulled out through her, shifting places with the disease. Athaal shouted Trixie’s name loudly, hoping to get her attention. Multiple efforts was needed before she turned her head towards him and smiled weakly. “Thank you, your decision to save me gave me longer time upon this planet, I would be long gone if it weren’t for that. I… could you tell Saif… I’m sorry. I treated him badly and he didn’t deserve it; I’m sorry I never returned his feelings. And I’m sorry for what trouble I’ve caused.” She smiled contently, her eyes revealed sadness, but nothing else did.  Small crystals began to emerge upon her horn, growing from the base and creeping upwards. “This is the least I can do… Take good care of each other, Athaal… be happy,” she said, as the black from the lance finally ended and, her eyes filled with blackness before both the mares fell to the ground with a thud. The sphere that had covered both of them exploded outwards, shaking everyone near violently, forcing both Athaal and Arien down to their knees. Around them bones shattered into pieces, burrowing deep into the walls of the valley from the sheer force of pressure. Athaal and Arien both rushed over, both equally confused. Athaal quickly checked Moxie, feeling the weight upon his shoulders removed and replaced by an elevating happiness. He turned to Arien and Trixie with a smile crossing his lips. Moxie was alive. They made it. The feeling of dread he had mere minutes before replaced with blissful happiness as the black had vanished from her completely. If he had had any strength left in him, he would have shouted to the heavens in joy. However, his immediate joy slowly vanished as he saw the grim mask of Arien. The general stood motionless over the unicorn’s body, checking for vital signs with trained hoofs. “She’s dead,” he stated quickly without removing his eyes from her. Athaal felt a shock going through his heart, like it got stabbed with a serrated needle. “But…?” he squeaked. Arien closed her eyelids with a hoof, covering the pitch black irises. “The spell must have taken her life to rid Moxie of the disease,” he reasoned. The young noble took a few steps over, his mind in disbelief. They might have had their differences, but not once did he wish death upon her. Then a revelation struck him, and he sunk to the ground, hoofs buckling underneath him. This was the reason she had acted so weird the last few days… she knew what would happen here. He could only begin to imagine how terribly afraid she must have been, and he was the one who pushed her forward, angry at her in her last moments, yet she went through with it. Athaal clenched his teeth together and let a heart shattering sulk escape him. Arien leaned forward, stroking his back. “It’s not like you knew, is it?” He shook his head. “No… but she did,” Athaal cried and pointed at Trixie’s unmoving body. Before either could celebrate the removal of the disease, nor mourn the death of Trixie, the sound of a horn blared from far away. They both quickly looked at each other, knowing it was Saif’s signal to the Equestrian border. Linacs were nearby. Arien quickly strapped the stretcher upon him again, and began to move. Athaal ran over to Trixie’s body and tried lifting it up on his back. “Leave her!” Arien shouted. “I can’t leave her here,” the noble objected, determined to give Trixie a funeral worthy of a queen. “She will slow us down, we must be fast!” Arien explained quickly. Athaal hesitated, his shoulder shooting jolts through his spine with every attempt he did upon lifting her. Closing his eyes, he sighed. The general was right; they needed to move fast, and it wouldn’t be possible with Trixie looping over him. Regretfully he let her go, and flinched slightly as she fell upon the ground, not even a slight hint of life within her. Then he ran, as fast as he could with his limp. Catching up to Arien, they moved in quick pace towards where Saif agreed to meet them. Athaal’s mind grew dark, how would he tell his brother? As they reached the edge leading towards Equestria, several linac roars could be heard echoing over the desert. A still terror crept over him and his mind went over to his brother. If he were close to that many linacs, Eran knows how he would survive. He focused his mind again, deciding to worry about any eventual outcomes after they had reached the agreed location.         Minutes seemed like hours as they ran, no sound part from the wind came, the stillness setting a terrifying seed of doubt within him. What terrible fate had he given his own brother?         The heat was taking its toll, leaving them thirsty and exhausted. Athaal constantly checked how Moxie was doing, giving her water in short breaks, and dousing her mane and coat in what little water he could spare of his own ration. It was not nearly enough in an ideal situation but it had to do for now, he needed to survive as well. He knew that if he did not get help soon his wound would get infected, the white magic mixture helped to a degree, but it had used most of its power to heal Trixie. They reached the dead tree where Saif would have waited for them. Seeing no sign of him, Athaal’s heart sunk. He was now sure his brother had given his life for the sake of protecting him and his family. Hopelessness washed over him and once more strength left him. He buckled to the ground.         “Athaal…” Arien tried.         “It’s my fault… everything is my fault!” he cried.         “Saif did what he thought was best, but we need to move, we can’t—“         Athaal looked up, trying to figure out what had caused the general to stop. Swiping the moisture in his eyes away, he squinted through the waves of heat that rose from the ground. Between the mirages he saw a large body of ponies approaching them, their blue armor glinting sharply in the sun.         A unicorn dressed in a deep orange armor ordered a halt as they reached the three of them. Blue calculating eyes watched him underneath the helmet, adorned with a red plume on top. A slender light yellow neck was barely visible underneath. A long yellow mane, with darker yellow stripes poked out from the back of the leader’s neck.         “Are you Athaal?” the leader asked in a fluent Saddle Arabic and feminine tone, catching Athaal off guard, not used to mares addressing him from a rank in his own language.         Too tired to wonder about why she knew his name, or what hid underneath the helm, he simply answered. “Yes…”         She turned to Arien and Moxie, “Then this must be your wife, and the general Arien, I’ve heard about you.” Both Athaal and Arien looked at the soldiers from Equestria with complete confusion. Their perplexed stared must have been somewhat entertaining, for within the rows came snickers and subdues chuckles. They immediately stood in attention the moment their leader turned her head slightly.         She turned back. “Your brother sent us to get you. Come, we must leave before the rest of the tribe shows up.” She bowed slightly towards Athaal. “May my soldiers help ease your burden by carrying your wife? We have a sturdier stretcher available,” she asked respectfully.         Athaal turned and saw Arien breathing heavily, he then nodded and a few of the soldiers made way over and moved her carefully over to the new stretcher. They quickly moved forward, towards the border of Equestria and to relative safety. Arien and Athaal were placed between the squad itself and its leader.         “My brother… he’s alive?” Athaal asked quickly as he made his best effort to keep up with the speed with his limp.         The commander’s eyes turned dark, and her lips tightened slightly. “Yes, we found your brother barely conscious due east of here. We sent him to our medical tent immediately, for his condition is critical; if he makes it through the night we will send him to Canterlot, where he will have a better team of medical staff around him.”         The momentary joy of hearing that his brother was alive were quickly subdued as it was replaced by the thought of perhaps losing him again. “May I have your name?” he asked.         The general smiled slightly. “Stella Lux, but you may call me Stella as long as you are within my camp and under my protection.”         The name rolled oddly off his tongue, almost artificial to him, but so it was with many Equestrian names. “Stella Lux, you have my eternal gratitude,” Athaal said and bowed as deep as their traveling speed allowed.         Soon, they saw trees and crags grow up in the horizon. A large wooden spike fence enclosed a camp with blue and white tents. Seeing it rise up, Athaal just now felt how exhausted he was, muscles ached, and his mind completely drained from the ordeal. But now, for the first time in a long while, he felt hopeful. He somehow knew that it was going to be fine: his brother would survive, and so would Moxie. Then his mind went to Trixie once more. How would Saif take the news?         “Stella, is there any chance for your squad to go back into the graveyard?” Athaal asked, in a final hope to get Trixie home as he promised her.         Stella looked at him, a curious scrunch over her eyes. “We could in a while, if given a good reason?” she both stated and asked.         “There’s somepony in there. Sadly, she’s dead, but she gave my family life and hope… I would like to give her a proper funeral,” he answered coolly.         “Very well, I’ll send two pegasi over there once the sun falls a bit more, then they can fly and scout overhead rather than walk,” Stella answered, her tone stating that it was no use arguing over the time.         “Thank you,” Athaal said, then he looked back towards Moxie and smiled. * * * * *         The border camp of the Equestrian army was vast and solid. They had managed to erect a large stone tower allowing them to gaze far into the desert of Saddle-Arabia. It was clear that this post was intended to stay for a while: some of the soldiers had begun to grow crops in a field made near the outer fence of it. A large wooden house was the center of the camp with tents spread around it. From the fireplace in front of the door Athaal had assumed it was the main hall where they gathered for dinner and meetings to relay new orders from the military commanders.         Athaal had been given a tent for himself, Saif and Moxie, where they could rest in solitude. Arien had been asked to give a report to Stella as she judged Athaal in need of rest. He didn’t object, not because he was too tired to do it, but because he wished to remain next to the two most important ponies in his life. When they woke, he would be there for them as they had been for him the whole trip.         Saif had remained motionless ever since they had arrived at the Equestrian platoon. Athaal took the cloth away from his brother’s forehead and moistened it before putting it back again. The poison from the linac bite was tearing through his body, followed by high fever and shallow breaths. Saif’s normally dark brown fur had lost its color, turning bleak and ghostly compared to what it was.         Moxie still slept. She had not opened her eyes since the graveyard, but she was getting better. Her fur began to gain its normal vibrant color and her breathing was turning to normal. Looking at her now, Athaal smiled slightly. She looked like she had always done, and he caught himself thinking back to the first days of their marriage, and the time after they learned she was pregnant. While she slept he would often spend hours of the night just watching her, being thankful for what life had granted him. Then, the times she had woken up when he stroked her mane, she had returned his smile, her beautiful lips would split into the most wonderful thing in the world for him. Her snout would wiggle slightly as he pushed away a strand of hair from it.         Light shot into the dim tent and a small gust caused the candle to flicker slightly as the door opened up, effectively pulling Athaal out of his blissful thoughts of past joy. In entered Arien and Stella, both looking upon the ponies lying in the beds. As Athaal rose to bow for Stella, she rose her hoof to allow him to sit still.         She approached and sat down on a pillow in placed in the center of the tent. “My scouts have returned from the graveyard, Athaal,” she began in his mother tongue. “I’m sorry to say that her body was nowhere to be found. After hours of searching my lead scout decided they needed to call off the search; I’m sorry.”         Athaal sighed as a small stab went through his chest. “Thank you…” he simply answered, unsure how to process the feelings that arose in him by this development. His breath caught in his throat as he saw movement from Saif, when no more came from it gave the commander word again.         “Arien has told me that it was an Equestrian mare. Who was she?”         He turned his eyes towards the commander which looked at him in turn with a wondering face. Who was she? He had not considered that question and as he did his focus drifted. She was not his friend, nor his enemy. From the start she had been a burden to them, but not by her own choice. Swallowing pained him slightly, although he did not show it. Forcing himself to focus again he turned to Stella. “Trixie Lulamoon… that was her name.” He let a hoof fall to Moxie’s cheek and let it rest, barely touching, just sharing warmth. “She became my family’s savior, one I perhaps did not deserve.” Becoming silent he clutched hold of Moxie’s hoof and swallowed hard, the thought of losing her still lingered in his mind, and even now it pained him.         Stella jotted down a few notes and halted slightly before she looked at him. Trixie’s name had sparked a familiarity in the commander, but it was obvious that she did not want to speak of it; instead she turned her gaze at Saif. “Is your brother doing better?”         “Saif still has a fever. I’m not sure how well he’s doing,” Athaal answered quickly.         Stella nodded, then looked at him. “Arien mentioned that you need to get an audience with the princesses. Is that correct? And for what cause?”         “The cause is for their ears only, I mean no disrespect to you or your family, but it is of the utmost importance,” he answered and bowed slightly.         The commander squinted towards him and furrowed her brows. After a time of silence she finally spoke up. “Very well, I may not guarantee you that they will take your audience, but I will arrange an escort for you to Canterlot.” She turned her eyes over at Saif and her form became somber. “If your brother is to survive he will need to get there as soon as possible.” She rose and headed towards the exit. “I will make sure both your wife and brother can travel while resting. Try to gather what you can, you will leave within an hour.”         “Thank you, your kindness is great!” Athaal said loudly and bowed deeply before the commander was gone.         Before the flap to the tent closed after Stella he saw how dusk had taken slight hold of the day. The orange glow bathed over the green, lush grass, and the sun began to fall beyond the horizon riddled with snow covered mountains. As the glare struck the clouds it split and shot out like swords of light. The night would be warm, and the forest they would travel through offered seclusion from any winds that might come. Then as the flap closed Athaal and Arien were left inside with only the flicker of candles and the inkling of warmth it offered.         Arien, who had remained silent since they arrived to this camp, part from talking to the commander, looked at Athaal with ears flopped back. His old features strengthened as his brows furrowed to a pained expression. “I must bid my farewell now, Athaal. I wish you all good luck on the task you feel you need to take on.”         Athaal rose, again a slight stab in his chest came to him. He didn’t want the general to leave. He knew it was decided, but he felt helpless over what would come next. He could not show it, the need for support, the weakness that came within him; his pride wouldn’t allow it. When Moxie became healthy she would give him all the support she could, he knew that. But he feared that he might need something more, he had no idea how stable her mind would be after the ordeal it had been through. Athaal smiled, ruefully, and it was obvious even if he tried to hide it that he regretted this goodbye.         “If that is your choice,” Athaal said, and pulled the general in for an embrace. “I owe you my life, and the lives of my family, thank you.”         Arien nodded, but remained silent. They both knew that next they meet it would perhaps be as enemies. Between the discoveries of the temple and the decision for Athaal to bring the evidence to the Equestrian crown, Arien couldn’t betray his oath to the crown. It lingered in the back of their mind that they never might see each other again, for so was the will of the crown. The path taken by Arien left him without choice of his own life. Athaal’s thoughts scrambled over the general’s choice, struggling to understand. Even more so after the treason they experienced in the desert, that Morad and Sati could justify an attack on them simply because of what Arien was; Athaal just could not understand the will to stand loyal to a culture like that.         Arien placed a hoof on Athaal’s shoulder and smiled; a smile mixed with uneasiness and uncertainty. He clenched upon the shoulder and retracted his hoof and began to make his way out. The young noble was left with a jittering feeling, one which made him sure that bugs had taken hold of his skin and crawled underneath it in a panic stricken frenzy.         Athaal tried shaking it off and return to Moxie’s side, but he couldn’t. He was sure, more so now than he was mere minutes ago that he would not see Arien again. What the cause of it would be he was not sure. His heart was heavy, and once more he felt fatigue overcome him. He decided that the void feeling that had grown in his chest would perhaps disappear if he managed to rest till they would leave.         Not daring to get into the bed which Moxie slept, he made himself as comfortable as possible on the pillow he had sat upon until now. He hesitated slightly, but he held on to her hoof and nestled his cheek upon it and closed his eyes, awaiting to be woken by the Equestrian soldiers.