//------------------------------// // Corputh Callothum // Story: Washed Up // by ambion //------------------------------// Flotsam stood outside the remains of his little deck cabin. A thin covering of clouds had overtaken the ship and a soft rain slowly began to fall. It was as much a mist in the air as raindrops, and made hardly any sound at all as it fell. Other than a minor flourishing of hats, nopony seemed to do or say anything much about it. Flotsam figured he’d be damp for a while longer and put the matter out of his mind. He looked inside at what had been his room. The door was off its hinges. The ember red sky lit the place with a surreal, dreamlike quality. He prodded the door itself. It was missing a hip-high and narrow chunk of wood from the base from where something – or, more aptly, someone – had hit it, but it wouldn’t be too hard to return to the hinges. The chasm in the roof would be more of a problem. In the last hour of twilight it gave Flotsam’s room a column of soft red, almost purple light. Motes of dust and water twirled inside it. The cannonball had also ripped a huge bite from his bunk and put a fatal split running through the rest of it. The blanket was in tatters. Flotsam wiggled the bunk gently and it held up. He tried a little more force and it suddenly split into halves, cracking sharply and falling in on itself. A spout of wood dust flew up into the air. Splinters and needles of wood littered the floor. The cannonball rolled out from under the bed and bumped insistently against the wall. The ship moved and with each gentle motion the cannonball rolled this way and that. It rolled Flotsam’s way and he caught it with his hoof. “Looks like we missed one,” he mused. The splinters and wood dust were becoming a wet plaster in the rain, with faintly visible little trails already rolled through it. He could start with this. He propped the cannonball into the corner of the room and kept it there with one of the boards from his bunk. The mop was as good as a broom – well, no, it really wasn’t – but he made do and used it to sweep the debris together best he could, setting with the cannonball those pieces of wood he thought maybe could be salvaged, somehow. There weren’t many of those; things tended to be ‘smashed’ or ‘not smashed’ where cannonballs were concerned. He found what he thought might be the missing piece from the door and set it there as well. By degrees the breeze became stronger and the rain fell more steadily. Each time he stepped under the hole his back prickled and tickled with raindrops. Flotsam could not look up without blinking his eyes against the cold, clean water, but for a minute or two he did just that, trying to see what was above them. Just clouds, it seemed. The peachy colours had gone from the sky, leaving it much more pallid. Gray clouds and, in the breaks between them, stars were what he saw. The mares would know better than he, but Flotsam had a feeling that the weather would keep on like this all through the night. He found himself not minding it. A few voices complained as the rain increased, but even in those words there was a tone of acceptance. A full-time team of pegasi could likely keep a travelling ship in its in own micro-climate of perpetual sunshine, but the Mother of Mercy had neither the resources nor the inclination to apply to that triviality. The ship had few pegasi and they were kept as busy as every other mare. The rain softened the sounds around him and contributed its own sound. The complaints ceased and the rain continued. When Flotsam had got as much of the scrap wood and splinters as he could, he clumped them into a ball with his magic, took it to the gunwale and dropped it overboard. There was a quiet splash and, no longer held together, the ball came apart again. The last he saw of it, it was coming apart, some pieces steadily sinking while others resolutely floating in a slowly expanding cloud. Returning to his room Flotsam took the useful pieces he had saved and piled them in the corner. The cannonball he was unsure of. “Here,” he said, taking it to Windlass, “can you take this?” The big mare paused to consider him. Her hair was plaited with water and her coat – like his own, like everypony’s – shone with rain. She shook her head and fallen raindrops flew again. “Sure,” she said, scooping the weighty iron ball up against her chest with little difficulty. There were a few others, he could see now, further along the deck and she put it with those. It dropped into place with a heavy clang. Each and every one of them had arrived with speed and violent intent, busting up planks and rigging. He looked up and even at this last, darkening hour ponies crawled up in the air, patching the sails as they could and breaking away the pieces they couldn’t. “Some day,” he said. Windlass avoided eye contact, and mostly keeping her eyes to the decking she meekly asked, “Some day what?” Flotsam hesitated. “I meant, it’s been quite a day.” “Ya.” A rope was tossed down from somewhere above and somepony called out, “Windlass!” She bit into it and pulled the rope until was so tight that it thrummed with vibration and bled out its soaked-in water. Something above creaked and scraped; there came a sudden jerk and a sharp crack! – Windlass stumbled – and the voice called again, “Okay that did it! Right, get the next one ready!” Windlass dutifully let the rope go. After a second, it jerkily started to ascend again. “What can I do?” Flotsam asked. He wanted to help. He was also tired – quite spent, physically and mentally – but it wasn’t like he had somewhere to sleep anyhow. The giantess of a pony shrugged and shied away. “I ‘unno,” she said. “Try somepony else.” The rope came dangling down again in another spot and Windlass left the conversation at that. “Alright,” Flotsam said to empty air. Well, not empty: rain filled, but pony-less. He didn’t lack confidence, but Flotsam’s knowledge of ships and the working thereof had more holes than the Mother of Mercy presently did. Crossing the deck meant stepping around several. Planks had been laid and a pony could probably safely walk those planks, but Flotsam had already earned his bruises today and felt that discretion was the better part of – if not valour – then at least whatever it was that meant he wasn’t taking a second painful tumble. He heard a bang and a curse, peeked down into the below-decks and saw ponies hard at work, moving and removing cargo. He presumed it was to get it out from under the rain, but it could have been to rebalance the ship or to improve its feng shui. His ignorance teased him. A mare looked up at him looking down and he felt suddenly out of place. He hadn’t seen her, he’d thought they’d all left already. Moon Tide was a deep blue colour and in the darkened hold and she’d blended right in. She made up for invisibility with noisiness, though. Moon Tide grunted and set down the crate she’d been hauling with a heavy thud. “How about some light down here, Flotsam?” she asked. He recognized her as the bump-and-curse pony of moments before. “Sea Bed’s being an ass. We can’t work if we can’t see. We can’t work: stuff gets ruined. But you’re good for it, yeah?” Flotsam nodded. “Yeah, sure. No problem.” Light wasn’t difficult – most unicorns could make a bright candle of their horn. It was one of the more or less universal uses of magic, that and basic, small object levitation. Moon Tide shivered as she stretched. The crackles along her spine were audible to Flotsam from his perch, as were the moans of obvious relief and pleasure Moon Tide took from it. “You know what Sea Bed said? She said, ‘the lighting’s fine’. That it was ‘hardly dark at all’. It’s practically pitch-black down here! I swear to Siren she goes around dimming the lights on purpose. The only time I can see the hoof in front of my face is when I’m getting rained on, and that’s because there’s a stupid hole in the deck, and it’s going to be night for real in a minute and we are not going to finish before that, not at all. Least another hour,” she huffed. “Feckless griffons.” Flotsam cast his spell – it was hardly a spell at all – and the tip of his horn turned the blue-white of a star. He walked out onto the boards, went on his knees and shone the light down, casting the area beneath him in sharper relief of light and shadow. “How’s that?” “A lot better. You should get down here… stand in the hall or something.” “How about I just light it all up?” “What? You can do that? That’s a thing?” “What?” “What?” The two ponies eyed one another with some confusion. The impasse was, eventually, passed. Flotsam closed his eyes and focused. Lighting up one’s horn was the default nature of the light spell, but he felt it was obvious that one could coax the spell further. He hardly wanted to be everypony’s chandelier for an hour or more at any rate. Flotsam focused, saw how he envisioned the light – the hue, the brightness, the flowing magic – wrapped it all in on itself like a present, gave it a little charge all its own and, prodding a jutting piece of damaged decking with his horn, tethered the light there. “That’ll be good for a while,” he said. Moon Tide blinked and muttered. “What?” “I said, ‘I never saw it done that way before’.” Flotsam frowned and his brows pinched. “Really?” He stood and, though wobbling on the less-than-certain boards, felt better than he had hunched down. He tried to think of an example of it being done this way before, but couldn’t. He still got bothered about that, but not surprised. “I don’t think it’s hard to do,” he said. He had the urge to explain why this was so, though; he wouldn’t have been able to explain it even to himself. It was something to intuit. Moon Tide scratched the back of her neck and yawned. “Suppose it wouldn’t be hard, not for a mister super-corn like yourself. This’ll make moving the rest of these crates much easier. Shame it’s only here.” The mare wrapped her hooves around her crate and grunted as she hoisted it once more to her back. She jostled and wriggled in place until she had it balanced to her satisfaction. “There it goes.” It didn’t have to be just here. Flotsam considered it and something in his head echoed back, sure, why not? “Hold on a second,” he urged. He focused again, his horn lit up – he held the same light again in his awareness, light and hue and the other qualities that weren’t perceived with mundane senses. He held his little mage light in his magic and deftly plucked a part of it away, gaining something without diminishing what he’d taken it from. A procession of little faerie lights budded from the first; he gave each their own little charge and calling to mind what he remembered of the layout here, set them drifting towards the various places where they could perch. Flotsam’s awareness returned to the usual spot – the spot behind his eyes – and he saw Moon Tide’s extended hoof trailing with reverential caution after the last little blue-white glow as it drifted past her. “Oh my. Flotsam, that’s-” But Flotsam wasn’t listening. He’d turned, considered the mast receding into darker and darker gray; a pony could hardly see from one end of the Mother to the other, nor from deck to crows’ nest. He considered what he saw and the same ‘why not?’ echo bounced in his skull again. He worked his spell faster; he was familiar with it now and had mastered the new basics. He understood what it felt like to split the lights, to shape them, charge them and direct them. He made the fey lights appear wherever he wanted, they bloomed from nothing into blue-white something over the course of a few seconds, like a candle wick catching its first flame. Flotsam heard ponies call out in surprise and wonder. He worked around them where he was able – he didn’t want to startle or distract them – and after perhaps a minute had gone by the lights were roosting like a swarm of moths on the mast, the rigging, around the deck cabins and there was even a larger, scintillating star. That one was not directly attached to the Mother anywhere, instead he’d simply affixed to the air itself, to a point in the air above the many-spoked wheel of the ship. It was a nice touch. Flotsam wobbled on his hooves. He was the teensiest bit breathless for his effort and chuckled under what breath he did have. The boards took his wobbles and amplified them, like double bouncing on a trampoline. “Flotsam?” He shook and danced to steady himself until he was proudly upright. “I’m alright.” It was funny. He liked the lights he’d given the ship. He hoped the others would. They would. They’d be useful. “I’m alright." Work was pausing all around as ponies were coming up on the deck to see them. It was cloudy tonight, so… why not have stars? Cadence loved stars. Their balcony had such a beautiful view, one of the empire’s very heart, and what felt like all the skies of the world above them. The stars were so much brighter, that far north. And now there was a guiding star here, glittering over the great spinny wheel. Shining, not glittering. That was his name, after all. Shining Armour strolled onto solid decking. He gazed into the bright glow of his creation. It made him smile, but it also made him sad. He knew Cadence would have liked it. The half-familiar ponies were swarming around him now. They were talking. At him, he knew, and he meant to be polite but he couldn’t really hear them. He decided he liked them, they seemed like good ponies in their way, but… Cadence. Mi Amore Cadenze. He missed her. He missed her. He missed her so much. He missed her so much that his heart was a chasm. Shining Armour was sitting. He was sinking. Rough, insistent hooves dragged him up. Sit over there? Sure, yeah, why not. The words the strangers spoke at him from many sides, they had an insistent tone. Urgent. The words washed over him and the rain flowed over him, but it meant very little. The water on Shining Armour’s skin felt far away as the horizon. Everything else was even farther. Somepony grabbed his chin and forced his head front and forwards. Did this one mean to kiss him? He was flattered, but simply not interested. Cadence was his everything. He didn’t recognize the face. He barely recognized that there was a face, very near his. Everything about it, the shape and colour, expression and texture, eluded him. Everything was blurring: there were lights and darks and dizzying shades flitting about between them. He found he could not support the weight of his head and was pathetically grateful when somepony else helped him with that. The touch was a comfort, even as it more acutely reminded him of his loss. Cadence… Cadence… Purpose crystallized within him. With it came strength, of a sort. He stared the nearest pony in the eye, smiled desperately and said levelly, “I have to go.” Lights were flashing inside his eyes. The crew mares were all around him. Shining Armour made to stand but they resisted his effort. He tried to stand and when they wouldn’t let him move he realized it was entirely in his power to simply remove them. With his magic he gently, firmly pushed them all back a step. The lights flashed painfully bright, but the pain made him alert and helped him think. It was so obvious now, ha! A raft! He had actually built a raft! The him that wasn’t himself. The memory dissolved even as he held it in his thoughts, like it were suspended in acid. How admirable! How desperate! What had been desperate? He couldn’t remember. The lights hurt his eyes, but closing them did nothing; it was coming from under his eyelids. Shining Armour knew what he had to do. He threw his front hooves over the gunwale. The voices were loud, very loud, cheering him on, cheering him on for his quest home. Oh, he’d be home soon! He’d lain on fire, hadn’t he? What fire? Why was he thinking about fire? The answer was so much easier than he thought. He lovingly envied his sister her teleports right now – that particular spell was outside his skill set – but it was exactly as they said: everywhere was walking distance if you had the time! He’d lain on fire, now he’d walk on water. It’d taken him long enough to figure this out! Ha! He’d have so much explaining and apologizing to do when he got back! Ha! Ha ha! He wasn’t the smartest pony – he had no delusions there – but he could plod along… literally! Ha! HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA! Shining Armour tried to leap off the ship only to have his back leg wrenched in its socket. A very large pony was holding him. He wasn’t upset, but he wasn’t going to accept this behaviour and with no more effort than it would take to move a pet cat he lifted the giant pony into the air and set her down with the others. The lights flashed inside his eyes like magnesium fire. He shut his left tightly – it was hot and stung sharply – and he was forced to squint through his right. That didn’t upset him. A pony didn’t need to see very much to be able to walk. Shining Armour thanked all the ponies and happily flung himself overboard. He tumbled in the air and hit the water. More aptly, the water hit him. It hit him hard. Bubbles pounded past his head and water choked him, but neither could bring down his elation. He was going home! After the lies, after the betrayals, after the despair… he was going home! Shining Armour was going home to his beautiful princess. He struggled to get his footing and then, his head throbbing with a pain that did nothing to curb his enthusiastic effort, he got it. Uncertainly at first, then with growing confidence, Shining Armour climbed up from the water and stood on top of it. The ocean directly beneath him was perfectly flat – the waves went around him, or simply ceased existing, the falling rain arced sharply around him – and where his hooves touched water they glowed and crackled as if electricity coursed through them. Something was cinched very tightly around Shining Armour’s throat. “Flottham, pleathe!” A filly was weeping, spluttering and coughing, and she was clinging to him. Her ship was moving away and already fading. Shining Armour went rigid; his certainty was split straight down the middle as if he’d laid his head on a guillotine sideways. He tried to think and every thought came as halves and doubles. I have / What am I / to get home! / doing?! I’m / Who am / Patches! / I why don’t / I’m not r / re / mem/ em / ber / er The filly he’d never met before in his life cried, “Flottham, pleathe! We have to go!” cried the most precious pony he’d ever met in his short, insane life. Contradictory memories burned across one another like lines of fire. Somewhere in the world, a cat existed and also did not exist, and it was inside his brain. FSlhoitnsianmg ssccrreeaammeedd. “Hold on tight!” he/he yelled. She had to go back. She couldn’t be out here, not like this. This was insanity! He/he ran, legs pumping, heart pumping, magical light flashing from eyes and hooves, trailing lightning across the ocean’s surface. Ahead, distant and dark lay the ship’s silhouette, disappearing into the rain. Bomf! A rear hoof plunged into the ocean, its magical light extinguished. He/he carried on in a three legged dash across the water, the fourth a dead weight that kicked and dragged uselessly. Bomf! His/his back end collapsed into the water, as it was always meant to have done. Gritting his/his teeth, putting all the weight he/he could on his/his front legs, he/he held them up high as he/he could out of the water. The power burned twice as bright. “We’re here!” the filly shouted frantically, “we’re here!” Bomf! The wild magic collapsed with a bang, punching Flotsam down into the ocean. The surge left him and took everything with it. He hadn’t the energy to close his eyelids now, not even that. The painful brightness in his eyes was gone too, at least. Patches, I’m sorry Flotsam thought as he floated gently downwards. Cadence, I’m sorry.