//------------------------------//
// Chapter Sixteen - Tavern Trouble 
// Story: Ice Fall 
// by Bluespectre 
//------------------------------//

 


CHAPTER SIXTEEN


 


TAVERN TROUBLE

 
“I keep telling you, you have to put more emphasis on the ‘r’. Here, look,” Chalk waved his hoof enthusiastically and took a breath, “Aaarrrgghh” He slammed his beer mug down on the table, “See?”
 
Sat across from him, the black stallion with a deep blue mane rolled his eyes,
 
“What a load of bollocks!” Bracken took another pull on his beer, “Everypony, EVERYPONY, knows that…” he let out a gut wrenching burp, “…pirates don’t really talk like they do in the books, they’re just like you and me.”
 
“I’ve heard them! I’ve bloody heard them!” Chalk nodded furiously, “They try to hide it, but it’s for show see…secretly, secretly mind, they all do it” He swallowed the last of his beer, “They want to do it you see, it’s in their nature. HOY WAITRESS, TWO MORE BEERS!” He banged his hoof on the table before leaning back towards Bracken, “They need to do it, dude, they need to.”
 
Bracken’s hoof slipped as he made a grab for his beer. For some strange reason it seemed to be moving around the table trying to get away from him,
 
“But…why? Do they like, explode or something? Like, if they go a few days without a good ‘Arrrgh’, their minds can’t take it and BOOM!” He finally managed to catch the elusive beer mug, “Just like that!” He slammed his hoof on the table making several mugs fall noisily onto the floor.
 
“Right you two, I’ve had enough of your bloody antics, OUT!”
 
A large burgundy coated stallion with several nasty looking scars across his muzzle glowered down at them. He didn’t look happy.
 
“Oh, buck off will ya?” Chalk quipped, “We’re just having a laugh!”
 
“Yeah,” Bracken added, “go and get yourself a girl buddy and leave us alone. We’re not your type.”
 
Chalky burst out laughing, but the burgundy pony wasn’t in the mood for humour,
 
“You looking for a fight, friend?”
 
“What, you think you could take us?” Chalk chuckled drunkenly, “Look at you! You look like you fell face first into the cutlery drawer!”
 
The large stallion’s eyes narrowed, “You bucking little arse, you ain’t fit to lick my shoes! Unlike your prissy little hides, i’ve been in more than a hundred fights!”
 
“Don’t worry buddy,” Chalky smirked, “Nopony loses all the time…”
 
Whoever threw the first blow would probably never be known as the ensuing melee quickly spread to become a tavern wide free for all. Chairs, tables, bottles, beer mugs, in fact anything and everything that could be picked up and swung or thrown was rapidly pressed into service to pummel other customers. Chalk ducked as the huge burgundy stallion threw a punch that gave Bracken the opening he needed to crown the big fellow with the bench he’d been sitting on. The stallion collapsed in a heap, rapidly disappearing beneath the tide of battle that had turned the tavern into a war zone. Bracken grabbed Chalk urgently,
 
“Let’s get the buck out of here!”
 
The unicorn didn’t need any encouragement, “Right behind you, just…look out!”
 
A griffin flew across the remnants of their table and crashed into the wall sending a shower of broken glass fragments raining down around them.
 
“This isn’t good! Come on!” Bracken charged for the door, dodging and weaving as he went, Chalk hot on his heels. They were nearly there! A few more inches and…The door burst open with a loud crash and several hulking armoured thugs pushed inside, quickly taking stock of the place. One of them hefted a huge cudgel large enough to crack a minotaur’s skull. Bracken, his chest heaving, ducked behind the open door and pressed himself against the wall, catching Chalk as he did so. The huge pony with the cudgel smiled wickedly,
 
“Ready boys?”
 
The others behind her drew their respective weapons and with a bellow, charged in and immediately began laying about them with complete abandon. Few of the tavern’s patrons noticed the newcomers, busily engaged as they were already with battering each other senseless, but quickly, one by one, they were bludgeoned and thrown out the door where another of the armoured entourage was unceremoniously dumping the unconscious revellers into a large cart.
 
“Damn it! We have to find another way out!” Bracken shouted over the din.
 
Chalk nodded, his chest heaving, “I saw a door over there, it must lead out the back.”
 
“Right” Bracken nodded, “Let’s go!”
 
Pushing others out of the way, the two managed to leap and careen around the mass of drunken anger to the rear of the bar and, sure enough, there was the open door to what transpired to be the kitchen. Visible inside, several of the kitchen staff and serving maids were busy moving furniture up to barricade the door. Just in the nick of time, the two friends dived through, much to the shock of the ponies within. One of them, a huge aubergine earth pony mare with legs like tree trunks, swung an equally huge ladle at Chalk’s head that whistled inches only over his ears. He didn’t stop; moments later, after bidding the furious mares a rather sarcastic farewell, the two stallions were out into the relative freedom and cool air of the back street. Leaning against a mouldy stone wall and panting for breath, Chalk and Bracken grinned at each other like a pair of village idiots.

“Fancy another?” Chalk asked, clopping his friend on the shoulder.
 
Bracken shook his head, laughing with relief and the thrill of adrenalin while he gulped in air. He stared up at Chalk, a huge smile spreading across his face,
 
“Oh, hell yeah!”
 
The fight was still in full swing as they rounded the corner of the building and came face to face with a huge griffin holding a cudgel. She had a look about her that suggested that if you even thought about crossing her, you’d likely end up on her evening menu…or worse.
 
“Who are you?” She snapped in her avian voice, “I don’t recognise you two, you new in port?” The creature’s eyes bored into the friends like two white hot coals.
 
“Evening Miss”, Chalk smiled innocently, “We’ve only just come into port and were told we could find a nice quiet place to relax and have a drink, somewhere around here.” He motioned to the tavern beside them, “I don’t think we’ll be going in there though, it looks a little…’rough’ for us.”
 
“Oh, yes!” Bracken nodded sincerely, “We don’t want to get into any trouble!”
 
“Well, you seem a couple of sensible types”, the griffin said raising a feathered eyebrow. She waved them off down the road, “Get yourselves along now and keep out of trouble.”
 
“Thank you Miss, you’re very kind” Chalk bowed and swept one of his forelegs around with a flourish.
 
The female griffin shook her head before returning to her task of helping return some semblance of order back to the tavern, despite the ever increasing number of keen onlookers. Chalk and Bracken quickly and quietly melted away into the crowded main thoroughfare, nudging each other and chuckling about their narrow escape. Unfortunately however, Spurs Anvil quickly turned out to be a mind boggling maze of twisting, winding, alleys and cut-throughs. Unsure of the layout of the old port, they kept to what probably was, under all the years of compacted muck, the main road until they were well clear of the chaos they’d left behind in their wake.
 
Passing the rotting remains of a timber warehouse, the two continued walking, taking in the novel sights and dubious smells all around them. This part of Spurs Anvil was quieter, a lot quieter in fact, the back alleys and streets just as decayed and filth ridden as the rest, but with a more tangible feeling of being ‘empty’ somehow. Bracken glanced around himself, his hackles going up,
 
“Chalky…”
 
“Hmm?” The white unicorn replied absently.
 
“I don’t like it here. You want to go back?”
 
 “I…” Chalk never had a chance to finish his sentence as the cloaked pony rushing around the corner slammed bodily into him. His hooves slipped awkwardly on the slimy cobbles as he caught himself from falling. “Bloody hell!” Chalk gasped, winded “watch it will you!” Giving himself a quick shake, he looked up and caught a fleeting glimpse of a green leg and blue tail poking out from under the cloak. Whoever it was though was fast, rapidly gathering their wits and galloping off at full speed back towards the centre of the port.
 
“You okay?” Bracken asked worriedly. He reached out and clopped Chalk on the shoulder to comfort him.
 
The white unicorn scrubbed his mane,
 
“Yeah, I guess so. Did you see that? She just came out of nowhere!”
 
“I’ll tell you what I do see…” Bracken held up a hoof, a wide toothy grin spreading across his face, “Behold!”
 
The creaking sign hanging outside boldly proclaimed ‘The Fighting Cocks’, along with a blistered painting of a rather badly rendered cockerel. How the sign had managed to stay attached to the building was a miracle in itself, let alone how it still remained legible. It was the dirtiest, filthiest looking dive Chalk Dust had ever seen. Taking in the cracked plaster, decaying brickwork and rotten window frames, this place looked like it had been a cesspit when the rest of the port was still in its heyday. The door was partially open and music rolled out from inside, a lively shanty played on melodeon and fiddle that called out to the white unicorn, reminding him of the evening on board ship with the rest of the crew; well, as much as he could still remember anyway. The rest of that evening had been a peculiar blur of buckets and minty aftertaste. Before he knew it, Bracken was already disappearing inside and heading for what passed as a bar. For himself, Chalk was ready for another one…or three, regardless of the squalid setting.
 
A heavy set bar mare in a stained red and, what was probably once white, dress, narrowed her eyes at them,
 
“Yeah?”
 
“Two mugs of your finest ale, my good lady” Bracken smiled expansively.
 
“Four bits”
 
Bracken slammed the bits on the bar top and they disappeared in the blink of an eye into the mare’s apron. Without another word she trotted off to a large barrel at the end of the bar where a large chalkboard hung down covered in surprisingly colourful writing despite the hot and dingy atmosphere. The sign somewhat enthusiastically announced:
 
‘We’ve got Millers Pigs Ear! Only 2 Bits a pint! Ask about our range of pies!’
 
Bracken was feeling a little peckish, as he always did when he’d been drinking and a pie would just hit the spot. The bar mare slammed the mugs on the bar top. Taking his mug, Bracken caught the mare’s attention with the wave of a hoof,
 
“Miss?”
 
“Yeah?” she replied raising an eyebrow.
 
Bracken indicated the sign, “I’d like to ask about your range of pies.”
 
“Well,” She replied scratching her muzzle, “You can ask.”
 
“Okay…”
 
She picked up a cloth and began wiping a beer mug out, “We haven’t got any.”
 
“Oh.” The black stallion said, caught off guard, “Er, anything to eat? Any snacks?”
 
“We got salt lick,” She said pointing to a glass jar behind her, “one per customer.”
 
“Two please” Bracken placed the bits on the bar where, once again, they vanished like magic. How did she do that?! He hadn’t even seen her hooves move!
 
The salt licks duly arrived and the two friends walked over to a spare table near the fireplace. It was quite pleasant in the old tavern really. The music was more ‘enthusiastic’ than actually any good of course, but the patrons didn’t seem to care. They were a collection of old codgers, for the most part at any rate, and didn’t pay much attention to the two newcomers; except for one crusty looking old peach coloured stallion with a wooden leg, an eye patch and a large black hat. He was leaning so close to the fire, his fur was in very real danger of catching light, especially with the fumes the old fellow was giving off. Apparently personal hygiene wasn’t particularly high on the list of priorities here. The old stallion eyed them both with his pale blue eye, his matted grey mane hanging in plaits down his neck. He grinned. To Brackens horror, Chalk was staring at the fellow open mouthed.
 
“You aint from ‘ere, are yer boys?” The old stallion asked, his voice sounding like he’d had more than a few beers already.
 
Chalk shook his head, “No sir, we’re new in port.”
 
“Thought so, thought so…” The old stallion nodded to himself knowingly, “Which ship ye be from?”
 
Strangely eager to speak to him, Chalk was an open book,
 
“The King Sombra’s Revenge, sir”
 
“Ah, Captain Gretel’s sky galleon, eh?” The old timer grinned, “Ye be a strange one to ‘ave aboard though, boy. You bein’ a unicorn an’ all.”
 
Bracken looked around, but nopony seemed to be paying them any attention. Thank the goddesses! Chalks mouth could get them into trouble if he didn’t watch what he was saying, and here in port, keeping your own council was probably a good idea. That said, this chap seemed fairly harmless; once you got past the painfully cliché way he spoke. He couldn’t help but roll his eyes, Chalky was virtually lapping it up.
 
“I understand magic’s banned on board, sir.” Chalk explained, “But the Captain’s told me I can become a full member of the crew if I promise never to use magic.”
 
“Aye, that be very trusting of ‘er my fine young fella. But I tells ye, it be a dangerous thing to ‘ave magic aboard a vessel, especially one like the Revenge.”
 
Chalks eyes were wide with fascination, “Why’s that?”
 
“I can tell ye, boy, but me throats a little parched. It’s me age, y’see, too many years in the salt air dries out a ponies lungs somethin’ fierce.”
 
The white stallion banged his hoof urgently on the bar top, “One more for our friend here!”
 
Rolling her eyes, the bar mare trotted over with a beer which the old stallion took happily,
 
“Thank ye, young fella. Ye be a good’un. Now, get yerself comfy like and I’ll tell ye a story about my old ship.” He took a swig of his ale, “She was a fine old girl too, the most beautiful sky galleon the Empire ‘ad ever built. Older than the Revenge she was, older even than the Wind Wraith. Aye, she was the last of ‘er kind and a real lady of the skies.” He smiled, “Let old Weevil ‘ere tell ye the story of the Raven’s Eye.”
 
Bracken hung his head. This looked like it was going to be a loooong night…
 

**************************

 
The fire had begun to burn low and their makeshift storyteller, ‘Weevil’ apparently, was final wrapping up his story. It was just as well too, as the old stallion had sunk well over six beers and the two friends themselves were beginning to feel the effects of unrestricted drinking ashore. Bracken was eking out the last dregs of his beer while Chalky was still busily engaged pumping the old stallion for information,
 
“So, using magic interferes with the ship’s natural magic and can make it fall out of the sky?” He asked scratching his mane, “That can really happen?”
 
“Aye, lad”, Weevil took a pull on his ale, “It’s the old magic, y’see, nopony alive knows ‘ow to build these beauties of the sky any more. When the Empire vanished, ‘poof!’ that was it! All the shipyards, all the magic…all gone. And the loss of the Raven’s Eye was a loss that could never be recovered. Truly, a terrible, terrible day.” He stretched, “Now, you boys will ‘ave to excuse an old stallion, I’m going to ‘ave to call it a ni…”
 
Chalk leaned in, “-but, you survived, didn’t you? You were a member of her crew?”
 
“I…yes, I said I was young master Chalk, but fate was kind to old Weevil, that was all. Now then, I really must be…”
 
“-But how did you survive the crash?” Chalk pressed, “Did you swim to shore? Maybe cast away on a deserted island?”
 
Weevil backed away, suddenly lost for words,
 
“Um…”
 
“He was down with a dose of crabs!” Somepony shouted over, “The old fart had been up to his naffs in mares at Madam Pickles’ place. When the Raven left port for the last time, he was in the surgeon’s office having his…”
 
“-Shut up, Barker!” The bar mare shouted over.
 
“It’s only the truth!” Another patron called back, “He’s a bloody fraud! I don’t know why you let the cadging old fart in here.”
 
Perplexed Chalk looked at Bracken who just shook his head and rolled his eyes. Had he been taken for a fool by the old sailor? Right! He’d find out for sure one way or another! He turned to…
 
“Bugger me! He’s gone!”
 
Chalk jumped down off his chair and looked about the bar, but of the old peach stallion, there was no sign. The bar mare trotted over and leaned on bar beside them,
 
“Yup, he’s good at that. Always did have the knack for disappearing” She shrugged, “Usually when it was time to pay up, too.”
 
Chalk let out a groan and face hoofed,
 
“So all that was nothing more than a tall tale to get us to buy him drinks? For Celestia’s sake!”
 
Bracken drained the last of his beer, “Tried to tell you. All that bloody ‘Arrrgh’ stuff! Goddess almighty, you really fell for that one.”
 
“Oh sod off!” Chalk snapped, “You sat there and said bugger all!”
 
“But you were having so much fun listening to him, I didn’t want to spoil your evening.” Bracken chuckled.
 
“I see, so you were doing me a favour were you?”
 
Bracken just shook his head and smiled,
 
“Pretty much!”
 
Chalk groaned, “I still can’t believe it was all a load of bollocks. Seriously Brack, I…”
 
“-Oh, it wasn’t all sea mist and sirens, lads.” A cream coated mare with a red and green mane trotted up beside them, “Old Weevil’s story was true alright. He just left out the bit about him skipping out on her last voyage.” She gave them a wink, “Happens when you catch a dose at Madam Pickles’. Good luck says I.”
 
“Hang on…” Chalk said rubbing his chin in thought, “So, if Weevil wasn’t on the Raven’s Eye, what really happened to her?”
 
The mare gave him a wry smile, “Get me a brandy and I’ll tell you, sweet flanks.”
 
“Oh, no!” Bracken started, “Not this again!”
 
“Oh, shut up” the mare snapped, “I’m not like Weevil. I’ll tell you what I know and you can work the rest out for yourselves. It’s all ancient history anyway. Still…” She winked at Chalk, “Well worth a brandy…or…”
 
“Please Miss, I’d like to know.” He replied excitedly.
 
The mare clucked her tongue, “Fine! Right then, well, what Weevil told you was true, right? Only when the Raven’s Eye set sail for the Llamalian Empire, she was never seen again, at least, not in one piece.”
 
Bracken furrowed his brow, “Llamalian Empire?”
 
The mare nodded, “Aye, good place for woollen goods. Anyway, as I was saying,” she took a mouthful of her brandy, “The ship was never seen again. Pieces of her hull and the bloated bodies of dead sailors washed ashore for a weeks afterwards and that’s how we know she went down.”
 
Chalk furrowed his brow, “So, where does this unicorn thing come from then?”
 
“The what?” she said.
 
“You know,” Chalk waved a hoof in explanation, “unicorns on board ship is bad luck, and all that mumbo jumbo.” The mare looked perplexed but Chalk ploughed on, “If nopony survived, how can anypony know for sure that it was magic that made her crash? How do we know it wasn’t something else?”
 
Shaking her vividly coloured mane, the mare shrugged, “All I can tell you is that there was one unicorn on board, one who was very powerful in the darker arts. He had quite the reputation too, but not in a good way I hear, went by the name of Fire Light.”
 
“What happened to him?” Chalk asked.
 
The mare shook her head irritably, “What part of ‘nopony survived’ was confusing for you?”
 
“But you can’t know for sure, can you?” Chalk replied, “Unless somepony counted the bodies, somepony could, feasibly have survived.”
 
“Look” the cream mare said finishing off her brandy, “It doesn’t really matter, none of it does, its history, gone and forgotten.” She slipped off the bar stool and moved in closer to him, her indigo eyes sparkling in the firelight, “You know, if you’re looking for a room tonight…”
 
“Oh, goddesses!” Chalk barked, “It’s nearly nine!” He suddenly grabbed Bracken by the collar and pulled him towards the door, “Come on, we have to move!”
 
The white unicorn was already out of the door, leaving Bracken to bob an apologetic nod to the mare, but she’d already headed off to chat with another of the ponies in the bar. Bloody typical! They always went for Chalky didn’t they? Nopony ever showed him any…the sudden memory of a pair of deep azure eyes gazing into his flashed through his mind, the scent of wild flowers and honey…
 
Chalk poked his muzzle back round the door and hissed, “Brack, come on!”
 
They began the long and rather wobbly walk back to the ship. After a while, Bracken began to look around in concern. The sun had long since set, plunging the port into almost complete darkness. Only a few sporadic lanterns lit the way and Chalky, his magic impaired through drink, wasn’t much use for providing light or…as it turned out, directions.
 
“Damn it, Chalky, this isn’t the way we came.” Bracken muttered.
 
The white unicorn stopped and peered up the street, “Nah, we’re going in the right direction dude, we’ll be back before…”
 
Bracken shoved him with a hoof, his voice dropping to a near whisper, “Don’t say anything and don’t look round. We’re being followed.” He began walking again, motioning Chalk to follow closely, “Three, maybe four of them.”
 
“Armed?”
 
“I think it’s safe to assume they are.” Bracken whispered, “You have anything on you?”
 
Chalk shook his head, “No, only magic, and with the amount I’ve had to drink, you can forget that.”
 
“Buck it all…” Bracken gritted his teeth in frustration, “Ready for a run?”
 
“No…” Chalk sighed then took a steadying breath, “Alright then. Brack, when we get around the next corner, yes?”
 
Bracken nodded his assent. 
 
The long road began to bend revealing a turning off to the left which was deep in shadow but with just enough moonlight to show it wasn’t a dead end, at least, as far they could tell. Bracken nodded to his friend and the two ducked into the alley and hid behind a pile of rubbish. It was a risky manoeuvre; if these characters found them, they’d have little choice but to run or fight. First of all though, he had to make sure he wasn’t mistaken. These could simply be drunken revellers trying to find their way back to their beds.  
 
Time dragged by, only seconds in all probability, but in the chill evening air it felt a lot longer. Even Bracken’s heartbeat seemed abnormally loud in the silence as he waited, watched and listed. But of the shadowy figures, there was no sign, and he was beginning to wonder whether he’d made a mistake, until…
 
“Damn it, where’d they go?”
 
A dark figure in a long cloak appeared silhouetted in the moonlight at the end of the alley, barely a few yards from them. His voice was strange, with a high pitched quality: a griffin?
 
“How the hell am I supposed to know?” another figure hissed, “Keep your voice down and keep looking!”
 
The two figures hurried off up the street, another two hot on their heels until one, the last one, suddenly stopped and turned. Bracken didn’t dare to move but he knew, he could feel it…the bloody creature was staring right at them.
 
“Chalky, lets move!”
 
His unicorn friend didn’t need telling twice. The two of them broke cover and took off at high speed. By the sounds of it, their pursuers were following not far behind. Corner after corner flew past in a blur, the mud and filth strewn ground helped muffle their hoofsteps, but in the unfamiliar surroundings of the port they were at a huge disadvantage against anypony who knew its layout well. Running as fast as they dared, fear drove them to take risks they normally wouldn’t.
 
“Down here!” Bracken shouted to Chalk and the two ducked down another side street as a crossbow bolt pinged off a cast iron gutter pipe beside them. In the distance they could hear angry shouting, but now was not the time to concentrate on anything other than putting as much distance between them and…whoever they were. His ears flat, Bracken took the last corner and slipped, his hind hooves hitting something soft and slimy, sending his crashing full tilt into an old barrel. If the archaic timbers hadn’t been so rotted, it was likely he would have smashed his ribs. Instead, the black coated stallion disappeared in a fountain of foul smelling water and wooden shards.
 
Chalk slammed to a halt, calling to his friend, “Brack! Are you okay?”
 
Bracken began to pull himself out and winced at the pain lancing up his leg,
 
“Bollocks, no!” he hissed gritting his teeth, “I think I’ve pulled something. Look, Chalky, you get out of here. I’ll stay here and…”
 
A white hoof thumped off his head.
 
“Ow!”
 
Chalk grabbed the black earth pony’s muzzle, “The next one’s going right in your balls if you don’t get up!”
 
The voices were coming closer but Bracken could only hobble, despite leaning on his friend for support. Damn it! Now neither of them would be able to get away and Bracken knew it. Chalky should have left him and made a run for it. He could have at least slowed them up to give him a chance to get away. They were probably just muggers after money anyway. If he gave them what he had, he’d most likely get away with just a thump round the head. Bracken shook his mane angrily. The shouts of their pursuers were closing in, and they were still up this bloody alley in the pitch black! He closed his eyes and prayed.
 
“Hey Jade, you get sorted out with that big blue fella?”
 
A barrage of sound burst into the alley with the sudden ferocity of a bursting dam. Accompanying the deluge, a flood of light poured out of the open door silhouetting a heavily built mare with a thin pipe poking out of the corner of her mouth,
 
“Nah, e’s got the clap.” A voice called back to her from inside, “I telt Pickles I ain’t touchin’ ‘im.”
 
“Don’t blame ya, aint worth getting yerself a dose fer…” The large mare paused, her eyes swivelling round to fix on the two stallions standing not more than a few feet away, “’ere, what are you two doin’ out there?” She sniffed, “Phwoar! He stinks like crap too!”
 
“Please…” Chalk gasped trying to catch his breath, “We need help.”
 
“Pfff! Yeah right! Ah wouldn’t let yous in lookin’ like that,” she waved a hoof at the bedraggled looking Bracken, “an ‘e stinks an all.”
 
Another mare pushed through the door, “Frilly? What are you…” A sea green mare stared at the two males, her big yellow eyes narrowing as she peered through her spectacles, “Hmm…” She tapped a hoof against her chin in apparent thought, “Get them inside.”
 
“But, ma’am!”
 
“Do as you’re bloody told, girl!” the green mare snapped, “Now get them in, and take them upstairs for a bath. That black one stinks like a midden, and…” she nodded to herself, lost in thought, “Take him to my room…when he’s clean.”
 
“Yes, ma’am.”
 
The two males were unceremoniously hauled inside and the door slammed shut behind them with a heavy metallic clang.
 
The exertion of the evenings activities, not least because of the copious amounts of alcohol he’d imbibed, was all coming together to make Chalk feel like his head was going to roll right off his shoulders. The room he now found himself in stank of some kind of floral perfume. It wasn’t particularly unpleasant, not at all really, it was just…overpoweringly strong. A young mare fussed around him, wiping his coat down and brushing him while he stood there dumbfounded. So much for a bath! His saviour sat on a large cushioned chair beside the fireplace which was roaring away despite the mildness of the evening. She was middle aged mare, possibly even a little older, and she had the air of a female who was in complete control. Her sea green coat was lustrous and smooth, her deep yellow eyes shining brightly beneath a two tone pink mane. Following the curvaceous pony’s form was a beautifully tailored black and white dress which covered her from her neck to her tail. Chalk swallowed, he’d never seen a pony look so…elegant.
 
“You can speak, can’t you?” She purred, watching him like a cat watching a mouse.
 
Chalk took a deep breath, “Yes, miss.”
 
“Miss…” The green mare cocked an eyebrow, “Most call me ‘Ma’am’ or, if I allow it, ‘Pickles’.” She reached a hoof out to a wine carafe and nodded to him meaningfully.
 
Hurriedly, Chalk filled the glass and passed it to her. She lifted it with her hooves and took a sip. The white stallion’s eyes tracked her every move, from the way she lifted the glass, to the way she swallowed. By the goddesses, she was the most incredible mare he’d ever beheld…almost as incredible as…
 
“You must be the one who’s warming Gretel’s bed then, are you?” She asked nonchalantly.
 
Chalk nodded before he fully understood what she’d said.
 
“Hmm, I thought so.” Pickles gave a dainty sigh, “That one always had…’novel’ taste in males.” She adjusted her spectacles and looked him up and down, “Not my taste, but not bad. A little too, shall we say, ‘pretty’?” She gave a lilting laugh. Smiling, the mare nodded to the younger mares who curtsied and left the room, leaving just the two of them together.
 
“You appear to have a certain ‘naivety’, Mister Dust, if you forgive me for saying so.” The mare smiled at him disarmingly, “Did you know your shipmates went looking for you at the Full Moon earlier and found you’d ‘disappeared’? They caused quite a stir looking for you too, especially that Stock fellow. He has quite way about him that one. Yes…” She stared off for a moment, “quite a way.”
 
Chalk frowned, “Pardon me, Ma’am, but we really must be going. I have an appointment to keep and…”
 
“And nothing” Pickles said calmly, her voice at odds to the light in her eyes, “In this town, we trade, Mister Chalk. Everypony pays their dues, be it in bits or other methods, and I believe that you owe me for saving your hide, yes?”
 
“I…” He sighed, his ears flopping as he lowered his head, “Yes Ma’am.”
 
“Good.” Pickles clopped her hooves, “Now, Mister Dust, you most likely wont know much about Spurs Anvil, but I can tell you this: Information is commodity here, and knowledge can mean the difference between life and death…or worse. You’ve seen my girls? All of them work here for fair conditions and fair pay, I won’t have anypony taken advantage of in this establishment, but we still need to keep our heads above water.” She blinked her eyelids slowly, “And nothing, Mister Dust, is free.”
 
What the hell was she after? Information? Chalk’s mane itched, he didn’t like the way this was going and he had to…Oh goddesses, the time! He caught a glimpse of the clock on the wall…it was after nine already! He cleared his throat,
 
“Ma’am, please, I can pay for your kindness but I really must be on my way, the Captain is expecting me.”
 
She grinned knowingly, “Yes, I expect she is. First of all however, I need you to pay your debt.”
 
Chalk’s eyes narrowed, “Ma’am, no, I can’t…”
 
Pickles paused, a look of uncertainty crossing her features until she suddenly burst out laughing, her eyes sparkling in the firelight,
 
“Oh, my! You thought that I…? With you?” She held a hoof to her mouth, “Oh, Mister Chalk, you are a card!” Pickles shook her head in wonderment and took a mouthful of her wine, “No…no, Mister Chalk, what I want is information. A simple transaction is all I seek. You tell me what I want to know and I will consider your debt paid.”
 
“What about my friend?” Chalk said anxiously.
 
“Ah yes.” The mare tapped a hoof against her chin, “The black stallion with the intriguing eyes…most unusual.” Pickles nodded thoughtfully before turning back to Chalk, “I shall have him make payment also, however I consider everypony on his or her own merits you understand.”
 
“Not really” Chalk replied honestly.
 
“No…I don’t suppose you would.” The sea green mare sat back and hid a small yawn behind her hoof before settling herself back into the chair, “Now then…” she began, “Lets have a little chat, you and I.”
 

************************

 
 All too conscious of the time, every second felt like minutes, each minute an hour, an hour past when he was supposed to be meeting Gretel. Oh goddesses above, how long was this going to go on for?! He’d been warned about what to do when captured, about refusing to tell the enemy anything that may aid them and now, here he was spilling the beans on everything he knew to this fragrant, and rather beautiful, green mare. Chalk’s throat felt raw from all the talking and he motioned towards the wine carafe. Pickles nodded,
 
“Please do…” She rolled her shoulders, giving her hind legs a stretch, “Well now, I believe that will conclude our transaction.” The mare nodded towards the door, “Our other guest has arrived it seems.”
 
A fully groomed and spicily scented black stallion with a flowing blue mane and manicured hooves stood in the doorway. For a moment, Chalk wasn’t sure who this newcomer was until the stallion’s grey eyes fixed on his,
 
“Brack?! Bloody hell, what have they done to you?!”
 
Bracken stared at his hooves awkwardly, “I don’t want to talk about it…” he mumbled.
 
Pickles rose from her chair and walked across the deep pile carpet, taking in the slick form of the black stallion before her,
 
“Yes…” she murmured lifting his chin with her hoof, “Excellent…truly excellent.” The sea green mare trailed her hoof along Brackens neck and sides, round to his hind legs, tracing the muscles until she reached his cutie mark, “Most…intriguing” she said quietly, “Very…’earthy’.”
 
Pickle’s horn glowed and the door opened,
 
“I believe you had an appointment, Mister Dust?”
 
Chalk faltered, staring at Bracken and then back to the mare, “Miss Pickles, Ma’am, I can’t just leave my friend behind, those muggers…”
 
“-are probably long gone” Pickles lifted Brackens tail in her hooves, allowing the long strands of hair to run through them. She never looked up as she dismissed Chalk’s concerns, “You can leave your friend here. He will be in perfectly safe hooves, never fear.” She walked along Bracken’s side to his neck and inspected his scars, “A travesty to mar such perfection…” she murmured, “but not without its own charms.”
 
“Ma’am?” Chalk asked.
 
Madam Pickles clucked her tongue, turning to him, “Downstairs, you will find a big orange stallion by the front door called Fix. Tell him that he is to escort you back to the harbour where you can meet up with your precious Captain.” She all but pushed him out of the door, “Now…goodnight, Mister Dust!”
 
The door slammed shut with a loud bang, leaving the confused white unicorn standing in the middle of a corridor with no idea what to do next. Oh…that was right! He had to find this ‘Fix’ fellow, wasn’t it? He groaned and turned to walk away. Bracken would be alright, wouldn’t he? After all, what harm could that mare do? He paused a moment and shrugged; probably more than the poor fellow expected. And as for himself, was he…was he, jealous? Just because she was a snappy dresser, didn’t mean she was any better than the mare he…oh…Chalk gave his head a shake, not necessarily a good idea considering his current condition, but…what the hell had he been thinking? There was only one mare for him, and she was nearby, and no doubt waiting for him! He gave himself one last shake and headed downstairs looking for the orange stallion, ‘Fix’.
 
Fortunately, Fix was easy to spot. He was quite literally the ‘one stallion mountain’ in the establishment, his gargantuan form towering above everypony no doubt highly effective at putting off any misbehaviour before it started. The lobby area itself was a seething mass of pipe smoke, perfume and giggling mares draped over some very unlikely looking suitors; suitors ‘paying’ for the privilege no doubt. Chalk had never been in such a place in his life and had a sudden urge to leave this house of ill repute as quickly as equinely possible. Fortunately after a very short conversation, the monosyllabic grunts of ‘Fix’ indicated his basic understanding that the ‘white unicorn need to go to harbour’. Chalk quickly realised that Fix’s IQ level was somewhere near his shoe size.
 
Drawn along like a rowboat in the wake of a galleon, Chalk trotted behind the gargantuan figure of Fix out into the relatively clear night air. Of the cloaked ponies that had chased him and Bracken earlier however, there was no sign. Besides, if anypony was about looking for trouble tonight, taking on Fix with anything short of siege artillery was likely to end in a very quick, and very sticky, end. To Chalk’s surprise however, it transpired that Madam Pickles’ property wasn’t far from the harbour after all, and he mentally kicked himself for not realising it earlier. Still, at least they were safe, and Bracken was probably back there enjoying the company of a very attractive, if eccentric, mare; something he was looking forward to himself.
 
Trotting along the docks, Chalk turned to thank Fix, but the huge fellow was already heading off into the darkness, back to his mistress’s side. Fortunately the ship wasn’t hard to spot, and some thoughtful soul had gone around lighting the dockside lanterns which at least provided a level of lighting that was enough to stop you plummeting into the sea if nothing else. The King Sombra’s Revenge rocked gently at anchor, emanating a sense of smug self satisfaction when compared to the more mundane vessels that were berthed nearby. Chalk ran his hoof along the railing as he reached the top of the gangplank, nodding to the armed watchpony. He’d really have to get to know all of their names sooner or later. Still, they were all tied together somehow, all of them, perhaps even him. It was the ship, Chalk realised, she felt alive beneath his hooves, almost as if she were a living breathing creature. Her sails were her lungs, her captain her eyes, the wooden timbers her bones and skin. She was a part of the ponies aboard as much as they were of her…a family. He felt a shiver run through his body and all but leapt across the deck before reaching the Captain’s cabin door. He took a steadying breath and knocked.
 
“Come in”
 
Gretel was sat behind her table, poring over a map of the local area. A bottle of brandy and a sextant weighed down two of the corners, while a couple of ink wells secured the others. The red mare’s eyes were bloodshot and her mane bedraggled. This didn’t look at all like the Captain Chalk knew. He lifted a hoof in concern,
 
“Gretel? Are you…”
 
“-You’re late” She said commandingly, “I’d thought that you would have been a little more…’punctual’ this evening.”
 
A cold flood of worry ran down Chalk’s spine making his ears twitch. He hadn’t seen Gretel like this before, so, so…’Captainly’,
 
“I’m sorry, Gretel. Bracken and I got lost and then some characters tried to jump us and we…” he trailed off. Oh goddesses in their bloody heaven, she’d warned him hadn’t she? And he’d still ended up there, but…it couldn’t be helped, could it? How the hell was he supposed to know where he was?
 
“Yes?” Gretel peered up at him from under her brows as she leaned over the table, “What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?”
 
Chalk cleared his throat, “No…Gretel, look, Bracken and I, we…”
 
The red mare sighed out a breath and took off her glasses, placing them carefully on the map. Slowly, she walked around the table and came right up to him until they were muzzle to muzzle. She sniffed him slowly, closing her eyes,
 
“You smell of that place.” She said quietly, “You…you smell of…her.”
 
Chalk didn’t know what to say. ‘Her’? Did she mean Madam Pickles? But, she’d saved them! Right then, all he had to do was tell the truth and everything would be alright. Mum had always said that honest was the best policy. He took a calming breath,
 
“Madam Pickles…”
 
Black hooves suddenly grabbed him and propelled him up against the wall. Gretel’s eyes burned like maroon signal fires, her voice low and brimming with barely restrained fury,
 
“I know!” She hissed, “I know, I know, I KNOW!” Gretel hung her head, tears beginning to trickle down her cheeks, “I trusted you! I waited here for hours, Chalky, HOURS! Do you have any idea what was going through my mind, do you? I hear from the crew that you were in a fight at the Full Moon and that the watch had to be called, and then you go missing. Now you come back stinking like a whore’s boudoir!” She backed away from him, shaking her head, “You were with her, weren’t you? That…that whore, Pickles!”
 
Chalk stammered, desperately trying to rescue the situation, “Yes! I mean, no! I mean, oh goddesses, Gretel, Pickles…”
 
“DON’T! Don’t you DARE lie to me, Chalky! I can smell her on you, it’s in your mane and your fur. I could smell that bitch on you when you walked in the door!” She sank to her haunches, tears filling her eyes, “I trusted you! I…I only asked one thing of you, just that one thing, and you…with her…”
 
Chalk’s chest felt like it was being squeezed, “Gretel! Please, it’s not like that, let me explain, please, I…”
 
“-get out”
 
“…Brack and I were…” Chalk paused, “What?”
 
“I said get out.” Gretel sniffed loudly, her body shaking with anger and emotion, “Get out, get out, GET OUT!”
 
Chalk’s mouth hung open in shock. She wouldn’t listen to him! What could he do? What could he say? He…
 
Hooves grabbed him suddenly and he was dragged from the cabin backwards into the open air on the deck. The last Chalk saw of his beloved Gretel was the look of absolute betrayal that she shot him before the door to her cabin slammed shut with such force the deck gave a sympathetic shudder. He looked up in shock at the large frame of Stock towering over him, shaking his head,
 
“Give her time to calm down.” The brown stallion rumbled, “She’ll be alright when she’s had some time to think”
 
Chalk pushed away from him roughly, “But…but she wouldn’t listen! I haven’t done anything!” He shook his mane angrily and stomped around in a circle lashing his tail, “That…that damned mare, what the hell was all that about!”
 
Stock shook his head, “If you can work them out,” he reasoned in his gravelly tone, “then you’d make a fortune” He turned away, “Come on, we can have a drink in my cabin.”
 
“No!” Chalk shouted, “Damn it, no! If she thinks I’m a wastrel and a stallion who goes whoring, then to hell with her! To hell with this bloody ship, the war, and every bucking thing else in this filthy sticking world!” He pulled his cloak around himself and headed for the gangplank, “If she wants to accuse me of doing something I haven’t done, then I’ll bloody well go and do something to feel guilty about!”
 
Before Stock could say anything else, Chalk leaped from the gangplank onto the dockside and charged off into the night.
 

*****************************

 
Chalk leaned against one of the large iron dockside bollards. The cold metal felt cool and soothing against his hide. He closed his eyes and wiped away a tear. That stupid mare! Why was she like that? Blasted, bloody, stupid…he sighed. What was the point? He loved her, but she didn’t trust him, she didn’t want to listen to him…why? He scratched his head in confusion. Were all mares like this? Celestia’s hairy arse, no wonder the world was so messed up…
 
Without warning a deafening noise like a gong sounding exploded in the back of Chalk’s skull, the damp dockside cobbles suddenly rammed into his muzzle. The world span around him horribly, making his stomach churn. Chalk couldn’t move. His eyesight, already poor in the darkness, refused to focus and his limbs felt like jelly beneath him. Voices, indistinct but close by, spoke in hushed tones,
 
“You bloody arse hole, you weren’t supposed to kill him!”
 
The second voice, heavy and dull sounding, replied with glacial slowness, “He ain’t dead, see. He’s breathin’”
 
“Only just…” the first complained, “Right then…hang on…” There was the faint sound of paper rustling. “Hell fire, it isn’t him!”
 
“He was wiv the other one though” the second one argued, “we chased ‘em”
 
“’You chased ‘em’” the first one mocked. His voice lowered, “You got the wrong one you cretin! The boss wants the black one! Goddess damn it all, what the hell are we going to do now?”
 
There was a long pause, then the second one spoke again,
 
“Wadda we do wiv this one?”
 
“Kill him” The first pony said, “He’s no use to us.”
 
Chalk felt the presence of a pony closing in on him, the stallion’s breath close to his ear. He could imagine the knife already, the feel of it against his throat as it began to bite in…
 
A third stallion’s voice called out from not far away, the tone full of urgency
“Regent! We’ve found him, shift your flank!”
 
The first pony’s voice sounded frantic, “Right! Come on!” Hooves rumbled away a few paces, then the voice came back again, “Maus, never mind that now, he’s half dead anyway. For the goddess’s sake just leave him for the watch will you, we’ve got to move! Come on!” 
 
The clatter of hooves on cobbles died away into the distance, replaced with the empty chill of the lonely dockside. Chalk’s head screamed in pain, his body wracked with the shock of the damage that creature had done to him. Desperately, he tried to regain his senses, fighting against the dark walls that threatened to take him under. Those…those scum, those rats, they weren’t after him, they were after Brack…but why? He hissed in pain as he dragged a hoof under himself - it didn’t matter, did it? Bracken was his friend and he needed help. He was with that…that bloody creature who Gretel had some sort of…
 
Pain battered its way mercilessly through his head, making him throw up his guts onto the hard cobbles. Chalk’s stomach heaved, the gut wrenching muscle spasms making him break out in a sweat and begin to shake. Goddesses it was so cold! Every part of him screamed to just let go, to rest and simply sleep, but he knew, he knew that if he stayed here, he would never see his friend again. Trying his best to take a deep breath of the night air, the unicorn gritted his teeth and pushed. Immediately a wracking cough took him, threatening to send him to the ground, but he pushed on. Chalk’s muscles screamed and shook, weakness attempting to drown his will to move on, but still he tried. Deep down inside, beyond the magic, beyond his heart, there was a connection he held on to, one he had known since foalhood. It was something so special, so precious, that nothing else mattered right then…nothing other than helping his friend. Chalk let out a grunt and finally, with one last effort, pushed himself to his hooves. Standing upright, his body seemed to start re-asserting itself, sending signals like white hot alarm bells through his head. All of that would have to wait for later though, after he’d found Bracken.