//------------------------------// // Majestic like an Effing Unicorn // Story: Principal Celestia Hunts the Undead // by Rune Soldier Dan //------------------------------// There hadn’t been time for a plan. Celestia blamed herself – she’d known for weeks the horse-eater spiders were planning something. But by the time the pieces fell into place, there was barely time to intervene. “Why do they call them ‘horse-eaters?’” the nervous Sunset had asked. Celestia’s blackened lips turned a smile. No sooner had the question been asked than one crashed into their midst, giving a decisive answer. Sunset had hung in, though. She fought back grimly, toughly, and even jumped on one’s back with a switchblade knife. Wading in with them all the way to the unhallowed ground, where the virgin sacrifices had been cocooned. The spiders sought to resurrect their twelve-breasted fertility goddess to create a million young – numbers huge enough to overrun the city. The hunters, of course, were there to stop them. A goal that had been coming well enough along until one spider got a good bite on Celestia’s shoulder and hurled her from the battle. She supposed she was lucky to not have been splattered on a tree. Such had been the only bit of luck to come her way. A tree didn’t find her, but a ridgeline did, sending her tumbling down across rocks, roots, and brambles before coming to a stop. The wound tore open even wider, but her arm felt icy and numb. A dazed glance showed that it wasn’t even bleeding. Instead, thick black veins bulged out from it, forcing the spider’s poison down into her chest. She could feel it – freezing her, slowing her. Horse-eaters had a paralytic venom in their fangs. She would live… if not for the outside factors. Even if the rest of them beat the spiders, there was plenty else in the Everfree Forest that would be happy to make a meal out of her. As if timed to the thought, bushes rustled just out of sight. Something was definitely near, and was definitely creeping closer. Celestia managed to sit up and reach for her fallen gun. But no matter how much she willed it, the numb fingers refused to obey. They were white, almost blue at their tips, and would not even twitch at her command. The left arm worked better. She lunged it towards the weapon, smiling breathlessly as her forefinger closed around the trigger. A familiar, foreign voice preceded its owner. “The hunter, parted from her band, Perhaps she needs a helping hand?” Celestia breathed out, savoring even the temporary relief the announcement brought. Whatever else happened this day, at least she wouldn’t be eaten in the next five minutes. Probably. With the Woman of the Woods, it was hard to say. She stepped into view, an anachronism to Celestia’s modern senses. Barefoot and bald, clad in zebra hide with gold hoops wrapped around her ankles, wrists, and neck. Brown-skinned fingers held a staff made from a strange purple wood, and sea-green eyes beheld Celestia as they always did – with the judging intensity of an accuser on the stand. “Zecora!” Celestia meant to say the name evenly, but it came out fearful and quick. “Help me up. People are in trouble!” She met the shaman’s gaze, hoping without cause that Zecora would prove willing. The Everfree-dwelling woman was neither a friend nor ally of the hunters, instead playing her own angle to her own ends. At best, she would offer cryptic hints about whatever monster they tracked – hints that would have saved a lot of blood, sweat, and tears had they been packaged without the puzzle. More often than not she would merely observe their life-or-death struggles among her trees, irking the other faculty members to no end. Celestia was the only one of them who remained kindly to Zecora, and even that was more habitual politeness than any warmth of feeling. “Help you need – that, I surmise. But you alone must stand and rise.” Even ingrained politeness had its limits. Celestia brushed hers, biting back her angered retort for a more desperate plea. “Zecora, please just give me a hand. I won’t ask you to interfere in our fight, but I want your help getting up.” The woman came to stand just out of Celestia’s reach, her gaze inscrutable. “‘A hand,’ you ask, from me to you. But in your state, what can you do?” “I can still fight,” Celestia said. She numbly began to lift the gun from the ground, but paused as the wooden staff settled on the barrel. The woman’s masculine, but melodic voice gave a soft laugh. “Think, my friend, you surely know: Return will only aid your foe. A stumbling, poisoned, virgin mother Can’t guard herself – let alone others!” “Well I can’t just wait,” Celestia snapped, her patience at an end. “I have to do something!” Then, as an afterthought: “And I am not Sunset’s mother!” “More than ‘a hand,’ you need some aid. Your blood and flesh to be remade. This can be done, by a friend of mine For a favor to be repaid in kind.” A favor? Celestia wondered, gritting her teeth against the chill numbness. Of course. With Zecora, there’s always a catch. No choice, though. “Fine,” she grunted, weakly raising her dead right arm. “Help me up, and I’ll hear out this ‘favor.’” Zecora scoffed gently. “Even a fawn stands, or else lands on its tush. Come, come! I thought you were in a rush?” Celestia withheld her jab at the imperfect rhyme, instead focusing stoically on the task. She wasn’t paralyzed yet, but her body had completely lost feeling. Not even the tingle of numb touch remained, leaving her with only sight to guide her limbs. The bending and rising of her legs proved a slow, careful process, though one they proved mercifully capable of. She tumbled back to the ground with the first step, tasting leaves and still more frustration with her host. But at least it was easier to rise the second time, and easy enough to take a few wobbly steps forward so long as she watched every move. With the third step, she turned her head up with a weak smile. The only acknowledgement Zecora gave was to turn, beckon for Celestia to follow, and begin striding swiftly through the underbrush. Celestia tried to keep pace, which promptly resulted in another fall. Grunting, sputtering, and desperately trying to think happy thoughts, she hauled herself upwards and began hobbling in Zecora’s wake. Five minutes, three face-falls, and one embarrassing encounter with a perfectly normal tarantula later, Celestia caught up. Zecora had stopped at a small clearing that formed a paradise within the Everfree. Though surrounded by hostile brambles and rotting trees, here flowers bloomed around a crystal pond. The place seemed young and alive, free of stagnation in the water, and with soft green grass in the midst of dry October. Wounded though she was, Celestia could appreciate it. This was a place of peace, and she smiled benignly even as she saw the huge, bloodied form that Zecora knelt over. A unicorn. Celestia watched as it raised its head, turning bright eyes upon her as she stepped closer. Sunset had once sketched the principal a few pictures of her world’s unicorns, and Celestia knew at a glance that this was not one of them. It was a creature of Earth, or perhaps a third realm unknown to either. This unicorn was not small, big-eyed and cute. Even recumbent, its raised head equaled Celestia’s in height. The grey hair was shaggy and mangy, the eyes feral and unspeaking. It snorted meaningfully at Celestia, and snapped a jaw large enough to tear off her head. But it did not rise. Celestia could see buckshot holes in its tremendous side, with bloodstains that had hardened to black. The thing was not cute. It was wounded, unkempt, and frighteningly huge. It snapped again at her, and she ceased her advance. Still, curiosity – and memories of her six-year-old self dreaming of unicorns – bid her ask. “Unicorns? In Everfree?” The grey-coated beast did not stare or snap at Zecora. She ran fingers over its ears, murmuring a few whispers before responding. “Wrong your words have thus far run, Implying there are more than one. He is alone, ‘neath sun and moon. The rest destroyed, for their horn’s boon.” “‘He?’” Celestia blurted. At Zecora’s glance, she fumbled. “I mean… no reason why not. Just unicorns have always been… you know, seen as feminine and…” Red faced, she closed her eyes. “Please go on before I embarrass myself more.” Fortunately, Zecora obliged without comment. Celestia wondered if it was just not worth it to find a rhyme for ‘dumb-ass.’ “Their horns, when powdered and then ate Bought seven years from Death’s cruel hate. A happy prize for many fools Who sought to cheat old age’s rules.” A strange look, on Zecora’s face. Full of sympathy she so rarely showed to her fellow man, as she gently scratched the unicorn’s neck. “The quarry’s gone. The gems are mined. Here is the last of his kind. Strength he needs, his wounds to heal. And yours as well – there lies the deal.” Celestia watched those bright, ancient eyes, and spoke as a whisper. “What can I do?” “Your virgin’s blood has mystic might, Bleed on the horn, and set things right!” The spell broke. Celestia scowled. Is everything in this world fueled by virgin blood? Zecora returned her nonplussed stare indifferently. But Celestia’s gaze softened, and her mouth turned to a sad smile as she looked to the unicorn. Seeing beyond the fearsome appearance… she had been wrong to think it a beast. The bright eyes were sad, now that she looked at them. They were grey and wide, and appraised her quietly without judgement. Eyes that had seen so much that all they had left to hope for was a better life, and empty future. Maybe such thoughts were just her imagination. But really, that had never stopped Celestia before. She approached. The jaws were as big as ever. The horn was hard and sharp enough to impale her easily, the hooves heavy enough to crush her every bone. A sudden move on the part of this alien, monstrous creature, and that would have been that. It closed its eyes. And blinked them open as Celestia wrapped her frozen arms around its neck. She settled her head across its mane and nuzzled it like a horse. “You poor baby,” she murmured, neither knowing nor caring how old it actually was. “You’ve been through a lot. But it’ll be alright.” Quietly, she whispered in its ear. “You’re not the last. There are other unicorns. I’ll show you. But first…” Her right hand rose, stretching its palm above the long, vicious horn. “…Take what you need.” She did not scrape, or prick. She pressed, and kept pressing until her fingers brushed its head. All at once, feeling flowed into the hand. That feeling was pain – and Celestia screamed. She closed her eyes and shook violently, making the probably-ghastly wound even worse. It felt like her hand had split open, and she wondered if it did. Only dimly did she notice feeling return to the rest of her body, and the white glow surrounding them. And she definitely didn’t see Zecora pinch the bridge of her nose. “A pinprick would have been enough.” Zecora sighed, and smiled ruefully to the unicorn. “I told you – her heart’s made of candy and fluff.” The unicorn slid its horn from Celestia’s hand. She didn’t acknowledge the gesture, or the light shimmering around the wound. She just collapsed on its back, panting and groaning. Celestia rose. The unicorn rose alongside, lending its massive frame to support her. It’s what the principal saw when she opened her eyes – the shaggy grey side, solid and muscular without a trace of injury. She was also changed. Blinking away sunspots, Celestia saw that the festering bite was gone. Her limbs had returned to their healthy pink – if a fair bit paler than normal – and the myriad bruises and scrapes she suffered on the way here were no more. Somehow, even the shirt was knitted whole, and bleached clean. No time to appreciate it. She gave one, grateful stroke of the unicorn’s coarse hair, and pushed away. She took stock – one pistol was still in her grasp, good. The once-numb fingers hadn’t even been able to drop it. The other gun was still safely in her hip holster. Celestia ejected the half-spent clip of the first and began squeezing in bullets. “Zecora,” she said, not looking up from the task. “I know it wasn’t technically part of our bargain, but can you guide me back? The others need meAIE!” She hadn’t seen the unicorn bend its head, or thread the horn between her legs. With a gentle, but abrupt motion it pressed its head forward and brought the neck up beneath Celestia, setting her atop it with an undignified squeal. Celestia slid down to the shoulders, blinking and stuttering as Zecora laughed. “You’ve made a friend…” the shaman paused, and flashed a white-toothed grin. “Perhaps… two. Now show the spiders what you can do!” “Wait, I don’t know how to ride!” Celestia protested, grabbing the mane for dear life. Only more laughter greeted her as the unicorn burst into a gallop. “You two shall make a glorious team, Just hold on tight – and try not to scream!” Luna hadn’t been there to fight the horse-eaters. She drew the short straw, and so got stuck with the crummier job: parent-principal conferences. Celestia hadn’t come home yet, but she texted a short summary of the battle: virgins saved, spiders foiled, all good. The older sister would be home in an hour, now on an errand for iron supplements and something for motion sickness. She had yet to respond to Luna’s text enquiring the names of the would-be sacrifices. Fortunately, Sunset had come home in an extremely chatty mood. She readily shared that the rescued virgins were Pinkie Pie, Rainbow Dash, and Miss Harshwhinny, a fact that gave them both a bit of mean-spirited glee. The excited, chattering Sunset had told the whole story, up to and including its climax. Then, unable to contain her giddiness, she retold the last part again. And again. “Cranky was out of ammo, and was keeping one at bay with his bayonet!” Standing on the couch in disheveled pajamas, Sunset acted out the scene with Luna’s oversized stuffed Pikachu as a prop. “Cheerilee was on her back, grabbing the mandibles of the one trying to eat her. Things looked bad. But guess what happened?” “You told me.” Luna kept her eyes fixed on the screen. Dead Space 5: 4 2 Many was hardly the best game, but if her hands were busy with the controller they wouldn’t throttle Sunset. Sunset answered her own question, as she had the last two times. “Suddenly – a white glow, and Celestia! Riding a unicorn, and the first thing she did was trample the spider attacking Cheerilee. With a gun in each hand, shooting, killing spiders with each shot! With her beautiful hair trailing behind her – did you know it tastes like cotton candy? Anyway, she was riding a unicorn, and it was majestic, and she was glowing, and the spiders were all, ‘Stop her! We need to resurrect our gross fertility goddess and take over the world!’ and she was all, ‘Bitch, I’m Celestia!’ Except she doesn’t swear, and she was too busy screaming a battle cry like the earth pony amazon queens of old!” “She was probably just screaming,” Luna ground out around her teeth. Dizzy from her enthused spinning, Sunset collapsed to the couch and unleashed a high-pitched squeal. She clutched the stuffed toy to her chest, beaming and pedaling her legs into the air. “And Harshwhinny was all, ‘Miss Shimmer, you’re holding the knife wrong,’ and Dash was all, ‘Only a miracle can save us now,’ and BAM! Celestia! On a unicorn, that just shit-kicked every spider it saw! And there were guns! And hair! And she was glowing! Oh-em-GEE, she is the coolest principal ever!” Luna paused her game. And closed her eyes. “I can’t believe her! She is so nice and forgiving on the one hand, and on the other? Monster-killing bad-ass! You are SO lucky to have such an awesome sister!” A deep, deep breath in. A long breath out. Luna’s eyes opened. “Yes,” she said, without the slightest hostility. “Yes I am.” She released a low sigh as Sunset rambled on. Luna stood, plugged headphones into the television, and returned to her seat, sighing happily as the game’s music filled her ears. She cranked up the volume until Sunset’s jabbering became inaudible, and resumed her play.