CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
DAMAGED GOODS
Bracken sat back on his haunches in the well appointed bedroom. He felt...well, pretty good really. In fact, it was the best he’d felt in weeks, if not months. A hot bath, a decent grooming and even having his hooves done! He could understand now why his mother would disappear every now and then to the local spa. If she came out feeling this rejuvenated every time, he wouldn’t mind going there himself. It would certainly be more than worth putting up with the stares of the other stallions for. He even smelt good too! He reached up a foreleg and sniffed it…very nice.
“You like that?” The voice said from across the room, “It’s called ‘Altes Gewürz’, a very expensive cologne from a country far away”
Bracken looked up, “I’m sorry, Miss, you appear to have me at a disadvantage.“
The mare chuckled, her long eyelashes drawing the young stallion’s eyes,
“Do I?” She smiled seductively, “Why don’t you pour us a drink each while we talk?” She motioned toward a pot of tea beside a silver service, complete with milk and sugar.
Bracken nodded politely. Was he still befuddled with drink? Maybe a little, but this was all so very real, either that or the salt lick he’d had had been particularly potent. Whatever was going on, he’d play along; his host had been particularly gracious up until now, and, he had to admit, she had a certain magnetism about her. The mare’s long dress was almost archaic in design, the white lace peeking out from the black neck line was particularly striking against her sea green fur. Her hooves were polished and shone so brightly they caught the glow from the firelight. Bracken had no doubt that if he looked closely enough, he would be able to see his reflection in them.
Madam Pickles closed one eye and cocked her head mischievously, watching him as he poured out the tea,
“Do like what you see?”
Bracken closed his eyes momentarily. What should he say? What did she expect him to say? Goddesses above, he didn’t know how to talk to mares! That was Chalky’s job! He swallowed, deciding that truth was usually the best option. Taking a breath he nodded respectfully,
“Yes.”
The mare leaned forward slightly, “Tell me…what do you like?”
Some strands of hair had broken loose from her hair pin and lay across her sleek neck. The beautiful two tone pastel pink was perfect for her, the way it accentuated her coats colour and how her ponytail was draped across the black of her dress. His eyes met hers, an unexpected confidence taking him,
“Your mane” he said calmly, “It’s beautiful.”
She nodded knowingly, “You flatter me, sir.”
Pickles shifted her forelegs on the large chair, her dress rustling slightly as she moved. The sound, along with the snapping of the logs in the fire and the smell of her perfume was intoxicating. The mare was watching him…those big yellow eyes noting his every movement, every word…
Bracken licked his lips, immediately aware of how her eyes noted even that,
“Ma’am, I…”
She held up a hoof, “-Pickles, please, Bracken” She raised a manicured eyebrow, “If I may call you that?”
“Of course” Bracken replied politely, “Though, you appear to know who I am and, forgive me, I don’t believe we’re met before tonight?”
Pickles took a sip of her tea, “True…true.”
Bracken watched her place the delicate china cup down. Even the way she performed that most simple of acts held a grace that she conducted as instinctively and fluidly as a salmon slips through the river, its rainbow colours catching the dying light of the evening sun.
“I’m afraid” She said quietly, “sailors talk, and here in Spurs Anvil, ponies tend to like…talking…in my home.”
“I see.” Bracken took a sip of his own tea, carefully avoiding too much pressure on the fragile cup, “I’m not sure if my friend thanked you properly, but allow me extend my sincerest thanks for helping us tonight.” He glanced down at his coat, “And for allowing me to clean off.” Bracken flexed his leg, noting how the pain had subsided to the point where it was barely even noticeable.
The corner of the mare’s mouth curled up, “Oh, you are most welcome Bracken.” Her mane shivered slightly, “Young…’Chalk’ was it?” She chuckled, “He and I have concluded our transaction most satisfactorily.”
“Transaction?” Bracken furrowed his brow, “Ma’am, I…”
Pickles shook her head slowly, Brackens unspoken words dying in his mouth, “Bracken, I will tell you what I told your friend. Here, information is a commodity, and it has a price. She turned to gaze into the fire, “Everything…even everypony…has a price.” Bracken sipped his tea as she continued, “Bracken…come here, please. Sit beside me.”
The black stallion walked up beside her and sat on his haunches at her direction. Here, so close to the sea green mare, the smell from her perfume was different. It was more ‘feminine’ somehow, more natural. In some ways it reminded him of home, the comforts of a warm hearth and the love of those who meant something dear to you, to that part of you that is at the very core of who you are.
Pickles reached out and lifted his chin with her polished hoof. Silently, she gazed into his eyes as though she could read his thoughts, peeling away the very layers of his soul to reveal his most precious hearts desire. She let out a soft breath that tantalised his nose and had his ears twitching. The mare noticed and smiled gently,
“Do like me, Bracken?” Her voice lowered to a soft purr, “Do you want to…know me?”
Bracken’s words came without the need for thought,
“Yes ma’am, truly.”
Pickles breathed out huskily, “Close your eyes.”
Obediently, Bracken complied with her request. Standing there, in her room, his own heart beat sounded almost painfully loud in his ears, his hooves feeling so light he wondered if at any moment he would not just simply float up off the ground. Before him, he could hear the soft sound of fabric, moving, slipping quietly to the floor.
“You can open your eyes now.”
Bracken blinked. She was…magnificent. The sea green mare stood before him, her coat, so beautifully silky smooth, shone like diamonds, just like her eyes. Pickles reached up and took out the long hair pin, giving her pink mane a gentle shake. In falls of pastel colour, the mare’s hair rolled down in a lustrous river that nearly reached the floor. The smell of autumn meadows, of wild flowers and honey caressed Bracken’s nose as he drank it all in. He looked into her eyes boldly. He wanted her to see him for who he was, as he wanted her to…
“-Bracken…” She murmured
“Yes?”
“I…” She suddenly seemed shy, as if this supremely confident female was afraid of something. Pickles took his muzzle in her forehooves, “I know what I want, I’ve always know what I want, even when I was but a little foal.” She shivered slightly, and Bracken acted on instinct. Carefully, he reached out a hoof and stroked her mane, feeling the gossamer like strands beneath his touch like rays of sunlight on a summers morning. Pickles leaned her head against his foreleg and kissed it softly, “I want you to see the whole of me.” She took a deep breath, “All…of me…” She turned her body slightly, showing her flank to her young guest.
Bracken closed his eyes a moment, wishing he hadn’t seen…
“Why…” he said quietly, “Why would somepony…”
Pickles gave an involuntary shiver, “When I was a foal, I was caught by griffin slavers. They…do this to try and destroy the identity of their slaves. The rest of you…your mind, they try to remove as well.” She gave a mirthless laugh, “Thinking slaves don’t fetch as much as mindlessly obedient ones.”
Bracken could feel a tear roll down his cheek at the sight. The terrible scar across her flank, the destruction of something so precious, so dear to a pony; how could anypony, even a griffin, be so cruel…so utterly evil?
Pickles reached up a hoof and brushed away his tear, her own eyes welling slightly. She tried to laugh, “I’ve never had anypony cry for me before” She leaned forward and gave him a soft nuzzle, “Doesn’t it…ruin me?”
Bracken kissed her gently on the nose, “Nothing could ruin you, ma’am, nothing in this world.”
The sea green mare choked back a sob, “Stay with me…tonight.”
The peculiar calm that Bracken had felt earlier, the confidence that had held his heart in check, it had all lead him inexorably to now, to this moment in time, with this mare. He didn’t know her, she didn’t know him, and yet here they were. What tomorrow brought, be it good, bad or indifferent, it didn’t matter. What mattered now, was the warm mare before him, the beautiful creature that made his body feel as if it were alive for the first time in his life. He slipped his forelegs round her and moved into her,
“Yes, ma’am”
Bracken’s lips met those of the elegant mare, the scarred foal who’d been through more than he could ever imagine. The mare who was, for reasons that were only her own, wanted to share herself…with him.
********************************
Bracken lay with head snuggled into the soft pillow while Pickles stroked his mane. He felt like he could fly, and yet felt so tired, in a warm and happy way. Pickles leaned down and gently nibbled his ear, sending another tingle through his body,
“I can’t believe you don’t have some you filly waiting for somewhere” She said quietly, “You’d be quite the catch.”
Bracken chuckled, “Me? No, it was always Chalky who’s the one the mares go for. He just seems to have a sort of natural magnetism that way.”
Pickles raised an eyebrow gauging his reaction, “Jealous?”
“A little” He looked up into her eyes, “But not now.”
She leaned down and kissed him,
“Young Mister Dust is an attractive pony, in his own way, and he doesn’t seem to realise it either.” She gave a light snort, “Maybe it’s just as well. Still,” she said tapping Bracken lightly on the nose, “some mares like that sort of thing. Others” she said grinning, “like their stallions to be stallions, not ‘pretty ponies’”.
Bracken would have burst out laughing if Pickles hadn’t suddenly grabbed him and pulled him into a kiss that was quickly developing into…
“Ma’am! We’ve got trouble!”
A sand coloured mare hammered on the door before pushing it open.
“Damn it all!” Pickles shouted, “Don’t just bloody well barge in, girl!”
“I…I’m sorry ma’am!” the mare stuttered, “Its…”
“Yes?”
“There’s a group of ponies downstairs, they’ve got weapons and…” the mares chest was heaving as she tried to get her breath, “they’ve stabbed Fix.”
Pickles jumped off the bed and grabbed her nightdress before taking down a cutlass from the wall,
“Help me with this.”
Bracken was quickly by her side, “No…Pickles, give me the sword, I’ll…”
“You will do no such thing!” She snapped, “This is my establishment, my home, and nopony invades my home!”
The black stallion nodded to her and reached up to take down the other cutlass from the display. Hefting it, he smiled to himself. This was no simple ornament; the numerous nicks in the blade were more than testament to that fact. He gave Pickles a wink and trotted to the door,
“I take it you don’t mind if somepony watches your back?”
Pickles pushed past him onto the landing and slapped his rump,
“I think you’ve done more than enough of that for one night, Mister Bracken.”
The lobby below was a scene of utter chaos, with ponies running about launching items of furniture, crockery, or whatever else came readily to hoof, at a group of cloaked individuals who were sheltering behind the entrance halls pillar’s. Beneath the balcony, Bracken caught sight of an orange coated stallion being tended to by several mares. He was moving, but clearly in pain.
“Ma’am!” One of the mares shouted up from beside the stricken Fix, “Flower’s gone for the watch, they’ll be here soon.”
“Buck the watch!” Pickles snarled. She took a deep breath, her voice bellowing out across the lobby, “ALL OF YOU, STOP THAT BLOODY NONSENSE, NOW!”
Like magic, everything stopped. The ponies below all turned to look up at the balcony, including the newcomers. Pickles stood up on her hind legs, leaning her fore hooves on the balcony railing as her voice rang out,
“You there!” She pointed down to one of the largest of the cloaked newcomers, “Are you in charge of that lot?”
The strangely avian voice of a griffin came back, only the tip of its beak visible from beneath the hood,
“Nopony needs to get hurt, Madam Pickles, all we want is the black stallion.” The griffin lifted a claw, pointing it straight at a surprised Bracken, “Give him to us and we’ll leave.”
“And that’s it, is it?” Pickles glowered, “You think I’ll simply hoof over one of our clients because you come in here, to our home, and attack us? Do you have any idea how much all this will cost to put right?”
A slightly smaller figure walked forward, its voice less commanding than the first, but clearly carrying a note of authority,
“All we seek is the black stallion. I assure you, we have no intention of harming him, and our…contractor…has authorised payment for any repairs to your property.” He motioned towards the prostrated form of Fix, “As well as all medical bills covered in full, naturally.”
Pickles’ voice lowered dangerously,
“How dare you! How bloody dare you!”
A black foreleg reached out and distracted her,
“And if she refuses? What then?” Bracken’s voice carried down the stairs. All eyes were on him now. In response the cloaked griffin paused, then, slowly and deliberately, lifted his claw. Almost instantly, heavy crossbows appeared in the hooves and claws of his compatriots. Bracken took a breath, sighing it out. He knew then that whoever these characters were, they would carry out their threat without a second thought and ponies, mares, would die unless they got what they wanted. He snorted out a laugh, dropping his sword, “I always wanted to play the hero…”
Pickles stared at him wide eyed,
“What the bloody hell are you playing at? Bracken, don’t…!”
The black stallion shook his head, “Pickles…” he reached forward and gave her a nuzzle, “I won’t have anypony hurt because of me, least of all you.” He smiled, “You can’t risk your home or your girls. It isn’t right.”
“But they…”
Bracken kissed her softly on the muzzle, “They said they wouldn’t harm me. Besides, I’ll probably be fine and all being well, I’ll see you again.”
Pickles’ large yellow eyes began to fill with tears, her voice quavering,
“You…you stupid arse…” she gasped, “you’d better!” she wiped her eyes with a foreleg and grabbed him, pulling him into a kiss before releasing him. She leaned over the balcony once more, her demeanour steady and commanding, “If you harm him, if anything happens to him…” her voice carried a note of cold fury that made Brackens steps falter as he descended the stairs, “I will find you, all of you, and I will send you to the eternal flames the underworld” Pickles’ eyes narrowed, her teeth bared, “…one…by…one.”
The cloaked creatures said nothing. If Pickles’ words had any impact on them, they didn’t let it show. The larger creature, the griffin, moved aside to allow Bracken to pass before following him closely out of the doorway. Seconds later, the last of the cloaked ones paused before following his fellows. With a flick of his hoof, he threw a bag of coins through the air to land with a loud ‘clink’ beside the injured Fix.
Without another word, the pony turned and left.
The ponies in the lobby visibly relaxed, several quickly beginning the now mammoth task of tidying up the wreckage of their home whilst other tended to Fix. The sandy coated mare trotted up to the balcony and sat besides the madam who was still staring at the front door as if at any moment, a black coated stallion would simply just trot back in, his grey eyes gazing up at her beneath that long flow of deep blue hair. She took a breath and stared at her cutlass. It had been years since she’d used it last, years since that arse she’d fallen for had swept her off her hooves and…
Now wasn’t the time for that.
Pickles turned back to her room,
“Find Frilly and Jade, send them to me immediately.”
“Yes, ma’am”
The madam of the house, the sea green mare who had spent years, years, building up a business which now had the best reputation on the coast, if not the whole of Equestria, had been threatened, threatened, in her own home! She stood before the fireplace and took off her night dress, trying to repress her feelings of anger and shame. She closed her eyes, letting the garment slip to the floor before picking it up and throwing it onto the bed. The same bed that…
Pickles gritted her teeth, willing the memories away. It was time for resolve, for clear thinking. She’d been unprepared for what had happened and she’d always prided herself on knowing everything that went on in the town…everything, no matter how insignificant. Of this situation however, there had been no warning, no hint of trouble. Just what was it about Bracken that had these thugs after him? She trotted to the heavily bound sea chest and shoved it open. It had been…how long? She couldn’t remember. The last time she’d opened this was to bury her memories, to put them out of her mind…but not quite forever. Here they lay, asleep in the wooden chest with its smell of cedar and leather. It was the finest work of both pony and griffin: supple, yet strong, and functional. She reached in and took out her clothes and gear.
“Ma’am?”
Two mares stood at the doorway. The large pale blue mare, Frilly, complete with clay pipe, entered and bobbed her head. How many times had she told her not to smoke that bloody thing indoors? Pickles shrugged, she’d admonish her later. Beside the enigmatic blue mare strode a muscular pale green mare with striking orange eyes,
“Ma’am, you asked for us?”
Pickles nodded,
“Help me with this, will you.”
Between them, the mares help dress their lady. The stout pair of trousers were buckled around her midriff, and the heavy woollen coat with its smart red on black braid was next, its buttons still shiny even after all this time. A blue sash went around her waist next, the scabbard, baldric and finally the cutlass. Frilly passed her a wide brimmed hat, complete with large black and green plume that hung down the back. Jade stood back from plaiting the long pink mane and nodded,
“I never thought I’d see the day…”
Pickles adjusted the grip on her sword,
“Neither did I”, she answered coolly, “Get yourselves ready, girls. We have somepony I want to see.”
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The temperature had dropped, the timbers creaking in response to the approaching change of season. Gretel leaned across the stern of the Revenge, listening to the wind as it whistled through the rigging, the waves lapping at the hull. The old vessel knew, she could feel her Captain’s torment and her hull resonated with her grief. The red mare shook with anger, anger and the pain she was feeling in her heart. She leaned her forehead against the elegantly carved wood, her tears long since dried up. She had no more to shed,
“Why, Doc? Can you tell me why?”
The blue coated stallion walked across the quarter deck and placed Gretel’s coat across her shoulders,
“I can’t Gretel” he said gently, “Maladies of the body I can help with. Maladies of the heart…” He shook his head, “I never was very good at that.”
She never turned round. The sea was so beautiful, even in the darkness. This was her home, her life, a life she’d hoped to share with the white unicorn. Goddess damn him, she’d even gone against her fathers advice to let him stay aboard, risked dissent amongst the crew…and for what? What the hell was it all for? So he could run off to be with that…that whore?!
Doc cleared his throat,
“You don’t know that for sure, Captain.”
Damn it, had she been thinking out loud? Gretel took a deep breath. She was obviously more unsettled than she’d thought. Still, speaking to Doc may help ease how she was feeling, and right now, she needed a friend.
“Doc, he stank of that mare! She always wears the same damned perfume. For all the years I knew her, she never, ever changed it.” Gretel gritted her teeth angrily, “I thought…I thought I was finally rid of her, free of her bloody influence and now…now she steals my…my…”
“-steals your what? Your bed warmer?”
Gretel’s eyes went wide in shock then narrowed angrily as she span around to face the mare standing on her quarterdeck…on HER quarterdeck! It was like an explosion of light in her head, the sheer anger, rage and pain she felt right at that moment focussed to a single lethal point of hatred. The night air was rent with the scream of unbridled fury as the Revenge’s Captain threw herself at the sea green mare that had sullied her deck with her accursed presence.
The cutlass snarled through the air, propelled by all the strength and concentrated heartache that boiled through Gretel’s body. Inches from her antagonist’s throat, her blade slammed to a halt, the ring of steel on steel echoing across the ships deck and out across the silent bay. The pale blue mare flicked Gretel’s blade away with her own, moving to block any more attempts on her madam’s life. Gretel’s anger was at boiling point and she took a step back, her teeth bared in a snarl, ready to go all out, ready to throw abandon to the wind and send this bitch to the afterlife. Then suddenly, a familiar blue stallion wearing a thin pair of spectacles loomed in her vision, his pink eyes staring straight into hers.
Doc said nothing, instead he just shook his head slowly and waited. He watched Gretel knowingly, taking in how her chest heaved and her muscles twitched. He’d always known there was bad blood between her and Pickles, it was one of the reasons why his Captain hated docking at Spurs Anvil, but there more to it this time; this was because of that white unicorn wasn’t it? He sat on his haunches and waited. He would be there if and when she needed him. This was something she needed to speak to ‘her’ about.
Gretel roughly sheathed her cutlass and glowered at the sea green mare before her,
“You have some damned nerve waltzing aboard my ship and showing your face here! I won’t even ask how you got past the deck watch you old hag, but I want you off here in the next five seconds or I’ll gut you and throw your stinking remains over the side.”
Pickles sighed, “You always did have a penchant for melodrama my dear” she shrugged, “And for failing to gather the most basic of facts before leaping to rash actions that so recently nearly cost you your ship I believe. The very ship your father entrusted to you.”
Gretel tossed her mane angrily, “What in name of all that’s holy are you jabbering on about? Speak quickly, I don’t have time for this crap. As you so obviously pointed out, I have a ship to run.”
“You’re missing somepony, I believe?” Pickles asked, raising an eyebrow.
Gretel’s eye twitched. That way she had of speaking in that high and mighty manner, the clothes she wore, that bloody perfume…! “Oh, you know alright…” Gretel spat, “I know what you and he did, you pox riddled whore! He stank to the high heavens of you!” Her hoof twitched to her sword hilt. Oh, how she wanted to strike that supercilious bitch down!
Pickles clucked her tongue, “You always had such a charming turn of phrase, Gretel, and as much as I’d enjoy sparring with you my dear, I fear neither of us have the luxury of time in this matter.”
In answer to the Captains puzzled expression, the sea green mare tossed her mane and continued, “I have no interest in your pretty pony, Gretel, that is your taste, not mine. No…” She fixed her with a hard stare of her yellow eyes, “There’s more at work here than you or I know.”
Gretel stomped a hoof irritably, “Will you get to the bloody point?”
Pickles shook her said slowly, “So rash…” she sat back on her haunches and closed her eyes a moment collecting her thoughts, “You know of the black earth pony stallion, Bracken?”
The Captain nodded warily, “Yes, he’s Chalky’s friend.”
“Then you’ll also be aware” Pickles continued, “that the two were set upon by a group of assailants earlier this evening and it was only by the grace of the goddesses that Frilly opened the back door when she did. If she hadn’t, your little unicorn bed fellow and his friend would likely be floating in the bay right now.”
Gretel’s eyes went wide in surprise, her mouth hanging open as her mind reeled. Chalky had said something…when he came back, he tried to…and she wouldn’t listen, she just…
“I took them in and sent Chalk back with Fix to your ship” Pickles stated calmly, “I take it from your reaction, that the unicorn is not here?”
“No…”
“Then we don’t have any more time to lose.” The sea green mare stated commandingly, “Whoever they are attacked my establishment, injured one my employees and forced one my clients away at sword point.” She gripped the hilt of her cutlass, “I want him back, Gretel” Pickles growled menacingly, “I want Bracken back. Nopony steals from me…nopony!”
“You’re not making any sense” Gretel said, adjusting her hat on her head, “Who would kidnap Bracken, and what’s Chalky got to…” She face hoofed, “Oh goddesses…”
“You see it now?” Pickles said irritably, “Those two are inseparable. If Chalk Dust has discovered his friend is in trouble, he could be looking for him now as we speak. On the other hoof, if they found him before they came to my home…”
She didn’t need to say any more. Gretel could see it in her eyes, that understanding that Chalky could already be…dead. A whirl of emotions ran through her; anger at her own foolishness and anger at him for not making her listen. Why couldn’t he have made her listen?! Goddess damn him, he was a stallion wasn’t he? She trotted to the balustrade of the quarterdeck,
“Master Stock!”
A dark brown stallion appeared on the deck,
“Aye, Cap’n?”
“Get a shore party together.” Gretel ordered, “I don’t give a damn who it is so long as they can fight. Have them ready on deck in the next five minutes.”
“Aye, Aye, Cap’n”
Gretel watched him disappear below decks to assemble the crew. Now there was a pony who did what he was told, one who would follow orders. Chalky on the other hoof…She took a deep breath and sighed it out, watching the white cloud dissipate into the cold night air. Gretel took in Pickles’ unusual apparel,
“I see you’ve dressed for the occasion.”
“Naturally” the older mare replied walking up beside her, “Are you surprised?”
“I’m surprised it still fits after all these years. Life ashore obviously agrees with you, and your…lifestyle.”
Pickled gave her a wry smile, “It helps for me to stay fit, if that’s what you mean.”
Gretel raised an eyebrow before turning to look out over the water,
“You know…I still hate you for what you did.”
Pickles paused, watching the wind ripple the furled sails. She’d never felt the love of the sea and sky the way he had, how it had called to him, how the ship had called to him. She preferred to be warm and dry, comfortable, with a glass of wine or cup of tea, perhaps a teacake and a good lover, or maybe even just a good book. When she had seen Bracken though, those eyes…she’d known straight away he was the one. She’d always been a mare who knew what she wanted and now, somepony had stolen what was hers. By the goddess, they would pay for that. She gripped her sword…everypony paid in the end. But then Gretel, now she was another story…Pickles cast the red mare a glance and tried to make her voice sound a little more cheerful than she felt,
“If it makes any difference, Gretel, I never hated you. I always…”
“-I know” Gretel cut in, turning towards the steps to the main deck, “I just…father…”
“You loved him very much. He knew that, Gretel. He may not have shown it, that was just the kind of stallion he was, but he did love you, as much I think, as he loved this old ship.” Pickles ran her hoof along the balustrade, “Maybe more.”
Gretel stopped halfway down the steps, her mind reeling. Father…She gave herself a shake and walked down to the deck before calling over her shoulder,
“If you’re coming, you’d better not slow us up.”
The sea green mare smiled, “You know, I was thinking the same thing?”
Gretel rolled her eyes, “Oh, shut up, mother.”