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// Chapter Twenty One - The Forgiveness of Steel 
// Story: Ice Fall 
// by Bluespectre 
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CHAPTER TWENTY ONE


 


THE FORGIVENESS OF STEEL

 
It was getting dark early. The long Equestrian nights were drawing in and the temperature was beginning to drop steadily day by day, making camping out under the stars a bitterly cold and uncomfortable experience. As the world headed inexorably towards the long sleep of winter, a group of ponies huddled around the camp fire, pressing in as close as they dared to try and soak up what warm they could glean before the inevitable necessity of sleep forced them into their all too thin bedding. If any thought had been present when these items of camping equipment had been designed, it had been hopelessly inadequate.
 
Brink held his hooves near the fire, letting them get as hot as he dared and then stuffed them under his cloak to try and transfer some of the heat to the rest of his body. It didn’t help much, but it was a lot better than doing nothing. He was shivering incessantly, his teeth chattering so much his jaw had started aching. He stared into the campfire, watching the flickering yellow flames dancing above the orange of the glowing logs below. If nothing else, it gave the illusion of warmth, even if he wasn’t feeling it in his body. The worst part of this, Brink summised, was that if you drew closer to the fire, your front was warm, but your back was still freezing. Unless there was some way to rotate yourself to get a nice all round warmth, all he could do was stay here and shiver until morning.
 
He squeezed himself into a ball, tucking the cloak in tightly around himself. The pony beside him shifted, muttering something incomprehensible in his sleep. Brink closed his eyes and said a silent prayer to Celestia. It was pointless, he knew; she’d never forgive him. As powerful and merciful as she was, for what he’d done, for what they’d done…there could be no forgiveness. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes; there was no point in trying to sleep now, it would be his time to stand watch soon, and besides, he’d drunk so much rum earlier he could feel his bladder reaching bursting point.
 
The soldier shuddered, his mind rewinding back to the events at the farmhouse. Again and again and again, he couldn’t stop seeing it! Why wouldn’t it stop! Dear Celestia, it wasn’t meant to have happened like that! How the hell had that happened? They were supposed to just kill the traitor weren’t they? That was what he’d been told, but then Sela, that bloody impulsive idiot, hadn’t wanted to stake out the house had he? Of course not! And the next thing they all knew, the imbecile had bucked in the door. The mare had tried to protect her foals, refusing to tell the soldiers where her husband was, and that was when the whole mission went to rat crap. That stupid, stupid creature!
 
Brink took another swig of the rum and lit his pipe. The sweet smoke rolled around his mouth and he drew it in, trying to feel some warmth, even the tiniest bit. Since that day though he’d never felt warm again. Whether it was all in his mind, his body, or his heart, he had no idea, but he sure as hell didn’t want to think about it. He’d joined Ochre’s regiment for a nice, cushy, and rather lucrative ride up until retirement; not this! Freezing your nuts off on a goddess forsaken hillside, with the blood of children on your hooves was like something from his worst nightmares. He’d tried to wash it off of course, he’d tried again and again and again, but no matter how much he scrubbed, there always seemed to be some left. Damn it all, he couldn’t stop hearing their screams...how they’d cried for their mother when Sela had run her through, the look on the little filly’s face when Dangle impaled her on his sword. And then…and then the little black foal…he’d charged him with a kitchen knife…a kitchen knife! Goddesses forgive him, he could still feel the impact of his sword into the supple little foal’s body, the way the warm blood had run down his blade onto his hoof.
 
Brink squeezed his eyes shut, a slight whimper escaping his mouth. He couldn’t believe it had happened, any of it. The others…the others had enjoyed it, or some of them anyway. He couldn’t watch, not what they did. All he did was steal the rum and a pocket watch, but even that felt like lead in his pack somehow. Brink rubbed his forelegs together, blowing on them to try and stave off the bitterness of the night. He was worried too. His orders had been to kill Dray, but they’d failed, and spectacularly. They could have waited for him, he’d even suggested it himself, but the others, shocked at the carnage they’d created, panicked and ran. Some bloody soldiers they were: murders of mares and foals…cowards…They’d have to think of something to tell Ochre. Either that or disappear into the country and start a new life somewhere, somewhere he could…
 
He looked down at the grey foreleg, the knife held to his throat…he swallowed.
 
“Who gave the order” the voice behind him said quietly.
 
Brink could feel his heart beating like a drum in his chest, he could smell the breath of the pony behind him…damn it! He knew they should have…
 
“Last time…”
 
“It was Ochre!” Brink hissed, trying to pull back from the knife blade, “We were supposed to kill you, not your family! It was a mistake!”
 
“A mistake”
 
“Yes! Dear Celestia…I’m sorry! The others, Sela, he…the mare tried to stab him and…” he gasped out a breath, “I’m sorry…”
 
“So am I”
 
The knife moved away from Brinks’ throat and he shuddered out a breath. Goddesses! He thought he was going to…
 
He looked down at the tip of the blade protruding from his chest, a small crimson trickle of blood rolling down it and dripping onto the ground. Brink stared up towards the sky, the darkness above feeling as if it were drawing him to it, the souls of those who had gone before calling to him. A tear came to his eye as his body slumped to the ground. The words formed on his lips, the last he would utter in this world,
 
“Celestia…forgive me…”
 
Dray placed his hoof on the still warm corpse and pulled his blade free. Flicking the blood off it, he neatly replaced it in its scabbard and recovered his rum and pocket watch,
 
“Celestia may forgive you” he said quietly, placing his watch in his overcoat pocket, “But I won’t…not as long as I draw breath.” He walked away into the night, past the cloak covered corpses ringing the campfire, “There will be no forgiveness.”
 
There was a click behind him, and he smiled. So…there was one more after all, was there? Dray snorted out a laugh,
 
“Went for a piss?”
 
The soldier’s voice was quavering, the fear almost palpable,
 
“Yeah…” the soldier replied, “Sorry about this Colonel, but its orders.”
 
Dray’s muscled tensed, ready to spring into action, but at this range the pony had the drop on him. Mentally, he kicked himself; he must be getting old,
 
“Do what you have to do soldier.”
 
Silence.
 
Seconds dragged by. Wasn’t the boy going to shoot? He took a breath and turned round, coming face to face with the young stallion who was staring at him wide eyed, the blood slick head of a crossbow bolt protruding from his throat. Dray shook his head,
 
“Never talk when you can act, boy.” The young soldier’s eyes rolled up into his head and he fell forward, dead. Dray reached down and closed the stallion’s eyes, “The lesson came a little late for you though.”
 
Across the hillside, dark shadows flitted, dodging from tree to tree, with a number of them heading straight for him. The central one slowed and walked forward confidently while the other two flowed past Dray like ghosts. The Colonel nodded to the newcomer,
 
“Good evening Major”
 
The red mare threw back the cowl of her cloak,
 
“You’re getting slow, you old fart. That fellow had you stone cold.”
 
Dray shook his head, “Perhaps…” he turned to the ponies checking the ones by the fire, “They’re dead. There’s another two out by the edge of the tree line.” He glanced back at the Major, “They’re dead too.”
 
“Missed the party eh?” She said raising an eyebrow.
 
“Hmph” The Colonel snorted, “You could say that.”
 
Wild cleared her throat, “Sir…Dray…one of our scouts told us that your...”
 
Dray’s tail lashed, his ears twitching but his voice never changed its tone, “I know Major.” He paused, “Did your scout mention anything about any other ponies nearby?”
 
“Not really.” She replied, “There’s a few farms here and there, and an old dear with her son working the next farm over, but no sign of the Legion or any more of Ochre’s goons.”
 
The Colonel began walking back to the fire. Good, at least Fair Breeze was keeping Cove under close supervision. That young stallion had an old head on his shoulders, and if he took to life as a farm pony, he just might keep it too.
 
“I’m so sorry, Colonel.” Major Wild said quietly, “I knew he would be angry over you using the royal guard in battle, but I had no idea he would do something…like that.” 
 
“Mmm” Dray sank down to his haunches by the fire. The others had already dragged the bodies away and were bringing fresh firewood. He shook out his cloak and turned to the Major, “Why are you here?” he asked levelly, “Why aren’t you with the army, Major, they need you.”
 
“So do you!” Wild snapped back, “I…” she took a deep breath, collecting her thoughts, “Sir, you don’t know what’s happened since you left.”
 
Dray stoked the fire with a long thin stick,
 
“Go on.”
 
Wild shook her head solemnly,
 
“Ochre’s dismissed all the officers; myself, Spoon, Weald, Sands, even poor Chipper.”
 
There was a blast of frigid air as a pair of purple forelegs were cheekily draped over their respective necks,
 
“Don’t forget me!” Harrier chuckled, “I got bucked off the team too, y’know!”
 
Despite himself, Dray couldn’t help but smile. ‘The goddesses gave and the goddesses took away’ eh? He had to wonder at that old line; maybe there was some truth in it after all. A soft rumble of hooves announced the arrival of another cloaked pony,
 
“Excuse me, Major Wild, I wish to report that the surrounding area appears to be clear of the enemy. Living ones, that is.”
 
Drays ear twitched as he looked round into the face of his aide-de-camp,
 
“Good evening Colonel”
 
“Chipper…” Dray reached out and clopped the old soldier on the shoulder, “Its good to see you again my friend.”
 
“And you sir.” Chipper smiled, “I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of bringing along the items you so kindly left for us on your last day at camp. I note however, that you already appear to have a sword?”
 
Dray nodded, “You can keep that one if you like” he tapped his fathers old blade, “I’ve got a perfectly serviceable sword here already.”
 
“My goodness!” Chipper beamed, “Thank you Colonel, I assure you I will keep this safe…just in case you ever wish to have it back.”
 
Dray rolled his eyes. Chipper never changed.
 
“Oh!” The stallion announced, holding up a hoof, “I nearly forgot!” he took off his pannier and produced two bottles of brandy and a set of collapsible camping shot cups, “I believe it is customary, when one is re-united with friends, to drink a toast, is it not?”
 
Even if the pain was still fresh, the memories agonisingly vivid, for a moment at least, the company of friends dulled the ache in Dray’s heart. He took the cup in his hooves and looked up into the expectant eyes of his old command, and the cheeky wink from that bloody pegasus! Dray lifted his cup,
 
“To old friends, re-united.”
 
The three ponies raised their cups, “Old friends!”
 
Building the fire up, the ponies sat together on the dark hillside sharing the warming brandy. More soldiers arrived shortly afterwards, including several pulling small carts laden with supplies. In short order, extra blankets were being issued and food passed around. Dray closed his eyes and listened to the familiar sounds - maybe…maybe this was where he belonged after all; the field beneath his hooves and the stars above. He felt somepony bump up against him and give him a nudge,
 
“Sorry, Colonel, we’ve all had to shift round to make room for everypony.” Wild’s voice sounded a little uncertain, “You don’t mind do you? I’ll move if it…”

Dray shook his head, “No, Major, of course not.”
 
In some ways he felt numb; the cold, the emptiness in his heart, the keening pain that he let fill him. He’d lost many ponies he’d called friends in his life, held them as they succumbed to wounds, watched the light of life in their eyes wink out leaving only the empty husk that had once been a living, breathing creature like him. Soldiers were no strangers to death, but your family, your wife, your children, that was something sacred and precious. They were…special, in so many ways.
 
The mare beside him was warm, her body heat shared with his, even through the layers of clothing. In some ways he wanted to be left alone, to be the death in the night that was coming for Lord Ochre. But that could wait for another day. He looked up at the sky and the large moon hanging there like some celestial lantern.
 
“You look deep in thought” Wild said quietly.
 
“Just thinking” Dray replied, “How long until the next full moon, do you think?”
 
“Well…” The red mare said peering up into the night sky, “It’s a waxing crescent, so” She scratched her chin thoughtfully, “I would say we have about two weeks, give or take a few days. Why?”
 
“I have an appointment to keep.”
 
Something soft pushed up against his other side, a big pair of magenta eyes above a beaming grin and a mass of snow white mane loomed in his vision. Harrier always seemed so…energetic,
 
“Care to share?” she asked with a toothy smile.
 
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” Dray said quietly, “Honestly, I’m not sure what to think of it myself.”
 
“Oh come on!” Harrier announced waving her forehooves in the air, “You can’t just leave it like that!”
 
Wild leaned forward, “She’s right, Dray. We’re your friends, and friends trust one another.”
 
Dray snorted, “I met somepony.” He stared into the fire, watching the flames dance above the crackling wood beneath, “A pony who told me to go to a particular place...to find something, or maybe even somepony, i’m not sure.”
 
Wild rubbed her forelegs together, snugging her cloak in around herself,
 
“So,” she asked, “where is this place?”
 
The Colonel shrugged, “The high point of the forest near River Valley, by the next full moon.”
 
The Major’s eyes went wide,
 
“Tell me you’re joking, Dray! By the goddesses, what the hell’s there? Other than…”
 
“-Corpses and memories” The Colonel finished for her, “I know, Heather. But…there was something about her. Something in the way she spoke.” Dray lifted up a stick and poked the fire, encouraging a little more heat from it, “She offered me…all of us, something that I thought we’d lost at River Valley. Maybe even before.”
 
Wild scrubbed her mane, curiosity getting the better of her,
 
“What’s that then?”
 
Dray smiled drily, “Hope.”
 
“Pfff!” Harrier snorted, “Not a problem! I’ll fly over there, find this…whatever it is…and bring it back, done and done!”
 
“No.” Dray shook his head, “I’m going. Alone. I won’t risk anypony else in this, it’s too dangerous.”
 
“Like bollocks you are!” Wild snapped, leaning forward and jabbing him with a hoof, “We came here looking for you because you’re our friend, and also because you, Dray, are our hope.” She swung her foreleg around, taking in all the ponies watching them, “These soldiers, Equestrians, all of us, we’re here because we trust you and believe in you. We love you, Colonel, every single pony here does. You see that…don’t you?”
 
Dray’s heart fluttered, a tiny stirring that was like the fanning of dead ashes, desperately trying to find a single spark, to find that one glowing ember that could reignite the fire. He shuddered, but not from the cold; it was the anticipation, the hopeful gazes, the light in every pony’s eyes. Goddesses…so many had died, so many had been killed…and for what? He’d lost his wife, his foals, and yet…and yet if he did nothing, if he abandoned these ponies, would the horror of what happened to him be visited upon them? What if Ochre intended for more victims? To murder any and all who had any connection to him at all? He closed his eyes,
 
“Harrier?”
 
“Yeah?”
 
“Find out the names and addresses of all the immediate families of the ponies here. Get messages to them to move away, anywhere just to…”
 
She held up a sleek foreleg and smirked,
 
“Way ahead of you there, Colonel”
 
“That was the first thing we did” Wild agreed, “We’d heard awful rumours about what was happening in the capital. We didn’t want to take the chance, especially as Ochre knows damned well where our loyalties lie.”
 
Dray shook his head, “Your loyalties should be to Equestria, all of you, not some beat up old stallion.” He snorted, “What the hell can I do? Look at me! My family was murdered, butchered by those…those filthy, evil animals, and I couldn’t stop it! I wasn’t there! Don’t you understand? I’m not who you think I am! I…I’m not…”
 
Grief, cold as the first snows of winter, suddenly crashed in on the grey stallion, drowning him in its empty embrace. Honey, Dawn Dew, Polo…they were gone! He’d never see them again, never hold them again…he took a breath and coughed it out as the horrible realisation of how helpless he felt right then pulled him under. He hid his face in his hooves and wept. Tears flooded from his eyes, soaking his forelegs as the thin walls he’d tried to erect around his heart, fell like a deck of cards.
 
Forelegs, soft and warm, reached out to him and drew him into a loving embrace as he shook. Hooves stroked his mane, whispering to him how it would be all right, how they would be together again…one day. Dray leaned his head against the red mare, his friend for so many years, and cried his pain out to the world. Around him, the ponies sat quietly. Many of them had lost somepony; friends, lovers, family. Watching their Colonel, seeing him like that, exposed and in pain, they shared in his sorrow, his suffering. Some day, all this would be little more than a memory. Someday, they would bring back the light to their home and bring back hope for a brighter future for all ponies. But for now, for this night, they shared their hearts with their friends…they would remember…