CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
CRY OF THE PEGASUS
The ancient timbers moved, the lifeblood of the wood flowing deep within its core. She could sense the vitality all about her, feel the teeming sea of life upon her decks as well as the chill of the winter air passing by her sleek hull. The memories of those who had lived and died aboard her still lingered within her own memory, the hearts of her crew and her captain, as precious to her as the seasons were to her living, breathing body. She could sense the captain’s suffering, the torment she was hiding deep inside. She felt too the more physical pain of the crew, and of one in particular who had come to her as a broken and fading speck of life. Now, she lay within her, the pony’s suffering more inside her heart than her body. The Revenge sailed on…troubled.
“How is she Doc?”
The ship’s medical officer didn’t look up as he laid another salve soaked strip across the red raw back of the green pegasus mare,
“She’ll live.”
Gretel closed her eyes. Cyclone was her friend, or at least, she had been. They’d been through so much together, weathered many storms, enjoying the good times and enduring the bad. As the Captain however, she had to ensure discipline was maintained and that meant enforcing the ship’s regulations. Nopony was above them, not even her best friend. Without them, chaos would reign and the efficiency and cohesiveness of the Revenge’s crew would soon fall apart. She knew as well as the Bosun knew, that without order, a closely confined crew would quickly turn to mischief and it could doom the ship with all hooves. The Revenge needed harmony, and goddess damn it all, so did she. Gretel sighed, turning to leave,
“Let me know if you need anything.”
Doc stood up and walked over to Gretel, placing his hoof on her shoulder, “When was the last time you slept?” he asked quietly, his eyes searching hers.
“I…I don’t know,” she replied distractedly, “a day or two maybe…something like that, it doesn’t matter.”
Doc shook his head, “It does matter, Gretel. You’re the Captain, the leader we look to for exactly that - leadership. If your decision making is impaired through lack of sleep then you could end up with more than just bad guts and a headache.”
How did he know…? Gretel rubbed her face with her foreleg, “You’re not my mother Doc…”
“-No, I’m not.” Doc cut in, “She’d knock some sense into you, rather than the brandy you’ve been putting into yourself instead of getting a nights sleep.” He lay a hoof on her shoulder, “Gretel, as your medical officer, I am ordering you to get to bed. As your friend, I’m asking you because I’m worried about you. Look, let Stock take command, he knows what he doing.”
Gretel leaned against the doorframe. He was right, she felt like death warmed up; and not very well warmed up at that. She nodded,
“Sure Doc, send Stock up to me when you can.”
“Aye, aye Cap’n”
The Captain walked slowly back up to her cabin. She was, as the Doctor had so clearly pointed out, nearly dead on her hooves. Gretel sank into her chair and poured a brandy…just one more, to keep her going…Leaning her chin on her forehooves, she tried to study the directions and charts on the table top. Goddesses, why wouldn’t everything stop swirling around?
“Captain?”
Gretel looked up from poring over the archaic map. She hadn’t even noticed Stock come in,
“Master Stock.”
The Ships Master blinked in surprise at the Captain’s bloodshot eyes and bedraggled mane. She looked like she hadn’t slept in days, and it showed. He cleared his throat,
“Doc sent me up to relieve you Captain.”
Gretel nodded, “Yes…thank you Stock. I need to get some sleep before we reach our rendezvous.”
“Aye, Captain.” He paused, “May I have moment?”
In answer, Gretel motioned to the chair opposite her. She leaned back from the map, rubbing her eyes. By the goddess, if she didn’t get to bed soon she’d likely pass right out, but something was playing on her mind, or rather, some ‘things’. The business with Chalk, Bracken and Cyclone, as terrible as it was, wasn’t the only thing that was troubling the Revenge’s Captain. There was more…the trouble was, she didn’t know exactly what it was. There was something in that business with Hay Wain that was troubling her, not least because it appeared on the face of it that he’d had some involvement in the abduction of Chalk as well. Was this whole plan to collect the barrels a scam? Hay Wain was a villain it was true, but to betray a whole ship and her crew didn’t seem like his style. No…no, he was up to something, she just couldn’t quite see what it was…yet.
“Captain?”
Gretel took a deep breath and closed her eyes. All she needed was sleep, just a little, but…she opened her eyes and tried her best to smile,
“What is it Stock?”
“I’d like you to read this.”
Furrowing her brow, Gretel took the proffered scroll. It was on thick parchment, tied in a deep purple ribbon and with the broken seal of a black crescent moon. Damn it all! She recognised it straight away…it was the symbol of Nightmare Moon and the Legion. She felt her heart skip a beat as she unravelled it, all the while trying not to show any outward concern to the brown stallion sitting opposite her.
The scroll was written in Equestrian, in extremely neat and precise hoofwriting. Gretel took a mouthful of her brandy and swallowed it down before reading,
To the Captain, officers and crew of the King Sombra’s Revenge,
Notice is hereby given to one and all aboard said vessel that her most gracious and divine majesty, Nightmare Moon, demands the immediate and unconditional return of the Equestrian unicorn stallion known as Ebony Bracken.
Immediate compliance is mandatory and the surrender of said Equestrian will be rewarded with a full pardon for any and all transgressions against her most gracious divine majesty and/or her armed forces.
Failure to comply with this directive will result in termination of any and all contracts past, future or present within Legion controlled areas and liquidation of any and all assets.
Representatives of her divine majesty may be contacted via the port authority.
Respectfully,
Royal Inquisitorial Inspectorate Command
First Spear
Arc
Gretels’ eyes went wide, her voice dropping as she spoke,
“Where did you find this?”
Stock blinked slowly, probably the nearest to embarrassed she’d ever seen the monotone stallion, “I searched through Cyclone’s things.” He said quietly, “I wanted to see if I could find something that would help me…understand.”
“And you found this.” Gretel replied. She rubbed her eyes with her foreleg, “This changes nothing Stock, she still did what she did.”
“It helps explain why.”
“It doesn’t excuse it.” Gretel said firmly, “And you’ll notice the letter says ‘Bracken’, not Chalk Dust. She knew the two of them were inseparable and used it as an excuse to get rid of him. Whether it meant his death or not, probably didn’t even enter her head, save that she got him off the ship.”
Stock’s eyes were unreadable.
“Stock,” Gretel said softly, “You know what all this is about, don’t you…”
“I…” he shook his head, “I believe so, Captain, but there’s no place on board for that sort of thing.”
Gretel wasn’t sure what he meant by ‘that sort of thing’, but it was between him and Cyclone to sort it out. She pushed herself out of her chair and walked round to the quiet stallion, “Master Stock, I consider you to be a friend as well as a first rate officer aboard my ship.” She smiled at him softly, “However, this business with Cyclone has gone on long enough. It’s not good for you, Cyclone, nor the efficient running of this vessel.” Gretel placed her hoof on his shoulder as she gazed at the hat hanging on the back of the door, a large mint green feather in its band, “I’m not bothered how you do it, but I want this resolved, Stock. And soon, you understand?”
He nodded slowly,
“Aye, Captain”
Gretel went to clop him on the back as she opened the door and paused,
“How’s the back…”
“Fine Captain,” Stock rumbled, “all but healed now.”
The red coated mare shook her head sadly,
“There’s somepony I need to see. Meanwhile, Master Stock, you have the deck.”
“Aye, aye, Cap’n.”
Down below, the sickbay was quiet. Doc had left to check up on the rest of the crew and, thoughtfully, had left a note to that effect on the door. Good old Doc, always one step ahead. Gretel pushed the door closed quietly behind her and slipped into the bunk room with its single patient who was silently lying face down on the bed, her back ensconced in layers of white bandages and her wings loosely tied with that same long scarf she remembered from when she’d first met the pegasus mare.
Gretel sank to her haunches and opened her mouth to say something, but the words just wouldn’t come. What could she say? Sorry? Damn it all! Why did it have to come to this? Sometimes…sometimes she hated being the Captain, other times, she couldn’t even begin to imagine being able to survive without her beloved ship. She felt herself shudder inside. Doc was right, if she didn’t get some sleep soon, she was going to fall apart.
“Come to gloat? Or haven’t you seen a flightless bird before?”
The voice was quiet, but carried a note of derision that Gretel had half expected.
“No. I came to talk. With a friend.”
“Huh.” Cyclone retorted, “Let me know if you find one.”
The words stung, even if they did carry more sarcasm than sincerity. The Captain watched the pegasus as she opened her eyes, fixing her with that familiar pair of large purple orbs. She steeled herself…she had to know,
“Cyclone, why didn’t you tell me about the letter?”
“Nosy arse been poking around in my gear has he?” The pegasus mare snorted derisively, “Ha! Only he’d know where to look too.” She paused, “Anyway, you know why I didn’t tell you already; I wanted that bloody unicorn gone, and that letter was my ticket. You know the rest.”
Gretel sighed, “I know you didn’t like Chalk Dust, but you could have sent him to his death, Bracken too. You know as well as anypony what Chalky means to me, and how what you did would wound me, but you still did it anyway. Even so, I still can’t believe you did it just because he was talking to Stock. Cyclone, please, tell me the truth.”
The mint green pegasus shifted on the bed, her obvious discomfort all too apparent on her face. Gradually, agonisingly slowly, she sat on her haunches panting to catch her breath, “The truth gets you flogged, Captain Gretel. You didn’t like what you heard and this…” she motioned to her back, “Is the result.”
Gretel shook her head, “No, Cyclone, it’s lying, it’s deceit, it’s betraying a friend’s trust. That, is what hurts.” She stared into her friend’s eyes, “If I weren’t Captain, I’d have volunteered to take your flogging for you. You may not believe it, but it’s the truth, and you should know that better than anypony aboard this ship.”
Cyclone stared back at her Captain. Finally…she looked away, “I wasn’t lying, Gretel. I…” she sniffed back an errant tear, “It was the night in the bow, the night that unicorn came in and started grabbing everyponies attention, like he had to be the centre of everything. I’d decided that night, I’d been steeling myself, building up my courage, to finally tell him how…how I…” her voice cracked and she squeezed her eyes shut against the wave of emotion surging through her, “But that bloody unicorn! I…I saw red. He’d stolen my friend and now the one I…Stock…it was too much for me.” Cyclone held her muzzle in her hooves, “It was too much!”
Gretel moved closer to her friend. Carefully, she gently took Cyclone’s head in her hooves, tenderly pulling her towards her chest. At first, the green pegasus tried weakly to push away, her resolve quickly fading in the warm embrace of her Captain. As the tears began in earnest, Gretel held her, lovingly stroking the broken pegasi’s mane,
“I know…shhh, it’s going to be alright.” She cooed, “It’s going to be alright.”
“Oh Gretel,” Cyclone sobbed helplessly, “It’s not…it’s not! He…he doesn’t see me as a mare, he looks at me and he sees her. I’m a ghost of her, a shadow. I can’t imagine what’s going through his mind, it must be torture! But damn it all, I want him to see me for who I am, not who she was! Goddesses, Gretel…it hurts so much…sometimes, sometimes I walk to the edge of the deck and look down at the clouds. I just want to forget everything, to feel the wind one last time through my wings, and fly. Even if it is…”
“NO!” Gretel hugged her friend tightly, far more than she meant to, but goddesses, “NO! Oh, Cyclone don’t you ever, EVER think of doing that! Losing you would be like losing my sister. Promise me, promise me you won’t!”
Cyclone looked away, but nodded weakly,
“For you, Gretel…I promise.”
Gretel pushed her away with a teary smile, “Good. Now, young lady, I want you to speak to that dim-witted stallion and get this bloody mess sorted out one way or another.”
Cyclone’s eyes went wide, “But…but if he…then I…I won’t be able to stay here, Gretel, I won’t! I couldn’t stay aboard with him seeing him all the time and knowing that he…he didn’t…” her voice drifted away like the ghost of a smile, “…didn’t want me.”
“Then I would support you in whatever decision you made” Gretel said, kissing her on the forehead, “You are family to me Cyclone, maybe not by blood, but you are my sister and I will stand by you.”
The green pegasus leaned into the red fur of her Captain and wept, her tears seeping into her friends coat,
“Captain?”
“Mmhmm?”
“Can I stay like this? Just…for a minute or two?”
“Of course…” Gretel smiled, stroking Cyclone’s pale blue mane, “As long as you need.”
*********************
Gretel awoke to the sound of heavy deck activity. Something was going on, but if it had been urgent, Stock certainly would have summoned her. As it was, he’d left her alone to catch what sleep she could, and by the goddess she had. Letting out a huge yawn, the red mare dragged herself from her covers and tottered over to the wash basin. Cold water would suffice for a quick freshen up, but then, the feel of it against her skin had always made her feel reinvigorated anyway. Today though, she stared into the mirror and stepped back in horror; was…was that her? She leaned forward, lifting up the mirror and carried it over to the window for a better look. Gretel closed her eyes, feeling the wave of sadness and sorrow come and go. Good goddesses, is this what Chalky had seen? She looked…haggard, old, the dark circles beneath her eyes telling the story of how she hadn’t been looking after herself lately. Of course, she never looked her best in the morning, her mane and tail were often neglected, but since she’d met Chalky she’d been washing more often, and she’d even bought a new set of brushes and curry combs from the sutler in Spurs Anvil. Gretel lifted the neat cherry wood box and ran her hoof over the silver inlaid grooming items inside, and smiled lovingly. She’d wanted to look her best for him, but secretly, she wanted him to groom her…the girls on the crew had always talked about it, and how ‘sensual’ it felt when your lover ran the brushes through your hair.
Gretel shivered and put the box back in the drawer. That was a thought for another day, the day she found Chalky and brought him home. She turned to look out of the window and paused. Was that really how she saw it? That the Revenge was home, both for her and the white stallion? But what about him? He’d run off after his friend and to hell with her! He’d just dumped her and…and…
Gretel grabbed a face cloth and scrubbed roughly at her muzzle. Damned, blasted stallions! What the hell did they know about a maiden’s heart? Bugger all! That’s what!
Taking out her worn set of old combs and brushes, she set to work on her mane and tail. Angrily she wrenched at the things as they snagged and pulled at the knots in her fur and hair. She wanted them to, she needed to feel it…that bloody unicorn and his stupid arse of a mare! How could she have been such an idiot, and why didn’t he damned well stop her either? All she’d wanted was for him to tell to her to shut up, to grab her in his forelegs and push her up against the wall and there, together…
The cold water made her gasp and shiver, washing the intrusive and altogether totally inappropriate thoughts away. Besides, Chalky wasn’t like that anyway, no, he had soft hooves, not the rough ones the crew had from years of working the decks. He was gentle, funny and surprisingly insightful, but that night, the look in his eyes…her words had wounded him, and probably a lot worse than she could imagine. Goddess, how she’d wanted to go after him, to call him back, but that damned pride of hers! And his! Gretel plunged her face into the wash bowl again and gave herself a good shake. Lifting the mirror, she nodded to herself in the reflection,
“Good! Altogether more ‘Captainly’ again!” She smirked.
Gretel began drying herself off and prepared for another day. Chalk could wait, he would wait. She had duties to perform and a ship to run, and they always came first. She ran her hoof over the door frame, smiling,
“I’ll see him again my love, won’t I?”
Deep within the bowels of the King Sombra’s Revenge, in the darkest recesses of the most ancient part of the vessel, the heart of the sky galleon thrummed happily. High above in the rigging, the crew could feel it too, those few extra knots, the way the old wooden ship seemed to slip through the air as if she were alive. Mr Haggis gently held the wheel, letting her have her rein. She was happy, and he could feel it through her. She would sing to him during the long lonely nights on deck, and he would sing to her in return. She loved her Captain and the Captain loved her, but Haggis…well, he smiled to himself knowingly, that was another story.
“Captain on deck!”
Stock gave Gretel a salute and bobbed his head to her,
“Good morning, Captain. You look very well today.”
“Good morning, Master Stock,” Gretel replied, adjusting her hat, “Status report, if you please.”
“Aye, Captain” Stock walked up to the balustrade beside her, “We’re making good time. We should be entering the cloud sea within the next hour. I’ve set an extra watch up on the deck and in the crows nest. I’ll confess, Captain, that I’ve never been in the cloud sea myself, but I’ve heard the old hooves talking below.”
“Salty?” She asked.
“Aye” Stock rumbled, “Once you get past all the ‘folk wisdom’ and tall tales, you get to the meat of it all.” he cleared his throat, facing the Captain, “It’s dangerous, Captain, very dangerous. There’s not just the mountains to worry about, there’s ‘things’ that live there too, amongst the clouds.”
Gretel kept her voice low, “What things?”
Stock shook his head, “Don’t know. Salty only said that a couple of the ponies on his crew had vanished into the cloud, only leaving their screams behind.”
The Captain’s blood ran cold, “Dear goddesses…”
Stock nodded, “Captain, we’ve weathered many a storm, but I have to say.” He looked out across the decks towards the bow, “I feel…uncomfortable about this venture. I don’t trust that Hay Wain, particularly after that business with Chalky and his friend.”
Gretel sighed, leaning her hooves on the balustrade, “I know Stock, and I appreciate your thoughts on the subject. Believe me, I have the same reservations of my own, but what do we do? If we break our contract, everypony will know about it and we may find ourselves unable to get any more. If we go on, we could endanger the Revenge and all the ponies aboard. You have the mind of the crew, Stock, what do they say?”
“They see money, Captain. Money, booze, and Madam Pickles’ whore house.” He grinned, an unusual occurrence for the dour stallion, “They’ll go through hell for you, for the ship, and for gold.”
Gretel laughed, “You know, Master Stock, I can strangely relate to that. But for Madam Pickles’?” she shook her head, “No. I have my own plans.”
Stock smiled, “Involving a certain white unicorn?”
Gretel winked at him, “Now that would be telling.” She gave herself a shake, returning her mind to more dutiful concerns, “Stock, bring the weapons up on deck and see they’re ready. Have the Master at Arms, arm every pony and post sharpshooters in the masts.”
“Better safe than sorry, Captain?”
She nodded, “If it all turns out to be a load of bollocks, we all know who to blame”
Stock snorted, “Hay Wain?”
“No!” Gretel chuckled, “That old fart, Salty!” She stretched her legs and neck, working out the stiffness from her sound nights sleep, “Stock. I’ve spoken to Cyclone.” She gave him a light nudge with her muzzle, “Go on…she’s waiting for you. Your duties can wait a few minutes.”
Stock stared at the deck, suddenly looking very uncomfortable,
“Captain…”
“No excuses. This needs sorting, Stock. I need my officers at peak efficiency and if you’re both hiding your feelings and thoughts from one another, you could compromise the ship. I know you, Stock, and I know Cyclone. Neither of you would jeopardise the Revenge, so get your bloody heads together and get everything shipshape.”
“Whatever the outcome?” he asked quietly.
“So long as it is resolved, Stock, yes.” She tossed her mane, feeling the wind catch it and stream out behind her playfully, “I trust you.”
“Aye, aye, Cap’n.”
*********************
Cyclone sat on the edge of the bed, brushing her mane over and over again. It was an old habit she’d developed ever since she’d been…’taken’. She’d only been a foal when it happened; a tiny new life, sold and traded like a sack of wheat, as though she were nothing more than a simple commodity. But then, slavers didn’t care about how it might affect you, how it would scar you, let alone how you felt or how you would suffer. None of that mattered, only the money, your life measured in the scales against some trader’s profit margins. Their trade was in the suffering, pain and misery of innocents until, eventually, if your master was merciful…death. The mint green pegasus shook her mane out and started brushing it again. It didn’t need it of course, but it felt re-assuring, calming, her heart feeling more at ease with the rhythmic action.
She was still angry with Gretel, but then she was angry with a lot of ponies - one in particular. He was so damned infuriating! And also somepony whom she would travel to the ends of the world for, if only he would ask it of her. It was stupid, she knew, but it was something she couldn’t control. Long ago she’d realised that denying how you felt only lead to pain. With the Master of the ship though, the rules she’d set for herself didn’t have much impact. He knew how she felt, and it meant nothing to him…nothing at all. Gretel was right of course, the matter needed to be resolved, but really, there was only one way…
The door opened slightly, followed by a tentative knock,
“Bosun? Are you in here?” Stock’s face appeared around the door, his large eyes spotting her on the bed. He seemed to hesitate before speaking again, “May I speak with you?”
Cyclone continued to brush her mane, “You don’t need my permission.” She looked up at him for the briefest of moments, “I have a name you know. I wasn’t born ‘Bosun’.”
Stock shook his purple mane and pulled up a chair beside her,
“Captain said we needed to talk.”
“Did she?” The pegasus mare asked in mock surprise, “Why do you think that is? I couldn’t imagine.”
The dark brown stallion’s eyes stared at the floor,
“Cyclone…please. This is very hard for me.”
“Hard for you?” Cyclone replied, a hint of anger in her voice, “Hard for YOU?! How hard do you think it’s been for me, Stock? You walk around acting as if I don’t exist half the time and the other half stare at me as if you’ve seen a ghost. If you were in my shoes, can you imagine how that would feel? Can you?”
Cyclone’s voice began to quaver. She was well aware she had the capacity to explode in anger at the worst possible times, and now it looked like she was likely again. But this time, she couldn’t let it, she wouldn’t! She had to speak to him and chasing him off wasn’t going to resolve anything. The mint green mare hung her head and rubbed her eyes,
“Stock…I’m sorry.”
The stallion looked up in surprise, “Huh?”
“I said I’m sorry! You…!” Cyclone took a deep breath. Goddesses, how bloody aggravating could a stallion be?! “Look! I…” she drew a breath, calming her voice as much as she could, “Stock, I don’t want to be a burden on the ship and I don’t want to be one on…you.” She shook her head, “So, I’ve made my decision.”
Stock blinked, “Decision?”
“I’m leaving the Revenge the next time we dock at port.” Cyclone said calmly, “I’ve had a word with the bursar and there’s enough in my savings to set me up comfortably for the rest of my days. A little cottage somewhere, maybe near Spurs Anvil, who knows. That way I can still see my old friends when they’re in port, or maybe even a little village somewhere.” She smiled sadly, “Hey, with the money we make from this deal the Captain has, we could all be…”
“-Cyclone. Stop it.”
“…set for…” She stopped, her train of thought jumping the tracks, “What?”
Stocks heavy voice echoed around the room, “I know you don’t mean that. This ship is your home, not some crap hole in a dump like Spurs Anvil. You’re a free spirit, and up here, you can still fly, even if it is on the deck of a sky galleon.” Stock rubbed his head, unused to long conversations, “The ship needs you, Cyclone.”
She stared at him, her eyes narrowing,
“And that’s it is it? The ship needs me.”
Stock stared at the floor in silence.
Cyclone nudged him with a hoof, “For the goddesses’ sake Stock, look at me, for once!”
The large stallion closed his eyes and slowly, gradually, lifted his head up and met her gaze.
Cyclone watched him quietly, “Who do you see, when you look at me?” she asked gently.
“Who do I see?” he asked, perplexed.
“Yes! Who do you see?” Cyclone paused, waiting for an answer that never came, “And that’s exactly it isn’t it? I can see it in your eyes, Stock. You don’t see me, you see Even Song, you see…her ghost.”
Stock looked away, his face unreadable.
“Get out” Cyclone said quietly, “Go on, sod off and leave me alone.” She could feel tears beginning to fill her eyes, “Just…go.”
Gritting his teeth, the Master of the ship rose to his hooves and walked slowly to the door. Cyclone turned over and rolled onto her bed, pulling the blanket over her head. Her heart felt like ice, cold, dead…she knew she had no choice now, she had to…
The door slammed shut. A moment later she heard the lock click into place. Cyclone’s ears twitched at the sound of hoofsteps coming nearer - heavy hoofsteps.
“No”
Stocks rumbling voice was strong and assured.
Cyclone pulled down the blanket slightly and peered up at him in confusion.
“Stock, please…”
“I said no, Cyclone. I’m not going.” A muscular dark brown leg reached out, his rough hoof pulling the blanket away from her, “I don’t want you to go.”
Cyclone closed her eyes. She didn’t want to look at him, she didn’t want to hear this. Too many years had passed, too many lonely, empty nights, and now…now this?!
Stock sank down to his haunches beside her. He was so now close she could smell him, his musky odour, the scent of a hard working crewpony. The mint green mare felt like she wanted to disappear and simply not exist anymore, but…this is what she wanted, wasn’t it? To hear from his lips how he truly felt, to hear from that big brown pony how he saw her. But now, now he was here, she was terrified.
“Cyclone…” he said, in what she presumed was the softest tone he could produce, “What happened, all those years ago. It wasn’t what you thought.”
Cyclone took a shuddering breath, her heart racing,
“How can you know what I thought? You never listened to me. Every time I try to speak to you, you brushed me off, or found some excuse to be somewhere else.”
“I know!” Stock’s hoof banged on the floor making her jump, “I…” He shook his mane, gathering his thoughts, “I’m…I’m not very good with words. I wanted to talk to you, I really did, but I never seemed to be able to think of what to say.”
“Stock…” Cyclone looked up at him. The big dumb stallion was pouring his heart out and looked…pathetic. She could have laughed, but there was that light of honesty in his eyes that she’d fallen for all those years ago. She cleared her throat, “You loved Eve, didn’t you. I saw it in your eyes everytime you looked at her.”
Stock nodded,
“I did, but not the way she wanted.”
“Oh, come on, you two were inseparable!”
He nodded again, “She was vulnerable, Cyclone. You know how weak her body was, after those animals had…” he closed his eyes, “what they’d done to her.” He looked up, his big chestnut eyes glinting in the light from the lantern, “And what they did to you.”
Cyclone hung her head, “She loved you. I know she did.”
“She loved me, she told me all the time. But, Cyclone…I didn’t love her.” Stock’s voice sound choked, distant, “I wanted to, I really did, but I couldn’t…”
“But…why?” Cyclone asked, her heart racing.
Stock squeezed his eyes shut at the memories assailing him and hung his head, “That night, when they found Eve in the bar, drunk, and…and then the two of you tried to get back to the ship…I should have been there, I should have done something! Goddesses damn me, Cyclone, I was too slow! Too bloody slow!”
“You didn’t know!” Cyclone said loudly. Her heart was beginning to pound in her chest from even the memory of that night, “It wasn’t you fault the bloody fool had snuck out on her own for a drink. The Captain had said to stay aboard and what did she do? Got rat arsed and muggins here, sneaked out to find her without telling anypony!”
Cyclone’s eyes were filling with tears. Goddesses, it was so long ago and yet so fresh in her mind’s eye. She could still see her, she could hear the shouts of the slavers as they recognised them, the rumble of hooves, claws and paws as they gained on them. She looked down at her hooves; she could still remember the feel of Even Song’s body leaning against her as she dragged her back to the ship while she screamed for help. Help that came…just a few seconds too late.
The pegasus hugged herself with her hooves, rocking back and forth with the horrible feeling of the memory surging through her. She could still see stock racing towards her, his sword gripped in his teeth even as the impact of the crossbow bolt reverberated through her. Goddesses…she’d never forget it. Stock was like death itself, cutting his way through pony and griffin as if they were nothing more substantial than air. He’d been badly hurt too, but in her grief, Cyclone only had eyes for the dying twin in her forelegs. Those big purple eyes staring up at her, the smile on her face as the light of life faded…and died.
Stock reached out a tentative hoof and quickly put it back down, his embarrassment and shame all too apparent. Cyclone took a breath and reached out to him, lifting that very same hoof in hers and holding it to her chest. He didn’t resist, instead he simply sat and gazed at her as if it were the most natural thing in the world for him.
“You don’t have to say any more, Stock,” she said, a sad smile on her face, “You can go now.”
The large stallion shook his head stubbornly, “You still don’t see, do you?” he rumbled. Stock scratched his head furiously, “When I see you, I see Eve…”
“I know, that’s…”
“NO!” Stock pulled his hoof away and jumped up, pacing the floor, “Damn it to the bowels of hell! I’m no bucking good at this!” he suddenly lashed out with a savage kick, sending a heavy wooden chest across the floor, splintering the lid as it slammed into the wall. The door to the room suddenly rattled and a familiar, yet muffled voice called from the other side,
“Hey! What’s going on in there? Why’s the door locked?”
Stock leaned up against the door,
“Doc, its Stock.”
“Stock? What are you…?”
“-go away.”
“What? I…”
“GET THE HELL AWAY! DO I NEED TO SAY IT AGAIN?”
There was an indistinct sound from outside and then the room fell silent. Cyclone had never seen the Ship’s Master like this, so…angry, so…dominant. The brown stallion walked back to her, his black mane falling across his face as his chest heaved with emotion,
“Cyclone, I…” he took a deep breath, “I see Eve...dying. When I look at you, I keep thinking that it’s my fault, that if I’d been there sooner I could have stopped it, that I could have saved her. But not because I loved her, but because she was my friend. When I see you it…it frightens me, because I don’t want you to…because I…”
Cyclone reached out a hoof and brushed the errant strands of hair from his forehead. Their eyes met.
“Say it…”
Stock shuddered, his whole body shaking with the effort of saying what he’d been trying to say for too long, far, far too long,
“Cyclone…I…”
“Please…Stock,” She leaned forward, her muzzle so close to his she could feel his breath, “I need to hear it…”
Stock closed his eyes, a tear slipping out and rolling down his cheek, “I love you, Cyclone. It was you I loved,” more tears were flowing now, and not just from the brown stallion, “…I’ve always loved you.”
A muffled voice from outside the door huffed a reply, unheard by the two lovers within,
“About bloody time…”