//------------------------------// // Plague // Story: The Light of Despair // by Gordon Pasha //------------------------------// The room was dark. The room was quiet. The very air seemed to carry a tepid something. Not an odor, exactly, but more like a sense. A sense of contagion that seemed to contaminate everything and everypony that entered. This was one of the nicer homes of Whinnysburg, as evidenced by the fact that it was the first structure Hope had been in that actually had separate rooms, with walls dividing them. All the hovels she had been in had none of this. There was simply the ground, the outer layer – “wall” was too generous a term – and the bundles of straw that made up the ceiling. In effect, each hovel was one large room – though, again, “large” was far too generous a term – and seemed rather similar to the yurts which the yaks of Yakyakistan dwelt in. This house was different. It was an actual house. Hope felt the wood on her hooves and wondered whether she was tracking dirt and mud over it. They had made her wipe her hooves when she arrived, but she felt certain that quite a bit must still be there, given how much she had had to walk through. The room was painted beige or cream or something – the lack of light made it difficult to tell – and there seemed to be a fresco on one of the walls. A large window would no doubt have offered a commanding view of Whinnysburg had it not been covered by an even larger curtain. But the mere fact that this house had a second floor at all was probably the greatest testament to its opulence. Not that Hope cared much for any of that. Neither did the plague, as evidenced by the pony laying in the bed at one end of the room. The sheets he lay on may have been of finest silk, but this pony, under the plague’s power, looked just like all the others Hope had seen. His head and legs were visible, and they all contained large boils, which ranged in color from a pinkish-red to brown, making them almost look like the result of searing. Hope knew from the past few hours’ experience that the rest of his body would have these same boils. All the ponies she had tended to had had these boils, and from what she could tell, the longer a patient lingered, the larger and more numerous they became. This pony probably did not have long to live. But then, the plague was so fast-acting that neither did any other pony that caught it. Hope was well-aware of that. “Can you heal him?” Oriflamme asked. She was standing behind Hope, clearly afraid of getting too close, and behind her were members of this pony’s family – a wife and a brother, if Hope remembered correctly. There were also a few other prominent townsfolk, Oriflamme’s deputies, who had been accompanying their mayor throughout Hope’s entire tour of mercy. “I’ll have him all fixed up in no time,” Hope said casually. She had now cured just about every pony with plague in the village, and so felt confident that this deadly disease was no match for her magic. Without needing to look back, she knew the mayor and the others were at this moment holding themselves in the deepest suspense. This little drama had replayed itself at every single stop. Gasps and hushed, anxious breaths and then, at the moment the plague disappeared, a cathartic outcry of surprise and relief. Hope smiled. This was serious, of course, but there was a part of her that found their reaction rather amusing. Her horn began to glow and, his covering removed, the patient was enveloped in blue light. One by one, the boils began to shrink and disappear. Soon, nearly all of them were gone. “Stop!” The shock caused Hope to break her concentration. The door to the room had opened, throwing light upon her. She looked to see, as did everypony else, the source of the interruption. There stood Fallen Fortune, holding his head high in a posture of smug pride. “What is the meaning of this?” Oriflamme demanded. “I am this town’s leading expert on medicine,” said Fortune, “and as such, I should be present whenever a pony is being treated.” “You’re not the leading expert anymore,” said Oriflamme. “We have somepony better qualified.” “I do admit that our distinguished guest showed herself very proficient at healing broken limbs back there,” said Fortune. “But that’s not quite the same thing as curing illness, is it? Don’t you think that her spells might in fact do more harm than help? Shouldn’t we, just to be sure, keep to the known safety of potions?” Fortune’s horn lit up and a small bottle rose from his pocket. “I happen to have one here that–” “Where have you been?” Oriflamme said. “The princess here has been curing ponies up and down Whinnysburg. Her spells took care of the plague, no problem. Once she cures this last one, the plague will be just a distant memory.” “Well, excuse me, but I was busy trying to create a new potion that would prove highly effective against the plague,” Fortune said. “It meant that I had to miss her little show. But I did create a new potion, a potion that I am certain will cure not just the plague, but all diseases and all ailments. And, as the ponies of this household have been my best customers, I thought it only fitting that they should get the first taste. Here, let’s have him try some.” Fortune began to approach, but Hope stepped in his path. “Please, don’t,” Hope said. “I know you’re trying to help, but it’ll be quickest if I just finish what I started. I’ve bought him some time, but he’ll get worse again if we waste too much. Please let me just save his life.” “Afraid of being made obsolete by my potion, are you, little lady?” Fortune asked with a nasty grin. “After all, there is only one of you, but my panacea will soon be available across Equestria.” “I hope that happens,” Hope said, “but I need to finish helping this pony.” “Enough!” Oriflamme said. “I bet that potion’s nothing but what you scooped up from the gutter.” “I can assure you that it is not,” Fortune responded. “It is a very powerful and potent tonic.” “I’ll be the judge of that,” the mayor said. She lunged forward and tore the cork out of the floating bottle with her teeth. Then, with a flick of the wing, she caused the bottle to turn upside down. A luminescent green liquid tumbled out like a waterfall. Fallen Fortune flipped the bottle back over, but it was too late. The entire contents had poured out, making a hissing sound as they splashed upon the wooden floor. Within an instant, the liquid ate through the floor, leaving a gaping hole that offered a fine view of the rooms below. Fortune tried to hide his humiliation as everypony but Hope glared at him. “You have to admit, it will make quick work of those boils!” “And everything else! I should have you put in the stocks for something like that,” Oriflamme said. “I’d have you exiled, if they’d let us send anypony out of this town!” “That shouldn’t be a problem anymore,” Hope said. “Once I heal him, there will be no more plague.” Fortune glared daggers at Hope. Hope gave a small, bashful smile. “Not that I want you to get exiled, or anything!” “Thanks,” Fortune said with a sneer. “You’re welcome!” Hope responded, acting oblivious. “To think, after all the potions and ointments and elixirs we bought from you!” said the brother. “For all we know, that could have been what got him sick in the first place!” “We should wring every single bit we paid back out of you!” the wife added. As Fortune hurriedly shuffled back toward the door, he said, “Did I mention yet that my refund policy doesn’t apply to spouses and relatives?” “Oh, we weren’t going to be asking,” the wife said as both she and the brother menacingly approached Fortune. Fortune gulped and, without another word, leapt from the room. The door slammed magically behind him. “You weren’t really going to hurt him, were you?” Hope asked. “No, just wanted to get him out of here,” the brother said. “Speak for yourself!” the wife said, with an audible “Harumph!” “I don’t think he was trying to hurt anypony,” Hope said. “He probably does just want to help.” “Tell me, Your Highness,” said the mayor, “is blissful naivety one of the job requirements for being a princess?” “I wouldn’t know,” Hope muttered to herself. “Shouldn’t you be tending to my brother,” the stallion said. Hope nodded her head swiftly. “Oh, right!” She focused once more on the pony in bed. The blue light again encased him. The remaining boils grew smaller and smaller. Then, like a wave washing over him, they were gone. The blue light faded. He sat up and opened his eyes. “What happened? I feel like I’m just waking up from a nightmare,” he said. “All done,” Hope said with a large smile as his brother and wife sped past her to enjoy a reunion. Hope heard the joyous shouts behind her and felt the many hooves patting her on the back and shoulders. But she did not care. Seeing the joy on her patient and his family’s faces was reward enough for her. She basked in that happy scene until the wife rose from her husband’s bedside and approached. “Whatever we can do to thank you, we will,” she said. “We are not without means in this community. Just say what you want and we can get it for you, whatever it is.” Hope thought about what she most wanted. It was a charming gesture, but she knew that it was far beyond even their considerable resources to bring Sombra back to her. She shook her head. “That’s not necessary,” she said. “Money, surely,” said the wife. “We have more of that than anypony. We can pay you.” “No, that’s fine,” Hope said. “I didn’t do this for bits. Trust me, it’s all in a day’s work.” Later, Hope lay comfortably in bed. It had been so long since she had been able to relax beside a warm fire, and now a rather impressive one was crackling in a fireplace just close enough to keep her warm, yet far enough to avoid being a danger. Hope had said she was fine with a simpler, smaller room for the night, but the mayor had insisted that she take the finest room in the finest inn in all of Whinnysburg. Admittedly, there were only two inns in Whinnysburg, but it’s the thought that counts. Hope reflected that it had been a most satisfying day. It is not every day that you rid a whole town of plague, after all. Oriflamme was so grateful that she had refilled all of Hope’s supplies without asking a bit for them. Which was a relief, given that Hope had refused all offers of monetary reward for her services. Of course, she felt it had been the right choice, but it made paying for supplies rather difficult on occasion. So, all in all, a most satisfying day. Hope let out a deep, tranquil breath. Her smile widened. She had done a great job, hadn’t she? Sombra would have been so proud of her. Suddenly, a chill tore through Hope’s entire body. It left her cold, and even the roaring of the fire could not warm her again. Sombra. If only I hadn’t been so blind, you’d be here to share this with me! Why did I turn my back on you when you needed me the most? The smile disappeared from Hope’s face. She stared up blankly at the timbered roof above. A single tear rolled down the side of her head. She quickly wiped it away. No! No crying! she thought. I’m going to fix this, Sombra. I really am. Whatever it takes, I’ll find a way to heal you. I promise. And on that note, Radiant Hope drifted off to sleep. Had Radiant Hope defeated the plague? Read on.