From Dusk to Night

by KuroiTsubasaTenshi


40 - Looming Storms

The Badlands were quiet, almost deathly so, with much of the fauna that dared to live here content to make rather muted sounds. The ground was hard, cracked and barren. What few plants the land could muster huddled up against the equally sparse rock formations. The dusty brown columns and hills were very tall, providing a small, but blessed, relief from the choking, energy-sapping winds. Though the shelter was welcome, the rocks were often arranged so haphazardly that I was worried a strong gust might collapse them upon us. On top of that, their size could easily hide more than a couple predators. This was only exacerbated by my sleep deprivation. While I could remain vigilant now, I knew within a couple hours that that would wane, opening us up to potentially deadly mistakes.

However, staying up an extra hour or two had been necessary. Terra had led me to the deepest recesses of her stock room, where she’d dusted off a large wooden crate. Inside had been a veritable treasure trove of premium, unused traveling gear. Some of it was clearly a bit dated, but no less useful.

When I’d asked why her best goods weren’t out on the floor, she gave me a bit of a sad smile and said, “Just in case I ever wanted to walk the open road again. I think about it every year, but end up putting it off.”

“Terra… If, when this all settles, you want to come along this summer, you’d be more than welcome.”

She’d shaken her head, smirking a little as her eyes drifted down to the excessive pile of gear. “I guess I’ve been thinking for a lot of years now. I’m probably past that stage of my life. But if this can help you at all, I’m glad I hoarded it.”

It was my turn to shake my head, though not at her. No, I appreciated all that Terra had done, but now was not the time to be lost in recollection. Still, I took a moment to reassess what I’d taken.

There was a thick canvas tent, big enough for four people if we scooted in close; a full, stainless steel, compact cooking set; some high-durability waterskins and a heavy climbing harness. The harness was probably the most important, as Merriweather had run off with both hers and Star’s. While we were currently in a set of flats, I had to imagine the terrain wouldn’t stay that way forever. When it came to the elements and general logistics, we had a leg up.

However, that was no reason to get complacent. Terra wasn’t running an armoury, so we hadn’t gotten any help there. I had little more than my wingblade, with a second stowed away in my flight satchels. Either way, my little blade wouldn’t fare too well against large targets. Despite Star being an experienced monster hunter and Bellerophon’s undeniable power, I was very much on edge. Perhaps my own helplessness was starting to get to me.

As such, my eyes were constantly exploring the cliffs, looking for crevices of just the right size. Of course, they’d need to fit the three of us, but be short enough that a garuda’s long talons couldn’t pluck us out—as if its uncanny ability to swoop down and snatch multiple people at the same time wasn’t enough. The crevice would also need to be narrow or clearly devoid of any basilisk claw marks. Much like Everfree’s cockatrices, were we to wander into a Basilisk nest, it was unlikely anyone would ever find us. Short and narrow would also lend itself to fending off dire wolf attacks. I was certain there had to be even more things to consider, but I hadn’t had any time to do additional research on what little Equestria knew of the Badlands. What I was working off of was what, borne of morbid curiosity, I’d read about in my youth. It was only now that I wished I’d been more inquisitive.

A sudden gust cut across the desolate plains, scattering grit every which way. The two were clearly in cahoots as the former lifted my cloak so that the latter could pelt my coat. I winced, tucking my head to keep the sand out of my eyes. When the wind refused to relent, I looked up, cracking my eyes just enough to take a quick assessment.

Just as my eyes met the skyline, Night called out, “This is storm weather!”

On the very edge of the horizon, roiling brown clumps of grit had latched onto each other, intermingling until they became an ominous, shifting wall. Even though it was already massive, it continued to accumulate until what dull sunlight we had was lost entirely.

Sandstorm! A Badlands sandstorm!” Star yelled. Her eyes were also probing the meager cliffs, but as it turned out, the storm had almost caught us out in the open. “We have about ninety seconds to find cover! Our best chance is to backtrack! Get moving!”

“Shit!” My eyes widened as my mind shuffled through the last mile. A low, crooked cave hurriedly assembled itself in my mind’s eye. It would be the perfect place to wait this out. Only problem: it was a few minutes back. “This way!”

I broke into a full gallop. Odds were that we wouldn’t have to worry too much about ambushes. Any predator would have to be insane to risk this much to attack us. Good thing too, because the landscape itself seemed pretty intent on fighting us. The hardened ground was suddenly very gritty and crumbly in all the wrong places. The number of times I just about face-planted almost tempted me into spreading my wings and trying to let the wind carry me. It might have even worked, if my goal was to be thrashed across the ground like a tumbleweed.

Despite the difficulties, I did my best to modulate my pace, keeping an eye behind me to ensure Night and Star were no more than ten feet away. I refused to let anyone disappear into the swirling sands. Not now, not ever.

After what felt like hours of scrambling through the grit, my legs felt like they might give out. But the blessed sight of that crooked cave renewed my strength. Powering through, I reached the entrance. Even just standing at the mouth, the absence of the wind made my body feel like it had just shed a two-hundred-pound weight.

As I turned to wave Night and Star in, I got my first good glimpse of the sandstorm’s progression. What had previously been brown puffs had consolidated into something that looked more like a solid cliff face—one that could collapse upon us at any second.

“Hurry! It’s almost here!” I could have sworn I was yelling, but even to myself, I sounded like I was speaking into a burlap sack.

With the immediate danger dealt with, I turned my attention to the danger that was slightly less immediate. I sniffed at the air, following a few of the scents to the floor and the walls. There were quite a few strange smells mingled with the usual cave mustiness, but nothing that suggested something had claimed it. We didn’t have to go far to realize why. Or rather—we couldn’t go far.

The cave was claustrophobically small, consisting of no more than an L-shape with the short end at the back. It was everything I’d been looking for, which made it great for the monster attacks that never happened, but less preferable for the current situation. Sand would still occasionally bounce in off the walls, especially when the winds shifted east. Additionally, we couldn’t go deep enough to dampen the sound by more than a token amount.

Amidst the deafening roar, I could hardly keep my wings still. Uncontrollable weather was generally an accepted part of a weather worker’s job. And yet, I don’t think I know anyone who isn’t bothered by the Everfree’s. Typical wild weather was one thing—where one person might not be enough, a large and organized enough team could generally put it to bed. But the Everfree was different. Stuff that wandered beyond the forest’s border was easy, sometimes even trivial, to dissipate. But go just twenty feet into its borders and everything becomes fiercer, immovable, almost… malevolent.

The Everfree had always been a sore point for every member of the Weather Bureau. Perhaps it has to do with the ancestry of us pegasus members, but there was this intrinsic urge to defy and rise to the challenge—a sort of weather pride, might be the best way to describe it. The Badlands’s weather carried the same vibe, and with it, a similar inkling.

The urge filled my wings, but I fought it back. If I were to go out there, I had little doubt that the gusts would tear my wings right off—and that was before taking into account the damage done by a one-hundred-mile-per-hour wall of sandpaper. In fact, with the way the cave was groaning, I almost expected the storm to burst through the wall like a horror villain.

Night seemed to be holding out a little better. While I caught the occasional wing twitch, he almost appeared calmer than usual. Perhaps it had to do with constantly being the sole person dealing with the night watch and its large helping of renegade weather.

Despite our pegasus problems, Star looked to be the worst off. Even in the confines of the cave, she’d found a way to pace. It was perfectly understandable, of course. If Merriweather was clear of the storm, the gap would widen, bringing her ever closer to other kinds of trouble. If she somehow wasn’t, she was alone while having to deal with this monstrosity. The no-win situation left me feeling rather sullen. I imagined Star must have felt downright sick.

“Hey, Star. Are you doing okay?” I watched her carefully.

She paused a couple beats, nodding slowly and firmly. “I am… fine. It is just the storm.”

I wanted badly to ease her mind, but with as many unknown factors as there were, I wouldn’t be able to say anything with any level of assurance. At best, my words would ring hollow. At worst, they’d worry her further. Finally, I settled on helping her focus that energy into improving our odds for the future.

“So, is there anything more you can tell us about Ostfriesen?” I asked. “We know so little and any given detail could make the search go faster.”

Night stared at the wall for a few moments before giving me an apologetic look. “Bellerophon agrees. He wants to know what happened after he, um… left.”

Star closed her eyes. “Very well. Since Bellerophon's time, Queen Tapioca did much for the country. She ruled fairly, and established many laws to prevent her descendants from abusing their power. She created the knights to defend her people from the harshness of the land, and began to teach her people to cultivate and grow. The land prospered, and the ponies prospered, rather than wasting their energy on war.”

When he opened his mouth, Night’s voice wavered a little, as though some of Bellerophon was leaking through. There was something deeply disturbing about it, possibly even moreso than when he’d taken direct control. “That... Bellerophon says that sounds right. She cared. Apparently she cared, a lot. They didn't want anypony to die on their behalf, which is what drove them together.”

“Then, what drove them apart? May I ask, what happened?” Star’s eyes drifted over to me—she’d picked up on it too.

Night shrunk as he glanced at me. “Maybe... I shouldn't…”

“Don’t hold back on my account. It’s your body. If you’re okay with it, I’ll support your decision.”

When Night nodded, Star spent a few moments considering. “Very well, then. Lord Bellerophon, you have spoken of betrayal, but our history calls you the greatest warrior to ever breathe. You knelt before Tapioca, the final warlord to do so, and the only one to do so without a single battle fought. You are a legend, a hero, but you speak of Queen Tapioca with such disdain.”

Bellerophon took over, although something seemed a little different, as though he was restraining himself. “Over the course of our negotiations, we tried to find the greatest way to create the peace she dreamed of. In time, we complicated the matters beyond the needs of our people. Tapioca's spirit burned like a fire, fierce and unquenchable, and I found in her a pony every bit my equal. My superior in more ways than I wished to admit. Opposition turned to passion, and we became lovers.”

I almost quirked an eyebrow. If I hadn’t known any better, I’d have thought Terra was the one narrating the progression of that relationship.

There was definitely something else on Star’s mind and she spoke with an odd mix of care and directness. “This makes sense, of course. Then, what was the betrayal? Surely, you must have known?”

Bellerophon clenched Night’s teeth. “I learned the news from one of the nobles. They all knew it before I did. She had announced that she was to be married. She turned her back on... on what we had... I could no longer bear to look upon her.”

“Then... you did not know. I... see.” Star cleared her throat as she looked away. “Tapioca’s suitor was a pony to whom her hoof had been promised when she was very young. He was the heir to an influential family within Ostfriesen, a family which formed the core of her army when she had begun her campaign to unify the nation.”

“A political marriage? Then why was it so rushed? Why was it kept so secret, even from me? Especially from me!” Bellerophon’s tone seemed more frustrated than downright angry. I felt I had to agree to an extent. If all he said was true, this whole situation didn’t quite fit together.

Star took a deep breath, closing her eyes again. When she opened them, they held a very serious clarity. “Because, the Queen could not risk anypony knowing the truth. A truth that has been handed down only among the Royal Family—to her direct heirs. Queen Tapioca was pregnant. The marriage needed to be done quickly, so that the heirs would be valid, and that the promises she had made would not spark a new war.”

My eyes darted between Star and Bellerophon. There was suddenly too much new information and I couldn’t decide which was more mind blowing.

“Tapioca, she…” Bellerophon slumped over. “You, are my heir?”

Star nodded. “The firstborn daughters of Tapioca were twins, the Princesses Spirit Dancer, and Mirthful Heart. They never took the title of Queen, instead choosing to rule together after their mother died. Since then, twins have always been revered in Ostfriesen as lucky. Queen Papaya can directly trace her lineage back to them. Many other Ostfriesen nobles and knights can claim some link to Tapioca, and in turn, to you.”

Bellerophon sat motionless, almost frozen in time. I wasn’t entirely sure I could blame him. To think that Star and Merriweather were descendants of the first Queen, that I’d somehow found myself in the middle of some centuries-old political drama and that this was all likely just the tip of the iceberg. Whatever we were headed toward, it was way over my head.

“Tapioca. Why didn't I let you speak. I am—I was a father... Gods, I am such a fool.” Bellerophon turned his eyes to the wall, bearing a vacancy that lingered for only a few moments before he was suddenly Night again. Tears were starting to roll down his cheeks. I couldn’t tell who had been crying—probably both.

When Night looked up, he seemed just as haggard as Bellerophon had. “I... I think he wants to be alone.”

The sandstorm, long forgotten, reasserted its presence, calling out into our cave. But we didn’t answer.

At last, Star slumped. “I did not think that would hurt him so.”

I slipped up beside Night, nuzzling into his mane. Were I able to hug Bellerophon, I think I would have at least given him that comfort. Still, if there was one upside: perhaps now he could be free of his anger. “The truth isn't always easy, but I think he needed to hear that.”

Star looked past us, her mind clearly somewhere else. “Perhaps it is time we rest. If we cannot move forward, then it is best we save up energy for when we are able to continue. I can keep first watch.”