14 - No Victory is Without Cost
The hills cut away, their bulbous tops collapsing into a mess of yellowed grass. But those on hoof would find little relief from their hardship. Massive rock formations sprawled across the would-be plain, entangling the ground like oversized tree roots. Roots that were set ablaze by the falling sun. Thankfully, traveling by air meant we had the far easier task of navigating from above. The trick would be finding a safe place to land.
I’d only seen the site once, but the maze had rather thoughtfully divided itself up into distinct sections. Every cluster sported a significant deformation of one kind or another. Large grooves and chips, the brutal scars of wild weather, ran every which way. The triangle tangle with a jagged ‘C’ carved into its face would be easy enough for us to find. But anyone attempting a blind search could be down there, or even up in the sky, for days.
A few dozen yards in, and the ‘C’-shaped promise of salvation came into view. I banked, circling the rocks a couple times. Though it was highly unlikely, someone could have found their way there by chance. And I wasn’t about to let myself get sloppy just because we were in the home stretch.
When neither the narrow clearing, nor the surrounding shadows showed signs of movement, I began a slow, precise descent. Numerous outcropping protruded from the boulders and the last thing the zombie-pegasus and I needed to do was crash into one.
As we landed, I glanced back at Blaze. Her eyes were unfocused, staring, yet not staring, at the ground. Her legs were wrapped around the zombie tighter than a saddle strap and her chest heaved with each breath. It was then that I realized her apprehension was neither from the day’s fight, nor her prejudice of zombies. She had another, stronger fear: flying. Whether this was better to any noticeable degree was up for debate.
Blaze’s eyes snapped back into focus, darting rapidly over the ground; with each second, their pace slowed and her death grip loosened. She practically melted off the zombie’s back. Making no effort to stand, she remained on the ground, looking like she was about to be sick.
Despite having to close her mouth every few seconds, she managed to squeeze out a few words. “Where… where are we? Why did we stop?”
“The journey is too long to do in one night, especially since the bandits will probably be out looking for us.” I trotted along the rocks, looking for somewhere to hide, but still have a good view of the clearing. Luckily, I didn’t have to go far: the second alcove was about the right size.
“And we’re… going to camp... here?” She gave me and my newfound accommodation a dubious stare.
I shook my head. “No. We’re meeting a friend. She’ll take us somewhere much safer. We’ll rest there and let things blow over a bit.”
Blaze buried her muzzle in her forehooves. “Ugh… Do… do we have to fly again?”
“We’ll be less conspicuous on hoof.” I felt sorry for her. Even most pegasi spend some of their younger years afraid of flying. But once the fear is conquered, the feeling is wondrous. Blaze, unfortunately, seemed like she would be less-than-receptive to another try.
“Oh, thank Celestia.” Blaze flopped her legs out. For a second, I thought I could see the tension seeping out of her and into the grass.
I couldn’t help but smirk. “Try not to be sick too long. We need to find a good place to hide.”
“Not sick.” Blaze struggled to her hooves.
“Right. Could have fooled me.”
“Okay, okay. Maybe a little.” She scuffed a hoof across the ground. “It… it was just wrong. When my hooves aren’t on the ground, it’s like I’m missing part of my body.”
I wondered if she had simply been born with a strong phobia or if the reason was a bit more tangible. My eyes fell upon the flaming hoofprints on her flank. “Does it have to do with your cutie mark? With... pathfinding, is it?”
“Yeah, something like that.” She finally got up and plodded toward me.
“Something like that?” I raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah. But it’s not like when my dad looks for a trail. He uses his eyes. I just… feel it, I guess.” Blaze stopped, planting a forehoof against the ground for a few moments.
I watched her hoof, though nothing seemed to happen. “That’s impressive. Got some earth pony in you?”
Blaze nodded and picked up the pace, covering the rest of the distance in a couple bounds. “On my mom’s side.”
“All right, we can continue this conversation later. For now, we should concentrate on hiding,” I said, tapping a hoof beside me.
She nodded again and slipped into position.
The minutes crept by. What adrenaline remained trickled away and when that was gone, my focus began to fade. Doubts… questions… faces… all of them hammered at the wall in my mind.
No. Not now. The wall’s thickness redoubled and they were gone. At least for the moment.
I glanced at Blaze, whose ever-so-slowly drooping stance told me her mind had also turned to less-pleasant thoughts. Since we were at least safer among the rocks, I let her be. She needed all the time she could get.
And truth be told, I needed a distraction. So my eyes combed the ground, across each crack in the walls and through the skies above. My ears followed not far behind. I lost count of how many times my senses completed their patrol. But given that my thoughts hadn’t wandered so much as an inch, it didn’t really matter.
The soft crunch of hoofsteps nipped at my ears and they swiveled to meet the sound.
“Caw! Caw! Caw!” Ivory’s imitation echoed among the crags.
“Hoo!” I stepped out of the shadows.
Ivory turned the corner, a subtle stiffness to her step. A long, angled slash divided the side of her cloak. Red splotches, where the weapon had actually bit in, dotted the upper half. No matter how hard she tried to hide it, the awkwardness of her gait betrayed her.
“You’re hurt! What happened?” I called as loud as I dared.
“So are you.”
“I’m just a bit roughed up. But you, you’re bleeding!” With a frown, I circled round to point a forehoof at her side.
”It’s just a flesh wound. One of them surprised me, that’s all.”
“What? How? I’ve seen your…” I gave Blaze a sideways glance, “troops at work.”
“Nevermind that. We need to get going.”
She was right, but I didn’t like how dismissive she was acting. I didn’t know if she just didn’t want me to worry, which I might add she was failing spectacularly at, or truly believed the cut to be minor. Once we were safe, we were going to have a chat.
I turned to Blaze, who was staring at us, a tinge of her old ‘suspicious guardsmare’ returning to her face. But if she had any serious concerns, she didn’t voice them. She simply followed, allowing us to direct her when necessary.
Ivory led us along a short, but winding path of boulders. We entered another clearing where a wide cliff face loomed above us. As she approached the wall, she gave it a careful onceover.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Here. This is it.” Ivory stopped and held her horn high. With a flash of her magic, a ripple rolled across the cliff face.
Of course. I should have guessed. Scratch one question.
“What the hay was that?” Blaze took a step back.
“The call of safety.” I answered. “Follow me.”
Trotting forward, I barely even had to fight off my old reservations. The thoughts were simply lost, washed away by the flood of relief.
As expected, I was greeted by the stone walls and ceiling lanterns of Ivory’s hideout. The tunnel stretched out into the darkness, creating an odd sense of deja vu, even if there weren’t any doors at my end.
I glanced behind me. When the others did not appear, I stuck my head back out.
Blaze was stepping back and forth in an awkward dance of indecisiveness.
“Hurry up.”
She stared at me and shrunk away. “Easy for you to say.”
“I’ll admit I’ve gotten used to it, yes. But we need somewhere safe from those bandits and you can’t get much better than this. Would you rather sit out here all night until they find you?”
Blaze groaned. “Okay, okay…”
---
I sat on an old cushion, the aged stuffing having long crossed over from cushy to lumpy. Equally old dust scratched at my rear from its hiding place in the fabric. But I hardly noticed. Just like I hardly noticed the map on the table in front of me.
What I did notice, however, were the walls and the clutter of crates and boxes. And even then, only because they confined me, caging me with my introspection. A tiny consolation was that the room had less of that malicious clutter than its twin across the hall.
There was enough room to fit a couple ancient cots on the floor. Not that I was in the mood to make use of them. No, the moment all three of us were through the wall, my mental insurrection had resumed.
I tried to deflect it again and succeeded in shifting my focus to Ivory. I pestered her about her wound until she finally relented on the condition that it would just be me and her in one of the side rooms.
After a long, uncomfortable walk down the remainder of the hall, Ivory quietly asked Blaze to wait in the less-cluttered room. I had expected Blaze to complain, but she went without a word.
Once inside, I helped Ivory clear her bed so she could at least lie down. It was only then that she allowed me to lift her cloak. The cut was shallow, barely deeper than the surface. But it was still enough to make Ivory move with care and infection was always a possibility. Especially so when it comes to the ill-maintained weaponry of brigands.
What happened next was a marvel to behold. She called it a ‘minor healing spell’ and while it wasn’t flashy, the effects were undeniable. The wound did not close immediately, an expectation of fiction that I berated myself for indulging. But the red rawness drained away, leaving me with the impression that at any moment, it really could just sew itself back up.
As Ivory’s eyes began to droop, she told me she’d be fine and that there were cots in the other room. I tried to protest, but she shooed me out with a few severe glances.
Only once I’d stepped into the hall did a realization hit me: I’d just assumed my initial injuries weren’t as badly as I’d thought, but the more I thought about the spell, the more certain I was that she had used it on me. I deflected the zombie-bird’s visage for the umpteenth time.
But the bird was the least of my worries and my thoughts turned back to my faltering barricade. The cracks were everywhere, whispers of harm and hypocrisy seeping through. Whispers that were mine.
There was no need to look for the cot. I knew that there would be no sleep for me. And though I thought I might find refuge by double-checking our plan, my mind would not be so easily fooled.
I saw him. That stallion, Brass. Fading. failing. Gone. And again. If I closed my eyes, it only became clearer. Was I right? Could I have done something differently? Did he have somepony he cared for? Somepony who cared for him? Did he regret his life of banditry?
My mind squabbled endlessly. I tried to push him away, to flee from him. From myself. Then Brass fell, tumbling into the abyss like a cardboard cutout. Underneath, the fake-necromancer. Surprised again. And dead in an instant. A twisted heap on the ground. I had bloodied him. I had weakened him. I didn’t even know his name. Did it really have to end that way?
I remembered the desperation in his voice, cowering beneath the griffon’s commands. Was he really so evil? Or was it bravado? Survival veiled in theatrics?
Only he knew.
But there would be no answer now. Because dead ponies don’t talk. Only haunt. I shoved him aside. He flopped away, tumbling into the abyss like a discarded doll. Underneath, the stallion, Brass…
---
I don’t know how long it was before I found myself again. For a life? For two lives? Probably not enough. But mine had to move on. The pain dulled as I pressed it against the thought. I told myself that not all mysteries could be solved. I told myself not every choice could spare everyone. And most importantly, I told myself I would never forget. That this would never fall into normalcy, routine or mundanity. Never.
Letting out a deep breath, drawn from the entirety of my being, I opened my eyes. The pain lingered, but it had become bearable.
I glanced over at the cots, where Blaze lay so bonelessly that I thought she might have fallen asleep with her eyes open.
She raised her gaze to meet mine.
“How are you holding out?” I asked.
“Fine,” she half-mumbled.
“Really?” I stood, letting my skepticism play out across my face.
Blaze lowered her head. “I… how do you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Fight to the… the end like that and just... shrug it off?”
In truth, I could see where she was coming from, but that made it no less of a smack to the face. As I stooped to look her in the eye, I resolved to eliminate that misconception. “First of all, I don’t just shrug if off.”
“But you were so calm like…” Blaze’s voice dropped to a near-whisper, “...like it didn’t even affect you.”
“No, that’s not true. Maybe it seemed that way, but I was just putting it off. Ignoring it until it was safe enough to give it my full attention.”
She blinked. “And you’re not already over it?”
I shook my head. “Different people have different ways of coping. But that’s just it. It’s coping, learning to move on, but never completely leaving the pain behind. It doesn’t simply vanish into thin air. It’s not easy and I don’t think it ever should be.”
Confusion spread over Blaze’s face. “What? Why? Why would anyone want to keep feeling pain?”
“Because it’s a reminder: weapons are not trivial.” I pulled my wingblade from my scarf and set it on the table. “My instructor… she once told me about her own instructor, how he had this saying he repeated to every new recruit.”
Blaze sat up. “What was it?”
“Don't let yourself reach a point where killing is easy, because that's when you lose yourself.”
“Oh…” She slumped back down.
I settled down beside her. “That’s why the pain is good. It makes us stop and think, to use our judgment. So that we don’t become monsters, killing everyone we don’t like.”
Blaze shivered. “I guess that makes sense. I... I don’t want to become anything like that. But what am I supposed to do, then?”
“You’ll have to figure that out for yourself. But there is one thing I know for certain. Don’t be so eager to push the pain away. That just bottles it up so that it comes back worse. Do what feels right.”
Without another word, Blaze leaned against me, burying her face in my mane. I started, but quickly recovered as she let out the tiniest of sobs. Dampness trickled through my hair and into my coat. I simply placed my head atop hers.
And if I’m being honest, I had a few tears of my own to shed.
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Nice one. very touching, and I'm glad that they all made it out in one piece. Your right, killing should never be easy, because the moment it becomes easy is the moment you become the monster you were defending against.
Killing in defense should not leave you in doubt. The fight was two sided, you must be willing to go as far as your opponent is. If they are going for your death, you have to go for theirs.
Or I'm to cynical and should not be given an single drop of power.
people
I wasn't aware there were people in this fic.
3769320 Ponies are people, too. Unlike, say, trees, or rocks, or rodents.
3762347
This conclusion is something that should be attained through significant thought. While not something that can be afforded during combat, but the situation should be examined afterward. Simply assuming that one is in the right leads to ugly situations.
3769320
3771843 When reflecting it doesn't matter because whats done is done. In the heat of things, you have to go as far as your opponent or lose. The loser is the one that submits first, if neither will submit one will die.
3771863
But it does.in that examining the battle and what led up to it provides knowledge that can help avoid future mistakes. I do agree that there can be no holding back when it comes to the fight itself, though.
3781737 No shame or Fault should be felt. It's understandable if you do, but It is no reason to break.
I'm a bit cynical so I see through it easy.
3781737 I've been putting off with reading this for a while, not remembering why, I came back.
Now I remember, where's the Necromancy? Where's the rituals, the sewing, heck just the physical repercussion? There's three primary groups of Necromancy, and I can not place in which one this would belong.
6141319 oye, are ye bein' xenophobic or sumtin', mate?
6141319 Oh? And why is that?