3. In the Shadow of Giants: Part 1. The Minotaur
3. In the Shadow of Giants: Part 1. The Minotaur
Scattered across the limitless clouds the dying rays of the Sun gave way to the starry sky, their fiery red glory retreating back below the horizon. A serene and cool dark blue overtook the night as Princess Luna raised her beloved Moon to fill the void her sister’s Sun left. The midnight mare however did not conduct her nightly routine from atop the balconies of Canterlot Castle, but instead opted to perform the ritual while in the city square.
She wanted a little variety, and she could tell others enjoyed the departure from everyday dullness. Dozens perched out of windowsills or gathered around the Princess and her guard as truly ancient magic rose the Moon just as had been done since the beginning of time. Loud cheering echoed from the town center, delighting Princess Luna more than they could imagine. There was no danger of breaking her concentration; raising the Moon by now had become old hat.
When the silver heavenly body had found its resting place for the night, applause and stomping hooves rumbled the cobble streets, filling the Princess with overwhelming feelings of pride and accomplishment. Satisfied with a job well done, the lunar mare waved out to the crowd and quietly let them retreat back into their homes. Ponies needed their sleep and of course the night shifts were starting.
Princess Luna had her own duties to attend to as well.
But before that, the alicorn stopped by a small fruit stall and eyed a very red and delicious-looking apple.
“Good merchant, your produce is impeccable. We―err…I should like that particular apple right there,” she asked, pointing a hoof at the fruit in question.
“Of course, Majesty. Three bits, please,” the unicorn replied, levitating the apple into a paper bag.
“Actually,” Princess Luna interrupted, remembering her guards, “I should like an additional three apples.”
The vendor nodded and accepted payment before giving the bag to his Princess. Distributing the apples to her guards, Luna took a bite of her fruit, “My, that is scrumptious!”
The armored ponies each sampled their own apples, “Thank you, Princess. I was a bit famished.”
“Well what use is a starving soldier?” Luna replied, smiling, “Come; we mustn’t dawdle. My Sister shall be leaving her post soon.”
With perfect obedience the guards followed their Princess back down the streets of Canterlot to the old white fortress on the mountain.
The nightlife always fascinated Luna, especially since the invention of that new-fangled light source enabled ponies to work comfortably even after the Sun went down. Unfortunately it did drown out some of her less brilliant stars, but so long as the Moon remained visible she supposed it was fine. Also Celestia turning down the blue mare’s light bulb ban effectively made her accept the change.
Nevertheless, it was a ceaseless source of interest for Luna to observe the activities of ponies when the intrusive light of the Sun had disappeared. Once naïve, walking these streets after a while made Luna rather savvy to what exactly went on here. Ponies suspiciously looked both ways and slowly crept behind closed doors, feeling as though they were getting away with…more immoral things.
But of course more wholesome industries thrived at night; theaters bustled with ponies from all walks of life, clubs and bars invited anypony with a little money to have a drink and a good time, not to mention the miracle of the modern “cinema”, projecting so-called motion pictures. Never in her life did Princess Luna think she’d have the pleasure of seeing an image actually move!
Such were the wonders of the world she had awakened to. Still, often she’d walk atop the castle walls and sigh nostalgically for those older and simpler times. She was poorer and lucky to go a day with a full belly, but at least she knew how things worked. Perhaps it was insane to want to return to such an unenlightened and barbaric time, rife with disease and violence. But Princess Luna had been born into that world, and she long thought she’d die in it too. History proved otherwise.
Yet she adjusted rather well, and found honestly little reason to complain; though ponies of the modern age were a bit dull.
Coming up to the inner gate of the Castle, Luna and her guard crept through into the grand Castle Courtyard. Amidst topiaries and stone statues, the Princess slowly walked by the beautifully-crafted fountain spouting crystal-clear water. But the Princess was not given a chance to enjoy the garden before a minister galloped up to her.
“Princess Luna!” He shouted, trotting nervously towards his liege. The black-suited stallion was sweaty and out of breath as he stood before the tall alicorn, “I beg your pardon, Your Grace, but an urgent matter has come up. A telegram has just been received by a Member of Parliament.”
Taking a small folded piece of paper, Princess Luna skimmed the note. It detailed something about a land dispute between two provinces; apparently a vein of precious minerals had been found and the border was unclear there.
Giving the telegram back to the stallion, Luna rolled her eyes and huffed, “And you wish for me to deal with the situation, yes?”
“As Minster of the Interior it falls to me to inform you of―“
“And Parliament cannot handle the matter? Honestly, why grant them powers if they do not wish to exercise them…” As the Princess was working on a solution in her mind, the faint shape of a purple winged unicorn came into her view. Her mood lightened, the blue alicorn dismissed the group of retainers walking beside her, “Leave me; I shall telephone the respective provincial governors and legislatures. You will receive a message once I’ve arranged a hearing.”
Nodding, the various ponies did as they were commanded. Now alone, Princess Luna could speak with her friend unhindered by such bothersome things. Cantering down the long castle hall, the mare came up to Twilight, who was too engrossed in some book to notice the Princess.
“Twilight Sparkle!” Luna shouted, knowing full well how difficult it could be to shake the lavender pony from her reading, “It is rather dangerous to read while walking, you know,” she smirked.
Poking her head from the book, Twilight was a bit confused for a moment, “Oh…Princess Luna! Good Evening! I was just on my way to your sister’s chambers.”
“I was informed,” Luna replied, almost disapprovingly, “What is that book you are reading?”
“Oh, just what I’ve written so far for Princess Celestia. She’s asked me to―“
“I know,” said Luna in the same sour tone.
“Um yes, well I’m proof-reading it.” Twilight, no longer distracted by the book, noticed Princess Luna’s face. Her brow was furrowed but she wasn’t quite angry. More…frustrated or concerned. “Is something the matter, Princess?”
“You might say that…,” Luna began, “I fear for my sister; I confide with you, Twilight Sparkle, that it gives me great pain to see her so distraught. She has become more and more agitated since you’ve began this endeavor.”
“I’m very sorry, Princess. I admit she’s shown a few sides to her I didn’t think were there…”
“Celestia has lived for quite some time. Understandably somepony as old as her might feel a bit…strained at times. She’s in perfect health…if physically, but she has always been a mare of the Old World; I am one too of course. I can see it in her eyes, her reminiscence of all those memories she is trying to convey to you. Bouts of nostalgia plague her often, and her mood can be quite depressing sometimes.” Luna’s eyes grew a bit misty, but the midnight alicorn could still keep her composure strong and air-tight.
“She does an excellent job of concealing it…maybe too well. She had a temper, and things like that never truly go away. And I’ve witnessed a few times when her repressed emotions would not remain inside her forever. I sincerely apologize you had to endure such a spectacle personally.”
“I…may have said some things…out of line. It was an emotional moment for both of us,” Twilight sighed, matching Luna’s pace in the hallway.
“Yes I was told about that.” Twilight looked puzzled, much to Luna’s amusement, “Not much happens in Canterlot that escapes me. Rather cliché but true; I am very well-informed. Yes it was…jarring I wager to see the normally stoic mare so incensed. Do not worry, Twilight; Celestia was more angry with herself than anything.
“You will have to forgive my sister; she carries many regrets―we both do. She has become so distant ever since I returned…sometimes it is like I do not even know her―like she is not even my sister. Her inner flame often seems to have grown cold, like the hot coals of her furnace during a Winter’s night…,” Luna looked up, trying to lighten her mood, “Her mind is probably preoccupied, as old mares’ minds are apt to be. So please, Twilight, go easy on Celestia.”
As she spoke, Luna spotted the white mare trotting towards the same destination, “Of course, if she ever were to lay a hoof on you,” the blue Princess said, grinning, “She would have to deal with me.”
Twilight gave a soft laugh and continued forward. When the two reached the archway to the staircase up the Royal Tower, Celestia stopped in her stride and looked confused.
“Luna, shouldn’t you be in the Throne Room?” the tall alicorn teased.
“Oh I was just on my way, Dearest Sister. But I happened upon our good friend Princess Twilight. Now I think I shall pass her on to you.”
“I saw a minister running along the hallway with a purpose. What did you do?” Celestia asked almost condescendingly.
“Nothing yet, Sister,” Luna replied, now in a more serious tone, “He gave me a telegram about a border dispute; nothing too important.” Twilight now firmly “attached” to Celestia, Princess Luna turned around and headed to her seatl “I shall go deal with the matter: the Night is not going to watch itself. Pleasant dreams the both of you.” Smirking one last time, the Midnight Princess elegantly trotted off to her place while Celestia and her student went off to theirs.
The first seconds of the climb up the stairs was quiet and awkward, each individual knowingsomething had to be said, but not quite sure exactly what. Both ponies looked a couple time like they were about speak, but the words died on their tongues. Finally, almost at the top of the stairs, the silence became unbearable.
At the same time, both mares tried to speak, but whatever they said became mixed up with each other. Another uncomfortable paused before Celestia allowed Twilight to go first.
“Um…Princess…I’d like apologize for my previous comments. I was just a little…surprised,” Twilight uttered with an uncommon sincerity.
“Oh no, if there’s anypony who should be apologizing it’s me! I can hardly blame you for what you said…if I were a younger mare I might have said the same thing.”
“But it was completely out of line!” Twilight insisted, their banter now a competition to “out-sorry” the other. “You’re right; I wasn’t there, I don’t know how it was.”
“I understand exactly where you came from; I can imagine learning something like that would not only shock but infuriate somepony.”
“Words can hurt, and it was wrong to lash out at you Princess,” Twilight said with a humble countenance.
“Nothing can excuse my rash behavior. Twilight, it happened during a period in my life when I was…often brutish and headstrong. I was an adept fighter, armed with an immortal blade. I was so confident―bordering arrogant because I could not be defeated. But unfortunately…violence―the way of the sword, was all I knew. I thought every dispute could be solved with a show of force or strength,” Celestia confessed, the prize for “Best Apology” silently awarded to her.
“I had run away from my past and tried to forget all my mistakes. But when they caught up to me, I grew so angry that…well...I acted the only way I had known how. I’d like to think that the old ‘Me’ has reformed and matured, but it’s been demonstrated that isn’t quite the case. So again, Twilight…allow me to offer my deepest apologies.”
The lavender pony remained quiet, merely making eye-contact with the alicorn. “We’ll call it ‘even’,” Twilight finally said, grinning. Devoid of substance or emotion to the casual onlooker, the response was of the utmost meaning to Celestia. The alicorn began laughing uncontrollably, pulling her student―friend into a tight embrace.
“Are you ready for more ‘story time’?” Celestia asked. Twilight giggled and nodded, wide-eyed as always.
Releasing Twilight, Celestia returned to her path and reached the door to her room. Saluting their Princess, the two guards then opened the doors and allowed the two inside.
Closing the heavy oaken doors behind her, Celestia then levitated off her tiara and placed it safely on a shelf. Removing her golden slippers and collar, the Solar Princess finally had a chance to simply stretch and rest unencumbered. Lying down on her large pillow, the Princess used an old spell to light the fresh logs set within the fireplace.
Another spell to rush air into the hot center of the fire, the room was now crackling and lit by a dim orange glow. The rustic smell of burning wood in her nose, the alicorn curled up with a woolen blanket and sighed.
Twilight meanwhile just opened up her book to the next blank page and summoned a quill and ink bottle. She then dipped the pen’s tip and wiped the excess along the lip of the bottle.
Smiling in her motherly fashion, Celestia stood her neck up, “Ready?”
“Yes, Princess,” Twilight replied, feeling rejuvenated and excited to continue. She glanced up at Celestia as a gesture of interest, but as she looked back down, Twilight caught sight of something very strange.
For hidden in the white fur of the Princess, almost invisible, was a small line, roughly hoof’s-width, just below her neck.
Celestia knew exactly what Twilight was staring at, “Good, because I’m sure you’re very curious how I got it.”
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Gently kissed by the Sun’s rays, thick and tall blades of verdant green grass swayed ever softly in the breeze. Butterflies and birds of various kinds fluttered about, chirping and enjoying the final days of Summer. Some of the leaves had already begun to turn colors, and soon they would fall to the ground, ushering in the chilling snows of a deep Winter.
Slowly making her way through the serene meadow, a white mare in no hurry took in the wondrous scenery before her. Here, everything was so calm, the sounds of nature soothing to her battered ears. Off to her side deer grazed innocently beside a small stream, and small burrowing creatures wandered about to places only they knew.
Here, the desolation of that dismal town was far away. She left in such a hurry, the Wintermail did not tell the townsponies what she had done. It stood to reason sooner or later they’d realize the Dragoness would not trouble them any further, and likely the ponies would help themselves to the enormous hoard of gold and silver and precious gems once they found it was no longer guarded.
Wintermail herself took no amount of coins or chalices, but instead kept a small purple egg inside her bag. She knew not how to hatch it, or even what to with the infant once it had. But she made a promise to protect the egg at all costs. And in this clearing it was safest of all.
Finding a large rock in the meadow, the Wintermail galloped towards it and inspected the boulder. It was wide and flat on top, a perfect perch above the grass and a nice place to rest. Removing her cloak and saddlebag, the mare then ungirt her weapons and placed all the items on the rock. Jumping up with her powerful legs, the mare then lay down, head held high, and enjoyed the genuine beauty of the begotten world.
Basking in the Sun, Wintermail felt at peace, especially after her encounter with as frightening a creature as a dragon. Glancing down at her newly-designated sword, the alicorn was reminded just how close she had come to death. If not for the otherworldly strength of Eónadin, the Dragoness would have taken her as she had with so many others. It was almost unfair; a beast who counted her age in centuries laid low by a mere pony.
Perhaps it was just Wintermail’s skill that cast down the creature, or maybe the designs of something else. Whatever the case, with her Father’s sword by her side, the white alicorn felt all but invincible. No villain on this good Earth could assail her and win.
Her mourning for her opponent’s death was over, and now she wished to clear her mind of violent thoughts. Unfortunately, ideas of battle and strength were rather difficult to sweep away. With her newfound power, Wintermail relished the chance to defeat an adversary of even greater prestige and talent. Her enthusiasm soon became outright excitement and yearning. If dragonhide could not withstand her dark blade, what could?
Still, today was a nice and quiet day. As of yet rather early in the morning, she had nowhere in particular to go. “Perhaps I could wait until tomorrow,” she thought, wishing to rest and savor her anticipation. Now a seasoned warrior, the Wintermail knew rest and relaxation treated the fighter well.
Therefore, convinced by the pleasant comfort of today, the mare decided to simply “take a personal day”. Atop her rock, Wintermail sat and smiled and watched as animals flew and ran by, completely oblivious to the large pony observing them. She rested on her back and gazed at the clouds, trying to make shapes out of them. She drew pictures in the dirt and crafted dolls out of leaves and sticks.
Content and innocent, the mare felt like a filly again, enjoying life without the overbearing worries of a cruel and demanding existence. Over the course of the day, she’d frolic in the large throngs of wildflowers before they died away in Winter. She’d climb trees, an activity she’d grown fond of in fillyhood. The small river a few dozen yards away would prove a perfect place to swim and cool off.
Sword practice was mandatory in her daily routine, and she did that from about noon to a few hours before sunset. But in between all her activities she’d travel into the woods and find some wild berries to snack on. Those pretty flowers weren’t bad either.
As evening rolled around, Wintermail leaned back on her rock and looked up at the sky, soon to fade from blue to black. Chirping crickets provided the perfect ambience for this time of day. She even spotted a couple fireflies glowing in the distance, probably the last before Autumn came.
When star and moonlight remained the only guides in the darkness, Wintermail pulled from her bag a long wooden pipe, fashioned from a very talented craftsmare from Manehattan. Pipe smoking was a favored indulgence of Equestria’s upper echelons of power, and most anypony who could afford it engaged at least once in a while. This made the growing of its preferred fuel a lucrative trade.
Wintermail unfortunately possessed little of the spear-shaped leaves and begrudgingly rationed them. Her pipe woefully under-filled, she struck a piece of flint from her bag and lit a dried twig before lighting the shredded leaves. Pipe in her magical aura, Wintermail leaned onto her back and laughed. The only thing to enhance her evening would be a good tall mug of ale!
When the scant leaves were spent, the mare once again gazed at the stars. Many nights the Wintermail would ponder exactly what these twinkling lights were. What placed them far above the Earth? And why? Were they like the Sun, hot and brilliant? Or were they cold and miniscule, forever to remain in the shadow of their much brighter sister? And the Moon―could one walk upon its surface? Could she perhaps swim in the dark greys seas scattered across the silver orb?
She wondered and stared until the Moon rose high in the sky, at which point a benign sleepiness befell the mare. Her eyes becoming heavy and yawns interrupting her quiet, the Wintermail crawled off her rock and gathered her things. Almost too tired to stand, the alicorn knelt down onto the soft grass―her bed for the night, and draped her cloak over her large body as a makeshift blanket. Remembering well the precious item she carried in her bag, she reached out and brought the pack towards her. Resting one of her long wings over the bag, she cradled herself around it to ensure nothing would disturb the egg.
Pleased at its safety and utterly exhausted, the mare laid down her neck on the grass and quietly, without fuss, closed her eyes.
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The white mare awoke at first light, something she had become accustomed to doing. In fact it was difficult for her to not wake up as the Sun rose. Wiping her eyes the mare rose up and stretched vigorously until a satisfying “pop” occurred in her back. Glancing around, the pony spotted nothing too different from when she first wandered here: the boulder was still in its position, all her things still right below her, and the animals still chirping and rustling in the tall grass.
Running over to the stream, the mare jumped in and bathed for the morning. After lathering her mane with soap, she rinsed her hair and crawled back onto the bank. Shaking off the excess water, the alicorn spread out wings to dry the feathers. Feeling clean and refreshed, the mare then put on her saddlebags and girt up her sword and dagger.
Clasping her dark cloak around her neck, the white mare soon left the meadow exactly as she found it. Ever restless, the Wanderer of the North crept back into the forests she had explored for the last few decades.
The road she followed snaked through a quaint wood of red and orange leaves, ready to fall at any moment. Admiring the pleasant sight of these trees, the Wintermail continued down the path for about a dozen miles before coming again to another clearing. The next dozen miles should have been just as uneventful and calm as the first. But rising above the forest canopy…just barely visible was a sort of…miasma?
The scent of something burnt filled her nostrils, and a bit hesitantly the mare started forward up the dirt road. The smell was quite familiar: almost like charcoal. The vapors became darker and darker until they turned black. The faint crackling of a fire soon became audible as she passed through the final trees until coming to an open area.
What came into view on the other side of the forest was too horrible for words. The pale alicorn, turning whiter than usual, couldn’t help covering her snout with a hoof, in part to keep out the stench of rotting flesh…as well as in utter shock. For there down the rest of the way were the ruins of a small town, like the thousands littered across the countryside of Equestria. But this town had fallen victim to a terrible travesty.
Amidst the smoldering wreckage of burning homes, the settlement was littered with the mutilated corpses of its inhabitants. The most visceral details were much too gruesome for the alicorn to ever recall, but she could hardly avoid stepping in blood or entrails. These poor ponies…whoever had done this most heinous act was not discriminant in whom they slew. Mares, stallions, even foals―anypony who had gotten in their way.
Wintermail had seen many raids, but this…this went above and beyond…as if the very motive of those damned bandits was to destroy life wherever it clung. She simply could not fathom the magnitude of the destruction. As she peeped into the tattered remains of small hovels, they were nearly empty. What the brigands could not take with them they merely torched.
And the villagers themselves…
Pieces―literal pieces of ponies lay scattered about, bloody and deformed. A few poor souls had even been tied to stakes and burned alive. Wintermail’s heart was utterly crushed seeing the looked of agony on what remained of their charred faces. One mare was found dead, clutching her newborn foal. A stallion rested in front of his family, cut down in one final vain attempt to defend his loved ones. Whatever weapons they were wielding had been plundered by the victors.
Tears running down her cheeks, the white mare paused her step and fully took in the horrors that surrounded her. In all her life, she’d seen death and gore, wrath and ruin…but this…this was just…evil. Overcome with anxiety, the mare fell to her knees and wept openly.
Grieving for a few minutes, the mare then wiped her eyes and rose up. Distraught, she slowly walked further into the town. More and more burning buildings, most reduced to blackened hulks smoking with death. More maggot-covered corpses reeking with the stench of rotting flesh. More testaments to a kind of brutality Wintermail had only heard in stories.
Among the dead bodies, the mare tried to figure out who the raiders were; though she already had a pretty good idea. In addition to pony corpses clearly showing signs of hostility―likely common bandits, she also spotted Diamond Dogs of course…wretched curs! But most curiously of all the eviscerated remains of a creature far larger than either rested limp upon the road. The head of a bull, complete with giant horns…yet the body of something…else. A bipedal creature, accustomed to using its forelegs not for walking but manipulating objects.
A species of creature Wintermail had met long ago: a Minotaur, found particularly more northwards than one might expect.
Her sorrow quickly turning to anger and vengeance, Wintermail stepped over the gored head of the Minotaur. She grimaced at it, wanting to drive her hoof into its face, “What Demons drove you to such carnage?”
“The worst…demon of them…all…,” a weak and strained voice said.
“Who said that? Show yourself!” Wintermail demanded, drawing her sword.
“Here, inside this home…behind the boards,” the voice replied, coming sure enough from a small ashy shack.
Levitating her weapon, the mare pulled the planks down from in front of the building. Expecting to see a low-life ready to be slain, she restrained herself from stabbing the pony that sat inside.
Whether it was friend or foe couldn’t be known at that moment, but Wintermail knew by looking at him that he was no danger. His hind legs were covered in blood and even some of his bones jutted outwards. The mud he sat in had seeped into the wounds and the stallion looked too weak to move from his “refuge”. His expression was lethargic, no doubt whatever vitality he had left was steadily leaking. His red coat was filthy and muddied, and his wings broken and frayed.
This Pegasus still wore his padded cloth armor and held his bow close, an arrow already strung.
“Bless you, White Mare,” he struggled to say. He knew he would die soon, but by the grace of the Gods somepony came whom he could tell his story to.
“What in Lórian’s name happened here?” the alicorn took a good look at his eyes, “Did you have any part?” the tip of her blade was mere inches from his neck; it would behoove this stallion to be truthful.
“Spare your energy…I’ll be dead soon enough…,” he boldly said, lightly brushing the sword aside.
Sheathing the weapon, Wintermail tried to figure out the best way to rescue this pony, “Not if I can help it. Here…I’ll lay you on my back.”
But just as she was about to lift the injured pegasus, he held up a hoof defiantly, “It’s my time. I cannot feel my legs…maggots are gnawing on them now. My ribs feel broken and I’ve barely the strength to sit up.” The mare looked down at the stallion’s hind legs, which each had a makeshift tourniquet around them. He wouldn’t bleed out, but he’d certainly die.
“There was…a raid…I’m sure you’ve figured…that much out. I was with the town…militia…there must have been a hundred raiders…dogs…ponies…even…Minotaurs! We tried our best, but they were too numerous and fierce.”
Wintermail opened her canteen to clean the wounds and give the pegasus a drink. He took it gratefully and continued. “They slaughtered every able-bodied stallion and mare who fought against them. Whoever was left they rounded up and bound in irons, doing Gods know what to those miserable innocents. Though…seeing as they took everything of value…more likely than not those captured will be sold into servitude.”
Teary-eyed, Wintermail became even more incensed. “That all happened yesterday…the most hopeful of them were praying, hoping some champion of the Gods would come and save us. I…I forget the name they gave it. Naïve fools!”
The alicorn could hardly believe it. Yesterday she selfishly decided to frolic and laze around…when ponies were in need! Her one mission…her one purpose…and she failed. She allowed unprecedented ruin to befall this place…all for her own self-gratification. Her anger mounted even further…all directed at herself.
She took a step back and looked on at what she had allowed to happen. Vultures and raccoons had crawled out of the woods to feast on the mountains of flesh and offal that rested in the wake of the raiders. Maybe a thousand dead were cruelly denied their right to life…and the one that could have done something…the one whom they hoped would do something…abandoned them.
Almost unable to bear the weight of her regret, the Wintermail fell to her knees once again . Her back buckled under the realization of what exactly had happened. The Wanderer who had dedicated her life to helping those in need…failed on the most fundamental level.
With red eyes and a heavy heart, she eventually turned back to the archer. She stared at him for a few moments before she could summon the willpower to speak. “What drove these…savages to such carnage?”
He leaned in closer, as if what he was about to say were a great taboo, “There are…rumors…that the very…voice of Evil…whispers into their ears…and urges them on. I overheard them say something about…’The Master’.”
“The Master”? Who could that possibly be? Wintermail wasn’t sure…but then again she wasn’t too concerned about their dark god. All she wanted was a chance to redeem herself. “Are there others? Survivors, I mean.”
The stallion paused a moment, “…No. They were…thorough in their plundering. I was knocked back by a macedog…banging me against this shack. Some boards fell off and onto my legs, breaking them. They probably thought I was dead…I was certainly unconscious…but with nothing of value to them. They left me alone…and after they had moved on…I awoke. I’m very sorry…Great Mare…but I’m the only one remaining.
“A courier thankfully got away…carrying a message for the Count. These attacks have become more severe and frequent…so I’ve heard…but they only raid outlying towns and ill-defended places,” his breaths became slow and strained, “I have done my…part in the defense of my home…however little it amounts to. I will do one more…act of compassion…leave White One.”
“What? No! I’m going to take you to a physician!” Wintermail shouted. She knew the pegasus didn’t have my time left, but she couldn’t simply forsake the pony.
“Let me die here…in my hometown. You though…are not safe yet…for there is…one straggler who elected…to remain after the horde departed…”
A furious look on her face, Wintermail leaned down closer to the stallion, “Who? Tell me where this murderer is.”
He tried to raise of a hoof, but his energy was almost completely sapped. But as fate would have it, his direction was not necessary. For down the road, further into the town, a lumbering shape appeared.
Wintermail saw the figure and immediately took a battle stance, drawing her black sword. Boiling over with rage, she gnashed her teeth and spread out her wings.
“Come forth, brigand!” she yelled with an almost god-like quality.
A sinister laughter was all that responded. Stepping through the smoke was that dark figure progressively becoming more and more defined. When it finally burst into the open, the creature in all its glory and malice stood before the Wintermail.
It stood roughly her height, not counting its two large grey horns. Standing on two legs, the muscular warrior was scarred and battered, yet still strong and primal. Its fur was silvery blue above the waist, its legs covered in shaggy black hair. With black cloven hooves the monster stepped with a quiet menace. It had sickly yellow eyes, which stared straight at the mare. Its ears and nose pierced, this…thing completed its barbarous look with a long polearm tipped with a blade.
Pounding the bottom of his glaive onto the ground, he smiled deviously, “What is this?” he asked. He spoke with a clear accent, obviously Minotaurican to the alicorn’s ears, “Has my waiting finally paid off? A Pony Goddess bares herself to me in challenge!” Wintermail’s expression continued to be as cold and hostile as possible. “They said ‘She’ would come. I waited all night…and yet nopony showed up. You are a little late, Goddess.”
But the mare was in no mood to play games. Seething and about to unleash her fury on this wicked Minotaur, she readied her blade, “You shall know Divine Wrath soon enough! Have at you!”
“A warrior? It is in your blood to fight…yes! I humbly accept; the rabble here was too easy. But a Goddess…that is a prize!” he took up his glaive in a similar stance.
Arrogantly, the mare smirked, “You deal with Wintermail the Dragonslayer!”
“Oh really?” the bull taunted, “These are dragon’s teeth,” He pointed to a necklace he wore of razor-sharp teeth of varying sizes, “Let us put your name to the test, Kiathōné.
Her Minotaurican quite out of practice, Wintermail nevertheless recognized that word; it was no term of endearment.
Unable to restrain herself any further, the alicorn rushed forward. She knew that any swing she made would hit; nothing was sharper than Eónadin. Her relentless aggression put the Minotaur on the defensive, who would try and succeed in dodging every slash. Frustrated by further futile attempts to hit the bull, Wintermail swung even harder. But it struck her as rather odd that the Minotaur made no attempt to attack with his weapon.
Confident, the mare swung once more and miraculously met the bare chest of the Minotaur. It was a shallow cut, just grazing the skin. Thinking she’d won, the mare followed up her attack with another, this time a thrust forward.
But it did not meet its target. For the bull had made no mistake in taking an injury. He was biding his time, avoiding fatal wounds to win a decisive advantage. The mare had stricken him; she was now overconfident. He had assessed her fighting style, and now he knew exactly how to counter the mare.
When she stabbed forth her steel, he turned his body out of the way and brought the edge of his glaive down on the flat side of her sword. Pushed down, the sword could not defend against his next rapid blow. He jammed the end of his pole into the mare’s snout. Bloodied and disoriented, she just barely avoided his own thrust, the blade making a small gash in her side.
Thinking she’d learned from her folly, she tried to slash his legs, but the Minotaur was too quick and aware. Everywhere she stepped and even glided he’d beat her there and obstruct all options. Sweating nervously, Wintermail was at a loss. Distracted by her ineptitude, the mare was soon knocked to the ground. Only the most acute of reflexes enabled her to avoid the glaive as the Minotaur stabbed it between her legs.
She was allowed no moment to paused; her opponent’s blade missed by simple hairs far too often. Another stab cut a wound into her forelegs, and yet another on the side of her cheek. Panting, she even thought about suing for peace.
“Tired, Kiathōné?” She just glared at him, breathing hard. “You are sloppy; you do not seem to know what you are doing.” Raising her sword, she prepared to thrust the blade into his chest while he bantered. Of course the act was interrupted. The sword was slammed onto the ground, rendering its owner unarmed. “Dragons are so clumsy, and arrogant without knowing how to fight,” he grabbed her by the neck and raised her off the ground; no easy feat, “I am proud because I know how to fight,” he grinned and started crushing her throat.
Desperate, the mare remembered she had one more trick. Reaching down to her waist, she pulled her dagger and plunged it deep into the Minotaur’s chest. Expecting to be let free and the bull to fall over dead, she smiled.
But her victory was short-lived. The Minotaur clenched his teeth, channeling his pain elsewhere. Sighing, he glanced down at the dagger and pulled it from his chest. He looked at the blood-soaked knife, “You are going to have to try harder than this,” then, with great cruelty, he in turn plunged the dagger right between Wintermail’s neck and shoulder. Wailing in agony, the mare was now helpless and at the mercy of the Minotaur.
The bull threw her down onto the ground, knocking the wind out of the pony. Dazed and confused, Wintermail just barely managed to catch the Minotaur’s hoof as it came stomping down on her face. In a battle of strength, the mare’s forelimbs started to ache restraining this hefty beast. She could tell by his beads of sweat that she proved a worthy match, but the dagger wound sapped her energy while the Minotaur’s seemed to only grow.
Retracting his leg, he stomped again, breaking through the mare’s guard. Miraculously, Wintermail moved her face out of the way, but unfortunately her long horn was caught directly beneath the bull’s hoof. Time slowed down, and the immense force caused a slight crack just above the base of her horn. As the foot crashed lower and lower the crack split open, severing the nerves inside with it.
Her beloved horn was now completely broken off. Every stinging sensation was felt quite thoroughly by the mare, and she screamed in pure torment. Body trembling, she could hardly believe what had just happened.
The bloody jagged stump that was left was devoid of magic, and the mare who wore it was too weak to do anything else. Cackling in triumph, the Minotaur stood over his prey and readied his glaive. Pointing the tip directly at the throat of this pony, he pulled back slightly in preparation for his finishing stab. Eyes filled with fear and nearly hyperventilating, the Wintermail knew this was the end.
Or perhaps not.
The injured pegasus, almost slipping into shock, managed to take his bow and draw an arrow, utilizing the last of his vitality. Rendered helpless, he could do one last thing to avenge his town…and save this valiant, if reckless, mare. Aiming the shot, he pulled back as far as his foreleg would let him. And just in time to save that pony, he let the arrow fly.
It missed wholly its target, but still managed to graze the left cheek of the Minotaur. Now holding the side of his face, the Minotaur was distracted just long enough for the mare to scramble back onto her feet and gallop away. Before she did, the Minotaur thrust his glaive down, trying to skewer the mare. He only managed to catch her tail, slicing off all the hair that trailed from it. Had she hesitated for but a fraction of a second, she’d have lost her tail altogether.
At full speed she ran past her sword and salvaged it, lest it fall to the plunder of that Minotaur. Somehow she sheathed the blade and kept running as fast as she could. Everything became a blur and she did not stop for what seemed like a mile or more. The alicorn had no time to thank her savior, nor to look back and learn of his fate. But as she careened into the wood, she heard the loud roar of the bull, bellowing either in victory…or anger.
Now alone once again, her rush subsiding and her muscles aching, the mare stopped before a small spring and collapsed onto her knees. Panting, her throat sore and dry, she soon felt again the pain in her neck. Breathing quickly, she worked up the willpower to take the dagger and yank it from herself. Yet the wound would not stop bleeding so profusely, even as she pressed against it with a ragged cloth.
Cleaning her injuries, the alicorn reached into her pack and looked around for a needle and thread; no such items turned up. Taking a deep breath, she realized only one thing could staunch the flow.
With very little time, the mare gathered some pieces of kindling and a few rocks to craft a rudimentary fire pit. It was shoddy, but it would have to suffice. After striking the place with her flint, the fire was soon crackling loudly.
Taking her dagger again, she rinsed it off in the spring and placed the blade in the fire. The excess water flash-boiled in a loud hiss. The fire was much too cool to cause the knife to become red-hot, but after a minute or so its temperature was sufficient for its upcoming task. Retrieving the tool from the flame, the alicorn closed her eyes and mentally prepared herself for a very courageous move.
This would hurt quite a bit.
Positioning the blade’s flat edge over her wound, she then pressed the metal against her skin. Sizzling, the cut was seared shut. Through the ordeal Wintermail clenched her teeth and tried to keep her screams quiet. Only about a second was spent burning her flesh, but it felt much longer. Pulling the steel of off her, the mare heaved for a moment, trying to manage her pain.
Quenching the blade in the water, she then sheathed it. Now an anguish-inducing agony raked in her forehead. In her haste, the mare had forgotten that…her very own horn…had been broken off. She had seen this particular injury before; ponies assured her horns grow back―provided the wound is above the skull. Her affliction fit this criterion, but that wasn’t what made her worry.
Left without magic, she’d have to suffice with hooves and wings alone. It could take months, perhaps even a year before the horn had regrown to its original length, and in the meantime she’d be left with a very sensitive and venerable stump.
She walked calmly over the water and stared at her reflection. In it she saw not the strong Wanderer of the North, the Wintermail…but instead a hornless pony, blood trailing from her nostrils with an ugly black scar below her neck. The slash along her side wasn’t very serious, but it still conveyed a sense of defeat and shame.
She nearly died, and only the grace of some nameless pegasus prevented her anonymous demise. Never before had this mare been so thoroughly and utterly defeated. That Minotaur could not be touched, and when he was…nothing came of it. He was like a force of nature, unyielding, and Wintermail was caught in his tempest.
Arrogantly rushing to avenge that town, the mare was taught just how misguided her folly had been. She’d carry these scars for the rest of her life.
Automatically summoning her magic, her horn then sent a vibrant sting through her body. Falling down onto her knees, she began to weep. Tears poured down her face and into the spring, disturbing its calm surface. Frustrated and angry, she slammed a hoof on the ground.
Discouraged and despairing as never before, she drew her sword and brought the blade up to her face. In her reflection she noted the characters engraved along the steel’s length. She had failed her father, her sister, those townsponies…and now she’d failed herself.
It was time, she thought; time to abandon her errant lifestyle and live out a simple and harmless existence. The Minotaur did her a favor; showing her she was no longer that young mare…the heroine. Age was creeping up on her, and her place was clearly not here anymore.
Where would she go? Well, that was a great question. Hopefully someplace where she could blend in…or at least disappear into obscurity. Someplace she could do no more harm; someplace where her poor judgments would not injure her, and more importantly…others.
Returning Eónadin to its scabbard, she hung up the sword for good. Standing up, she dried her eyes and set out on a path to the nearest road. She could not linger here; the Minotaur might be looking for her; something else might be looking for her. Trudging through the forest, she soon found an old stone highway, heavily overgrown with grass and weeds. It wasn’t much, but hopefully it would take her away from it all.
Silently, she then decided to settle down in the next city that she found, however far down the road. There, she’d use her appreciable sums to buy a place for her to rest and engage in her craft. There the Wintermail would become a humble smith…the only other thing she was good at besides fighting―or, now the only thing.
A little less agitated, she came to look forward to this new resolution as she traversed the many miles of the road. Perhaps in time she’d forget this violent life and adjust to quietude. Yes! That sounded very nice.
And unbeknownst to the Wintermail, she’d find something else in the next city. By either chance…or purpose…that destination would just so happen to be a white fortress built into a great mountain so many ages ago.
The City of Canterlot.
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So she heads for the City of Spires and the Jewel of the Tears.
4590395 Yeah not exactly my best work. But you know you try and fix it and buff it out to coalesce into the narrative and vision you have. It's a learning experience and it's a really great think that here on fimfiction you can get feedback to improve your skills as a writer.
So I've tried to sort of pick up the pieces of last chapter and get back right on track. Thanks for sticking with me pal. Your input has been most appreciated.
And I wonder exactly what Celestia will find in Canterlot...
I like this story so far.
Interesting, i saw this story on Equestria Daily and remembered you're the editor for Rising Dawn, so i started giving this a read. Pretty good so far, i like how Celestia is a real living person (pony) in this insted of some kind of divine being like in most stories. Have a face
4605755 And believe me, it was.
4605728 I love your avatar.
4605733 Why thank you! Yeah I got a little tired of a divinity kinda story with the Princess so I decided to do something about it.
Hmh, where do I begin?
First, "The characters and lore behind it are believable and I thought it was brilliant how you expanded upon Equestria's unknown". This pretty much says it all.
The story is absolutely breath taking, there were several moments in it, that I just had to stop and chill myself. After reading a certain chapter, my hands were literally shaking, and my heart beating 2x the normal speed.
Sometimes joy, a small laugh, and then almost-tears. "The Wanderer of the north" gives all of that, I could write on and on, about how beautifully you've made the story itself, but I think you do get the message.
I'm not that kind of person, that rushes other people to do their stuff faster, as I know that quality takes time, and oh, I do so want the story to be of such excellent quality! <This might be the first and only fiction that nearly brought me to cry>
So ya, definitely awaiting more, I'm kinda sad that you release 1 chapter per ~1 month, but as I said before, fine work takes time :).
Have a nice day Alaxsxaq!
4607407 Thank you so much! I don't wanna drone on but I really appreciate all your support.
That being said I do work a 1-8 shift which is kind of an awkward chunk of the day, and I don't like to force myself to write, lest the product be of unsatisfactory quality. Updating once a month has become circumstantial, but I want to whittle it down to weekly updates.
But once again, thank you!
Great story i really really like it just one tiny question the ancient language of luna and celestia is it based on a real ancient language? or is real ancient language ?or just your invention ?
4612984 It's an invented language I made up, but it's designed to sound similar to a celtic kinda language. I'm a huge linguistics nerd so yeah
4616616 i think its sounds pretty cool
4616623 Thanks! I've tried to make it sounds pleasing to the ear.
Why didn't I see this before? I'll put this in my Read Later.
I'm glad you finally cowed her arrogance. Excellent story telling.
4624390 beautiful
Anything that could manage to take the blade away from your grasp, my dear. Or, anything that might strike from behind or while you slept. Tut tut, you rely entirely upon a material weapon while your body is of frail flesh. Flesh far more frail than that of the creature your weapon slew. Do you not think your weapon could be turned against you were it to be taken from your hoof?
You have not yet learned wisdom and humility, though aged beyond mortals you are already.
You must reforge the very substance of your flesh. You must become the immutable weapon.
It will be quite an agonizing process, beyond your worst expectations, as well as protracted. I promise you this.
(Look at Alondro being all serious and dark and stuff. He thinks he's people!
)
This 'Master' cannot be Discord for one simple reason: were he the one behind such horrendous slaughter, does it seem likely she would ever seek to attempt to redeem him?
Additionally, does it seem likely that a psychotic creature of savegery would be content to mischeviously toy with 6 mares, merely delivering mild mental torments, instead of slaughtering them or causing them to slaughter their families and friends, only letting them come back to themselves to know fully what he'd made them do before finally killing them?
No, this cannot be Discord for a very simple reason: with his powers and such a vicious nature, he'd be completely unstoppable. No threat would ever be allowed close enough to strike at him.
This 'Master' is something else, something very vicious. I do not doubt that it may be quite mad, but it is not in possession of godlike power.
No, it's methods are more in line with a certain other Master I know very well in all his incarnations.
cdn3.whatculture.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/03/master.jpg
4590472
King Arthur of the Britons!
Or maybe the French?
Celestia, "I seek the Tree of Harmony!:
Frenchie, "We've already got one of those! It's very nice! (I told her we already got one... *snickering*)"
4.bp.blogspot.com/-MtwBl-pha1Q/UT3kEY-7Z1I/AAAAAAAAmUk/khhC8sgUQI8/s1600/Monty-Python-and-the-Holy-Grail-monty-python-and-the-holy-grail-4976253-845-468.jpg
4633796 It can be a bit jarring when headcanons conflict with one another, but that's what makes it so fun.
I'm positively thrilled you've nejoyed my story thus far, and rest assured I'm doing my best to create a story as high-quality as I can. While I will in no way claim to be some acclaimed author or even half-decent, I enjoy a good story as much as anybody, and I'm really hoping I can provide one.
Thanks friend!
This is a very well-written story and has an interesting take on Celestia and Luna's early years, so kudos to that. But honestly, I have a really big problem with how weak you've portrayed the Alicorn race. One Alicorn could probably take on 1000 diamond dogs and win without suffering a scratch, yet Nikovela and Taberanun take on a few dozen together and get their flanks handed to them. Why don't they ever use attack spells? I'm sure any weapons in existence would be nothing compared to an Alicorn's offensive magic. And that last chapter just ticked me off. Clearly, anypony would have gotten cocky after defeating a giant dragon, but seriously, Celestia could easily have kicked the Minotaur's ass if she used offensive magic. You'd think she'd know SOME attack spells at her age. I know she's supposed to be young for an Alicorn, but she's travelled all over Equestria, fought thousands of enemies, and become a legend in her own right. Lastly, WHERE IS LUNA. If Celestia really cares for her, she would probably at least check up on her at least once in all this time considering how many times she visited her boyfriend. Even if that guilt has lingered for so long then the widespread stories of "Wintermail" would doubtlessly catch her attention. I enjoyed the first few chapters, but I just can't continue reading this anymore. Sorry
4634867
Tell me, who would Celestia learn magic from? Her dead dad? Henarion the cripple? She's also illiterate, so she can't read books either. And are you implying you would rather have the author portray alicorns as Gods? Slaughtering and Mary Sueing all over the place crushing everyone beneath their hooves? Alicorns aren't immortal. They aren't Gods. Not in this story.
She also left her family behind, a long, long ways behind her. Poneva is far north, and her journeys not only took her across the world, but far south as well. The chances of her meeting her sister, who was raised to HIDE from non-alicorns, are VERY slim. Luna is likely keeping a low profile like every alicorn else in this story who isn't Celestia.-
And for the last time, Celestia doesn't HAVE offensive magic. She was too young when her dad died, and she's also illiterate. You never see Twilight learning spells by looking at pictures or by word, do you? No, she reads book and studies magical spells in her library - something Celestia can't do, because, again, she's illiterate.
4634867 Well gosh I'm sorry about all that. I admire that you read it all the way through, but you know not every story appeals to everybody. Thanks for spending some time on mine, my apologies that it didn't "click" with you.
Good day, friend.
Oh sweet CELESTIA!! What the . . How? The Minotaur just went completely unpunished!
. . . 
I REALLY can't wait until she meets Luna again, and when she first finds out she can move the sun.
THE FEELS!!!!!!!!!
Well this has been a rollercoaster ride of emotions. Only a few Fanfics have given me the pure feelings of sadness, anger, happiness, and excitement as this one has. This is now in my top 10 pieces of literature I have ever read. I know a lot of people will scoff at the idea of me placing this on the same level as published works, but I believe that beautiful works of art can be found in absurdly unexpected places. I never imagined that a My Little Pony fanfiction could captivate me in the same way great works like "2001: a space odyssey" or "Tomorrow and Tomorrow" have, yet here I am ready to cry my eyes out because a pony lost her horn.
The fact that this only has a couple thousand views both saddens and excites me. It makes me feel like I'm one of the first to read what will hopefully become a classic on the level of "dangerous Business".
As for "The Master", My guess is a certain rock loving King.
4732916 Thanks a bunch friend! It seems to me that yes though my story hasn't gotten as much attention as some others, those that do read it really enjoy it. And that's just wonderful for me. Besides, I can't complain too much: I did get featured on Equestria Daily, so that's neat.
Anyway, I hope I can keep up the quality of my story for you and everybody else. Stay tuned!
4780624 Thank you very much for the kind sentiments!
And don't worry; a new update is coming SOON!
Aaaand caught up! I have to say, I've always believed that Celestia is a deeply troubled soul whose strength and serenity is a facade to hide the anguish of a long, lonely life full of pain. But actually reading about it is just... :flutter cry:
So yeah, great story. The quality of the writing is good, the world you describe is quite beautiful and the characters are believable and well written. The one thing that brings this story down is the apparent lack of a proofreader. There are quite a lot of spelling and grammar errors throughout that even a second read through would be enough to spot and fix. It seems small, but stuff like that is enough to take away the immersion. Just something to consider!
But yeah, definitely a good read and I look forward to reading more!
4801649 Yeah I suppose it could use a little polishing up. Whenever I get the time I'll go through it and beautificate the story. Thanks for bringing it to my attention!
That was a bit ridiculous, tbh. I can see Celestia losing a hoof fight with a minotaur, but I'm going to need a darn good reason spelled out why she prosecuted one and never attempted anything else. She fought him up close on his most obvious strongest terms instead of either smoking him from a distance or simply levitating him off the nearest cliff. Like I get that she's untrained in the more intricate magic but she doesn't need much finesse there. At least the dragon was huge enough that it was more clearly not an option, and even the diamond dogs were using bows en masse to threaten from a distance. But at some point, she is an alicorn who's been crusading for several decades now, and she's pragmatic enough to realize there's more than one kind of brute force, and projectile houses are very much a legit strategy available to her.