Of The Last Millennium

by BlndDog

Chapter 10

Chapter 10

“I… I miss her…”

She patted Rain’s side as tears streamed down her own face. The sharp scent rising from the fire in the middle of the tipi had cleared her sinuses, and now it was making her feeling light-headed. A convection current sucked in fresh air through holes near the ground, and both children were huddled beneath a single big quilt.

“I… I miss her. I miss Gari.”

“Me too,” Scootaloo sniffled.

A younger buffalo came through the entrance flap holding a ragged pillow between her teeth. The sun was setting outside, bathing the encampment in a uniform red glow. On long, fawn-like legs she stood as tall as Big Macintosh. Dirty blond curls covered her head, barely held at bay by a purple-and-white headband. Like the others she didn’t have much of a neck, and her ears naturally flopped parallel to the ground.

“Here,” she said, offering the pillow to Scootaloo. “Rest for a bit, okay? I’m going to see Chief Thunderhooves. You two are safe as long as you’re here.”

Scootaloo put her head down, breathing in the faint smoky scent. The pillow was cold and a little damp by the time she fell asleep.

#

“Are you okay, Scootaloo?” Princess Luna pulled her into a heartfelt embrace.

“No!” She squirmed and kicked, and at last was set down on the rocky ground. “No, I am not okay! What in Tartarus happened back there? Who were those bat ponies? You better have some answers, Luna!”

“You are testing my patience, young Scootaloo.” The alicorn’s voice reverberated through the dry canyon around them, her brows furrowed in annoyance.

“Well I think you can take it. What are you gonna do? I’m with the buffalos, and it looks like you’re still in the Ridge! If you want me to cooperate you’d better start talking!”

“Very well,” Luna sighed. “I suppose respect is not a priority at this time. You have my word that everything I am about to tell you is the truth and the whole truth as far as I know.

"The railroad between Ponyville and Appleloosa is currently closed. Starry Night is badly injured; my guards found him just past the Ghastly Gorge Bridge. It appears that his attacker took everything he had and cast him out of the moving train. A telegram from Appleloosa says that they were attacked by sylvanocians, and they accuse me of using excessive force. I want you to know that that is not true; as of this morning all of my guards were no further south than Ponyville. Even now they have not yet reached Appleloosa.”

“You don’t have to wait for your guards,” Scootaloo interrupted. “If this is a dream, I can show you right now what we had to escape from.”

The words were barely out of her mouth when an armoured figure emerged from the shadows. Scootaloo turned to face her creation, and was surprised to see an ill-defined conglomeration of parts. The ears of the helmet, the shoulderpieces and a few of the overlapping plates were just as she remembered, but the body was mostly a blurry mess of grey and black.

Regardless of quality, the image had the desired effect. Princess Luna studied the shoulderpiece intently, and even reached out to feel the engraving.

“It’s just as Gari feared,” she mumbled. Turning her attention back to Scootaloo, Luna sat down and motioned for her to do the same. “This might take some time. I have not rehearsed this story as my daughter has. Scootaloo, the sylvanocians are demanding that Gari and I return to the Colony immediately. My guards are protecting the Canterlot Orphanage, and I can only assume that the most recent attack was another demonstration of power. A faction among them has grown incredibly strong, unbeknownst to anypony in Equestria until a few weeks ago. Had Gari come to me directly after the tragedy at the orphanage, a lot of this might have been avoided. Instead she mobilized every one of my guards in hopes of containing the incident. It seems that their loyalty lies with my children first and foremost; I did not know what happened until I entered the empty barracks on the night you two left Ponyville. In hindsight perhaps it would have been wiser to let her continue her search, but that didn’t occur to me at the time. Instead I grounded the guards and brought them all back to Canterlot along with Gari in order to regroup. That was why I could not meet you in Ghastly Gorge.

“On the night that I spoke to you in the desert I was heading back to Ponyville to meet with Twilight. You can imagine how your father reacted when three alicorns showed up on his doorstep that evening. He had it in his head to chase us out of town all by himself, and I knew that we could not leave until you and Morning Rain were safe. Searching for you would have taken days, and I was correct to think that you were in dire straits. Again, I am sorry that I could not do more for you, but then again you came through very well.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Scootaloo muttered, crossing her forelegs across her chest. “But I still don’t know why you’re still not doing anything. You know exactly where we are now! Why don’t you meet us here?”

“Because you will not be safe traveling with us,” Princess Luna said. “Two days after you left, we were issued an ultimatum. These attacks will only get worse until Gari reaches Kelp Town. Each detour we take might mean another disaster like the one today. Your safety was guaranteed to us if we gave up the search, and these ponies who hunt for you now are the ones who will see to it that we honour their terms.”

“So two alicorn princesses can’t beat a bunch of bat ponies?” Scootaloo’s eyes narrowed.

“Rest assured, I can hold my own against every Royal Guard in Canterlot,” Luna said, her voice taking on a venomous edge. “Can you say the same? It will take me one full day to reach you from where I am now. My guards might get there by tomorrow morning. These sylvanocians that attacked Appleloosa know exactly where you are, and they’re just a casual jog away. Surely you see the problem? I am sorry that you have to be involved in this crisis, but no amount of arguing will get you out of it.

“Now, I have some news that you may appreciate, though it may also prove to be a great burden on your mind. Rainbow Dash is on her way to Appleloosa, and she intends to accompany you on the rest of your journey.”

Scootaloo turned to the Princess, her jaw hanging open.

Rainbow Dash. THE Rainbow Dash! And she wants to go on an adventure with ME!

“That’s the best news I’ve heard all day!” Her wings buzzed in excitement. “Luna, this changes everything! Getting to Horseshoe Bay will be a breeze with Rainbow Dash around!”

Luna placed a hoof on her shoulder and fixed her in a stern gaze. “I said this knowledge may prove to be a burden to you yet. Rainbow Dash is able-bodied and willing to fight, but she is alone and likely ill-equipped. If she does not arrive in the next three days, you will have to leave without her. These are unpredictable times, and we face a resourceful opponent. Your success depends not only on strength and cunning, but also timing. They will try to hinder your sister’s arrival, and if you stay still they will win. Have faith in her, but know that she is not infallible. Again I say to you, you must not linger among the buffalos!”

By now the growing brightness was familiar to her. Scootaloo took one last deep breath of the dream world’s pristine air and savoured its seamless transition into a smoky, numbing haze. Her body gently repositioned itself until she was sprawled out on a thick, fuzzy mat. Fire crackled somewhere to her right. It was the only source of light, and its warmth on her face was not unlike the summer sun.

“Arrr!”

Two large bodies fell through the tent flap, landing in a heap on the dusty ground. The two children sat bolt upright and scrambled away from the intruders. An especially large buffalo was trying to pin down a considerably smaller bat pony with great difficulty. The dark blue stallion struggled fiercely, the tips of his wings digging little rivets in the dirt as he fought to plant his legs. The rear half of his body disappeared into the darkness outside. Glossy fur and mane gained corporeal form under the orange firelight, but faded seamlessly into shadows wherever they were cast. Though his opponent roared and grunted, the bat pony glared silently at the dumbstruck children with his huge black eyes.

“Get the ropes!” The buffalo called over his shoulder when he had both forelegs over the back of the bat pony’s neck. His great shadow fell over the stallion’s entire body; from Scootaloo’s angle it like he was lying behind a disembodied head.

Another buffalo appeared with a loop of rope between his teeth and a lamp hanging from one horn, his bulky form blocking the entire entrance. After restraining the stallion, he backed out of the tent in slow, deliberate steps with his eyes glued to his prisoner. The bat pony was wearing a sturdy blue jumpsuit that ended at the base of his neck, and his deflated mane was a clear sign that he had worn a helmet not that long ago.

“Sorry about this,” the first buffalo said as he dragged the bat pony away. “They usually don’t get this far.”

Before the heavy flap fell against the entrance Scootaloo caught a glimpse of the camp outside. Two bonfires burned in front of every tent; bright red light rippled over every surface.

Eventually the children returned to their mat. The blankets felt heavy and oppressive on her back, and Scootaloo could not get her wings to fold. To her right, Morning Rain shivered incessantly. She spent the rest of the night in a tense stupor, her ears erect and constantly probing for unusual noises until dawn.

#

For breakfast the buffalos provided a big bowl of cold green mush; mashed cactus pads, according to the one who gave them the pillows last evening. Little Strongheart was her name, though “little” was a relative thing; she was a lot younger and leaner than the other buffalos that the two ponies had seen, but quite sizable by pony standards.

Scootaloo enjoyed the crunchy, melon-like texture of the gruel. It was slightly sweet and strongly cooling; by the end of the meal she was huddled under the blanket again (much to the buffalo’s amusement).

Little Strongheart left with a half-empty bowl and returned with a towel and a steaming basin of water. She unwound the bandages around the filly’s front legs and cleaned her wounds in silence. They were all scabbed over now; sharp pain was replaced by the dull discomfort of bruises.

“I don’t think you need bandages anymore,” the buffalo noted as she wrung out the discoloured towel over the murky, lukewarm contents of the basin. “It’ll heal better if you let it air out a bit. I’ll just tape your hooves. Chief Thunderhooves wants to speak with you.”

Scootaloo squinted as she pushed through the heavy canvas flap into a brilliant, cloudless morning. A chilly wind blew over the flat land, tickling her back and reminding her of every hairless patch on her body. The thick gauze around her hooves tripped her a few times before she got used to them. Thankfully the guards from the previous night weren’t around to see her first few awkward steps.

The camp, made up of dozens if not hundreds of generously-spaced tipis arranged in a radial pattern, was big enough to pass for a town. Some of the fires from the previous night had burned down to smouldering ash, but most were now bracketed by wooden stands bearing blackened copper pots. Enormous cauldrons filled to the brim with bright green sludge dangled from crossbars as thick as roof beams. As she walked, the swift wind carried a hundred unfamiliar scents past her nose.

Scootaloo knew that she was being watched. A few times she turned her head to see a pair of beady brown eyes staring right back. The buffalos didn’t even trying to hide their curiosity, and while most of them seemed nice enough the extra attention made her uneasy. Maybe it was because they were all so big; even the clumsy babbling calf playing within reach of its mother was nearly the same size as the pegasus filly.

She found the red-tipped tipi just as Little Strongheart described. Its extra-large entrance stood wide open, and the splayed top flaps let in plenty of light even without a fire. To the right of the building was parked the escape vehicle from the day before. She recognized it by the pungent smell of apple cider, and by the two identical black blades buried in its side. Each one was as long as her tail yet not much thicker than a kitchen knife, with concave edge facing downwards in its current orientation. The force of impact had broken off the shafts of the scythes; it was a wonder the blades themselves weren’t bent.

“… All in all, it’s really strange.”

At the sound of voices Scootaloo zipped into the generous space beneath the cart. The buffalos found her cowering in the shade with her eyes squeezed shut.

“Hey Scootaloo,” One of them said after a moment of silence. “What are you doing down there?”

He was looking down at her with a good-natured smile on his broad, honest face. Scootaloo was still having trouble distinguishing bulls from cows, but this one didn’t look or sound familiar. He wasn’t Gooseberry, although his companion might very well have been.

“You’re still a bit shocked from yesterday, aren’t you?” He continued as he guided Scootaloo out from her hiding spot.

Scootaloo nodded, grimacing at the click in her shoulder as she stood to her full height.

“I’m Dawn Runner, by the way. I guess you’ve noticed these blades too?”

“I got stabbed with those,” she mumbled.

“Yeah, sorry about that.” The other buffalo was definitely Gooseberry from the day before.

“Well, it could have been worse.” Dawn Runner walked right up to the cart and struck the glistening edge of one blade with a mighty uppercut that lifted one side of the vehicle.

Scootaloo winced, but the buffalo calmly placed his undamaged hoof back on the ground.

“Go ahead,” he said. “Touch it all you want; there’s no cutting edge anywhere. Basically it’s all spine. This black stuff is silver, and if you look closely you can see a nice pattern in the tarnishing; they put a lot of effort into these things. The metal’s excellent as well; hard but not brittle. Must have been a nightmare to work. And have a look at that shaft.”

The filly craned her neck and squinted at the inch or so of honey-coloured wood stuck in the ring. Its jagged end looked more like a bed of crystals than a snapped branch.

“That’s some dense wood,” the buffalo explained. “The closest thing I can think of is ebony, but you’d be hard pressed to find a single core long enough for a spear shaft, never mind a few dozen. Besides, this isn’t ebony at all…”

Scootaloo stared blankly at Dawn Runner as his speech devolved into a chain of unfamiliar jargon. Eventually a forceful bump from Gooseberry jolted him back to the present, and nearly sent him crashing down on top of the tiny pegasus.

“Anyways,” he coughed. “Thanks for telling me about these, Gooseberry. This gives me something to work with, at least. When do you need them by, Scootaloo?”

“Come again?” Scootaloo blinked a few times, her sluggish mind struggling to keep up.

“Chief Thunderhooves told me to provide you two with some weapons for the road, and I’m thinking these blades can make decent knives. I can sharpen these edges real quick and put in new grips. They’re heavy enough to use as machetes too. How does that sound?”

“That’s… great,” she replied half-heartedly. “I don’t know when I’ll be leaving. In a few days, maybe; why do we need weapons again?”

“You haven’t spoken with the Chief yet, have you?” Dawn Runner offered her another reassuring smile before clamping one of the blades between his teeth. “I won’t say anything more, then. Come on Gooseberry, hold this cart. These things are stuck real tight.”

A shadow fell over the filly as she pondered the buffalo’s words. Turning around, she found herself standing with her nose an inch away from a solid wall of shaggy grey fur. The smell of incense was overpowering; she suppressed a grimace as she backed away to get a better look at the new arrival.

His humped back rose as high as a rail car, and his shoulders were nearly as wide. Two grown stallions could stand in a hat made for that head; the broad blue ribbon of his headdress had enough fabric to make a ball gown with patches to spare. A fan of brown-tipped white feathers extended from his crown, almost obscuring his hump from view. Scootaloo’s stomach churned as she tried to imagine what monstrous creature could have provided feathers that big.

“Come with me, Scootaloo,” he invited in a low, rumbling voice. With a smooth, dignified gait he stepped past the pony and into his tent; the cavernous entrance was just big enough to admit his bulky form.

She looked to the buffalos at the cart one last time. Gooseberry was doing his best to stay on the bed while Dawn Runner yanked on the lodged blade. The wheels shuddered and axils screamed with each powerful tug.

The giant stared in silence as she stepped into the well-lit tipi. The triangle of sunlight coming through the roof vent illuminated a section of wall adorned with the image of a herd of charging buffalos. Hundreds of them ran the circuit around the interior wall. Each one wore two white feathers on his heads; when she looked at them closely, Scootaloo realized that they were real feathers. Probably the doffed winter plumage of ptarmigans. The specks of white seemed to glow with their own light against the dark dyes portraying hide and dust and irregular stone columns. Higher up in the tent a dog-like profile glared down at her from within a vibrant blue circle, and the bright red apex of the conical structure seemed to her a fair facsimile of the summer sun.

Scootaloo stood with her mouth hanging open, listening to the eternal gallop of the phantom stampede.

“Is something wrong?” The buffalo asked after a moment.

“It’s nothing,” the filly replied, tearing her eyes away from the wall. The only safe direction to look was down. “I’m just a little distracted, I guess.”

“That is understandable,” he said. “You have seen much since you left Ponyville, and you will see more still. I assume there are things you would like to know?”

“I’m not sure,” she said slowly. “I was hoping you would tell me more about what happened yesterday. A griffin was supposed to pick us up from Appleloosa, but in the morning there were just bat ponies everywhere. What’s going on?”

The buffalo studied her with his ever-thoughtful gaze. “I do not know the exact details, but I will tell you as much as I can. This is a matter concerning ponies, and we buffalos try to intervene as little as possible.

“Your princess visited Gooseberry in a dream, telling him to discretely transport you and your brother out of Appleloosa if you so asked. Apart from that, you know as much as I do about yesterday’s attack. Luna violated an ancient agreement when she entered a buffalo’s mind, and I am disappointed in her. She knew that dreams are sacred to the buffalos, and that she has no right to enter ours. That, of course, is none of your concern. I do not hold any of her actions against you, Scootaloo. However, your brother has done something rather foolish. You know what I am referring to.”

“That big bird?” Scootaloo guessed.

“Your brother is a very cruel boy, if she is to be believed,” Chief Thunderhooves sighed. “Two of her children died at his hooves and yours.”

“I didn’t kill anything!” She interrupted, her wings angrily snapping open. “I only wanted to make sure he didn’t get eaten!”

“That might very well be,” the chief’s steady, powerful tone easily silenced her protest. “Unfortunately for you, she is not in any mood to bicker about the details. Her judgement is final, Scootaloo. You should know the outcome of resisting.”

Scootaloo felt her knees trembling as the words sank in. The buffalo’s grave eyes met her pleading ones. He might as well have been carved from stone.

“W… What will she do to us?” She stammered. She thought she could smell ozone in the air, and clenched her teeth in case a bolt of lightning found her through the hole in the ceiling.

“Do not be scared, Scootaloo. She does not want your life anymore, although that was her original intention. The great thunderbirds are not known to be so merciful. You must have done something to earn your life. She will not hunt you anymore if you and your brother agree to serve her.”

“What do you mean?” Her words squeaked out of her throat. It took great effort just to open her mouth.

“Rest assured, you will not have to worry about it for quite some time. You may find the work to be distasteful at first, but it will not be unreasonably difficult or time-consuming. Now I have digressed far too long. The thunderbird is not a matter of immediate concern to you. I have summoned you in order to discuss the remainder of your journey.”

“So Princess Luna came to you too?” Cold sweat tickled her back; she felt as if a great weight had been lifted. Scootaloo knelt down and tucked her wings tight against her body. The fuzzy floor mat beneath her was as cold as ice.

“She was reluctant at first, but I forced her to stay,” Chief Thunderhooves said. “I made her tell me everything she knows about these bat ponies, but she does not know a lot. A total of twenty bat ponies tried to sneak into this camp last night, and we are currently holding all them captive. I have interrogated all of them, but they will not speak. The healer tells me that they have intact tongues and voice boxes, and they are not bound by any silencing spell. They are also exceptionally strong, and the Princess tells me that they become stronger at night. If they keep coming at this rate we will have no choice but to start disposing of them permanently.”

It took her a second to realize what he meant.

“You can’t be serious!” Scootaloo gaped at the buffalo, whose expression had not changed.

“I hope it will not come to that,” he continued. “However, it is clear to me that they are interested in you two and nobody else. My buffalos are in danger as long as we continue to host you in our camp. In time they will try to confront us in open combat, and with Appleloosa in ruins there will be no other asylum for you.

“The only way to ensure your safety and ours is for you to leave us as soon as you are ready. We will provide weapons and supplies: food; water; boots; cloaks… everything you will need to reach the Hayseed Swamps in the east. There are ways to travel this desert without being seen, and one of us will go with you as a guide. But you must decide when it is you intend to leave so that I can make appropriate preparations.”

“I’m waiting for somepony,” Scootaloo said. “She’s coming from Ponyville. I don’t think I should leave without her.”

“Will she be swift?”

“She’s the fastest flyer in all of Equestria,” Scootaloo recited eagerly.

“Is that so?” Chief Thunderhooves looked her over with half-lidded eyes. “I suppose you are being truthful. You understand that if these bat ponies become unmanageable I will force you to leave?”

“It won’t come to that,” she said, though her confidence drained quickly under his dark scrutinizing eyes. “Chief Thunderhooves, if there are that many bat ponies out there waiting for us, how are we supposed to get all the way to the coast? We need all the help we can get, and I don’t think we can go the rest of the way without at least one more pony on our side.”

“You have come this far, have you not?” For the first time the buffalo smiled. His teeth were like a wall of yellow bricks. “Do not think yourself powerless. It is a long road from Ponyville to this place, and your path was hardly the most direct. You have traveled this far, and I do not see any reason that you would not be able to finish your journey.

“Luna has told me a lot about you, Scootaloo, and I think this advice will not be superfluous: do not abandon your brother. I know how you feel about him, but he may prove to be useful yet. I am not saying this to scare you, but out on the road you two might only have each other. Even a cruel, uncaring companion has his uses, and I do not believe he is as bad as you think.”

“I guess you’re right,” Scootaloo sighed. “I need three days at least. Can you give me that much?”

“We will do our best. You may return to your shelter now. Do not wander around too much, and do not go outside after dark. Bat ponies lose most of their magic inside tipis, and you will have guards all through the night. They may know where you are, but they will not get to you.”

When she emerged into the sunlight again the day had warmed up considerably. Heat haze and fake water toyed with her exhausted mind. The exposed skin on her back shrank like a hay fry in hot oil. Halfway to her destination Scootaloo already longed for the tipi’s cool shade.

Low, sustained sibilance tickled her ears, coming loud and clear over the low voices of the buffalos going about their daily business. It filled her with inexplicable terror, and she hastened her steps the rest of the way. She was breathing heavily when she finally hopped through the big oval entrance as if being pursued by timberwolves.

“I can’t do it!” Rain growled, slamming his face into his pillow. “How do you even remember something like this?”

Little Strongheart turned to the filly. She was lying on top of a mat across from Morning Rain. Two feet of dirt separated the two, unremarkable save for a few angular stones.

“Is something wrong, Scootaloo?” The young buffalo asked.

“Can you not hear that?”

“She can’t,” Rain interjected. “It’s some kind of off-key sylvanocian signal. If they were doing it properly we wouldn’t hear anything.”

“Do you know what they’re trying to say?” Scootaloo did her very best to imitate the steadiness of the buffalos.

“I don’t.” His eyes were practically bugging out of his head, and his bottom lip twitched in agitation. “It’s probably the prisoners calling. We have to leave, but I can’t even feel my hindquarters right now.”

“Be patient,” Little Strongheart said, probably not for the first time that day. “You’re going to rip open your stitches again if you keep trying to move. Just relax and memorize this map. It’s the most useful thing you can do right now.”

“I don’t see how this is relaxing,” Rain groaned, though he obediently turned his eyes back to the patch of earth in front of him.

Scootaloo settled down beside her brother and looked at the ground. A familiar shape had been scratched into the packed dirt. Little mounds stood in for hills, and two orange stones represented the Ghastly Gorge. The finer details dropped off towards the north, but every building in Appleloosa seemed to be accounted for in a carefully-arranged cluster of pebbles. A long crosshatched line traced the railway from the Gorge all the way to its eastern terminus. Sharp stones marked the Macintosh Hills in the south, but the vast desert at the centre of this map seemed utterly foreign to the filly.

Bright blue threads traced the paths of rivers that Scootaloo had never seen on any map in her life. Bits of straw inserted into the ground marked the expansive orchards of Appleloosa and other towns along the rail line, but these were not the only trees. A forest, easily ten times the size of any settlement, grew in a long strip parallel to the Macintosh Hills. Most of the map’s components made sense despite many novelties, except for the sand-filled groove that ran through the centre of the desert roughly parallel to the train tracks.

“That’s Rattlesnake Canyon,” Little Strongheart explained. “It’s really beautiful; you have to see it to believe it. Few ponies have ever been there, and I don’t think these bat ponies can find it at all without one of us buffalos guiding them. Right now, you don’t have to know anything about the desert except for the towns and the waterways. I’ll be with you at least to the canyon’s eastern end. That puts you about two hours south of Dodge Junction here… four hours with your legs, I guess. After that, you’ll want to enter the Hayseed Swamp at this point right here. It’s the driest part. And here you have to turn south just a bit to avoid crocodiles in these deeper waters, and then…”

Morning Rain slowly raised one hoof. The buffalo fell silent, a blush creeping across her face.

Throughout the day Scootaloo often craned her neck to check on the featureless blue sky through the open smoke vent, hoping to glimpse a rainbow where there could be none.