Of The Last Millennium

by BlndDog

Chapter 13

Chapter 13

A single shaft of light illuminated the dusty chamber, shining down from an opening high in the rubble pile at the former entrance. At first a diffuse red patch was cast on the uneven sandstone wall. Slowly it crept, becoming brighter and warmer, and then fading slightly as it passed the halfway point of its leisurely journey. The beam scanned in a predictable arc across many feet of ancient rock before it found the fuzzy, salt-flecked face.

Scootaloo moaned and covered her head with her forelegs. Her hooves were steaming inside her boots, and her tongue was swollen at the tip.

“Mommy…”

She smiled as she nuzzled the mare who held her. Feeling the warm body made her sad. A part of her mind insisted that everything was not alright. That pesky voice in her head had dwindled in volume throughout the night, but it never went away.

“Everything’s going to be fine, Scootaloo. Mommy’s going away for a while. Be brave for me, okay?”

She was instantly blinded by the glare. Scootaloo sprang up with a low hiss. Blotches of purple and blue danced across the inside of her eyelids. She whimpered as she groped the air in front of her, but her mother was gone.

What did she look like?

As memory returned, a deep sense of loss closed around her heart. She sobbed and screamed as love and warmth were replaced with fear and dry heat.

Morning Rain scampered to her side and placed a hoof on her cloaked back. Scootaloo shoved him aside with all her strength. She got no pleasure from listening to her brother tumble across the rocky ground.

Little Strongheart sat with her in silence, being far too big to be thrown around. Thankfully she didn’t try to touch the filly as her tantrum ran its course.

In the end Scootaloo lie exhausted in a cold puddle of her own tears. The dust turned to mud on her face. She wanted nothing more than to see her father and Gari; Gari especially.

Gari wouldn’t beat her for such an outburst. Not as hard, anyways.

“Rain, get over here,” Little Strongheart ordered.

The colt approached Scootaloo from the front, coming within reach just long enough to drop off a canteen. Thick blood oozed from scrapes on his face; his sister’s doing, no doubt. He kept his eyes on his boots as he lie down across from the girls.

Little Strongheart used a piece of gauze as a facecloth to groom the ponies. As the grime was removed from Scootaloo’s face, some of her anxiety washed away also. Soon, the small abrasions in Morning Rain’s forehead were the only physical signs of his afternoon scuffle.

“Feeling better?” The buffalo asked.

Scootaloo nodded, being careful to exclude Morning Rain from her field of view. She wasn’t sure what she would do if she had to look at him; whether to give him a hug or a black eye.

“Okay, here is the plan,” Little Strongheart continued, pacing slowly around the ponies. “It’s about four o’clock; if the bat ponies can find us, they’d be here already. However, I don’t want to be caught traveling after dark, and it’ll take me an hour to clear this blockade.

“Now Scootaloo, your brother has something he would like to tell us. Seeing that there is no sense in us moving until tomorrow, let’s hear it.”

Morning Rain inhaled deeply.

“Out with it,” Little Strongheart snapped when he started playing with the hem of his cloak. “You said you’d explain everything once Scootaloo wakes up. She’s not sleeping, is she?”

“Well…” his voice was little more than a whisper; Little Strongheart’s footsteps echoed loudly in the cavern.

“First of all, what was that thing you did last night?” The circle was getting smaller; Scootaloo flicked her tail nervously. “You don’t look like a bat pony to me, but maybe you belong with them.”

“I’m don’t!” Rain protested.

“Then tell me what you’re doing out here. You bring trouble wherever you go. Unless you tell me why I should keep helping you, I will hand you over to them and return to Appleloosa with your sister.”

“I…” He sniffed loudly, but the buffalo’s words left him no room to dodge the question. “I… I was using sylvanocian magic! I learned it from one of Princess Luna’s guards! That’s it! I swear!”

“And you are very skilled at it?” She pressed on. “As good as the scouts they sent to take you from our camp?”

“No, I’m not good at it!”

“Don’t lie to me. It might take me a while to clear that blockade completely, but I can open a hole big enough to throw you out. And it will be dark soon.”

Scootaloo looked at her brother. He cowered beneath his dusty cloak, shifting his hooves constantly to stay facing his interrogator. His eyes were huge, and his mouth hung open in a silent, helpless wail.

He was not lying.

“Rain, last night you were just a big blob of darkness. You said only bat ponies could do that.”

“That wasn’t me!” He said, stretching his neck for emphasis. “It’s hard to explain…”

“We’re not stupid, Rain,” the buffalo interrupted. “This is your last chance. Get to the point, or you’re bat bait.”

He stared right into Scootaloo’s eyes as he spoke, and she saw in them all his desperation from that night so long ago when he first came to her.

“The sylvanocians are getting stronger.”

“What does that mean?” Little Strongheart asked.

“Sylvanocians aren’t just pegasi with bat wings,” Rain explained. “They’re guardians of the night, and they have a kind of magic that can’t be fully emulated, even by Princess Luna herself. It only works at night, but Gari says that it used to be as powerful as alicorn magic. Before Nightmare Moon, they could travel anywhere almost instantaneously, become completely invisible, and even change the weather. But that was a thousand years ago. Most sylvanocians today don’t have much magic to speak of; Princess Luna’s guards are some of the most powerful, but even they can’t give off an aura like the one I felt last night.

“I could sense them as soon as the sun went down; they were still very far away, but I could already feed off their aura. Sylvanocians can sustain their magic much better than earth ponies and pegasi, so one of the first things Summer Dusk taught me was how to syphon waste magic. The group that's hunting us is so powerful that just reaching out a little gave me more magic than I could ever use. It felt amazing; in the middle of the night I could see everything! Whenever I closed my eyes, my ears took over. It was like I never blinked! I tried to make a shroud—that thing I did to you in Ponyville—and you know the rest.

“I was wrong, Scootaloo. The griffins are nothing compared to sylvanocians. If I could do so much just with waste magic, think of what they can do!”

“Well, they’re pretty dumb if you ask me,” Little Strongheart said. “With all that power at their disposal they should have caught us last night. Now, are you sure that you are telling the whole truth?”

“I believe him,” Scootaloo spoke up, and Morning Rain immediately relaxed. “Little Strongheart, if you still want to throw him out tonight then I’m going with him.”

To her relief the buffalo smiled kindly and sat down close to them.

“I think you are being truthful, Morning Rain, even if your story does not stand up to scrutiny. I will remind you that you only know what you know. Do not assume anything in this matter; if I understand correctly, you have been wrong before.”

The colt bristled, but had nothing to say. Scootaloo giggled.

“We will part ways tomorrow,” she continued. “Even at your pace you can easily reach the end of this canyon in one day. I will leave you with one canteen and all the food. Scootaloo, I suggest you share your weapons.”

“My weapons?”

“The diamond dogs took your brother’s sword only. You still have your sword and tomahawk. I did not take you for a thief, Scootaloo.”

“I’m not!” Cried the filly. “Well, not anymore.”

“Chief Thunderhooves doesn’t just give away tomahawks, and certainly not his own.”

“He gave it to me when we left!” She insisted, her face flushed with rage. “Take it if you want! You can have the sword too! Take everything! See if I care!”

“It is no great matter to me,” Little Strongheart said. “I will ask Chief Thunderhooves when I next see him. However you came into possession of it, I am glad that you have it now. South of this desert is a very different Equestria from the one you are familiar with. I only know of it through a handful of traders, but it is not a place that I want to visit. You will find very few towns, and none as big as Appleloosa or even Dodge Junction. Keep your heads down, and do not start any fights. You will not be the most unusual travelers in those parts, but do have some common sense. If you are caught stealing…”

“I am not a thief!” Scootaloo snarled. The muscles of her legs were loaded like springs, and her wings twitched aggressively underneath her cloak.

Morning Rain watched her with a different kind of fear in his eyes. It was the same expression he had worn when Gari found the stash of stolen trinkets in her pillowcase. The same one from that night Scootaloo tried to sneak out through the window, tempted by the promise of sixty bits for cleaning the chimneys of some unicorn’s mansion in Canterlot.

Don’t do it.

Little Strongheart cleared her throat nervously.

“Just try not to act in the heat of the moment,” she said. “That’s all I’m trying to say. Goes for both of you; look out for one another. Now, let’s have dinner. I want to be sleeping again before the sun goes down.”

Scootaloo shared a pemmican bag with her brother. The food had crumbled almost to dust, but never had they eaten anything quite so eagerly. Not even Gari’s freshly-baked cookies.

By the time the patch of light finished its daily round all three of the travelers were fast asleep.

#

“Hello sweetie, how was your day?”

“It was great, mommy! You won’t believe who’s in my class…”

Scootaloo trailed off. She had had this conversation before, but in a different place. Her mother—a light brown unicorn with piercing green eyes—smiled pleasantly from the hallway of her Ponyville house.

“Mom?”

The word sounded so strange coming from her mouth. She couldn’t recall the last time she said it to anypony.

“What’s wrong?”

“You…” The idea came and went like a skittish mouse, but it solidify in her mind with each passing. “You… You’re not my mom, are you?”

Upon hearing her words the mare sighed and extended her wings; wings that Scootaloo had somehow ignored up to this point.

“I’m sorry,” said the alicorn. “I was hoping that you would appreciate my presence…”

She was interrupted by the sudden weight of a life-size, Scootaloo-shaped necklace.

“Gari! Oh, thank Celestia! Is this really you?”

“Celestia has nothing to do with this,” she said seriously before grabbing the filly in her forelegs and returning the hug. “I am here, Scootaloo, and I am glad that you are not mad at me.”

“Mad at you?” Scootaloo repeated incredulously. “I missed you, Gari! I mean, I was a little upset when Rain told me about what happened in Canterlot, but that wasn’t your fault. When you came to Sugarcube Corner, I panicked. I didn’t mean to be rude, you have to believe me! I miss you, Gari! Even Rain says he wants to see you again!”

“Oh, sweetie, I miss you too.” Gari hugged her again. She never wore makeup or perfume; right now, she smelled of a dusty road. “I always meant to visit, but Ponyville is a lot further than Cloudsdale. That’s no excuse at all for an alicorn, but I hope you are not too offended. You were one of my children, Scootaloo, and I will always care about you.”

“Really?” Scootaloo gaped.

“Really.” Gari affirmed, tapping the filly gently on the tip of her nose. “It’s been a long three years, Scootaloo. You’ve grown so much. I know that I have little right to say this, but I am proud of you.”

“So… Were you in my dream last night?”

“I was,” she admitted. “You were so far gone, I just had to do something. I know how much it must have hurt to wake up, but I couldn’t stand losing you.”

“But…” Scootaloo felt her throat constricting. A part of her didn’t want to know the answer to the question she was about to ask. “Did you mean any of it?”

“I love you as a daughter,” Gari said, seeing right to the filly’s heart. “I am more than a thousand years old, Scootaloo, but I clearly remember my early days. How my brothers and sisters all clambered for Luna’s attention. We didn’t believe that she could love us as we were: young, uneducated and powerless. We called her ‘mother’, but only because she told us not to call her ‘princess’. Over the years, though, she showed us what love really meant.

“A mother’s love is not depleted like the wax of a candle. There is always enough. Don’t think that just because there were so many of you at the orphanage that I would forget the ones who have left.”

“Thanks you,” Scootaloo choked with happy tears in her eyes. “It… It means a lot to me.”

“Gari! What are you doing?”

The brown alicorn turned her head slowly, holding Scootaloo closer as the latter started to shiver.

“Come with me!” Princess Luna’s voice echoed in the black emptiness of the dreamscape. “NOW!”

Scootaloo hadn’t noticed the void at all until Luna’s interruption, but now she clung even tighter to Gari. If Gari left her now, she would certainly fall.

“Mother,” implored the smaller alicorn. “Don’t make me leave now. It will do more damage than good.”

“Do not argue with me, Gari!”

Scootaloo closed her eyes and squeezed with all her might. The anger of the princess rippled all around her like a shockwave, and the muscular neck slipped from her embrace like steam from a kettle.

#

“Scootaloo, wake up!”

Morning Rain nudged his sister for the twentieth time that morning. Whenever he moved her even slightly, the orange pegasus obstinately repositioned herself without opening her eyes.

“We’ll leave without you!” He screamed into her ear, only to hear an annoyed shush from Little Strongheart.

“Go ahead,” Scootaloo mumbled. “See if I care.”

“What’s gotten into you?” Rain sighed, lying down across from her.

“I didn’t sleep well,” she said, looking up at her brother with one half-lidded eye.

They exchanged a knowing glance. Scootaloo stood up and shook herself vigorously until her spine stopped popping. Her jaw was tight, and no amount of stretching could make it feel better. She chewed on a mouthful of pemmican as she hoisted her bag.

At the cavern’s entrance Little Strongheart was slowly dismantling the boulder wall.

“Stand back,” she warned.

A wedge-shaped stone sprang from the rock pile as the buffalo jumped off. The ground shook as the wall disintegrated from top to bottom, most of the debris rolling outside into the canyon. Scootaloo sneezed when the red dawn reached her eyes.

Her stomach twisted into knots as the dust settled. The cave was situated twenty metres up the cliff, which was itself made of uneven blocks of sandstone embedded in barren yellow clay. The remains of the demolished barricade served as a steep staircase, but how Little Strongheart ascended in the first place remained a mystery.

No amount of begging could convince the buffalo to accompany them even a few steps further. Scootaloo even offered to carry her supplies, but that only made her laugh.

“You know where to go,” she said in parting. “I would stay clear of Dodge Junction if I were you. They’ll expect you there, and I would not be surprised if some bat ponies are checking into the inn at this very moment. You know your destination, and I know mine. Let’s leave it at that. Take good care of that tomahawk, Scootaloo. You’ll not find another one like it.”

She was gone before the ponies could respond, leaving them no other choice but to continue their own journey. Morning Rain carried the sword and harness, and his sister was quite thankful for it. The axe dangled at her waist on a loop of fabric torn from Little Strongheart’s pemmican bag, and this arrangement proved to be much more comfortable than having a heavy scabbard chafing at her back.

The cliffs turned to rolling hills by midday, and soon thereafter they ascended a gentle slope onto the giant skillet that was the desert proper.

Under the afternoon sun they were reduced to a snail’s pace, dragging their feet with their mouths hanging open. Scootaloo steamed under her hood with her mask pulled up past her eyes. The water in the canteen was almost hot enough to burn her tongue and seemed to evaporate as soon as it touched her lips, leaving her thirstier with each big mouthful.

The desert went on forever. Morning Rain seemed to know where he was going, but as the sun sank low and their shadows grew long there was still no sign of reeds or even trees. More and more often they scanned the cloudless sky; their ears were tuned to the sound of beating wings.

“Stop,” Scootaloo ordered under the last light of day, when her shadow extended like an endless runway before her. “Rain, we’re not going to make Hayseed Swamp tonight.”

Morning Rain did not argue. Their canteen had been empty for hours, and the chill night wind dried them just as well as the scorching sun. Neither of them had the breath to hold a conversation as they plodded towards the north.

They heard the town before they saw it. The rattling of railcars broke the silence of the deepening dusk, guiding the two weary travelers. A little closer they heard wooden axils, screaming like a hundred shrill violins.

Scootaloo lowered herself against the ground as the peak of a clock tower appeared on the horizon. Its weathercock caught the last ray of daylight, so that the matte black arrows seemed more welcoming than all the gaily-painted log houses combined.

At first glance Dodge Junction was indistinguishable from Appleloosa. It had only one street, if the unpaved clearing in front of its train station could be considered a street at all. There looked to be only room enough for a few dozen ponies, and when the last lattice slammed to for the night it became quiet enough for Scootaloo to hear the shallow tributary on the other side of the houses.

She led the approach, inching along on her belly and keeping her head down. There was no cover to be had; any alert watcher could have easily picked them out in the last fifty metres. Still they remained low, tucking in their tails and letting their dusty cloaks fall flat on the ground. If the bat ponies were in town, nightfall would offer no respite. But all she heard as she shuffled the last inches to the first wall was soft clinking of silverware coming from inside.

They hurried along in fading twilight, dashing between the houses and ducking far below bright, curtained windows. Every building seemed to be occupied, and the sweet aroma of fresh bread and casseroles and pies tugged her towards one door after another. All she could think about was a hot meal, but she knew that she mustn’t.

At the end of the row stood a kind of big warehouse. Its doors were as large as the ones on the Apple Family barn, though these were made of fine milled lumber and ornate steel bolts. Overpowering scents of rotting fruit seeped through the cracks, dredging up memories of midsummer nights in the back alleys of Canterlot.

”Daddy, I’m cold.”

Scootaloo shook her head to clear her mind. She could barely see her brother now, and the stiff wind pierced her cloak like a thousand icy needles. The decision was made in a heartbeat.

Morning Rain got onto her back to reach the top latch. The two pushed with their full weight, forcing the door ajar just enough to squeeze through.

Mice scurried between her legs, their paws popping against the flypaper floor. Scootaloo kept her shoulder pressed against her brother’s side as the two walked together in total darkness. Morning Rain moved with complete certainty, his footsteps keeping as steady a beat as ever. It occurred to her that he might be seeing things that she couldn’t.

“This looks good,” Rain commented under his breath when he stopped.

Scootaloo could feel bits of dry fruit pasted to the warped wooden floor as she knelt tentatively. She pulled her cloak beneath her to avoid touching the sticky mess, but being bundled up made her feel trapped. The axe head bit into her side as she pulled the fabric tight across her back, and the sweet smell burned her parched throat.

What is this stuff?

There was only one type of fruit contributing to the stench, and it wasn’t apple. Not watermelon either; the scent wasn’t nearly as offensive as a rotting melon. Too sweet to be pear; too twisted to be raspberries.

“Oh sweet Celestia.”

“What?”

Morning Rain stood up, and Scootaloo felt her last tie severed. Her ears rotated, tracking the direction of his receding footsteps, but she was no bat pony. He disappeared from her senses when he stopped moving some five metres to her right.

A loud slurp startled her. It was followed by loud chewing.

Is he eating gravel? Scootaloo wondered as she stood up cautiously.

“Come over here, Scootaloo!” Rain whispered excitedly. “Come on! Follow my voice!”

The filly moved with her legs spread like a pyramid, probing the ground for obstacles. The gesture was all for naught, for after only half a dozen steps she walked face-first into a rounded wooden surface. It rotated slowly from the impact like a giant wheel suspended off the ground. She scurried backwards like a startled cat as a squeaky conveyor belt began to move.

”Daddy, it’s too noisy. Why can’t we sleep outside?”

”It’s too cold tonight, sweetie. Now come here.”

A warm, sweaty wing fell over her shoulders.

“Come with me,” Rain said nervously.

Scootaloo matched his steps. She smelled damp wood right before bumping into the big barrel with her recently-scuffed nose. It was set like a stone pile, heavy enough to support her weight when she reared up and leaned over its open rim.

The warm water had picked up a bitter tinge from its container. Little round fruits bobbed against her muzzle, their slender stalks tickling her nostrils and making her sneeze. One of these found its way into her mouth as she drank, and her eyes widened at the taste of its tart, juicy flesh.

She ate almost without chewing, swallowing twigs, stones and all. The seeds were exactly like gravel, and she nearly cracked her teeth the first time she bit down. It was like bobbing for tiny apples, and she did not care that some of them were overripe or worm-ridden.

“Come on, Rain,” She panted, taking a break with her chin on the splintered rim. “You must be hungry too.”

“No… you… you carried more!” The colt didn’t even try to hide his fear. “You should eat more. D… don’t mind me.”

Scootaloo stared in the general direction of his voice, ignoring the beads of water that ticked her face and even smothering the coughs in her chest. Her suspicious, worried eyes shifted focus along the line, never seeing anything.

“Rain,” she said seriously. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” he replied, having silently moved a few degrees to the left.

So he can see.

“You’ve been acting weird since we met the buffalos,” Scootaloo said. She turned her head slightly and strained her ears to catch his sneaky steps. “What’s the point of having me here if you don’t tell me what’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” he insisted, backing away now. “Really!”

“You know, this town has a train station. I can hop on the luggage car and ride all the way back to Ponyville. Is that what you want?”

“Yeah,” he whimpered. “Yeah, you should go, Scootaloo. You’ve done so much for me already! Just go back to Ponyville and let me have whatever’s coming to me. You’re better off without me!”

“I thought we’ve been through this already,” she sighed as the colt started crying, having finally backed all the way to the wall. “Please tell me why you feel this way now. I’m your sister. You can trust me.”

“You should leave, Scootaloo!” He insisted. “Get away from me before something else goes wrong! It’s just like you said in Appleloosa: I don’t know what I’m doing here! My ideas will get both of us killed! I don’t deserve a sister like you!”

Scootaloo looked on slack-jawed as the colt sobbed and gasped somewhere in the darkness.

Oh Rain, I didn’t mean it. Not like that.

She swallowed. Her throat was like set concrete.

Okay Scootaloo, you have to say something.

“The first time I heard those stories…”

“Rain,” She ventured. “I’m going to tell you something. If you ever tell anypony else, I’m gonna deny it.”

He continued to cry, though she thought she could hear a change in his rhythm. Scootaloo had to clear her throat a few times before her throat would obey.

“Before Rainbow Dash became my sister, I was really worried about what she thought of me. Like, really worried. I would have taken out her garbage if that could get me into her good books. Heck, I’ve actually done it! But I don’t feel that way anymore. Do you know why?”

“Why?” Rain sniffed.

“Because we’re sisters now,” Scootaloo said with a smile on her face. She didn’t get to say those words often. “I know that she doesn’t always want me around, but she’s there for me when I need her. That’s what a big brother or big sister is supposed to do, no matter how tough it gets. Don’t get me wrong, you’ve done some really stupid things since we left Ponyville. But if Rainbow Dash agreed to be my sister after I nearly fell off a waterfall, I won’t hold against you the things you’ve done.”

“But…” In her mind Scootaloo could see Rain’s mouth moving silently. “But… It’s not fair!”

“Hey, life’s not fair. We Children of the Night know it better than anypony.” She wanted to go to him, but was scared by the prospect of wandering a room full of big, silent machines. “Listen, I was really mad at you back at the hospital, and I said some nasty things. It doesn’t mean that I’ll just leave you like this. If you promise me that you’ll try to be more level-headed from now on, we can forget this ever happened.”

“Do you mean that?” Rain asked hopefully.

“I thought we already promised not to lie to each other,” Scootaloo said.

His face was tear-soaked when he tackled her onto her back. She struck her funny bone on the side of the barrel, but Morning Rain’s laughter was genuine.

“Thank you,” he hiccupped, and snorted noisily into the hem of his cloak before continuing. “I promise I’ll be a better brother.”

“That’s not what I said,” Scootaloo replied, her serious tone undermined by involuntary bursts of giggling.

“I promise I’ll be more level-headed!” Rain corrected. “I’ll be responsible! I’ll think stuff through!”

“We’ll see,” she said, rubbing the back of his neck with her uninjured front leg. “Come on then, I don’t think I’ve ever had cherries this good.”

They ate and drank from opposite sides of the barrel; the waterline dropped six inches by the time they were finished, and the remaining fruits floated in a murky red slurry. Juice dripped from their manes and muzzles as they stumbled over to a patch of relatively clean ground near the big wheel. The poor pony who had to open in the morning would find the warehouse floor resembling a bloody crime scene.

With cloaks tangled together and their hoods pulled up, they stayed comfortably warm through their deep, dreamless slumber.