Crystal heart

by A pensive Squirrel

Uncertain times

Morning struck as Celestia hauled the great star into the sky above. Sappheire looked glamorous as she stagnated atop the crow’s nest. The morning was beautiful, and it hurt how much the kingdom relied upon this ability of the Empress.

The morning as beautiful as it was, was covered by a great scaly mass of impressive build. It was Ignatius and his usual machismo was replaced with panicked breathing and pinpricked eyes.

“We are not immune, Salem. I saw things from the nesting grounds, from when I was with my other hatchlings. It was good. I was happy. She took it all. She has ways to make us break.”

Unafraid of the surprise guest, Sappheire petted his warm steaming snout with her cold glassy one.

“Was it restless, your night?”

“It was, your majesty, it was. I heard other dragons crying in their slumbers also. Can she be in multiple dreams? Why does she haunt us so?”

Sappheire bowed to the adviser and returned to the patio doors, the satin curtains nipping at her fetlocks.

“Be brave, good knight. We have much worse in store. Comfort your brothers wherever they may sleep. Gather them when they wake and bring them to moonlake. We must reveal our own doubts to the people, to show them that we are as mortal and as fragile as they. Quicksilver should be able to draw the ponies there too. Stay strong.”

Ignatius bowed to her and then scowled down to the council building, the one forever scarred by the unknown killer.

“There is one other way for you to reach the outside world. I’m unsure whether the powers that be can detect it, but we could send letters by dragon fire. We will need to find a dragon on the other side that we can trust. With our minds vulnerable to attack, a suitable candidate will be hard to locate.”

Salem kissed his wife as she walked back into the bedroom. He planted his hooves on the banister. He ushered for Ignatius to come closer. The drake lowered his head and pricked-up his spiny ear.

“Ignore what she shows you. And one more thing, leave hints about a war effort. Celestia is not patient. Empyrean craves war and what he coins retribution. We have only one choice, to beat them at their own sick game. We must be prepared.”

“I will. And king, what will happen if we go to war?”

“It will claim us. Innocence will be a thing of the past. We will stand against an army, a hundredfold the strength of our own. Be tactful, good dragon, for there isn’t room for error.”

“Before I return to our fields, I must go and check on the fried fledgling; make sure hasn’t chatted up too many of the nurses, that sort of thing. By the by, how has he been faring? I’ve been so caught up with calming my brethren that I haven’t had a chance to see him.”

“Pardon, you mean you are tired too? I second that motion. I might catch a couple more winks.”

“You did visit the brave little tyke didn’t you?”

“Of course, grand dragon, why would I lie about such things?”

“Then how is he?”

“He’s doing remarkably well, should be just peachy before the week is up.”

“That is good news. I’ll keep him company when the wards open. And thank you, I don’t know how you can possess such kindness.”

Ignatius released his grip on the walls of the tower and glided down towards the waking encampment.

Salem too left the balcony. His queen was no longer in the room they shared. He transported himself to the hall that housed his daughters’ chambers and thrummed the door that belonged to Sierra.

“Are you okay?”

The only answer was a muffled sobbing. It sounded like a heartbroken teen crying into a pillow, bottling up the emotions they themselves couldn’t fathom. There was still no reply, only sadness. Salem opened the door regardless and found his daughter in a rather compromising position on the bed.

Her legs were splayed, her undercarriage displayed. He approached until he saw her eyes, still shut as if she were still sleeping, still dreaming. He remembered what Luna had said about her curious mind, about the fantasies that existed therein.

What if this was another illusion created by the mental mare? He had made certain his sweetest child had not been exposed to the world of adult themes and mature thoughts and feelings. She wouldn’t have those thoughts. She was ignorant of it.

Her pupils were active beneath her eyelids. She was still under Luna’s sadistic power.

Salem kicked an ivory table at the wall and his horn imbued with magic. A sphere grew from the point of his inbuilt catalyst and it swelled until it engulfed Sombra’s face.

“Be gone!”

The glowing sphere grew unstable and imploded, sending any loose or light furniture careering into the ceiling and walls.

Sierra stopped what she was doing. She fell from her sheets. She looked ashamed. Salem tried to make eye contact but it could not be maintained. She grasped her hoof and whimpered for the pain that coursed through it. It ached. Oh how it must’ve ached.

“I am here, Sierra, it’s your daddy. Please don’t block me out. What you did, what you were doing, it’s perfectly natural for a mare your age. You needn’t feel self-conscious.”

Sierra said nothing. She dropped on to her side and remained absolutely still. Her father tried to rouse her from the trance but she was absorbed in a pit of self-pity and guilt. The usual pith of her personality was nowhere to be seen.

Salem took the quilt from the wreckage of the bed and loosely folded it over the shamefaced mare. He went to kiss her before leaving but she avoided his lips. He vanished and left her alone once more. Her room was totalled. It was nothing compared to the condition of her mind.

He reappeared in Amber’s room but there was no lump under the quilt. The linens had been scuffed and tucked messily aside and the window was open wide. Sappheire wiped the pure filtered tears from her eyes as she stared forlornly out into the castle grounds. Amber was gone.

“She’s out there all alone…”

Sappheire cried.

“She would have sought her colt-friend. She will be safe, my love, don’t fret. Our Sierra needs her mother right now. She is discovering things and she is unsure of what they mean. Be with her; let her know you are there for her.”

His queen held her head in contemplation of what her husband’s words meant. She figured it out soon and she rushed past the threshold towards the ruined room down the hallway.

“I will inform the guard and the watchmen, tell them that she is to be retrieved. I will see you later.”

The guards were already assembled in the foyer. Cavalrymen were backlogged as far as the gatehouse. Some nervously paced while others chewed at their hooves in anxious fits. Most of the cherry-picked soldiers were brawly enough to stand still in the courtyard. The ones that did break the norm were roped back in line by the ones in control. The outliers were no doubt the work of Luna.

Regardless of their mind set, the cavalry turned and saluted as Sombra trod on the obsessively mown grass.

“Which of you feel able to perform revelry this morning? I think it would be of great import if the brass band could play outside the castle walls, to invigorate the people.”

The errantry had been summoned by the King’s messenger, the young Quicksilver. They didn’t answer to the nimble Pegasus however. They may have been the King’s stallions, but their master was a soldier, one of prestige and prominence.

Lord Martingale was the commander in arms. He had a moustache with a face barely visible beneath. It was something of an inside joke when he sat down to supper that most would go missing in the great furry caterpillar.

The silver stallion stood before the roaming remiss of the royal guard and produced a cane from his ceremonial coat.

“I thought I built an army of intelligence, mental fortitude, and brilliance. What do I see before me now? Have my regiments been replaced by changelings? Celestia as my witness, you will assume formation and you will stop your bloody whining. It is not real.”

“I respect your leadership, master Martingale, but must you be so brusque?”

The commander stared basely at the interruption.

“I have the utmost respect for you too, dear King. However, you are being soft and these stallions need structure and discipline.”

Slowly the disorganised mishmash fell into line, forming into rows of single file with their heads held high.

“You see? All they needed was direction. Give them the stick, Sire, not the carrot.”

Martingale gave his sage advice freely. He faced the correctly positioned soldiers, nobles, knights and knaves. He walked among them, checking their posture, their teeth, anything he could get a hold of and inspect without deviating too far from the path he had chosen. Some blushed as they were essentially violated by the officer. Others shrugged it off. But they didn’t appreciate the attention, which was clear.

He continued to patrol, as if he needed to keep tabs on his subordinates. In the rare instances where the stallions lost focus or didn’t remain statuesque, his reaction would be swift and acute.

“Thank you for your professionalism, Officer. Could you please select a company to go to the streets of residents, and yes, that does include the slums.”

“You would mollify your subjects, Sire? I do not wish to speak out of term but your people are workshy. Have you not seen how the Emperor drives progress? Have you not admired the hive-mind camaraderie that his army exhibits?”

“These are not soldiers, officer. We are not yet at marshal law.”

“But how long, King, how long until our enlisted stallion ranks thin and all that remains are these wimps? They will be soldiers.”

Salem tapped his rear hoof feverishly on the ground as he passively willed the old-hat stallion to flop down dead. He had no concept of choice, only logic. War isn’t one by numbers alone.

“Even if you conscript every last one of my subjects, we will still be miniscule in the shadow of Empyrean’s legions.”

Martingale hadn’t listened to a word his king had said. He had been separating the band members from the interchangeable grid of grit and guile. He gave a lazy farewell to the monarch and marched the merry buskers out of the gate.

Salem relaxed, his h=rear hoof stopped flinching, and he sat casually before the remaining forces.

“As to the rest of you, I ask as not only your ruler but also as a concerned father that a sharp eye is kept for my eldest daughter, Amber. She is absent and her whereabouts is not known. Don’t be alarmed. She was frightened by the night invasions, as I’m sure most of you were. Don’t pretend, what’ve you to prove? I was devastated by what she showed me. Don’t make it obvious. Resume your normal duties and return to your posts. Be ready to coral the citizens to Stetson Bridge. All will become clear.”

Argument, why? For what purpose would they not obey? With a unified salute and a thunderous clap of thousands of hooves slamming into the ground, the knights, knaves, pages and archers left the gates. All but two left. They were by far better armoured and better muscled than the others.

They were wise and dutiful, faithful, and proud. One produced a scroll from his person and a quill quickly popped into existence. The cobalt stallion drew a hoof pick from the air and began scoring his lamina.

“We were looking for your messenger, Sire. He has been most elusive.”

“You speak of Quicksilver? Perhaps he is bedridden.”

“That might be plausible sir. It’s just, there was supposed to be a meet of sorts with the unicorns, and he hasn’t done anything to aid this. We might’ve overheard your conversation.”

“Don’t apologise. Good thinking, actually. Having one envoy did seem a little naïve. Well, the crime is known of now. I hope it is not an imposition for me to pass this task to you two. Actually, scrap that. In the assembly at the strike of noon we will disclose this. Then, hopefully, none of my subjects will be left in the dark.”

“What about the messenger? He might be trouble.”

“You are stalwart in your method, Pretorias. It appears that something untoward is happening under my nose. Keep an eye on our mutual friend; make sure his activity is not secret anymore.”

Pretorias held his hoof to his chest and the other paladin did the same. They bowed subtly in reverence and vanished uncannily in the way that unicorns do. After the cloud cleared, Salem watched as the winged mare soared into the morning bright.