The Wayfarers

by TheFictionAddiction

Act 2, Chapter 26: Boiling Point

Dazed and bleary, Alabaster stumbled to the mouth of the alleyway, his saddlebag quickly forgotten. This would be the least of his worries, however.

Stepping out, Alabaster found himself almost immediately blindsighted. A blubbering stallion took him by surprise, nearly bowling him over. Alabaster cursed and threw his weight into the fellow. The stallion was sent wheeling into another.

The street had turned into an arcade machine; ponies pinballed about, bumping into anything and everything around them. The only sense of order here was that everyone seemed to be fleeing in the same general direction.

Alabaster knew there was no rationality to be found amidst a stampede, so he wasted no time searching for any. Moving against the careening flow of ponies, Alabaster batted aside anybody who got too close. Those ivory wings were oddly efficient tools for assault.

“Fucking ridiculous,” Alabaster grumbled, “Can’t get drunk during the day without the world turning into hen house full of squirrel shit. Nope!”

Knocking aside a whaling mare clutching a potted tulip, Alabaster called out, “Anyone who doesn’t want to be wearing their flank for a hat better get the hell my way!”

Really, what was the point of screaming when the entire town decided to scream with you? Alabaster’s words were raindrops in a hailstorm. Thankfully, another voice did manage to cut through the madness.

Alabaster made it a block and a half down when mare's voice rose above the ruckus. “Everypony, please! Remain calm and move in an orderly fashion! For those who can’t get to the safety of their homes, the doors to Princess Sparkle’s castle are open and offering refuge. Proceed quickly, but mindfully, to either your home or the castle!”

Recognition softened Alabaster’s flaring tempter. That voice was familiar, but it sounded too warbled to be properly placed. Pushing further, and bruising a few more faces, Alabaster finally found the one island of sanity in within this sea of disarray. It was Mayor Mare.

The elected official stood upright, hind legs parted in a defiant V. An oversized megaphone in one hoof flung her voice into the world like a giant fist.

Alabaster wondered briefly how she wasn’t getting trampled. That’s when he noted the pair of muscly boulders breaking wave after wave of fleeing ponies apart. Hard hats lay askew atop thick, sweaty brows. Thankfully, Alabaster didn’t recognize either of the construction ponies.

“Ponies, please!” Mayor Mare cried again. “There’s no need to-”

She broke off. Looking down, the Mayor saw a battered pegasus prodding at her stomach. Properly seeing her now, Alabaster couldn’t help being taken back by her appearance. The Mayor had fallen far from her usual ‘town hall’ primlyness.

Bowtie missing and well maintained mane laying limply down her neck, it looked like the poor mare had just finished running a marathon. Alabaster was even sure he saw black rivelets trickling from the roots of her mane.

Is that… mane dye?

Alabaster shook his train of thought back in line. “Mayor, what the flying fuck is going on around here? There a fire or something?”

The lines of strains creasing her face were smoothing clean with recognition. Dropping to all fours, Mayor Mare grinned fiercely at Alabaster.

“Albatros! Oh Celestia, am I glad to see you!”

Alabaster blinked. “Wait, what? That’s not… nevermind. Just tell me what’s happening!”

But the Mayor didn’t hear him. Her back was to Alabaster and her head was neck deep in the saddlebags of one of the construction ponies standing guard. The heap of muscle and testosterone only gave the Mayor a cursory glance.

Ah shit, I forgot my saddlebag! Oh well, least I don’t have to worry about someone stealing… least I don’t think so...

When Mayor Mare spun back around, she was clutching another megaphone. She promptly shoved it into Alabaster’s hooves.

Alabaster only frowned. He was started to reiterate the question when Mayor Mare pressed a hoof to his lips.

“No time for questions! Ponyville is under attack. A few pegasi have confirmed it to be timber wolves, though I’ve never know them to get so close to Ponyville. Nevertheless, the danger is very real… I’ve already heard reports of casualties. That’s why everypony needs to get off the streets, but if only they weren’t too busy panicking! I need every pegasus to fly overhead and help direct those still fleeing from the danger. Either they get to whatever cover they can, or to the castle.”

Alabaster tried to keep up the machine gun assault of words, but he found himself losing track of what the Mayor was saying. Words like “attack”, “danger”, and “casualties” kept flashing before his eyes. Alabaster tried to blink them away, but did so in vain.

When he saw that Mayor Mare was staring at him expectantly, all Alabaster could think to say is, “I’ll try to help, Mayor.”

When the Mayor cupped a hoof to an ear, Alabaster simply gave a weak salute. Mayor Mare understood that well enough. In one quick motion she hooked a leg around Alabaster neck and pulled him close, kissing him flat on the mouth. There was a startled whoosh as a Alabaster’s wings shot out. One poor stallion passing by nearly got his head taken off.

When she pulled back, the Mayor only chanted, “Fly, fly, fly! Go, go, go!”

Surprised, confused, and slightly aroused, Alabaster took to the air like a rocket. The Mayor shielded her eyes against the gust kicked up at his departure. She spent only a second or two watching the pegasus. Then the mayor of Ponyville was back on her hind legs and trying her damnedest to shepard her citizens to safety.

****

Alabaster’s wings felt nice and loose after pummeling through a half a dozen ponies or so. The sent him climbing up easily, and within moments Alabaster was high above the town.

For a second, all Alabaster could do was stare in disbelief. It was one to be packed in amidst that chaos, but now Alabaster could see the full scope of Ponyville’s madness.

The exodus of ponies trampled anything that remained in their way. Potted plants, rocking chairs, small stands. All were laid to waste beneath so many hooves. It was a path of destruction that looked all too much like a dried up river bed to Alabaster.

You know, I really wasn't ready for today.

With his heart fluttering and blood pumping, Alabaster tucked his wings in and dove. A few seconds later there came the smashing of plastic as the Mayor’s megaphone shattered across the cobblestone.

Alabaster’s eyes narrowed at the streets below. There wasn't a single shred of doubt about what he needed to do. Other pegasi drifted about, but there were too busy shouting orders at the ponies below to notice Alabaster. Every one of them wielded a megaphone.

How many of those damn things did she have?

Alabaster coasted along the rooftops, swerving occasional to avoid a chimney stack. The streets below were deserted except for a few stragglers. He was nearing the market when it seemed the day’s carnage reached its peak.

Alabaster’s eardrums shook as an explosion of wood and glass. It sounded as if a wrecking ball had just took a high dive into a shallow pool cinder blocks and window panes. Fresh shrieks of pain and horror erupted like a fountain. Alabaster flared out his wings, coming to an immediate halt. The other pegasi dotting the sky stopped as well. They watched in awe as more of their feathered brethren took to the sky like scarred birds stirred into flight. Some of the flying pegasi carried what appeared to be foals.

First Alabaster’s stomach dropped. A year’s worth of repressed nightmare’s came back in a rush. Suddenly it wasn’t the lush fields of Ponyville beneath him, but the arid plains of the Dragon Lands… Empathica...

A white hot flash of pain rocked Alabaster sideways. It was only the inbred instincts of a pegasus that kept him airborne. Alabaster held his head, afraid that the skull between his hooves might fly apart if he didn’t. A python had him by the noodle and was proceeding to wring it into rotini.

The world twisted amidst his throes. Smouldering thatch roofs, crumpled adobe huts, scorched earth, but worst of all… the strewn bodies...

The past reverberated inside of Alabaster as if her were an echochamber… and it was only getting louder by the second.

Alabaster’s respiration withered into a choking gasp. Slowly, slitted eyes turned to the epicenter of the bedlam. Snarls and barks could be heard amongst the panic.

A shadow fell over Alabaster’s heart. With a snap of his wings, Alabaster darted forward. Curls of smoke were twisting from the corners of his snarling muzzle.

****

Mass hysteria, utter turmoil, and despair, all wrapped up with a touch of bloodshed.

Ponies scrambled along Honeysuckle Street, practically knocking one another over. Behind them, the band of timber wolves were in an almost leisurely pursuit. There really wasn’t any need to hurry. Every minute or so, one poor soul would either trip on a bit of debri or would be ruthlessly knocked over. The pickings were easy. It truly seemed as if the prey was stumbling into the wolves open maws.

Honeysuckle Street appeared to have been redecorated by a splatter paint artist. A splash of gore here, and eviscerated corpse there. It all really seemed to accent the scenery quite nicely. And what was this? It appeared that this demented artist from tartarus was wetting his brush once more.

Toot Sweet, a petit mare with about as much constitution as a cauliflower, focused only on getting her daughter out of the street and away from the monsters hot on her tail. So concerned was she, Toot Sweet completely missed the remains of a nearby fruit stand.

The cobblestone street ran slick with the squished guts of watermelons, cantaloupe, and pumpkins. Toot Sweet’s back hoof came down, then immediately slipped out from under her. She stumbled forward, hollering to the sweet sun. The poor mare nearly caught herself… nearly.

A portly stallion behind Toot Sweet had worked himself nearly into a frenzy. When the mare in front began to slow, he wasn’t beneath scampering over the pony nearly half his size.

When Toot Sweets’ back leg shot, a ham sized hoof stomped neatly down onto it. She heard crack of breaking bone, and had just enough time to register what it meant before the pain set upon her. Toot Sweets’ went down howling. It was only by the mercy of Celestia that the rest of the hooves passing around her were a bit more merciful, least she be trampled.

Even with choes all about her, the Toot Sweet’s daughter knew the sound of her mother’s voice. Only now it wasn’t just her voice, but her screams. Sweet Tart whirled, her pink pigtails slapping the sides of her face. She saw her mother sprawled out behind.

“Momma!” Sweet Tart cried. Toot Sweet only continued to writhe around in the muck.

She had to get to her mother. Perhaps she could get Toot Sweet back her feet, and away from the wooden beasts. The distance between the them was short, yet every step Sweet Tart took felt like a battle. Bodies nearly twice her size battered her from every side.

Sweet Tart summoned what gile she could, lowered her head, and charged forward. “Momma! I’m coming, Momma!”

When at last the filly reached her mother, she threw her legs around the mare’s neck. At last it seemed something broke through Toot Sweets’ agony.

Blinking through the tears and muck, Toot Sweet quieted long enough to notice her daughter. Sweet Tart was pulling at her, trying to get Toot Sweet up and on her hooves. The fiery hot wires of pain racing up her back leg was suddenly forgot. Now there was only one terror now.

“No, get out of her, Tart! You gotta go now!”

Sweet Tart wouldn’t listen, however. Legs locked around her mother’s neck, the filly pulled with all her might. Determined as the filly might’ve been, the two were covered in fruity pink gunk. Sweet Tart would give mighty pull before her grip slipped and she went tumbling backwards.

The injured mare might’ve been able to pick herself up and hobbled away, if only the ground hadn’t have been so slick.

Toot Sweet cursed her daughter all the while. When she saw that berating and pushing get rid of the filly, Toot Sweet started yelling to the herd around her.

“Please, somepony grab my daughter! Get her out of here! Please!”

There be no one to help her, however. The last pegasus had taken off seconds prier, and it didn’t like like any of them would be coming back. Within seconds the destructive wave of pony flesh receded. Toot Sweet watched in disbelief as the pony’s up ahead continued to flee.

Now empty, it looked as if a twister had torn through Honeysuckle. A vendor’s canopy hung lopsided, windows were either cracked or shattered, and the cobblestone road was streaked with trampled fruit. It was the smell of that fruit which dominated Toot Sweet’s senses. The mare choked on a sob. She hardly registering the grunts of her struggling daughter anymore.

All at once she felt Sweet Tart freeze. The legs around Toot Sweet’s neck tightened as the filly buried her face against her mother. She began shaking.

Suddenly the odor of corruption drifted over that of the fruit. More than that, it was growing stronger by the second. Invisible hands of ice plunged themselves deep into Sweet’s stomach.

Slowly, Toot Sweet began to turn her head. Long, skeletal shadows stretched across the houses. The timber wolves crept up as slowly as Hearth's Warming Eve, but with all the malicious intent of Nightmare Night twinkling in their eyes.

Toot Sweet saw a handful of them lined up, almost uniformly, but suspected there were more when there came a crash from behind them. It was if a door had been kicked. A second later, Toot Sweet’s fears were realized when she heard the muffled screams of ponies.

Oh,sweet Celestia, they can get into the houses!

Thoughts of chastising and pleading set aside, Toot Sweet looked down at her crying daughter. There was no way the little filly could get away. The timber wolves were only yards away now, and it would only take a leap and a bound for one of them to snatch the filly up.

Toot Sweet pressed her face into her daughter’s mane, taking in the scent of lemon shampoo, sweat, and watermelon. If she was to die here, then Toot Sweet would have her last thoughts be of that sweet filly of her’s.

One timber strolled forward to take the lead. It licked it’s chops, sending splatters of black icor to the cobblestone below. The wolf stopped to hunker. It would relish this, the anticipation just before the kill. With nostrils filled with the scent of fear and despair, it readied itself to strike.

Just before wolf sprung, its pricked pricked up. What was that? A sound? It sounded like the distant snap of a whip.

The miserable thing would only have moments to consider this before the ivory pegasus crashed into it like a blazing comet.

Author's Note:

Now accepting tips on my Ko-fi page.

Comments

[kildeez]

I love your writing, but you have plenty of little typos that I feel another pass at editing might have picked up. They're very distracting.