Secrets of the Everfree

by PaisleyPerson

Chapter 81: Prison Break

Chapter 81
Prison Break

Charcoal squirmed uncomfortably in the wooden prison he was bundled in. Judging by how stiff his limbs had become, Charcoal guessed he must have dozed off, though for how long he wasn’t sure. The clamp was beginning to dig into his neck, and one of the branches was jabbing his ribcage.

Charcoal tried to glance around the room through the crevices left by the branches, but couldn’t see much from here. He did notice, however, that Pound Cake hadn’t left his post. The changeling was positioned exactly the same as when he had started his watch, blank eyes staring dead ahead, completely motionless. Charcoal knew that he was a changeling and that Kindling was listening in, but Pound was still his friend. Maybe he was still in there, somewhere.

“So, Pound Cake. How’s life as a changeling?” Charcoal tried shifting to see him better, but only felt the wood tighten around his ankles.

“I do not know what you mean.”

“It must have been pretty strange going from a pegasus to a changeling.”

“I have always been a changeling.”

“’Course you haven’t, Pound!”

“Pound Cake is not my name. I am a changeling drone. I have no name.”

“Do you not remember anything, Pound?” Charcoal was genuinely horrified by this point. Chrysalis truly had brainwashed his best friend!

“I am a changeling drone. My purpose is to serve the hive. This is all I know.”

“Your name is Pound Cake! You were born and raised in Ponyville. Your parents own the Sugar Cube Corner bakery- you worked there! You have a unicorn sister named Pound Cake, but your parents are both earth ponies, Carrot Cake and Cup Cake. You’re eighteen now, and work on a construction crew in Cloudsdale. Pound... you’re one of my best friends.” The changeling did appear a bit shaken now, but did his best to remain stoic.

“If what you say is true...” Pound’s voice trembled, “then what happened to me? Why do I not remember any of it?”

“You were in Cloudsdale when the changelings attacked Ponyville,” Charcoal sadly recalled. “They set up a barrier to keep the changelings out. You wanted to check on your family, but they wouldn’t let you. ‘It wasn’t safe,’ they said. I was in Ponyville at the time, but escaped with some friends. We started rounding up ponies to help us fight back against Chrysalis, even befriending one of her drones on the way. Shift, we called him. We sent Shift to Cloudsdale to find you. It took some convincing, but we finally got you back. No sooner had you joined us than you wanted to go find your family again,” he chuckled. “I went with you, and we snuck into the castle. We got caught, and Chrysalis turned you into... that. The spell must’ve erased your memory.”

“And my... family,” the word tasted foreign in Pound’s mouth. “What became of them?”

“Chrysalis converted you all together,” Char bowed his head. “You got to see them one last time before the conversion.”

“Then they are somewhere in the hive,” Pound straightened back up. “They are with me, which means my place is here.”

“What about me, Pound? Your best friend? Don’t you remember me?” A moment of silence.

“I have been given orders not to speak to you any longer.” Charcoal would have thrown up his hooves if they weren’t entangled in the twigs.

Another ten or twenty minutes passed in agonizing silence. Any further attempts Charcoal made at conversation were ignored. Still, he found the silence unnerving. He was about to try again when it was, in fact, Pound who initiated the conversation.

“The voices! The voices!” Pound suddenly toppled over, rolling on the floor and clutching his head as if in agony.

“Pound? Are you okay? What’s going on?” Char pushed against the wooden bars, but to no avail.

“The hive! The hive is gone!”

“Gone?” Charcoal furrowed his brow. How could the hive mind just be gone? He turned his thoughts away from the matter when he realized what discomfort his friend was in. “Pound? Hey, Pound! Let me out of here so I can help you.”

“Y-you c-cannot h-help me,” the changeling chattered. Out of fear or pain Charcoal couldn’t tell.

“I can! Shift and Fink went through the same thing. But I need my fire,” Charcoal referenced the clamp on his back. “Get it off me and I can help.”

“My orders are to guard you,” Pound finally seemed to be recovering on his own, though his back remained rigid. This resolution didn’t hold up for long, however, because the next thing they knew, the whole castle trembled and the ceiling began crumbling. A thunderous roar resounded through the whole castle, and was punctuated by a tremendous commotion downstairs. Pound yelped in fright, jumping to his hooves. He eyed the cracks now forming in the roof and walls. His gaze flicked to the prisoner, then to one of the windows. Judging his own safety more important than his duty, Pound headed for the escape route.

“Pound! Where are you going? You can’t leave! You’re supposed to be guarding me, remember?”

“I will no longer have to guard you if you are dead.” Though Charcoal knew it wasn’t really Pound Cake speaking, the words cut through to his heart. He helplessly watched as Pound unfurled his bug-like wings and took off through the window.

“POUND!” Charcoal writhed in the cocoon, which only caused to wood to contract further. He again attempted to use his thestral fire and burn his way out, but the clamp prevented it. Charcoal grunted, trying to come up with some new way of escape. If he couldn’t use thestral fire, perhaps he could use dragon fire?

Charcoal held his breath- the transformation also required fire, though it wasn’t quite the same as typical fire dancing. Still, if the clamp prevented his shift, he would be truly stuck. It was worth a try at least, but the thought of his last hope sputtering out was intimidating, so he hesitated. It wasn’t until the roof trembled again that he remembered he didn’t have anything to lose.

“And... shift!” Charcoal closed his eyes and tried to access this unique ability. Did he really feel fire tickling his sides, or was that just his imagination? He peeked one eye open, and giddily wiggled his claws. It worked!

Charcoal deeply inhaled, feeling the heat well up in his chest. The dragon flame, much hotter and more intense than thestral fire, burned his gums a bit as it escaped his lips, but he barely noticed- the wood was burning! He was nearly free!

He resumed wriggling out of the brittle, burning bark. Some of the healthy branches continued to hinder him, but as the smoke deprived them of oxygen, they promptly gave up. Charcoal leapt out of the burning heap on all fours, then righted himself to grab at the clamp. Still, no matter how he twisted or jerked at it, he couldn’t remove the uncomfortable clamp without taking a chunk of his back out with it. He growled in annoyance, forced to abandon the effort.

For the first time, Charcoal noticed a frightened chattering that filled the room. Upon turning around, he spotted what he believed to be a cage under an old blue tablecloth. He reached out and flipped the corner of it aside revealing several imprisoned and unusual creatures beneath, all cowering in fright.

“Horseapples,” he spat, realizing his escape could mean their demise. Yanking the sheet off the cages, he proceeded to snuff out the pyre. (One disadvantage to dragon flame was that while it was hotter, it was impossible to control like thestral fire.) He stomped out the last of the hot coals until they were left with a smoldering pile of rubble.

“Sorry about that, guys. You all okay?” he apologized, moving to open all the windows and allow the smoke to filter out. Next, he used his claws to pick the locks of the cages and release his fellow prisoners. Contained within the cells he found a baby manticore, a blindfolded cockatrice, a phoenix, a fruit bat, a jackalope, a tank of sandfish (which looked a little like giant centipedes when they weren’t buried in the dust), and some strange creature Charcoal had never seen before. Its face was such an even blend between a cat and a dog that Charcoal compromised and decided it was more foxlike. Its fur had grown so long and mangy that Charcoal almost overlooked the gem embedded in its forehead.

“A carbuncle!” he exclaimed, swinging open the cage door. The critter timidly sniffed its rescuer before happily hopping out and dancing around him. “At least we know where Kindling’s been getting all his carbuncle gems. But I thought carbuncles only gave their gems to ‘worthy’ ponies. Surely that creep isn’t?”

Now that all the creatures had been freed, Charcoal shifted back to pony form. The carbuncle cocked its head, then nuzzled his hoof as a request for attention. Charcoal chuckled but complied, now that the tower had stopped shaking and they were no longer in any danger. The creature purred contently, succeeding in planting envy in the other animals. The manticore was the next to rub against his side, then the phoenix perched on his shoulder. Even the cockatrice, still blindfolded, sought out the pony with its tail and comfortably nestled in his hair.

“Whoa! Okay, okay,” he laughed, failing to accommodate them all. He was so preoccupied with all the different creatures that he didn’t notice the light *plink* of an object falling to the floor. In fact, the fruit bat had to deliver it personally to bring it to his attention. “What’s that?” Charcoal shrugged off most of the animals to examine the trinket. It was a sparkling gem, midnight blue in color and heptagonal in shape.

“Is that...?!” Charcoal’s gaze flicked to the carbuncle, who now had a bare spot where its gem used to be. It looked curiously back. “I... you... but, why?” Char shook his head in confusion. What would make the carbuncle give up its gem, and to Charcoal of all ponies? He had no use for it. Unless...

“Maybe I can use this to make a new orb to use against Kindling! Thanks, little guy!” Charcoal exclaimed, scratching the carbuncle once more before eagerly bounding over the creatures and rifling through Kindling’s belongings. The audience of creatures watched in dismay, beginning to wonder if this pony was actually any different than their last captor.

Charcoal located a thick tome amongst the mess of papers, the pages stuffed with sticky notes and bookmarks. Actually, it reminded him of his parent’s research, just in a thicker book. Charcoal expected to receive a face full of dust upon opening it, but evidently it was frequently used, because no such event occurred. At a glance, Charcoal determined that the book contained spells and recipes invented by Kindling and/or Chrysalis.

“These are the notes that led to the first changeling conversion!” he gasped, skimming over one of the earliest entries. He flipped the page. “Look here! It’s the spell to raise the sun and moon! Kindling must be doing that while the princesses are imprisoned.” Realizing he was getting off track, he resumed rifling through the pages until the rough sketch of an orb in the corner caught his eye.

“Here we go! ‘Stasis Orb. Requires manticore venom to immobilize body, compressed in sandfish egg for indefinite preservation, an outer shell of timberwolf bark for protection and structural integrity, a carbuncle gem to focus the aim and ensure all ingredients work in accord (caution: as a symbol of unity and peace, the Elements of Harmony could reverse effects of orb using the gem as a conduit. Search for substitute?) and band of bogg sprite hair to store the body out of phase.’ Out of phase?” he repeated, trying to make heads or tails of anything he’d just read. He shrugged. He didn’t necessarily need to understand it to make an orb of his own; Kindling had included instructions below.

“‘Step one: inject manticore venom into empty sandfish egg.’ So? You guys going to help me or not?” Charcoal inquired of the creatures, poking through the drawers for Kindling’s supplies just in case they opted against assisting him. Luckily, he didn’t have to resort to this, for one of the sandfish reluctantly returned to the bottom of the sand-filled tank and began swallowing some of the sediment. It wasn’t long before it regurgitated a tightly packed sphere of sand, which the manticore cub jabbed with its tail. Charcoal proudly picked it up and set it on the desk.

“‘Step two: braid clipping of bogg sprite hair long enough to encompass egg. Tie off, leaving an extra inch for timberwolf bark.’” Charcoal finally did have to pick through Kindling’s collection to find the stash of sprite hair. It was in the far cabinet, but already neatly sectioned off and primed for braiding. Charcoal’s blunt hooves proved poor at braiding such thin, wispy hair, and he was about to shift back to dragon form when the phoenix, fruit bat and jackalope stepped in to braid it for him. Every so often, Charcoal measured about how much longer it needed to be until it left about an extra inch-wide gap, even around the egg’s widest point. Then, the jackalope chewed off the ends for the phoenix to tie off.

“‘Step three: embed carbuncle gem into piece of live timberwolf bark.’” Charcoal returned to the basket where Pound had obtained the hunk of wood which imprisoned him. Somewhere along the line, the basket had been overturned and the contents dumped. Most of the bark had met the same fate as Charcoal’s burned prison, but he managed to sift through the debris and recover a more-or-less undamaged piece. Making his way back to the desk, Charcoal examined both the bark and the gem. “So how am I supposed to embed it?” He experimentally touched the two pieces together, and was blinded by the ensuing light.

The gem instantly fused itself to the wood, but didn’t stop there. It began completely reforming, much like the bark that formed Charcoal’s prison, though this time the growth it was much more controlled and far less random. The burned corners began rejuvenating and flourishing, branching out into new stems and leaves. The mass even became large enough to identify a familiar shape.

Legs branched out from a wooden body, a dense collection of thin and wispy twigs made up a tail. Thorny extrusions implied teeth while leaves sprouted to emphasize facial features, and two bright orbs of light began flickering like a newborn’s eyes blinking open for the first time. When all was said and done, a tiny timberwolf pup remained, comfortably situated upon the table.

Charcoal froze. Was that supposed to happen? He had just created a timberwolf, a living being! He hadn’t missed a step, had he? Charcoal referenced the instructions again, though in hindsight, he probably should have read the whole passage to begin with. He didn’t appear to have skipped a stage, so he moved on to the next bullet point.

“‘Step four: DISASSEMBLE timber wolf?!’” The jackalope fainted, the phoenix shrieked, and the cockatrice ran for its life, lest it should also be dissected. Still blindfolded, however, it got as far as the wall before crashing its head and blacking out. Thoroughly disturbed, Charcoal read on. “‘The pup will try to reconnect itself- make sure it does so around sandfish egg to start the outer casing.

“‘Step five: prune until left with minimal casing.’ You mean amputate it?!” Now the manticore’s rowls joined the protest. “‘Step six,’” Charcoal’s voice trembled by now, “‘Affix band of sprite hair, possibly adding hooks as needed.’” The next illustration depicted pointed, staple-like hoops piercing both layers of wood and sand. Charcoal shuddered now that he realized that the bark was actually a living, yet decapitated timberwolf.

He glanced back at the pup he had accidentally created, slumbering soundly on the desk top. How could Kindling create such innocent creatures just to butcher them for his own twisted purposes? Charcoal couldn’t in good conscience finish the project. But... what about his parents? He was so close to freeing them.

“I... have to...” he gritted his teeth, thoughts of his friends and family spurring him on. He picked up the pup, trying to disconnect himself from the task at hoof. The phoenix screeched, flaring up and snagging at his hair. The manticore prepared its stinger while the jackalope darted to remove the blindfold from the cockatrice. Charcoal was still fighting off the phoenix when the carbuncle’s chattering called them all off. Charcoal received no sympathy from the fox creature, but a guilt trip instead. The carbuncle’s piercing gaze burned right through him, just reminding the colt of exactly what he was about to do. Char already felt miserable, and lowered the pup.

Then the carbuncle’s gaze darted to Charcoal’s flank before returning to his face. Stalling, Charcoal was more than happy to comply. When he turned back, though, he froze. He’d waited fifteen years for his cutie mark to appear.

It was the carbuncle’s blue, heptagonal gem, encircled by a horizontal ring of orange fire. That wasn’t his fire color, which was a strong indicator that it was probably more symbolic than anything. This only frustrated him more, though- after fifteen years of waiting, he’d finally earned his mark, but he was still clueless as to what it meant. He would have to work out the deeper meaning of it later.

When had it even appeared? Considering that it depicted the same carbuncle gem he had been gifted, it must have been some time after he freed the creatures. When he received it, perhaps? But surely he would have noticed such a bright flash of light in this dim room, or one of the animals would have alerted him. It would make more sense for the mark to have appeared when he created the timberwolf- blinding light had completely bathed the room, making it easy for his cutie mark to have gone unnoticed.

Charcoal glanced back at the pup in his arms. Knowing that it had played a role in the arrival of his cutie mark made condemning it to such a horrible fate even more impossible. The sleepy wolf finally blinked its eyes open, drowsily yawning and glancing the pony over. It was completely oblivious to how close it had nearly come to an early end. Charcoal sighed, and eased the pup closer until it was safely wrapped in his embrace.

“It’s okay, guys,” he assured the angry Everfree creatures, who still bickering with the carbuncle. “I can’t do it anyway. But I still need to save my parents. I know you’re still mad at me, but... will you help?” The carbuncle slunk forward and nuzzled his hoof again, as if to pledge his allegiance. Following its lead, the other animals gradually agreed as well. Realizing that it was missing out on a group discussion, the timberwolf finally shook itself awake, and barked enthusiastically. “Thanks,” Char smiled.

Next, he took inventory of what kind of abilities they collectively had. The clamp was still inhibiting his fire dancing, but the phoenix could substitute if they really needed fire. The fruit bat could fly, but otherwise wasn’t of much use. The sandfish and jackalope were also deadweight, but the manticore’s paralyzing venom could be useful. And the cockatrice... it just might be able to carry the whole group.

“You know...” he mused, “if we could get Cockatrice close enough to Kindling-” he didn’t even get to finish his thought. As soon as they heard ‘Kindling,’ all the animals were scrambling to get away. The cockatrice managed to loosen the blindfold, and made for the open window. The fruit bat and phoenix followed suit. Realizing that the two had found an escape route, the manticore and jackalope also tried to follow. “WAIT!” Char hollered, realizing the jackalope didn’t have wings. No matter- it hitched a ride with the manticore all the way down to the forest floor. When Charcoal turned around, he was left with the two sandfish, the gemless carbuncle, and baby timberwolf. “I guess that cockatrice really was a chicken,” he sighed.

“Maybe there’s something else here that can help us go after Kindling? Come on, guys. Let’s see what we can find.” The carbuncle thrummed with pleasure, and Charcoal swore it winked at him. Evidently, it approved of his decision. Charcoal uneasily turned his back and began checking the shelves.

Charcoal found all sorts of loose knick knacks, but they were mostly the raw materials to create one of many contraptions listed in the book. Surely Kindling had kept a stash of some pre-made inventions? Char replaced yet another chest that had contained nothing of interest.

“RUFF!” the timberwolf cried, scratching at one of Kindling’s drawers.

“What’ve you got, boy?” Charcoal wondered, opening the cabinet and peering inside. There were a lot of unorganized papers and quills floating about, but Char saw nothing of interest. The tiny timberwolf scrambled up the edge until he made it inside, and dug around in the mass. Just as Charcoal thought he hit the bottom, the pup reemerged with a ball in his mouth. Not just any ball, mind you. He found an orb.

“You found another one! But why did Kindling take such effort to hide this one when he left the last laying out on his desk?” Char turned it over in his hooves. Now that he knew just what went into making such a device, he was a bit reluctant to use it. Yet, it was already available... he turned to the carbuncle for guidance, but it only shrugged.

“How do we use one of these things? What does the book say?” They all turned back to the huge volume for reference. Charcoal skimmed the information, but didn’t see any ‘how to’ references or further instructions of any kind. The closest thing he found was a footnote at the end of the section. “‘Note: the Elements of Harmony can be used to reverse effects, see carbuncle gem.’ We already knew that, but unfortunately, it’s the Elements of Harmony we’re trying to free. How am I supposed to work this thing?” Charcoal looked over what information he did have again. Kindling’s notes involved several complicated diagrams that he couldn’t even begin to understand.

“Okay, let’s start from the beginning,” he sighed, taking a deep breath.

Comments

[Ephedianroyalty]

HE FOUND A USED ONE!!!!