• Published 21st Mar 2015
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Courts of The Magi - Airstream



With the shadows gathering, it falls to unlikely heroes to prepare themselves for the most terrible of conflicts.

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Féideartha

The streets were empty save for a few transients, curled into corners where the cold didn’t quite reach, shivering beneath blankets of thin wool, stained with years of use. The shadow passed them by without a sound, though their dreams gave it pause for a brief moment. As the slender figure walked, cloak billowing in the night breeze, past each dreamer, a small effort of will was made, and the fitful stirrings of the dreamers stilled, their breathing deepening as their own personal demons subsided for the evening. They were freely given, and the shadow had need of them.

Silently, like a coil of mist, the figure walked, unbent by the cold or wind. It picked its way through side alleys and winding roads, away from the main boulevards where watchful constables strolled, wrapped up in winter furs and cursing their luck. It meandered more or less downhill, moving towards the harbor and the darkened ships which bobbed at rest there. Even though Crescent City’s lifeblood was trade, nopony wanted to be out on the water on a night like this.

It checked the skies, which were patchy with cloud and a few sullen stars. The moon provided only a little light by which to see, so the cloaked figure relied on its other senses to clear a path. It wasn’t far now until its destination, a small shack that could almost be called a customs house sitting next to the harbor on the seedier side of things.

There was a gentle stirring, a susurrus of wind, and the clouds above let loose their cargo, spilling freezing rain down upon the streets below. The pony paused for a moment, considering this new factor, and decided that no adjustment would be necessary to its plan. A short climb and a quick jump took it to the rooftops, and from there it was a matter of moments before it arrived on the roof of the shack, landing with grace and poise enough that the tarred timbers of the roof hardly shivered.

The cloaked figure strode to the chimney of the shack, and secured a length of cord to it, the other end clipping to a harness it wore beneath its cloak, which it rolled up to its withers, there to remain while it went about its work, though it kept the hood up. It double and triple-checked the length of cord to make sure it would hold its weight, and then, with little preamble, strode off the edge of the roof, landing sheltered beneath the shack's wide eaves.

There was a little-used window there, all but stuck with age, but a bit of jimmying with the hinges had given it enough mobility to open wide enough to let the pony through. Quickly, it stepped through the window, sealing it shut behind itself. It unclipped its cord, and from a bandolier upon its chest, it drew an unusual implement, a wand of what looked to be gnarled wood.

Creeping along the rafters, it gazed down at the ponies below, who appeared to be haggling over the contents of the crates. Any other pony would have been concerned that the crates appeared to contain both guns and explosives, but to the hooded figure, it was hardly a footnote. These were the ponies she had been looking for.

It bit down hard on one hoof, enough to draw blood, and let the liquid flow down the wand until crimson had collected at its tip. It grew and grew, from a bead, to a drop, and from there into a globe of red liquid that shone darkly in the dim light of the shack. There was a strange crackling noise in the air, and without prompting, the bubble of crimson let go of the end of the wand, falling much more slowly than it had a right to. The figure watched dispassionately as it descended, and then burst in midair. Red sprayed across the room, and suddenly, without warning, every pony in the room below her began to scream.

The pony turned and left as its prey began to tear themselves apart, the collected pain of a hundred lost souls welled up inside of each of them. Some clutched at their heads, others beat themselves against the walls, and then one of them found a gun.

It was perhaps a minute later that, the cloaked figure several rooftops away, the shed exploded, torn apart from the inside as the grenades detonated with a thunderous roar. The pony stopped and watched with an air of grim satisfaction as a group of constables raised the alarm, sprinting towards a fire they had no hope of rescuing survivors from. The breeze caught its hood, and with an absentminded hoof, the unicorn swept it back, revealing a tattooed face and carved horn and two eyes of iciest blue.

Cobblestone took it all in one last time, and vanished back into the shadows. She had more work to do tonight.


Cobblestone went rather suddenly from a warm bed to a cold and dark courtyard. She plummeted the last few inches to the ground, impacting it with a solid thud. Her eyes snapped open as the air rushed out of her all at once, and it was reflex rather than wakefulness that propelled her to her hooves, bleary eyes scouring her surroundings for a threat. Her horn lit threateningly as she searched for an enemy, but she could see only Libra, bundled against the cold, and a heap of pony she could only assume was Serale.

“Good morning!” Libra said cheerfully as the wind whipped past her mane. “I hope you slept well!”

“What the buck is going on?” Cobblestone asked, shivering. She looked around, noting that the courtyard they were in was absolutely deserted, and the sky overhead was still pitch-black. “What time is it?”

“It’s currently three bells past four in the morning,” Libra chirped as Serale staggered to her hooves, looking for all the world like a half-drowned cat. “We need to stretch before our run this morning.”

“Run?” Serale mumbled. “What run?”

“We’ll be running around the base of the Bower’s hill,” Libra said. “It’s a distance of about three miles.”

Cobblestone flinched as the wind, straight off of the mountain, tore at her coat again. “You want us to run three miles this early in the morning?”

“Nine, actually,” Libra said. “We’ll be jogging around it three times. I expect my apprentices to be strong in body and mind, and this is your first step into that ideal.” She hopped up and down a few times, and stretched one of her legs. “Try not to look at it as an exercise that needs to be completed. Try to look at it as bracing morning calisthenics.”

“Libra,” Serale said. “We went to bed at nearly midnight last night. We’re exhausted.”

“Then you’ll sleep well tonight!” Libra said. “Early to bed and early to rise and all that. Now, are you two ready to stretch?”

Serale scraped at the ground with one hoof. “Libra, I’m not stretching. I just want to go back to bed.”

“I agree, Magus,” Cobblestone said, a bit more respectfully. “It’s really early. If I have to run nine miles this early, I think I might collapse.”

Libra sighed. “So neither of you want to stretch?” she asked.

“No, Magus,” the two apprentices replied in almost-perfect unison.

“Very well,” Libra said, eyes glinting dangerously beneath the steel-gray of her bun. “We won’t be doing any stretching today.”


“I just want to go back to bed,” Cobblestone mimicked as she and Serale finally lost sight of the ramp down the mountain, which they had been forced to sprint. “I don’t want to stretch. I’m too tired. Are you happy now?”

“Says the mare who was perfectly willing to go along with it,” Serale panted. “I didn’t notice any protests from you.”

“Well, at least this will keep us warm,” Cobblestone said, keeping pace with her. “I mean, you run a little slowly, but this is fine too.”

Serale flushed, the redness of her face completely unrelated to the exertion. “Well, pardon me if I haven’t had practice running from the authorities,” she shot back. “Some of us had other responsibilities.”

Cobblestone managed a grin. “Hey, we all have to start somewhere. Nine miles is an awful starting point for both of us, but it can only get better, right?”

“You shouldn’t have said that,” Serale replied, as the trail they were on took them towards a lake in the distance. “Now it’s bound to get worse.”

Cobblestone peered into the distance ahead. “Can you even see Libra anymore? She took off pretty quickly.”

“Libra starts every morning with a few laps around the Regia,” Serale puffed. The trail had begun to climb, and both of the apprentices were beginning to feel a dull burning in their legs. “She’s really very spry for a mare her age. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was halfway around the hill by now.”

Oyah,” Cobblestone managed, slipping back into street slang. “This is awful. And we’ll probably be doing exercises to work on our strength after this, too. Do you think we’ll be running every morning?”

Serale shrugged. “It’s not healthy to run every day, especially for long distances, but Libra’s known to push her own limits. She probably expects us to do the same. I’d think that…” She trailed off as the path curved around to one side, exposing the back of the hill.

Another, smaller rise loomed off to one side, a hill that had collapsed on one side, leaving a natural cliff that overlooked the lake, water gleaming quietly in the last light of the setting moon. If one had the desire to, they could take a running leap from the top of the hill into the water, which Serale somehow knew was deep enough to dive in.

She shook her head, clearing away the strange sense of déjà vu that hung about her, and Serale thought she might have seen phantom feathers and heard a distant laugh that sent her heart a-flutter. She looked back to Cobblestone, who was speaking.

“Pardon?” she asked. “I’m afraid my head was somewhere else.”

“No kidding,” Cobblestone said. “You looked to be a million miles away. Is everything alright?”

“It’s the strangest thing,” Serale said as they passed by the cliff. “I feel like I’ve been here before. But until recently, I’d never even left the Regia, let alone the Kingdom. But I know that the lake never really freezes over and that you could jump off that rise over there safely if you wanted to.”

Cobblestone stared at her. “That’s…unusual,” she said. “But hey, you’re the one with the magical mother. Maybe you know how to see into the future or something.”

“If I did,” Serale said with a snort, “I certainly wouldn’t be here jogging with you.”

“Pick up those hooves, you two!” came a shout from behind them. Cobblestone and Serale’s heads whipped around to see Libra following them from a little way back. “We’ve got plenty to do before the sun comes up, and I won’t have lollygagging!”

With muted groans, the duo reluctantly picked up the pace, both dreading the coming miles and wishing for the end of their mutual suffering.


“Last hundred yards!” Libra barked as Cobblestone and Serale both grunted with exertion, sweat shining on their faces in the early light of the rising sun. The two strained against their harness, doing the best they could to work together to pull the weights behind them. The sledge clattered against the cobbles of the yard, and with a final, coordinated rush, they managed to pull the load across the line, collapsing at the sound of Libra’s whistle.

It would be only a brief respite, they both knew. For the past three hours, they’d ran and pushed and pulled and leapt until every muscle they knew of was sore, and a few more besides. The only breaks they’d had were for water, and even then they came as scant relief. Apparently they’d been the only ones awake in the castle for the first two hours that hadn’t been stationed as guards, and the first notaries and soldiers to arrive, just before sunrise, had been both confused and entertained at the sight of two young unicorns doing the kind of work that normally would fall to veteran knights.

There was a clatter of wood on stone. “Get up!” Libra said. “It’s time for our last exercises of the day. There’s a good breakfast waiting for you after this, so I want to see you earn it.”

Cobblestone and Serale lifted their heads to see two slender pieces of wood laying on the ground, slender rods that tapered to a point on one end. “Fencing?” Cobblestone asked. “Why do we need to learn fencing?”

“Magic is a powerful tool,” Libra said, sending the swords to her apprentices with a flick of her horn and summoning one for herself, “But it is not the end-all, be-all solution to the problems you may face. There may be a time when you need to defend yourself, but magic will not serve you well. There may be times when you’ll need to hide your true magical potential, and it would be at those times that you would rely on a sword. Now pick them up, we have work to do.”

Cobblestone and Serale both got to their hooves, shaking a bit, and did as they were told. Libra watched them both with a critical eye. “For the first week or two,” she said, “We won’t bother with pitting you two against one another. Her horn flashed, and two wooden barrels slammed into the ground. “These will be your opponents. What we will be learning is not fencing. Fencing is an art form, a sport to exhibit skill, speed, and a keen mind. What I am teaching you is how to kill things with a sword.”

“These are heavier than they look,” Cobblestone remarked, giving her sword an experimental swish. “Are they weighted?”

Libra nodded. “These are wood wrapped around a core of lead,” she said. “About as heavy as a good sword for somepony your size, but without the risk of taking off your own damn fool head. Cobblestone, you’re standing like you’re afraid of getting kicked in the gut. Widen your stance, girl.”

“Now,” she continued as Cobblestone did as she was told. “The first and most important position is the guard position. If you aren’t attacking or defending against an attack, your sword will remain in this position. Hold it in front of you, point slightly angled forward, and far enough away from you that it can’t be pushed back into your face. A bad guard will leave your own sword buried in your nose, and that is not conducive to self-defense.”

Cobblestone did as she was told, noting that Serale seemed much more at ease with a sword than she did. Shifting a bit, she tried to mimic her, and noted that she felt much more balanced when stood as the other mare did. She hefted the sword and stared at the barrel, trying to imagine a large pony covered in armor as she did so.

“Good,” Libra said. “Our next move is a simple over the top attack. A properly sharpened sword doesn’t take much effort to leave a cut, so a short and firm attack to the top of the head can leave an opponent bleeding and disoriented.” She demonstrated the cut with her own blade, more of a chopping motion than a swing. She gestured to the barrels, and then to Serale. “Now you try.”

Serale struck with the tip of her sword, giving the barrel a light rap. “No,” Libra said. “Harder than that. You’re killing it, Serale, not giving it a haircut.”

Serale swung again, the sound of the blow echoing off of the walls of the courtyard as a hollow thud. Libra nodded approvingly. “Good,” she said. “Much better. Now you, Cobblestone.”

Cobblestone stared at the barrel. Her heart hammered in her chest, and her mouth was suddenly dry. Her hooves shook, but not with fatigue. With a gulp, she braced herself and swung at the top of the barrel, striking a solid blow. As she did, she remembered black flames, the smell of ozone, and the eyeless face of a leering witch.

She shuddered, forcing the memory back. It’s just a barrel, Cobblestone, she told herself. Nothing to get worked up over. She’s nowhere near here.

“Cobblestone?” Libra asked, puzzled. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” she croaked. “Never better. Just tired, that’s all.” You want to choke like you did again? Pick up the sword and swing. Do it for her.

“Then strike again,” Libra said. “Both of you give me twenty strikes from this position, and then we’ll focus on your next strike.”

Cobblestone braced herself and swung again. This time the vision was much worse. She could hear the crackling of her own skin, and could smell burning hair. Her horn throbbed where Nightshade’s fire had found it, back in the stadium, the first and last time she had tried to use a sword. She swung again, feeling phantom flames licking at her skin, and her muscles screaming a protest against magic that no longer existed. Again, and she could almost hear herself screaming, though she kept her own mouth locked tightly closed. She swung again. And again. Again. Again. Again…

“Cobblestone?” Libra asked. “You’ve done more than twenty. Are you sure you’re alright?”

Cobblestone nodded. “Just got into the rhythm,” she said, almost fooling even herself. “What’s next?”

Libra looked at her oddly before turning back to the barrels. “Next we’ll take a look at a cut from the side,” she said, “Specifically a cut from the top right down to the bottom left. Observe. This one is a bit more powerful, so you need to watch for overextension…”


The sun was nearly at its zenith when Serale and Cobblestone returned to the courtyard. The morning had been completely devoted to magical theory after they had bathed and eaten, both of them absolutely ravenous. Libra had expressly forbidden the consumption of any sugar except for honey and any alcohol except for wine, which they were now only permitted to take in the evenings.

After breakfast, they had met in a small room in one of the Bower’s lesser-used towers. There they had reviewed homework, discussed magical theory, and learned about the nature of magic and where it came from. It was essential, Libra had said, that they have an understanding of magic from the ground up. There was no way they could hope to understand the higher disciplines of magecraft if they didn’t understand was magic was at its core.

“So what I got from all of that,” Cobblestone said as they headed back to the manor for lunch, “Is that magic comes from ley lines.”

“And?” Serale prompted.

Cobblestone sighed. “The rest was a bit fuzzy. Something about it coming from inside of us, too? But are the ley lines part of us or their own thing?”

“Alright,” Serale said, pulling a sheaf of paper from her notebook and producing a pen. “Look at it like this. Magic flows in ley lines.” She drew a series of curling lines on her paper, and enclosed them in a circle. “They go all over the world and permeate everything, unless you use a spell to make sure they can’t get in, which is really difficult magic. It’s why pegasi and earth ponies can do things like fly with wings that are too small, or grow crops faster than they should. They’re able to subconsciously manipulate the ley lines, but only really small ones in really limited ways.”

“Right,” Cobblestone said, “I got that part. But how does that relate to magic coming from inside of you?” Her eyes widened. “Oh,” she said. “I just got it! The energy from ley lines pools inside unicorns!” Her eyes narrowed. “Hang on,” she said. She raised a hoof to her forehead, thinking hard. “You,” she said. “You’re different. You can only use the magic in ley lines, but you can use a lot of it.”

Serale nodded, one hoof going to the necklace about her throat, and the diamond that hung there. The gem was supposed to be clear, but there gleamed within its depths the slightest hint of green fire. “That’s what mother says. She still doesn’t know why, though.”

“But that’s not it,” Cobblestone said quietly. “Serale, that’s not it. What I’ve done. What I’ve did, back in the prison and…” She shuddered. “In the arena. When I reached for magic, I reached for magic in other ponies.”

It was Serale’s turn to be shocked. “Then,” she said, “Between the two of us, we can use it all.”

“Every part of magic, all across Equestria,” Cobblestone said. “No wonder Libra took us both on. I don’t think your mother would have stood for anything less.”

“Do you think Libra knows about this?” Serale mused.

“Why do you think she taught us about how ley lines work first?” Cobblestone said as she straightened up. “Libra wants us both to know exactly what we might be capable of when we learn how to use magic better.”

There was a moment of silence, broken only by the distant sound of work from the far end of the Court, muted and a world away.

“Cobblestone?” Serale asked.

“Hmm?”

“I don’t know if I’m ready for this.”

“Neither do I.”