The Clover Chronicles

by Sollace

Chapter 6

“Good bye, Clover~”

Falling backwards, Clover watched as the portal sped away from him, growing smaller as the walls of the portal closed in around him and his ears filled with the thrumming of time magic. Pinkie Pie was still visible in its entrance, vaguely, for a moment before she trotted away and out of view, dissipated into the thrall of a red mist.

Once again Clover was alone, with nothing but his thoughts in the familiar surroundings of the time vortex; the rungs of time passing him by as he tumbled backwards through the ages. He clung hard to the bundle in his hooves and used his legs to regain some semblance of balance.

Spinning around, he looked ahead to see where he was going. By the shape of this tunnel, the lack of side passages, and how the rungs pulsed with energy, it had to be leading somewhere. He turned his gaze down towards the distance and froze, his eyes widening at the view ahead.

Far off, and rapidly approaching, the tunnel came to a sudden and dramatic end. At this distance, he couldn’t see what it was but he could already tell that it was not somewhere he intended to go.

“Oh no, no-no-no-no—” Clover panicked, flailing wildly for some sort of hoof hold. He grabbed at one of the rungs passing by in hopes he could jump the portal the way he’d done before. In passing he saw a flash of Princess Luna—though she was significantly darker there and seemed to be standing over Celestia. The view was too short for him to make any sense of it, as it was gone within seconds and replaced with another: a vision of Discord in a bath tub, talking to his rubber Celestia whilst scratching his back with a Luna-themed loofah. The Draconequus hummed a slight melody before he froze in his tracks, staring wide eyed at Clover before that image too was gone.

He was falling too fast, there was no hope he could get out of this in time. In these moments of panic, the satchel worked its way loose, and spun free from Clover’s grasp. It twirled slightly out of the side of his vision, arcing upwards as Clover’s descent quickened.

Clover’s breath caught in his throat and, leaving the walls of the tunnel, he swam after the bag. He lunged for it, wrapping his hooves around the small bundle and pulling it close to his chest. The thrumming around him grew louder, faster and more urgent. He was falling faster than ever and, looking up; Clover had only a second to scream before the end of the tunnel hit.

Suddenly silence.

The thrumming broke in a crescendo of splashing water. Everywhere around him, Clover heard his own heartbeat quicken and the bubbling of water passing his ears, then his lungs began to burn and he thrashed about.

He was thrown into the depths, some kind of dark pool. The only light he could make out a blue shine from somewhere above, the shimmering of water’s the surface.

Clover puffed out his cheeks, holding onto what last breaths remain, and began the long journey towards the air he held so dear. He began to swim upwards, kicking his hooves and putting all his energy into reaching the top, trying with all his might to ignore the urgent burning of his lungs.

The seconds dragged on, turning to minutes, and then hours. With every thumb of his heart in his ears, the ache in his chest grew al the strong. His lunges were screaming in his head, their need for oxygen, and Clover could feel himself slowly slipping away.

But he was almost there. The shimmering surface was only just out of reach. Only a few more inches, a few more kicks of his hooves, and he would breach the surface.

Pushing the feelings to the back of his mind, Clover forced himself to focus and gathered his strength for one final, mighty kick. He pushed upwards, stretching his hooves out in front of him, trying with all his might to break through, but found himself coming up short.

No Clover silently pleaded, and kicked again, and again he didn’t make any progress. He was drifting back down, falling to the depths as fast as he could swim. His limbs were losing their strength, and the screaming in his mind was beginning to take over.

A kind of fog befell him, clouding his mind, and his vision. The light, shimmering and shaking above, became unclear and then broke up completely as Clover slowly began to drift away from it.
The burning in his lungs growing greater, Clover could feel himself becoming light-headed. He was only inches from the surface when he felt the strength leaving his limbs.

As his vision darkened, Clover felt himself slowly slipping away. is this the end? The thought crossed his mind, and with it the feeling of dread that his mission might never be complete. Was this some kind of cruel joke on the part of destiny?

The last thing he saw was a dark angel, a black mass passing above the surface of the water and something draping past him.

~ ~ ~

In his befuddled daze, Clover sensed the flicker of motion, lights dancing across his closed eyes, and the buffeting of his lifeless body. Hushed whispers surrounded him in the darkness, cut of snippets of a conversation in a tongue he never knew.

And then silence.

At length, Clover’s eyes slowly began to drift open. His vision was blurry and his head was pounding with the echoes of his fall. The world around him was dark and bathed in shadows, save for one beam of light that danced across his chest, illuminated from a single round opening in wall to his left.

Clover blinked and squinted, shifting slightly and feeling the ground beneath him: it was soft and plush, slightly scratchy against his coat, and unusually warm for having just been in the drink.

His bones creaked with stiffness—as did the springs of the bed and the struts of wood above him. He could make it the vague outlines of struts running across the walls, and support beams crossing over him where another bed lay, hulking, inches from his muzzle.

The faint scrawling of a unicorn’s hoof, scratched and scuffed among the dusty markings stood out against the old wood.

S’it Dush x Sunghine Spakel, he read.

The lettering was basic, vaguely reminiscent of Equestrian, though the lettering was completely off. The edges were adorned with several hearts of varying sizes, hinting at the intent of the writer.

Judging by the amount of haste that went into it, this was either a couple scholar-ponies declaring their fleeting crush, or it was the markings of two lovers who wished to leave their sign in a place that wouldn’t be forgotten, either as a reminder when they got back, or...

There was a faint cough in the room, the shuffling of clothes, and Clover tensed up.

He hadn’t realised it, but he’d been reading his forehoof up to inspect the working more personally. His magic had already begun to read the leylines, when he sensed another presence—a weight pressing down on the bed, causing it to depress with her shifting.

Clover’s eyes narrowed. He carefully, quietly, pulled his hoof back below the covers and turned his gaze to the other mare—just able to see her out of the corner of his vision.

She had her back to him, her vision obscured behind a swath of deep red mane, and an orange coat that stuck out against the muffled brown of her trench coat. She was still and quiet, though Clover could sense her, her could see her ears pricked in the darkness, as if listening, waiting.

He sucked in a deep breath.

She was small and lithe, couldn’t possibly be over eighteen, and her mane was damp. The smell of saltwater was heavy in the air, and the distant screech of a gull caused Clover to flinch as the room around them seemed to lurch and groan with the agony of stressing metal.

The memories from before—it felt like it was a lifetime, maybe two years ago—started to creep into the back of Clover’s mind. That weird mare, the space between spaces, Discord and—

He swallowed.

Careful not to draw any attention, Clover quietly transitioned to a sitting position. The space ws cramped, just enough room to sit up below the second bunk, but enough for his needs. He turned his hoof over in the light, watching as the dust danced in the moonlight in front of his face.

It looked solid.

It felt solid.

The bed and the covers had responded to his touch. Could this mean he was finally back, or was it another cruel trick by that lord of chaos? He could just as well been sent to his death, and this was his punishment.

There was only one way to find.

Without thinking very much of it, Clover reached out and pressed his hoof into the side of the mare. He fully expected it to pass right through her, to be faced with the sad reality that was his existence. It never was that easy, was it?

“Yah!”

She gasped, and then squealed, practically sprinting off the bed. The mare instantly rounded on Clover, a snarl on her face and a look of terror in her eyes. “H-Hey!” He voice cracked. She backed to the corner, knocking against the knight stand as she affixed Clover with a steely gaze. “G-Get off of me y”—her hoof scrambled for the light switch, and a harsh, bright blue light flooded the room.

Green and white gems flared to life around them, and she went silent. Her eyes were like a pair of deep, black pools, sparking in the torchlight as she stared at Clover.

Clover’s ears tilted upwards slightly. He turned his hooves over in front of them, inspecting them now properly in the bright light. Something felt different here, like there was a force hanging over them all, sucking the air out of his lungs.

Also he was glowing.

“I...” Clover slowly whispered. He looked from his hooves and to the mare’s startled face, then pointed at her, smiling as he said. “...can touch you.”

SLAP

Author's Note:

HAH! Who needs pre-readers or even editors, amitright!

Certainly not this loser!

I bet you can't even guess where the 2016 Solly ends and where the 2019 Solly begins.

Comments

[Mac349]

I wonder what's going to happen next...