The Hungry Eyes

by Ammie Kindheart

Chapter 9 - Underground Magic

Author's Note:

As always, thanks to Emylia Hawke for editing. Bardie for pre-reading and encouragement. And Pononimous for his support and love every day.

Reminder, These Chapters may contain crime scene descriptions, which of course are not pretty.

As Big Mac started to step closer to Nate’s body, Jaberi stopped him. “The policemare must see this first, though I hate that she is also at risk.”

“Yes,” said Big Mac. “You’re right. I—well, we’re jus’ not used ta things like this here. Maybe they’ve got crime like this in big cities, but in Ponyville?” Big Mac shook his head in dazed disbelief.

Dumb-bell and Score were across the street, looking pale and sick. Their ringleader, who always tried to act tough, was throwing up behind a tree. They heard sounds of hooves hurrying their way and turned to see Morgan, Ammie, Peach, Zecora, Coal, and a dark stranger.

A couple of the stallions, their emotions running high, grabbed Zahn and began to attempt to restrain him. Zahn, of course, objected to the rough treatment. As he started to resist, Morgan laid her hoof gently on his shoulder. Their eyes met and he relaxed.

In a voice that was loud and clear, Morgan cried, “Stop!”

Somepony shouted, “We don’t know him!”

“Maybe he did this!” yelled another, followed by many exclamations of agreement from more of the gathering crowd.

“He had nothing to do with this. He was with all of us in Zecora’s room when we heard the scream,” argued Morgan, with even more strength in her voice. Zecora, Ammie, and Peach nodded. “In fact,” said Morgan, “I believe that Mr. Zahn was the one who took care of both of the younger colts after they were lost. So instead of grabbing him, you should be thanking him.”

Zahn stared at Morgan, surprised. “How did you…?”

“Your coat is made up of dark grey and black,” Morgan explained. “I believe it will be a match to the hairs I found on both colts.” Then she turned to Big Mac and said, “The guards should be extra cautious until we find the killer. We should also bring anyone living outside of town in, to keep them safe. Until this is solved, nopony goes anywhere alone.”

Morgan began searching the yard and building for clues, bagging and tagging every item she found. Princess Twilight, who at first was queasy, volunteered to photograph everything. Ammie took Aunt Peach inside their home—Peach’s age and the horror of the scene were combining to make her quite ill.

After dispatching the other stallions to their patrols, Big Mac and Zahn began to talk. A few minutes passed, and then both stallions relaxed in the other’s company. In Big Mac, Zahn saw the honest, straightforward country pony. As they talked, Zahn, almost to his own surprise, opened up and told the story of his being a slave.

* * *

On the other side of the yard, sitting on a swing, were two middle-aged zebra holding hooves. Zecora’s face was wet with tears as Jaberi told her of that day when they were teens, so long ago.

“Lesede told me she sent you to the waterfall that day,” Jaberi said. “She had seen in many dreams our tribe’s destruction, and so made preparations for us both. My father, our Chief, was killed outright when the water buffalo stampeded our village. Any of our people who resisted in any way were also struck down. Since they are so much bigger than we are, it was so simple for their raid to succeed. One part of the attackers’ force rounded up every zebra, large and small. The others began to search, ransack, and burn our homes and buildings.

“Lesede walked up to the largest of the buffalo and said in a strong, clear voice, ‘Stop hurting my family!’ It was amazing! She showed them absolutely no fear, but that enraged the buffalo leader. He raised a foreleg to strike her, but, suddenly, there came a loud cry.

“‘Do not touch her!’

“The water buffalo snapped to attention as a chariot pulled two pegasi stopped in front of Lesede. Inside was a unicorn, garbed in black robes and carrying a staff. Topping the staff was a glowing, green crystal. His long, grey beard and mane flowed down onto his robes and billowed in the wind, seeming to writhe like snakes about his head and chest.

“Stepping out of the chariot, his hooves touched the ground, and instantly the buffalo moved back in a wave. Sneering, this unicorn told Lesede to give him all of our historic journals and surrender her power.

“I was so proud,” continued Jaberi. “Lesede calmly looked the unicorn up and down as if he were a diseased worm. She asked, scorn clear in her voice, ‘Who do you think you are, evil one? You have no power over me.’

“That unicorn puffed up and began to splutter with rage. He said he was Suluwo the Black and claimed to be master of all our lands, possessions, our lives, and especially our magic. Lesede then asked by what right he thought he was master. Suluwo responded by pointing his staff toward one of our stallions, and a green light surrounded the zebra. We heard screams as the light pulsed around him. In a moment, the screams stopped, and where the zebra had stood, there lay a pile of dust. Rather than endanger our family more, Lesede bowed her head—not in submission, but to save lives. Suluwo ordered the buffalo to take us, and we were all led to his stronghold.

“From that day on, we were all his slaves and expected to submit to him in any way he required. As you know, our lives were based on living in the open, enjoying the sky and trees, enjoying the plants that sustained us. But life in the dungeons of Suluwo’s castle was dark, damp, and there was only what little they provided for us to eat, drink, or wear.

“The water buffalo were brutish and enjoyed being cruel to our people. The mares were made to serve as cooks, cleaners, and maids. The stallions were used to plow, plant, and harvest crops, or to build more buildings to house more of the water buffalo.

“Suluwo took Lesede every day to a room where he tried to break her will. Even though he beat and tortured her, she never revealed where the record books were hidden and never released her magic to him. Even when he began to kill some of our friends, she resisted. I asked her why, thinking she was needlessly allowing our family die. In her wisdom, she knew that her holding out was all that kept Suluwo from butchering us all. It was heartbreaking to watch them take our family away one by one, but better for the ones who remained.

“Every night, when she was returned to the cell with us, I would tend her wounds as best as I could. Her body was broken more and more every day. I wanted to escape and do to Suluwo double what he was doing to our tribe, to kill him, even. But Lesede begged me to be calm. In her way, she attended more to my heart and will than I was able to do for her body. She talked of you, Zecora. She often said how you are the hope for our tribe. She claimed that I was hope, too, though I felt I was worthless to them. I could do nothing to help them while I was stuck in the prison. Especially since I had done nothing to stop our family from being enslaved, and my father killed.” Jaberi paused, knowing the next part of his story would be the hardest for Zecora to hear. Eventually, with a deep sigh, he went on.

“Lesede’s daily torture lasted three months, with still no lessening of her will. One night, after the most brutal beating she had been made to endure, she was thrown into the cell. I scooped her up and took her to the pallet I had made for her. I wanted to try to tend her wounds, but she stopped me. In a voice barely above a whisper, she said, ‘The very heart of who I am I now give to you. Promise to find my granddaughter when you get out of here.’ With tears running down her face and my own, she looked into my eyes, begging with every ounce of energy she had left.

“I promised her that,” said Jaberi. He didn’t bother to hide his own tears. “The strongest being I have ever known relaxed in my arms as the breath left her body for the last time. And in that breath, she beat that evil one more eloquently than I ever could.”

Zecora began to weep uncontrollably, and Jaberi held her until she regained her composure. Again holding hooves, Jaberi began anew.

“As our family began to wail at the loss of our healer and friend, suddenly, the stronghold began to shake and rumble. I felt a white-hot pain in my chest. I closed my eyes and bit my lip to keep from crying out. After a few minutes, the pain receded, and I heard only silence. I slowly opened my eyes and, instead of the dungeon cell, I found myself in the remains of Lesede’s home.

“But I was not alone. Before me stood a vision of Lesede—young and fresh, not old and battered. She motioned for me to follow as she walked down a section in the floor that opened as a ramp, which led down into a tunnel. I stepped downward, and, as I passed a certain point, the ramp moved upward, sealing that entrance forever. Again the vision smiled and beckoned me forward.

“She seemed to glow, and made the tunnel seem less desolate. She pointed to a torch on the wall. When I reached for it, I was shocked to see the top burst into flames. I followed her as she led me through the tunnel to an underground room, and I noticed several other rooms branch off from this first. I entered one and saw a sleeping chamber. On a table there lay a parchment with my name on it. I opened it and read:

“‘Jaberi,

“‘I have seen the downfall of our village in dreams for many years. I know that you will come here when I am gone. Stored here are the records of our tribes and the books of magic you will need. You now carry inside you the magic I possessed. Stay in this place, learn the tools you will need to master before you can help fight the evil that stalks our land. As your father was Chief, so you are now, but you will also carry the tools of magic to fight the war ahead.

“‘When the time is right, you will leave our homeland and you will find Zecora. It will be there that you both will face the son of the evil one here. The son will, as evil ones often do, thirst for more power and turn on his own father. He will crave the very blood of those he sees as weak or his enemies.

“‘From this time to then, look into the fire and you will see things that would not normally be. Be brave, my Chief, and know that my heart goes with both you and my Zecora. Remember, in you both lies the key to freeing our family forever from this evil.

“‘Lesede’

“I looked at the vision and told her that I would keep my promise. She smiled, and then she showed me the first escape route. It led to a wooded area, similar to the waterfall. She stepped out onto the grass, turned, and smiled one last time. And then like smoke that dissipates in a light breeze, so did she. I blinked, thinking my eyes were playing tricks on me. After a few minutes, I retraced my steps to the main room and sat for a while, trying to absorb the events of the last hour. After a while, I searched the other rooms and found food, supplies, scrolls from my father, and maps of our lands, as well as of the known world. I also found there were many exits from the tunnels that allowed me to travel underground to other villages, markets, and even into the stronghold itself. I spent the next years training and learning to harness the magic Lesede gave me. I was indeed able to look into flames and smoke and see things that would help me and others.

“I was able to begin slipping out a few of our tribe at a time from the dungeon. I helped them to relocate where the evil Suluwo and his son could not find them. The evil ones found their slave inventory was shrinking, and so began their bloodbaths.” Jaberi paused, fresh tears running down his face. With his voice choked so he was barely able to speak, he finished, “I just couldn’t save them all. I see their faces when I dream… I failed our family, Zecora.”

The two zebras held each other as they wept for their lost family.

* * *

Morgan compared the hair samples collected from Zahn and found they were a match to those collected from the colt’s belongings. The light grey hairs found on Troy were a match to some found on Nate. In a moment of inspiration, she examined the cloak she had worn earlier. Just as she thought, when the attacker had knocked her to the ground, a few of his hairs had transferred to her. Also, there were streaks of blood. Taking samples, she compared them to Nate. The blood type was a perfect match.

Next, she took a long table and scrubbed it down. She had never realized she would need a morgue of her own, especially not so soon after moving to Ponyville. But Morgan made do with what she had. Stepping outside, she provided hoof covers and aprons to Big Mac and Zahn and asked them to carry Nate into the makeshift exam room.

Donning her own protective gear, Morgan began her examination of the body. In all her years of working on the Manehattan police force, she had never seen such brutality. Some wounds were obviously several days old. They were badly infected, with a foul odor emanating from them. She collected many samples of foreign objects stuck to the body. Bits of leaves, twigs, and other vegetation she hoped would lead them to the sick pony who had done this.