Dawn of Crystal Empire

by TopWanted

Gladius/Bulba - Chapter 12

Gladius spun through the air, avoiding fiery bolts of magic coming at him from the ground. A blast nearly clipped a wing as he dodged just in time and swooped down to get a better look at his attacker. In the middle of the clearing, standing on a tall rock, his uncle continued to shoot bolt after bolt.

“Faster!” Javelin shouted. “Show me some muscle!”

Gladius furrowed his brow and began to dip and dodge once more. This time, however, he caught a bolt in the shoulder and lost his concentration. A series of harmful bolts proceeded to pummel him higher into the air. Only when they stopped did he lose consciousness and began to fall toward the ground, blacking out before he hit the stones below.

Gladius awoke to find himself propped up against a tree. The day had gotten late and Javelin had begun to cook, stirring a pot of stew over a magically produced fire. He shot Gladius a tempered glance.

“Ten minutes,” Javelin said. “That’s a new record. I remember at the start of the summer you couldn’t make it past two.”

At the end of Winter, Javelin had begun to take Gladius away from training and Wonderbolt activities. The two had spent days at a time simply training in the deep woods, Javelin often putting the young colt through tough tests to prove how much he’d grown. This had continued for months, Gladius barely spending time with his teacher, Lullaby.

Gladius tried to raise his head but found his entire body sore. Pain shot through his right forehoof and he had to wince. He shot his uncle a look of disdain. Javelin’s tempered glare turned to a crooked smile.

“Nice look, boy,” Javelin said. “You should keep it.”

“Keep what?” Gladius shouted back. “My anger bottled up until it explodes and I attack you?”

Javelin laughed. “You really are getting better! You know you could barely say a word to me when we first arrived here. You could barely say a word to anyone. You were such a little foal. Now look where you are.”

Gladius leaned his head back on the tree again and sighed despondently. His uncle continued to stir the stew.

“I know who you’ve been learning from,” Javelin stated bluntly.

Gladius’ jaw went rigid and he pressed his head further into the tree.

Javelin did not look up from the stew. “Did you think you could keep it a secret forever?”

Gladius closed his eyes. “She’s a better teacher than Cloud Catcher ever was.”

“Oh, I have no doubt about that. I’ve seen what she can do. Trust me, if I believed you could achieve half of the potential that girl has then I would have put you under her myself.”

Gladius leaned his head towards his uncle and frowned. “Then why do you hate her so much?”

Javelin simply continued stirring for a long moment, his face completely emotionless. He stopped stirring when he finally spoke, “Potential only gets you so far. If you know what you want, you must take it.” He turned toward Gladius. “She stands in your way. In our way. Cloud Catcher is considering promoting her to second wing. That’s a hair’s breadth from Captain. Do you know where you stand?”

Gladius returned his head to rest on the tree and stared angrily into the darkening sky.

“Still in third string. I’ve given you every opportunity and you’ve even proven yourself against some of Cloud Catcher’s finest.”

“Those were unofficial matches.”

“Then do some official matches. Duel somepony, damn it!”

Gladius could not take it anymore. “What do you want from me?!”

Javelin’s face grew cold. “What I want is for you to BUCK up! Stop acting like a foal and become a stallion! You want something you take it! No more beating around the bush! Things are about to change quite fast.”

Gladius gave his uncle a nervous look. “What do you mean by that?”

Javelin returned his attention to the stew. “Merely stating a fact. The race will change a lot of pony’s points of view. Either we’re heading into an age of harmony. Or we’re colliding into a great disaster.”

“The yaks,” Gladius said quietly. “You think they’ll start a war?”

“I think,” Javelin returned Gladius’ tone with an equally hushed voice. “Whatever comes over that mountain, we should be ready for it. No matter the cost.”

---

Gladius and his uncle returned to camp early the next morning. He and Javelin parted ways at the soldiers’ barracks, the words from last night rattling around in his head. He decided the track was as easy a place as any to work off his anxiety.

When he was within a few hundred yards of the track he noticed two figures walking alone in the mist of the morning. Instinctively, Gladius hid behind a water barrel and peeked his head out to find who was on the track so early. A few moments later, Lullaby and Cloud Catcher came into view. The two were conversing happily and laughing. Gladius felt a small pang of regret that it wasn’t him catching Lullaby before practice to talk.

Cloud Catcher held up a hoof to stop Lullaby and turned to her with a serious expression. Lullaby frowned in confusion. Gladius could not hear what they were saying but he did hear the squeal of delight from Lullaby as she wrapped her hooves around Cloud Catcher’s neck and embraced him in a warm loving hug. Gladius caught sight of Cloud Catcher’s face. That stupid, smug, self-important grin. He felt his blood run cold as the color drained from his face.

Gladius turned away from the scene and pushed the back of his head against the barrel, staring into nothing. He had to hug himself to stop the shaking. His uncle’s words rang through his head, “You want something, you take it!” Gladius wanted something. He wanted it bad enough. He would take it.

----------

Bulba heard the buzz around the town. Summer was here and the ponies of Crystal Falls could only speak of two things, the mayoral elections and the big Griffin Race.

Bulba spent most of her time in the summer down in town as that was when she found the most customers for her wears. Bulba began the day by setting up her table where she and her guests could sit and converse or haggle for Bulba’s magical wears and abilities. Many ponies seemed busy today since Bulba did not have a guest until half past ten. A green pony in a blue dress was the first to enter. Bulba recognized the pony immediately.

“Ah, Madame Mayor,” Bulba proclaimed. “So good to see pony of such renown in Bulba’s humble shop. Please, please, sit.”

“Hello, Bulba,” Honey replied with a warm smile. “You can just call me Honey. The elections aren’t until after the Race.”

“You run unopposed, no?” Bulba cocked a fur covered eye quizzically.

“Technically, yes,” Honey accepted. “But I’d really not like to jinx it.”

“Ah,” Bulba gave a wicked smile. “Mayor Honey believes in jinxes?”

“Well,” Honey blushed. “I can’t say that the stress of the past couple months hasn’t gotten to me. I do find myself watching out for cracks in the street and throwing salt over my shoulder every now and then.”

“It’s alright to be afraid of unknown,” Bulba assured her. “You here to find out what awaits? Or maybe a charm for good luck?”

“Actually I’m not here for myself at all,” Honey’s warm smile dropped slightly. “It’s… It’s just that you’re the best person I know to go to about superstitions. I… I need some advice… about a dream.”

“Dream, you say?” Bulba stroked her goatee. “Well, sit down and tell Bulba this dream.”

She motioned to the seat across from her and they both sat down at the small tea table. Honey cleared her throat politely.

“About a month ago I woke up in a cold sweat,” she recounted. “I don’t usually remember my dreams so this wasn’t very different. All I could remember was being scared out of my wits.”

Bulba nodded as she listened.

“Well a couple weeks later I finally started remembering some of the dream. And it was the same dream, over and over again, I had had it every night. I’m watching my son grow older. He looks like his father and it fills me with melancholy for some reason. Then he disappears from my sight. When he’s returned he begs me to forgive him for something. Tears are streaming down his face. Then, from nowhere, there’s a sword. It falls from the sky and pierces the earth. Everything around it… dies. And I see my son die as well.”

Honey let the last words hang in the air. Bulba steepled her forehooves in contemplation, her expression beneath her wooly hair unreadable.

“Often superstition is mere trick of mind,” she began. “Ponies confuse one thing for another. As it is often with dreams.” She paused.

“You hear of the story of Damocles?” she asked.

“The one with the dagger?” Honey cocked an eyebrow. “That’s a pretty obscure western legend. I’m surprised you’re so learned.”

Bulba smiled. “Do not underestimate Bulba. Bulba spend many years with ponies. Know many things. Like the story of a western king, Damocles.”

“He invited a friend to take his place as king,” Honey continued. “When his friend started to feel the pressure of rule he construed it as a dagger above his head.”

“Have you considered this sword? Maybe it is your dagger? Your son is most important pony in life. Perhaps you don’t want to let down?”

“You think this is about the elections?” Honey asked and pondered this for a minute. “I have to admit it probably makes sense. Though I must admit, I never expected psychoanalysis when I decided to come here.”

Bulba grinned and shrugged. “Many ponies come to Bulba and leave with funny face. Bulba make ponies think. Best fortune Bulba ever gives is good advice. Let election play out. If position too stressful then drop. Family comes first.”

Honey’s warm smile returned. “Thank you, Bulba.” She reached into her satchel. “How much do I owe you?”

“No, no. Bulba takes no bits from Mayor.” Bulba leaned on the table and her grin grew wider. “However, Bulba will take political favors,” she said jokingly.

Honey chuckled and turned for the door. “I’ll see what I can do.”

The green pony left the tent and Bulba was alone. Bulba slumped in her seat as her grin faded away, a somber expression replacing it.

A sword. Falling from the sky.

Bulba shivered. Weapons in dreams could mean many things. Responsibility, leadership, anger, violence, death. Bulba gave Honey what she thought Honey needed to hear. Bulba hoped she made right choice.

---

Later in the afternoon Bulba decided to unwind with a mountain root. She chewed slowly as she curled up on the ground in her tent. Besides Honey, the past few guests had not had as grim encounters or fortunes told. Bulba sighed with contentment.

Just then a blue Pegasus walked into the tent. He seemed of normal height for a pony but carried himself with a certain amount of authority. He wore a blue tunic that sported a silver medal in the shape of a thunderbolt.

“Madame Bulba, I presume?” the pony asked.

“Ah,” Bulba stood to greet her guest. “Captain Cloud Catcher of the Wonderbolts. Surprise to see you.”

“Yes, well,” Cloud Catcher rubbed the back of his head. “I never really believed in much of the mumbo jumbo you spouted before but I’m currently in a predicament where…”

He trailed off as he caught Bulba’s expression. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to call what you do ‘mumbo jumbo.’ Truth is I would like your advice if you’re willing to give it.”

Bulba smiled and motioned for the Pegasus to sit. Bulba sat across from him on the table.

“Now, what seems to be troubling you captain?”

Cloud Catcher seemed to age before her eyes as his proud posture slumped and a hoof ran through his hair. Bulba noticed his eyes were red.

“I… I keep having these dreams,” Cloud Catcher sighed. “They’ve been starting to get in the way of practice.”

Bulba furrowed her brow. Another dream. “Tell Bulba about dream.”

Cloud Catcher cleared his throat. “I’m flying straight down some sort of shaft. I can’t make out the world around me. I’m flying fast, probably faster than I’ve ever gone. There’s something behind me, following. But I’m not running from it. All of a sudden this enormous pressure hits and I can feel it. I stop flying and I feel myself slowly getting crushed by this pressure I can’t see. I hear hoofsteps and at first I’m glad. Someone must be coming to rescue me. But then, they just stand there. Just out of eye shot. I scream and struggle while they simply watch me. Then everything goes red and I wake up.”

Bulba said nothing for a long moment. “I hear you promote Lullaby to Second Wing. You’re partner, yes?”

“Yes,” Cloud Catcher nodded. “Do you think I made a mistake?”

“No, no,” Bulba waved a hoof in dismissal. “But perhaps you do.”

Cloud Catcher raised an eyebrow.

“Sometimes when we entrust something precious to somepony, even pony we love, we can have misgivings. The mind plays tricks on us, taking our insecurity and pushes it forward. You give Lullaby most trusted position in team, yes? Yet you only know her less than year?”

Cloud Catcher pondered this for a minute, scratching his chin. “So you think I’m just being paranoid about giving someone I don’t fully understand a position of power? I hadn’t considered that. I suppose it’s possible.”

“Do you trust Lullaby?”

“Of course,” Cloud Catcher exclaimed. “She’s proven herself ten times over and the squad loves her.”

“Then let insecurities be that, insecurities.”

Cloud Catcher’s smile returned to his face as he stood up to leave. “Thank you, Madame Bulba.”

“Please, just Bulba,” Bulba insisted as she crossed the room to open the tent for him.

“Do I owe you anything?”

“No, no. Just be good captain to Wonderbolts. Bulba hear there is to be big race in few days. Bulba has money riding on it.” She gave him a mischievous grin.

Cloud Catcher grinned as well as he left. “I’ll certainly do what I can.”

And with that Bulba was alone once more. She trudged back to her teapot and began to pour herself a cup. She lifted the cup to her mouth on unsteady shaking hooves.

Another dream. This one worse than last. Pressure. A mysterious figure. Bad omens. Bulba put her head in her hooves and let out a pained sigh.

---

Evening struck hard and fast as the sun set and the darkness of the night took root. The streets had been all but deserted and Bulba began to close up shop for the day. A rustling of feathers sounded just outside her tent and Bulba cocked her head in surprise.

Was Cloud Catcher back for something?

She walked to the tent flap and pulled it back. Standing outside, almost as tall as Bulba, was a griffin with white feathers tipped with yellow and red. His back half was that of a spotted lion. He gave Bulba a look that said he “meant no harm.”

“You’re the yak witch, I presume?” he surmised.

“I am, prince of eagles,” Bulba replied with a slight bow.

“How did you-“

“Bulba knows many things about these mountains. She has even met you when you were little chick, though you probably don’t remember Bulba.”

“You know my father?”

“Bulba has had full life,” she grinned and motioned for him to enter. “Come, Bulba make tea.”

Dachuur entered the tent and sat in front of the center table. Bulba returned to her tea pot, filled it with water from the spigot and crushed and sprinkled herbs and spices in. She placed the pot on the table, steam now coming out of the spout.

“So it’s true what they say,” Dachuur said as he noticed the steam. “You are a witch.”

“Bulba has many gifts,” Bulba replied. “Some more useful than others.”

“So how do you do that with the tea?”

Bulba returned to the table with two cups. “You not here for Bulba, prince. Perhaps you must ask question about dream you’ve had.”

Dachuur’s face turned shocked. “How did you know it was a dream?”

Bulba’s expression did not change as she poured the tea. Only a slight crease in her brow betrayed her unrest.

“Never mind, I suppose,” Dachuur conceded. “Where do you want me to begin?”

“The beginning sound appropriate,” Bulba chuckled.

Dachuur let a grin slip out. “Fair enough. I’m standing on a mountain. Not my home, but some other place. I’m all alone. I mean I can feel the loneliness. It’s like a real living thing standing right next to me. I turn around and see my father’s throne empty. I know in my heart it’s because he’s gone, yet I can’t bring myself to take up the seat. I just… keep staring down from the mountain. I don’t even know what I’m looking at, but it feels like whatever it is, I’m lost without it. I try to fly, to climb down, to find it! But my wings don’t work and my talons will not permit me to cross the edge of the cliff. It feels like I’m standing there for an eternity. And then I wake up.”

Bulba racked her brain for an answer. Something that could lighten the young prince’s mind. There was nothing. Bulba lowered her head as she began to look into the bottom of her cup. A frown full of sadness etched across her face.

“You will face loneliness the likes of which you have never known. Heartbreak will be your companion. You will lose your courage and your pride.” She reached a hoof out to hold Dachuur’s talon consolably. “I am sorry.”

Dachuur’s face gave no sign of recognition. He pulled his talon back from the yak’s and stood up to leave. Bulba heard his wings beat against the ground as he took off just outside her tent leaving Bulba alone with her thoughts.

Bulba sipped her tea and set it on the table once more. Something warm and wet dripped into the cup and sent a ripple across the spiced water. Bulba cried for the first time in many years.