Ice Fall

by Bluespectre

Chapter Twenty Two - What it means to be a friend

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

WHAT IT MEANS TO BE A FRIEND

Bracken bounced along in the back of the cart like a sack of potatoes, his forelegs and hindlegs tightly bound and his muzzle gagged. The rats had even put something over his head so he couldn’t see. Not that there actually was much to see, since he was buried under a huge pile of straw, and not even very nice smelling straw either. The bloody thing stank to high heaven! He’d tried to ask them who they were, where he was being taken, but his answer had been in the form of a black eye and a bruised jaw. ‘Nice guys!’ He thought to himself sarcastically.

They’d been lurching along for what felt like days. Occasionally, his captors remembered to feed him, water him and even let him out to relieve himself a few times. His legs though were killing him; the constant jarring of the un-sprung wagon adding to additional bruises and aches to the point where he would have given anything just to be allowed out for a five minute walk and a stretch. No such luck though, these characters, a mix of ponies and griffins, were about as conversational and thoughtful as a rock. In fact, they barely spoke to one another let alone him, leaving him with little to pass the time other than listening to the rattling and banging of the cart.

The cloaked creatures had whisked him away into the night so fast he’d barely had time to fully take in what was going on. So much for being the hero! He was now so pummelled and bashed, he’d make a lovely pre-tenderised meal for one those bloody griffins. Fortunately, it was unlikely he was being kidnapped for use as a snack…he hoped. All he’d really been able to fix his mind on was trying to get away, to find some possibility of getting out of these bonds and making a run for it. But these guys had wings, didn’t they? Griffins weren’t that fast of course, but in his condition, a rapid hobble was probably all he was going to be likely to achieve, that and target practice for the crossbow wielding abductors who would be no doubt be on him in seconds.

Gradually, the cart began to slow. With any luck they’d haul him out for a toilet break, and not before time either, he was beginning to feel distinctly uncomfortable. Bracken’s ruminations were suddenly interrupted by the sounds of voices raised in heated conversation. His ears twitched as he tried to hear what was being said, but through the damp straw it was difficult to hear much at all. Snippets came to him every now and again, but if he strained, he could make out parts of a conversation. There appeared to be two of them; the griffin and the pony from Pickles’ house,

“… from the east, leads to this bridge here and…

“No it doesn’t, you’re not reading it right! The…”

“…Mountain road to the north is all uphill, if you want to pull that bloody thing all…”

The voices gradually died away and the wagon lurched forward once again. Damn it! He’d have to just hang on, either that or go where he was, but it already stank enough in here as it was without adding even more discomfort to it. As the bouncing continued however, he tried to think of something…anything, that would distract him from the dire situation he found himself in. He thought of his family; how was dad doing with the metal working business? Was mum still angry at him for the whole ‘leaving to join the army’ business? How was Chalky’s mum doing? He sighed; none of it was working, all he could think of was a sea green coat, and…a black and white dress, her beautiful pink two tone mane and soft lips pressed against his. Bracken groaned. This wasn’t the time for thinking about things like that! Now, with his increasing desperation to go to the toilet, or nearest convenient tree, he was feeling more uncomfortable than ever before. Goddesses, if he ever got a chance to go one on one with these scum bags for putting him through this, he’d show them what being battered and bruised really felt like!

Time passed agonisingly slowly, the occasional pothole adding a delightful little accent to the now repetitive jarring. Bracken’s head felt it was going to explode, like his bladder; any minute now, his living space was going to be flooded and somehow he doubted his kindly hosts would be that bothered about cleaning up after him.

The cart’s motion suddenly halted.

“Right you, come on, out you come.” A bird like claw reached in and grabbed the rope binding his hind legs and pulled him hard. It would have been nice to have said he slid out, but in reality, his hide grated along the rough wooden planking mixed with the sodden and filthy straw. The ultimate effect was like a massive cheese grater, making Bracken gasp in pain. Unceremoniously, he was dumped onto the ground behind the wagon and left there while the griffin walked off to talk to one of the others. From what he could gather, apparently a tree had partially blocked the road ahead. It wasn’t bad, and they could get around it, but one of them wasn’t happy…

“We put him back in the cart I say, then, we pull the cart round. Easy.”

“You do that, and the bloody thing’ll slide down into the ravine and it’s goodbye bounty. You want to buck around with somebody else’s cash cow friend, then be my guest. This guy can bloody well walk on his own four hooves.”

“What if it’s an ambush?”

“An ambush? What the hells wrong with you?! You been reading too many adventure novels? Who’s going to ambush us?”

“He’s valuable to our client though, isn’t he? If that’s the case then somepony would probably want him back.”

“Yeah? Who? A bunch of scabrous whores?”

Several laughed.

“Tell you what, we’ll all be on our guard, okay? Will that make you happy?”

Silence.

One of the party walked up to Bracken and hauled him to his hooves, the rough handling causing him to groan loudly at the rough pulling. He huddled up as his bladder ached painfully.

“What the hell’s wrong with you?” The griffin snapped angrily.

“It’s my guts,” Bracken gasped, “I need to go…badly.”

“Oh for…”

Another walked up, their voice as irritable as the first,

“What’s going on?”

“Says his guts are playing up. Needs a piss.” The first griffin replied.

The second one began walking away, “Then take him to the bushes over then and watch him while we shift this bloody tree.”

Bracken felt something hit him in the stomach making him gasp in pain,

“Get up then, come on! If you want a piss, then shift your arse.”

The black pony shook his head, “Where to? I can’t damned well see a bloody thing with this sodding bag on my head!”

A claw suddenly grabbed one of his ears through the sack and yanked him forwards without another word. The ropes had been loosened around his legs, but only barely; he could do little more than hobble from the hard rutted mud road to the grass beside it. A short way in, the griffin gave him a yank,

“Right, do what you have to do, and be quick about it.”

Bracken huffed out a breath, trying to get some air into the confines of the sack over his head. The taste alone of the rough fabric in his mouth was making his throat dry and scratchy,

“How about removing the bag, friend?”

The griffin’s screeching voice snapped back irritably, “You don’t need to see, just get on with it will you.”

Bracken shifted uncomfortably, biting back the reply he was going to give. That bloody feathered…lion like…thing! He settled down in a bush, hoping he had at least some modicum of self respect left, and relaxed. Bracken sighed loudly, the warm feeling of his muscles relaxing felt so good…

A few moments later he heard a thump and branches snapping. The bloody creature was coming back already!

“For the goddesses sake, give me a minute will you!” Bracken hissed, “I’ll just be a second, bloody hell fire, you can even go for a piss in peace…”

“Then you shouldn’t drink so much then should you! Now shut and keep quiet.”

That voice was new…and familiar somehow. Bracken felt something tugging at the ropes on his hind legs, then his front a moment later. Suddenly the sack was yanked from his head and light slammed into his eyes with an intensity that was like staring directly into the sun. He yelped and flung his foreleg over his eyes. Wait…his foreleg? He could move! Good goddesses! The voice! It was…

“Brack, can you see okay?”

“Chalky!” Bracken’s voice was nearly breaking with the rush of thoughts and emotions, “What’s…no, no I can’t, it’s too bright.”

“Damn it! Right then, grab hold of this…” Chalk pushed a length of rope into his friend’s mouth, “Now shift your carcass soldier!”

The black stallion didn’t argue and sure as hell wasn’t going to hang around either. He went to move, but his muscles, aching from days of battering and confinement, screamed in protest, failing him when he needed them most. He cursed them silently, pushing as hard as he could, but it was obvious from Chalky’s pulling that he was slow, far, far too slow. At this rate he would get them killed…both of them.

Chalk rushed back, “What’s up? Come on Brack, we have to move!”

“I…I can’t,” Bracken gasped, “it’s my legs. The bastards have had me tied up for days. Chalky, look, don’t…”

“If you say any more, you idiot, I’ll do for you myself!” Chalk hissed, “Right, down here, and keep quiet, alright? Not a bloody sound out of you.”

Bracken blinked furiously, trying desperately to get his eyes to clear and allow him to focus, but it was painfully slow progress and in more ways than one. Who could have thought that light would feel as if it were burning its way through your eyes? His muscles still ached too, the confinement and vibration must have done more damage than he’d thought, and now he’d become a liability to his friend. He rubbed his eyes and worked his legs as much as he could without making any overt movement or sound. All the while, his ears strained to pick up any noises around him.

They soon came.

Somepony came rushing up through the bushes, keeping low to the ground. It was Chalky,

“Brack, you okay to move?”

“I think so,” he replied, “lets...HELL!”

A screeching cry made Bracken roll instinctively out of the way as a curved sword hissed down, missing him by mere inches. Chalk dodged away and swung what looked like some sort of sword, up through the griffin’s chest and out through its neck. A spray of crimson and purple gore spattered warmly across Bracken’s face. Almost as fast as the first had appeared, a pony barrelled into them, kicking Chalk’s weapon away and trying to disembowel him with its own. The two grappled, Chalk desperately trying to break away from the brutal attack.

Pushing himself free of the melee, Bracken’s hoof caught against something hard and wooden. His heart leaping, he pulled at the thing and dragged it from the brambles and undergrowth that snagged at it. Nearby Chalk and the cloaked pony were rolling on the ground until, with a sickeningly heavy crack, the larger creature delivered a stunning blow to the white unicorn’s head. Cursing, the pony sat up, raising a dagger in both hooves and prepared to deliver the final blow. Chalk’s horn began to glow, but it was too late…the dagger fell.

Bracken was already pulling what gear he could from the dead griffin and reloading the crossbow. Chalk lay back beside him, his chest heaving. His eyes were fixed on the dagger stuck in the ground beside his head, the still body of his assailant half lying across him. Bracken hurried over, helping to pull the dead pony off his friend,

“Any more of them?”

“I make that four” Chalk gasped trying to get his breath back, “There was one guarding you, one that wandered back to the wagon.” He wiped his face with his foreleg and took a swig of water from his canteen before passing it to Bracken, “The other two were moving that tree. I guess they must have heard me.” Chalk laughed, “I’m losing my touch, eh?”

Bracken hoof bumped his friend,

“You’ll do for me, you bloody pirate.”

Chalk sat up, collecting his gear,

“Not any more. By now the ship will have gone and…well, let’s say the Captain and I had a difference of opinion.”

Bracken paused, staring up at his friend,

“Oh no, Chalky, I’m sorry dude, I thought you and Gretel were…”

“-Yeah.” Chalk said nonchalantly pocketing the bits he’d found on the dead pony, “So did I.” He peered down the slight incline to the cart, “Let’s see what we can scavenge and get the hell out of here, eh?”

Bracken nodded, “I’ll second that. Any idea where we are?”

“Way ahead of you there, buddy.” Chalk said tapping his pannier, “Yours truly has a map showing us the way home.”

“Home?” Bracken asked in surprise.

Chalk smiled, “Home. Wellford Springs, where we should have bloody well stayed and spent our lives as we were meant to - as craftsponies.” He rammed his sword home into its scabbard, “Nopony trying to kill you at every turn, no running for your bloody life all the time and best of all, no sodding, confusing, bloody mares!”

Bracken shook his head. So that was it was it? He’d had a falling out with the red coated Captain of that flying tub. As much as Bracken was glad to see the back of that lot, it was still painfully clear that Chalky was hopelessly besotted with her, maybe even in love with the larger than life mare, but there was something in his friends voice that suggested he was far from convinced he was better off without her. Bracken gave his mane a shake, that simple act feeling so good, it made him begin to feel more alive, more…like a pony. He nodded to his friend,

“We’ll talk more later, Chalky. For now, I want to get the hell out of here in case any more of this lot pop up out of the woodwork.”

Chalk harrumphed, “I couldn’t agree more.”

The two set off, striking up through the forest to what Chalk assured him would be the road that would take them, if they made good time, to the Foalsom River estuary. From there, they should be able to hire a boat to Drakestown and from there a couple of days trot to Wellford Springs. Bracken shouldered the makeshift pack. The ponies and griffins had been well equipped, and had a decent amount of bits on them too. It would certainly be enough to get them home and see them fed and watered on the way. What was niggling at the back of his mind though, was the speed and efficiency with which Chalk had dispatched his kidnappers, not to mention how he’d tracked him. He thought back to River Valley, the fighting with the thestrals, those minotaurs, how he’d thrown himself at them as if his life meant nothing. Dear goddesses, had life since leaving home changed them both that much? Chalk glanced back at him over his shoulder,

“You alright, dude? Hows the old legs holding up?”

“Damned sight better since being able to use them again. Bloody hell, Chalky, those rats just threw me in the back of that cart under a pile of crap.” He scratched his chin in thought for a moment, “in fact I think that’s exactly what it was, and they just left me there. You know, I still don’t even know who they were or why they snatched me.”

“Don’t ask me.” Chalk shrugged, “They weren’t very talkative.”

“Not after you filleted them, no!” Bracken laughed.

The white unicorn prodded his friend in the shoulder,

“You shot that one in the bloody head!”

Bracken snorted, waving a hoof, “Luck.”

“Huh!” Chalk sniffed, “Lucky for me, then.”

The two of them pushed on through the forest, following the large brass compass which the plucky unicorn fished out from his pack. He flicked the lid open on it from time to time, checking his bearing and nodded to himself as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“When did you get so good with maps?” Bracken asked him, “I don’t remember you ever showing much interest in training”.

“I’ve always had an interest in cartography.” Chalky replied as if it were self evident, “I just didn’t like talking about it. You know, a bit ‘stuffy’ and all that.” He blushed a little, “I used to read dad’s old books that he left behind. Mum threw them out but I found them outside and snuck them into my room. I suppose I liked the pictures really, you know, like the ones of foreign lands, strange creatures and all that kind of stuff. Silly eh?”

Bracken shook his head,

“No. Not at all.” They walked on for a while longer before the urge to ask was too great, “Chalky…Did you know much about your dad?”

“Nah.” The unicorn replied, “Don’t really remember him to be honest, can’t even remember what colour he was. Mum got rid of anything that reminded her of him. After a while it was like he’d never existed.”

“You never ask her?”

“Maybe a couple of times, or just in passing.” Chalk shook his mane, his ears drooping slightly, “She always fobbed me off when I asked. She was either ‘Too busy’, or ‘Ask me later’. Of course, ‘later’ never came and if I did ask again I was told I was ‘midering’.” He snorted, “’Course, sooner or later I just gave up asking. I wasn’t that bothered I suppose, because I never really knew the guy. His books were pretty cool though.”

“What happened to them?” Bracken asked.

Chalk shrugged, “The books? Oh, probably long gone. I hid them in the loft before we left, but mum’s more than likely had one of her massive clearouts and they’ve gone the journey. You know how mares are.”

“Nope!” Bracken chuckled, “Can’t say I do and I doubt I ever will.”

Chalk gave him a nudge, “Hold that thought my friend.” He stopped and looked about himself at the small clearing, “Looks like a good place to spend the night. It’s coming in faster all the time.”

Bracken nodded. He’d been so busy putting one hoof in front of the other and trying to put as much distance between the scene of his rescue and themselves, that he hadn’t noticed the drop in daylight and accompanying temperature. Now he thought about it, it was really starting to get cold.

The hills in this part of Equestria were thickly wooded and they’d not seen hide nor hair of anything resembling a ‘road’ since leaving the cart. Bracken didn’t want to say it, but he had the distinct impression they were lost, and Chalky, the occasionally over confident fellow that he was, would probably just keep plodding on until they eventually got ‘somewhere’. He sighed. It wasn’t like they were in any rush to get anywhere was it? After all, the army probably thought they were deserters, and…oh goddesses…was that who’d kidnapped him? Army agents?

Chalk Dust soon had a low fire burning, using dry wood to keep the smoke down as much as he could. It was an old forester’s trick, one which their army field instructor had been keen to teach, and Bracken equally keen to learn. As it turned out, it was just as well he had been paying attention in class. He took out some provisions for them both and quickly set about cooking them up in the mess tins.

Yawning expansively, Chalk plopped himself down by the fire and passed his friend a shot cup of the wine he’d found in one of his panniers. He spared a thought for the indigo stallion, Strata. He owed him his life, and maybe to some degree, Bracken’s too.

“Hey Brack, look,” he said scratching his ear idly, “I know it may be a bit soon, so tell me to shut up if it is. But…what happened with that mare? You know, Fickles, Pickles or whatever her name was.”

“Pickles.” Bracken said, snuggling himself down by the fire, “She’s quite the mare.”

“Oooh!” Chalk sniggered, “She had ‘quite’ the thing for you too I reckon.”

“Huh, like bollocks she did. I was just another lay.” Bracken snorted.

Chalk’s eyes went wide, “The madam?”

“Aye”

“The owner who saved our lives?”

“Aye”

Chalk shook his head in amazement, “She kicked me out and then you and she…?”

Bracken shot the inquisitive unicorn a look,

“You’re not the only stallion in the world that girls find attractive you know. Bloody hell, Chalky, do you really think I look that bad? What is it? My coat, my mane, what?”

Chalk held up a hoof, “Steady on dude, I didn’t mean any offence. I was just asking because she was so…I don’t know…not beautiful in the sense of, y’know…’Phwoar! Look at her!’ beauty, but she had a certain…” he waved a hoof, “Mystical elegance”.

“Mystical elegance” Bracken said slowly. He shook his head, “Mystical…elegance”.

“Alright! Don’t labour the point!” The white unicorn complained, “Look, I didn’t mean that she was out of your league, just that it looked like she ‘like’ liked you.” He scratched his head furiously, “Oh, I don’t know what I’m trying to say! I give up.”

Bracken lay down, polishing off his travel biscuit and pie. He tried not to think too much about what was in it, but Chalk assured him it wasn’t meat. Shoving his pack under his head as a pillow the earth pony stallion sighed, looking up at the sky far above them. The stars were starting to come out now. He wondered if she would be looking up at them too, thinking of him…

“Chalky?” he asked quietly.

“Hmm?”

“What’s it like to be in love?”

Bracken heard Chalk shifting around in his bedding and the long sigh he let out before answering. He turned over and stared into the fire, his eyes glistening in the yellow glow as he stared at a silver pocket watch, the one Bracken had seen him taking off one of the griffins,

“It’s a pain in the arse, Brack” Chalk said quietly, “A real pain in the arse.”

***********************

The forest came and went, the land gradually beginning to show evidence of cultivation as they walked on. The ‘road’ that Chalky had pointed out on the map had, much to Bracken’s embarrassment, actually existed after all and they’d ended up following it for days. Unfortunately, it seemed that in Equestria, nopony seemed to think that building roads in straight lines was a good idea, and perish the thought of actually say, for example, paving the things! The worst of it though was the rain that turned the muddy road into a sticking, gloopy mess that sucked at your hooves and splashed up onto your fur. One of the first things Bracken did when getting the camp set up was to get the water boiling for a wash before the bloody stuff dried. Fortunately, it looked like their uncomfortable days on the road would soon be coming to an end. According to their map at least, they weren’t far from the Foalsom River estuary and that was where they’d most likely find a boat to take them upriver. Best of all, finding the river meant they were a lot nearer to home.

Chalk leaned his pack against a tree and took out a small cloth bag tied up with string and laid his sword beside it. The cleaning kit he produced looked fairly standard, but the sword…now that was a different matter altogether. Bracken stared at it in wonder,

“I can’t believe somepony just gave you that” he said shaking his head in wonder, “It looks like it’s worth a fortune.”

Chalk gave a wry smile, slipping the sword free of its scabbard, “I can’t believe it myself. Strata is some pony.” He shrugged, “Not too keen on earth ponies though; surprised me that.”

“What's his problem with earth ponies?” Bracken asked.

Chalk shrugged, “Thinks you’re all a bit thick.”

“Wha…?!” Bracken jumped to his hooves, “Now just a bloody minute!”

Chalk help up his hoof, “I didn’t say I agreed with him, you daft bugger. He just has a bit of a funny view of the world, that’s all.” He furrowed his brow in thought, “A very funny view actually.”

“Yeah! One full of ‘thicko’ earth ponies apparently” Bracken said angrily, “If I meet him I’ll stuff that fancy sword so far up his arse, he’ll look like a kebab.”

Chalk ran a cloth down the ancient sword, smiling as its blade seemed to change colour in the firelight. “He’s not the only unicorn with funny ideals” he explained matter-of-factly, “There's quite a few who think like that, they just don’t come right out and say it.”

“Huh! What happens when a unicorn and an earth pony have a foal then?” Bracken asked rolling his eyes, “They could have either. One couple I know even had a pegasus! What then? Are the parents disappointed because the foal doesn’t have…’Mystical Elegance’”

“Oh, shut up about that!” Chalk snapped, “You know what I meant, and I know the couple you mean too. We all know about Bun’s extra marital activities, they were the villages worst kept secret!” he slipped the sword back into its scabbard and leaned it carefully up against his pack, “I don’t think it’s any surprise that eleven months after that pegasus ‘travelling salepony’ left town that Mrs Bun ends up with a little ‘bun’ of her own, and low-and-behold, it’s a pegasus!”

“I never saw many pegasi” Bracken said absently, “Only the old buggers in the village, and the Bun’s left town after their foal was born. The only other pegasi I’ve ever seen where those smart arses at the barracks, and even they had their own areas.”

“Makes you wonder if things really were resolved after the wars of the three tribes ended, eh?” Chalk reasoned.

Bracken nodded quietly, “Yeah.”

The cicadas were out tonight, their lonely refrain echoing out around them. Occasionally the cry of a fox or some other woodland creature would call out to its fellow, the plaintive sound strangely chilling to those unused to it. Out in the wild the nights, it seemed, were just as alive as the daytime, but here by the fire they felt safe, or as safe as they could be.

Chalk took out his silver pocket watch and stared at it, turning it over and over in his hooves. He sighed,

“I miss her, Brack.”

Bracken, half nodding off, opened his eyes, “Who?”

“Gretel” Chalky said quietly, “I keep thinking about her. About her fur, about how soft and warm she is. Her mane’s like spun gold, a waterfall of golden light that flows down beside her neck.” He pulled his bedding up around himself, keeping his sword close to hoof, “Her tail’s not very long, but I can live with that. But you know, it’s her eyes that really get me; they shine, not just with life, but with intelligence, you know? She’s got a mind like a razor, Brack, and that…that’s one of the most wonderful things about her.”

“Sounds like you really like her.” Bracken said, thoughtfully.

“I…I love her Brack.”

Bracken smiled at his friend, “Does she know?”

Chalk nodded, “Yeah. I told her.”

“How did she react?”

“I don’t really know. We…that is, she knew we’d been to Madam Pickles’ after I promised not to go there.” Chalk sniffed, “She thought Pickles had, or one of her girls and I had…you know…done something.”

Bracken’s ears twitched as he heard his friend pour out his heart,

“Did you tell her what really happened?”

“Of course I did!” Chalk replied anxiously, “Well, I tried to, but she wouldn’t listen! She just flew at me in a rage and told me to get out.”

“And?”

Chalks voice dropped to a near whisper, “Then I stormed off the ship and those goons jumped me.”

“Oh goddesses, Chalky.” Bracken face hoofed, “Why the hell didn’t you go back to the ship after Strata patched you up?”

“I couldn’t leave you!” Chalk exclaimed, “Bloody hell, Bracken, would you have left me if you’d been in my shoes?”

“No.”

“Well there you go then!” The white unicorn nodded to himself knowingly.

Bracken groaned. Why did things always seem to end up like this? “Look Chalky, if she’s half the mare you say she is, she’ll forgive you once you explain things to her.”

Chalk snorted derisively, “And just how am I supposed to do that eh? The ships gone and you may not have noticed, but Equestria’s not exactly overflowing with flying bloody galleons!”

Bracken said nothing. His friend was angrily pulling his bedding around himself and snorting loudly. A few minutes later, Chalk’s voice drifted over to him, the earlier edge to it now softened,

“Brack…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shout like that, I’m such a dick sometimes.”

“Yes! You bloody well are!” Bracken chuckled, “But you’re my best friend, Mister Dust, and the nearest to a brother I’ll ever have.”

“You too dude” Chalk smiled, “You too.” He paused, “You want to tell me about your girl?”

“My girl? You mean Pickles?”

“Mmhmm.” Chalk replied snuggling into his blanket, “She was really something.”

“Oh yeah” Bracken said quietly, “She’s something…elegant, sophisticated, and a mare who knows her own mind.”

“She sure knows how to dress well” Chalk observed.

“She does,” The black stallion replied smiling to himself. He recalled the image of the dress slipping from her as she stepped from it towards him, her beautiful eyes drawing him in as her soft lips met his, her forelegs gently embracing him…he could feel his heart racing. “Goodnight, Chalky.”

“Yeah…goodnight, dude.”

Bracken lay in his bedding, tossing and turning uncomfortably. It was bad enough he was outside without even a tent, apparently nopony seemed to bother using them these days, but the ground was so hard it was like sleeping on rocks. He fidgeted, pulling his cloak in around himself and curled up into a ball, but it was no use, he was now so hopelessly wide awake that any further attempt at sleep was futile. To make matters worse, he was also starting to get a headache too. Cursing quietly under his breath, Bracken angrily got up and wandered over to a tree to relieve himself. He shivered with the cold as he made a quick check to make sure nopony was watching out of habit, but…

“Trouble sleeping?”

“Yeah, I’m bloody fr’…agh!” He jumped back in fright at the large pair of azure eyes peering at him from the darkness. They seemed to be floating in thin air, the voice materialising out of the same nothingness.

“Miss me?”

“Miss you? I…” Bracken gave himself a shake, reaching for his sword only to realise the bloody thing was back by…his…sleeping…form. He patted himself down, “What the hell?”

The figure clucked its tongue, “Ah, the memory blocking spell, of course.”

The female voice drifted all around him carrying with it a sense of amusement that was making his hackles go up,

“There…” the voice said, satisfied, “Can you remember me now?”

Bracken sank to his haunches. He stared into the dark forest, those eyes, the voice, they were so…He gasped as his memories, like a door opening and finding yourself in another world, a familiar world, flooded back on a powerful tidal wave of imagery.

“P…Princess!” he choked, “I…I mean, your divinity.” He bowed.

“Oh don’t be so formal.” The voice tutted irritably, “Come and sit by the fire” she chuckled demurely, “I promise I won’t bite.”

Bracken looked about himself but the eyes had gone. Turning round, he headed back to the fire. Nightmare Moon was already lying beside it, tasting the wine which Chalk had been keeping for a special occasion,

“It really is very good.” The black coated mare smiled, lifting up the glass in her magic, “Won’t you join me?”

Bracken cleared his throat, “Your divinity, I…”

The goddess held up a silver shod hoof,

“Ah, ah, ah…!” she shook her head slowly, her long smoke like mane curling and dancing as she moved, “I said don’t be so formal.” She grinned, “Tonight, you may call me…’majesty’. It pleases me.”

“Yes, majesty” Bracken’s legs trembled slightly as he sat by the fire, all the memories of his time in the camp, the goddess’s unpredictable behaviour, the beheadings, the dragons…

Nightmare Moon smacked her lips,

“I never thought I’d ever taste such a thing again. To think it has been more years than even I care to remember, and yet now in the middle of…” she waved her hoof absently, “some dreary forest, the friend of my Bracken has a bottle of Empire wine!” She took a sip and smiled absently, “Wonderful.”

Bracken swallowed,

“Your majesty, this…forgive me, I don’t know what to say.”

“Well,” Nightmare Moon began, fixing him with her ethereal gaze, “I didn’t ask you to say anything.” She sighed, giving her mane a shake, “Especially after you disappeared from my camp. Do you know how much trouble I had trying to find you?”

Bracken shook his head, “No, your majesty. Forgive me.”

“I may…” she smirked, “But I can’t really blame you, can I? I placed that spell on you to trigger should you wander too far from my side.” Nightmare Moon stretched her wings out behind her, resettling them back by her sides, “I may have been a little…’impulsive’ with that one. After all, I don’t want my favourite black stallion to forget little old me now, do I?”

The trees echoed with the laughter of the black goddess, but still, nothing moved. There were no signs of life other than the fire, the sleeping Chalk and the two of them. He cast his gaze at the ground. She would be furious with him! He’d abandoned her, run off with those bloody pirates and…oh, no…Pickles! He couldn’t…

Suddenly a black muzzle drew close to him, the nostrils flaring slightly, while the smoke like mane drifted over his back making his skin shiver. Bracken closed his eyes, trying to keep his mind blank; he couldn’t think of anything, nothing! She would be so angry with what he’d done!

“You smell…” the sultry voice said softly into his ear, “of another mare.”

Brackens heart sank like a lead balloon, his mouth drying up in fright.

“Have you been…unfaithful to me?” she asked disarmingly.

Nightmare Moon’s muzzle slowly slid along Bracken’s neck taking in his scent, but what she could tell of it, he had no idea. He’d barely washed since being stuffed in that cart full of crap.

A silver shod hoof tapped him on the nose,

“You’ve lain with another mare, haven’t you?”

Bracken licked his lips, trying desperately to get some moisture back into his mouth,

“Yes, your majesty.”

Nightmare Moon watched him quietly for a while before yawning and rising from the log she had been lying on,

“’Yes, ‘majesty’…” She purred, “What was her name?”

Bracken licked his lips nervously, “I…I can’t remember, I was drunk.”

The goddesses laughter rang out like a bell through the forest, her teeth flashing in the moonlight,

“You can’t remember?! Oh, how deliciously noble of you!”

Noble? Nightmare Moon advanced on him and he cringed back in fright.

“You want to protect her! From me? You think I would harm her, this…’Pickles’?” The goddess of the night grinned widely, “I know everything my dearest Bracken. I know what you’ve been doing and I know too that you didn’t leave me of your own accord, nor were you fully ‘yourself’ when you did what you did.” The goddess of the night walked around him slowly, “But you need to choose my sleek black stallion. One day, when the time is right, you will.”

Bracken swallowed,

“You majesty, some…ponies and griffins, they…”

The goddess clucked her tongue,

“Yes…inefficient tools never yield the best results.” She said levelly, “And the way they treated you was not what I had anticipated.” A hoof ran gently but firmly along his flank making him grit his teeth against the sensation, “I would have had to ‘discipline’ them for that.” Nightmare Moon reached up and gave Bracken’s ear a quick nip, making his squeak out loud. She laughed, dancing away from him like a shadow in the night, “That’s for being…’naughty’.” She chuckled, “I’m afraid I won’t be able to remove the spell just yet my Bracken; this is, after all…just a dream.”

Without a sound, in the space of the blink of an eye, she had gone. Bracken’s heart was pounding. What was the goddess doing here? She’d come here to the dreamworld to see him? His mind was a whirling mix of emotions and thoughts. He didn’t know what to think any more, it was all so confusing! He turned back to the fire and straight into the azure gaze of the goddess of the night.

Bracken gasped in sharp breath of the cold night air.

“Did you think I wouldn’t punish you?” she said cocking her head to one side, “You’ve been bad, Bracken…” She reached out and kissed his lips softly, like the gentlest breeze, “…so very, very bad…”

Bracken’s resolve fell apart and he pushed into her, taking up the beautiful black mare in his forelegs. The goddess grappled him, forcing him to the ground as they kissed. She gripped his neck and pushed her forehooves down, staring deeply into the black stallion’s eyes with her timeless azure orbs,

“And so now, young Bracken,” the goddess of night smiled as her muzzle drew down towards his, “your punishment begins…”

**********************

Chalk woke with a yawn and gave his legs a good stretch. Now that was a good night’s sleep! It was a bit cold this morning, but the blankets ‘donated’ by the griffins had proved to be of the most excellent quality and combined with what appeared to be a cloudless sky above, it looked liked it was going to be a fine day too. He smirked to himself and reached out for his pack; a quick snack would hit the…

“Hey! Where’s all my bloody wine gone!?”

The empty bottle lay on the ground, the stopper beside it. The ground wasn’t wet so it didn’t look like it had rolled out and spilled, but, come to think of it, where was Bracken? Chalk scanned the small clearing. The fire had died down to mere embers, Bracken’s pack and sword still lay where he’d last seen him asleep, but of the black coated stallion there was no sign. He clambered to his hooves, his heart suddenly racing; they hadn’t come for him in the night had they? He hadn’t slept through…no, he wouldn’t have done that. Maybe he’d just gone for a…

Chalk’s ears twitched. Was that a groan? He reached down and took up his sword slowly, his senses keenly listening and watching for any movement. Damn it! There is was again! Chalk swivelled his ears, zeroing in on the direction the sound was coming from…there! By the fallen tree, he could just make out a small amount of movement. With a snort, he rushed over, dropping his sword and reached the all but invisible form of the black pony.

Bracken looked worn out, both physically and mentally. What the hell had happened to him? Chalk checked him over. His friend was lying face down over a large tree with his blanket over his back. The large brown woollen covering had all but camouflaged him in the dappled light of the clearing. Chalk rolled his eyes and walked round to where his friends face hung, a stupid grin spread across it.

“Bracken…” Chalk cooed, “Braaackennn…”

“Mmmm” The black stallion’s lips twitched into a ridiculous smirk as a light chuckle emanated from him, “…so…soft…”

“Yeah…” Chalk whispered to him, “Smooth and silky…right?”

“Yeah…” Bracken hummed.

“You know what else is smooth, silky and soft?”

“Mmmm?”

“MY BLOODY WINE!” Chalk bellowed right into his friend’s ear, “You thieving sod!”

Bracken’s eyes flew open and he let out a deafening neigh of fright. Bucking and struggling, he flailed his legs around until he was able to find a purchase and shoved himself off the log, flopping onto his haunches in a daze,

“Ch…Chalky? What the hell?!”

Chalk leaned down to the baffled looking stallion and grabbed his muzzle in his hooves,

“Morning sleepy head” he growled, “Have a good night on the drink did we?”

Bracken blinked in confusion, “What? What the hell are talking about?”

Chalk waved the bottle in front of his face, “Ring any bells? You bloody reek of it!” he walked back to his gear to begin packing, “Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it, that was all we had.”

Bracken dragged himself over to his gear. What in Equestria was Chalk banging on about? Why was he lying across a tree and why did his head feel like somepony had been beating him senseless with the bloody thing?! He let out a groan and held his head in his hooves.

“Don’t even think about asking for sympathy for that head of yours,” Chalk groused, “I hope the bloody thing falls off.”

“Chalky I’m sorry.” A bolt of pain shot through Bracken’s head making him wince, “I…ow! Bloody hell fire!” he rubbed his temples trying to ease the aching, “Look, I don’t remember anything after going to bed.”

Chalky finishing rolling up his bedding, “So how do you explain the hangover, the empty bottle and stinking of wine?” he said casting an accusatory glare, “Come on then Sherlock Pones, answer me that one!”

“I don’t know!” Bracken protested, “Goddess damn it, Chalky, I…”

His friend snorted loudly, “-Well at least you had the common sense to throw your blanket over yourself, otherwise you could have got hypothermia, and then you really would have been screwed.”

Bracken looked down at his blanket, his memory stirring slightly. He lifted it with his hoof and gave it a tentative sniff. It smelt of…wool…wood smoke and…was that wild heather? He shrugged. Goddess knows how he’d got himself into such a state, but he’d have to make it up to Chalk somehow. What the hell had possessed him to drink all that? But, he had to admit, he had, he must have, he could still taste it on his tongue. He licked his lips and gasped out loud as a fleeting image of something, or rather, somepony, flashed into his mind. Before he could focus on it, the image had gone, but as much as his heart jumped, his blood suddenly ran cold. Goddesses, what a mess!

Chalk was waiting by the edge of the clearing as Bracken trotted up to him, his bags and pack all stowed for the next leg of their journey. The white unicorn had a look of disappointment on his face rather than anger, and strangely, that upset Bracken the most. Chalk had always been the clown of the pair, the one getting himself into trouble, and yet recently…it was Bracken himself that had been the one needing rescuing and now look at him; a closet drunkard. His heart felt like lead, echoing the dull thumping of his tortured brain. It was no more than he deserved, he thought to himself bitterly, but he was going to have to pull his act together or else he’d lose any respect Chalk had left for him. For now though, he decided to keep his mouth shut and followed his friend out of the clearing and continue their journey home.

The two of them walked in silence for most of the day and the sun was already setting, sending the temperature plummeting. The trees had all but disappeared now, with just a few low growing ones dotted about with the majority of the foliage changing to low gorse like bushes. Chalk’s ears twitched, he could hear water running, and smell it too. The map had said there should be a road here, and although it was more of an overgrown track now, it looked like it would take them straight to a small village. He nodded to himself and smiled at Bracken,

“Chin up, not far now to something other than travel biscuits and grass.”

Bracken muttered something, but Chalk ignored it. His friend had been sullen ever since leaving the clearing and he’d been feeling guilty about yelling at him earlier too. It was so unlike Bracken to do something like that. Of all the ponies he knew, the big black stallion was the most sensible and level headed of the lot. Maybe being stuck in the brig, chained to the wall after being hit on the head, after…being nearly killed…and…

Chalk closed his eyes. Dear goddesses above, what had Bracken been through? Didn’t he deserve a drink of wine for goodness sake? He’d talk to him about it later, right now there were a number of small wooden buildings coming into view. Chalk flicked his tail irritably; there were a lot of flies out today which was a little unusual for the time of year, but this close to water he wasn’t that surprised to encounter some. Unfortunately, as they walked it seemed that rather than a few odd ones lingering in the cold weather, there were virtually clouds of the damned things. He increased their pace to close the distance to the buildings and away from the flies.

The hamlet, and it was a stretch to call it that, was more of a group of around eight wooden buildings, several of which looked like they were uninhabited. One of them at least had smoke drifting from its chimney and a set of fishing nets hanging from a pole outside. Unfortunately it didn’t look like there was a tavern here, or, surprisingly, a store of any description. Chalk cursed silently, he’d been looking forward to buying something different from travel food. Something fresh rather than dried would have been just the ticket too. Speaking of which, with any luck, somepony here would be happy to accept a few bits for a trip up river.

Bracken was still hanging back, his eyes downcast. Chalk shook his head, he was really beginning to worry. He took a breath and knocked on the door of the single storied building with the smoking chimney. And waited…

Nothing.

He tried again.

“Ya after old Brindle?”

A faded silver coated stallion suddenly appeared behind them.

“Gah! Bloody hell!” Chalk jumped back in fright, “You nearly gave me a bloody heart attack!”

“He ain’t in” The stallion said, carrying on regardless. He took out a cloth from his saddle pack and gave his hooves a wipe, “You ain’t from ‘round ‘ere are ‘ya?”

“No, we’re after passage up river.” Chalk explained, “Do you know anypony who can take us?”

The old timer continued rubbing his hooves, “Nah. Nopony ‘ere will do that.”

“Why not?” Chalk asked, “We can pay!”

“Bits ‘aint no use ‘ere.” The old stallion shrugged, “We get by on our own, see.”

“What is it then?” Chalk pushed, “Nightmare Moon’s forces? Are they near, is that it?” he paused, “Oh…OH! I get it now! It’s because I’m a unicorn isn’t it!”

The old timer shook his head, “Nope.”

“Excuse me, sir.” Bracken said politely, “Forgive us, we’ve been through a lot, my friend and I. We only want to get home and it’s a long way by hoof. Please, we can pay, or work to earn our passage.”

The old fellow scratched his chin in thought,

“Hmm. Maybe. You’ll be needin’ to speak to old Brindle then.”

“So where is he then?” Chalk asked, virtually hopping from one hoof to another.

The silver stallion lifted an eyebrow, “Yer talkin’ to ‘im.”

Bracken gave Chalk a shushing motion and nodded to the old stallion,

“We need to get to Wellford Springs, sir. I believe that Drakestown is the nearest settlement along the river, so if you can help secure us passage, we would be very grateful.”

Brindle scratched his rump with his hoof, then turned away.

“Oh that’s just bloody marvellous, isn’t it!” Chalk hissed to Bracken angrily, “Nice going mister smooth!”

“You ponies coming?” The old fellow called back over his shoulder, “It’ll be dark soon, but ya can stay out ‘ere if ya fancy to.”

Bracken treated Chalk to a beaming toothy grin before trotting off after the retreating form of the silver stallion. In his wake, the flustered Chalk Dust looked ready to pass out. He’d never seen him turn that shade of red before!

The hut come house was more like a junk shop of odds and ends from around the world. Some of it, or rather most of it, was so peculiar as to be unfathomable. Chalk walked in sulkily but once inside, changed almost instantaneously into a pony bubbling over with excitement. The white unicorn rushed from one side of the room to another, staring agog at the strange and altogether mouldy looking artefacts. Bracken on the other hoof, was more interested in trying to find somewhere to sit down. Their host walked over to a pile of old books clucking his tongue,

“Just a minute…”

Bracken couldn’t help but stare in amazement as the enormous pile of books as they somehow transformed into a rather plush looking chair.

“Sorry ‘bout that”, Brindle muttered, “Need to ‘ave a word wit me lady.”

Chalk leaned in towards Bracken’s ear, “Bloody hell! There’s a mare in here? Should we call someone? OW!”

The silver stallion peered at Chalk curiously,

“You okay? Didn’t stub yer hoof on summat did ya?”

“NO!” squeaked Chalky, rubbing his foreleg and glaring at Bracken, “I just…bumped into something. Don’t mind me!”

Brindle nodded and produced a large bottle of what looked like water,

“Ya drinkin’ ponies, boys?”

“None for me, thanks” Bracken said politely holding up his hoof.

Chalk guffawed behind him, “Cutting down?” he deftly dodged the incoming kick, only to bump into a cabinet full of more of Brindle’s peculiar treasures, “Ah! Bugger it!”

Brindle shook his head in dismay at the leaping white unicorn,

“Drakestown…” Brindle said, producing a small pad and pencil, “Reckon ah can go there.”

“Thank you, sir” Bracken nodded respectfully, “What will we owe you?”

The silver stallion started making notes in his pad, mumbling to himself and crossing figures out. The thought process seemed to be a lot more involved than Bracken had considered, judging by the scribbling that was going on in the notepad. Finally, Brindle took the pencil out of his mouth and nodded to himself, a small smile crossing his lips,

“Fifty. Half up front, the other when we get there.”

There was a choking noise from the other side of the room. Bracken shot his friend a look, then reached out his hoof to their enigmatic host,

“Deal!”

The old stallion clopped Bracken’s hoof in response,

“Grand. We’ll get off first thing then.”

Relieved, Bracken counted out twenty five bits,

“Thanks. Is there somewhere we can stay tonight in town?”

“Nowhere the pixies won’t get ya.” Brindle sniffed, “Yer kin stay in ‘ere. Just buck stuff outta the ways if yer needs ta.”

“Did he say Pixies?” Chalk asked in alarm, “He did, didn’t he? He said Pixies!”

“Ah think yer friends a little excitable, like.” Brindle said leaning towards Bracken conspiratorially, “Not used ta the outdoors eh? Ah knew a fella like that once…” he made a circular motion with his hoof next to his ear, “’e went completely bonkers in the end. Thought ‘e was a sandwich an’ ran away screamin’ everytime somepony tried ta speak to ‘im.” He chuckled, grinning knowingly at Chalk, “Thought they was tryin’ ta eat ‘im”

“Any particular type of filling?” Chalk quipped back sarcastically.

“Cheese an’ pickle ah believe”

“Um, sir?” Bracken chipped in desperately trying to restore some semblance of normality back to the conversation, “You mentioned…Pixies?”

“Oh, aye.” The old stallion said standing up and stretching, “But don’t worry yerselve’s none, they don’t come in ‘ere too offen.” He creaked off to a side door, “Well ah’m off ter bed, boys. See’s ya in the mornin’.” The old stallion disappeared through the door.

A moment later he was back, “Oh, nearly forgot.” He leaned down, picked up a mallet and threw it to Chalk who caught it with his forehooves, “If’n any o’ them little buggers get in ‘ere, belt ‘em with that.” The old stallion said pointedly, “Little bastards keep crappin’ in me oats.”

Finally, the door to the bedroom shut with a click. Worryingly, the sound of two heavy draw bolts sliding into place drew the two friends’ attention.

Chalk stood frozen to the spot holding the large mallet,

“I am not…NOT, sleeping tonight!”

Bracken stared at the door and licked his lips nervously,

“Yeah…”

******************************

Sunlight was filtering through cracks in the shutters, highlighting the innumerable dust motes hanging in the air when the thump of the bolts on the bedroom door announced the entry of the yawning Brindle,

“Mornin’ boys, ya sleep well?”

Bracken and Chalk Dust stared at the old pony with bloodshot eyes. Chalk was still holding the mallet. As one they replied honestly,

“NO!”

“That’s a shame” Brindle smiled, collecting a satchel and some other assorted packages, “’Ah slept great, always do.”

“But…” Chalk said dryly, “…how do you sleep with, you know…the Pixies?”

“Eh?” Brindle replied furrowing his brow, “Yer don’t believe in them fairy tales do ya?” He gave a loud cackling laugh, opened the outside door and walked out into the morning air, “Comin’?”

Bracken gave himself a shake and sleepily headed after the silver coated stallion. Behind him, Chalk stared at the mallet with cold fury, his eye twitching,

“I…I’m going to kill him!”

“Shh!” Bracken waved his hoof urgently, “For the goddess’ sake, Chalky, just…let’s get the hell out of here!”

With a flurry of hooves, Chalk charged out of the house and into the fresh air. The freshness after being confined in a stuffy room all night was like having a bucket of cold water thrown over him, and it felt wonderful. Brindle was already trotting up to a small jetty and quickly had his gear stowed and oars readied. Chalk and Bracken passed down their own gear and soon, the tiny vessel was out into the wide river. Brindle, as it transpired, was quite an accomplish rower too, pointedly refusing to allow the others to help. Chalk naturally, groused about everything: the size of the boat, the speed of their progress, and of course, ‘Pixies’.

“How did I know they weren’t real?” he muttered, “The old sod did that deliberately! I nearly pissed myself when that bloody cat walked in!”

“Chalky…please!” Bracken hissed, “He can hear you!”

“I don’t give a toss!” Chalk snapped, “And besides, how come he was fine with you asking for passage and not me? It’s the whole bloody unicorn on boats thing all over again! I tell you I’m getting thoroughly sick of hearing about that bollocks.”

There was clearly nothing wrong with Brindle’s hearing,

“Ah already telt ya, boy, it ain’t nuffin ter do wit ya bein’ a unicorn.”

Chalk crossed his forelegs and huffed,

“So what then? Come on, out with it!”

Brindle nodded to Bracken,

“’E said ‘Please’”.

Comments

[Fallen Knight]

Chalk ran a cloth down the blade, smiling as the blade seemed to change colour in the firelight, “He’s not the only earth pony with fancy ideals” he explained matter-of-factly, “There quite a few who think like that, they just don’t say it.”

should be unicorn since Strata is a unicorn with unicorn supremacy ideas , or so it seems.