Ice Fall

by Bluespectre

Chapter Twenty Four - Bones of the Forgotten

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

BONES OF THE FORGOTTEN

The small boat rolled along the river, the small sail Brindle had set up pulling them along steadily. The old silver coated stallion sat at the tiller, steering the two friends towards home. Bracken stared up at the sky whilst Chalky hung onto his stomach.

“I thought you had your sea legs?” Bracken chuckled, “Some jolly jack tar you are!”

“Oh, goddesses…shut up, Brack,” Chalk groaned, “I’m bloody well dying here…”

There was a sudden choking and hacking sound which Bracken turned away from, shaking his head. The pony who wanted to be a pirate, eh? Who would have believed it! Bracken stretched his legs and peered over the bow, feeling the chill of the water as it sprayed onto his muzzle. It was quite invigorating really, the open water, the little vessel bobbing along without a care in the world; he could get used to this. As he relaxed, something ahead of them glinted intriguingly in the sunlight, catching his attention. Overhead, the uniform grey clouds were covering the sky like a shroud making everything seem depressingly dull, and yet…there it was again, a bright glint of colourful light from what looked like the middle of the river. Peering through the gloom and water spray, Bracken could definitely see something but couldn’t make it out in any detail. What the hell was that? There was one pony he knew who would know though…

“Brindle?” Bracken asked, “What’s that up ahead?”

“Ah, well now, that’s where we stop fer lunch.” The old stallion grinned expansively.

“But what is it?” Bracken asked impatiently.

Brindle shrugged, his eyes staring straight ahead,

“Wait an’ see, boy. We’re nearly there.”

He was right too. Within no time at all the small craft was being run up on the gravel banks of a small island. Bracken, and a very relieved Chalk whose face was looking the same colour as his eyes, stared about them in wonder.

“Crystals?” Bracken exclaimed in wonder, “What are they doing here? It’s…It’s incredible!”

“Aye…” Brindle grinned, taking out his pack, “Ya kin leave yer gear in the boat lads.”

“Pfff! Not bloody likely!” Chalk announced, snatching up his packs and sword, “If any of this floated off down river, Strata would have my hide on his wall as a trophy!”

Bracken jumped as his gear too, was thrown at him by the suddenly reenergised white unicorn,

“You too, big guy,” Chalk quipped, “You’re on food duty.”

Rolling his eyes, Bracken collected his belongings and followed the others up the shore and into the incredible forest of crystals.

The island was, quite literally, covered in them. Huge multi-faceted translucent structures of pink, white, red and blue stuck out at impossible angles, apparently growing up out of the very ground itself. Bracken shook his head in amazement. Some of the crystals appeared to resemble certain familiar forms, but as soon as he tried to focus on them, they seemed to change as though embarrassed to be seen in their native form. Trotting along beside him, Chalk too was apparently lost for words, his eyes wide with childish fascination as he took it all in. Brindle on the other hoof, ambled along as if the alien environment around them was as normal as leaves on a tree. The strange silver male walked on ever deeper into the crystal forest, eventually stopping in front of what appeared to be, to the amazement of the two younger stallions, an archway, a door and a set of steps, all constructed in the same sparkling material. Chalk walked up to it and ran his hoof along the smooth crystalline surface, a huge grin on his face. His green eyes reflected back at him, bright and clear despite the grey sky overhead,

“What is this place?” he breathed.

“It’s an old outpost from the Crystal Empire,” Brindle replied, dumping his pack beside the structure, “Best we go inside an’ keep outta the rain, boys.”

Bracken lifted up a hoof, looking up at the sky, “It’s not raining…”

“Hmph!” Brindle snorted, shaking his head, “Not right now, nah. But it will, ya wait an’ see.”

Bracken looked round for his friend, but Chalk was already heading down the steps, a small lantern held out in front of him, floating in the glow of his magic. “Chalky!” he shouted in alarm, “What the hell are you doing?!”

“Just having a quick look” Chalk called back happily, “Come on Brack, it’s amazing in here!”

His hackles going up, Bracken turned to Brindle who waved him on with a disinterested wave of his hoof,

“Foller yer friend, ah’ll be along in a minute.”

“Oh for…” the black coated stallion snorted and plunged into the opening, reluctantly heading down the steps into the unknown. Surprisingly, and much to his relief, it wasn’t that far before he reached the bottom, and Bracken quickly found himself in what looked to be a relatively large open space completely devoid of…anything. Strangely, he felt a little cheated. Chalk’s excited voice called back to him from further ahead, echoing oddly in the crystalline chamber,

“Hey Brack, you gotta come and see this!”

Bracken was already feeling distinctly uncomfortable; his instinctive compulsion to run back outside into the open air was rapidly becoming unbearable. Fighting back his fears, he gritted his teeth and walked on, finding another flight of steps and the light of Chalk’s lamp at the bottom. The white unicorn was standing staring at the most incredible sight Bracken had ever seen. It was a huge, carved chamber, in the centre of which stood what was quite clearly a larger than life carving of a pony, a unicorn by the looks of her. She was rearing, holding an open book in one hoof and throwing her head back as if reciting the spell within. Strange carvings on the statue’s plinth proved to be the same peculiarly angular writing that Chalk had described seeing at Strata’s home in Spurs Anvil, not that it mattered really anyway, neither of them had a clue what any of it said.

“It’s…amazing, isn’t it?” Chalk whispered, his voice echoing in the vast room, “A remnant of the Crystal Empire…who’d have…HEY!” He jumped back as Bracken suddenly clopped on the head.

“Shush!” Bracken held up his hoof for quiet, “Did you hear that?”

Chalk cocked his head, listening, “No, hear what?”

“A grating sound, like…”

A loud rumble and heavy thump from above them, echoed around the chamber. The two friends stared at each other in shock, and then, as one, ran for the stairs. Bracken’s worst fears were quickly realised - they were locked in. Despite his frantic searching, there was quite clearly no handle, no hinges, no lock…nothing! Chalk banged urgently on the door with his hoof,

“Hey! Brindle, hey! The door’s shut, let us out!”

Bracken shook his head,

“I don’t think he can hear us”

“Hell fire!” Chalk spat, “What do we do now? Do we wait or try to get out?”

Bracken’s blood went cold. When they’d been outside he’d had a peculiar feeling about this place. He hadn’t been able to put his hoof on it, but it had felt wrong for some reason, and now they’d walked right in through the front door like bloody fools.

“There may be another way out,” he said trying to keep himself calm, “I don’t think it’ll hurt to have a look”

The two walked back to the lower level in the surprisingly bright light from the unusual little lantern that Chalky held in his magic. It had fascinated Bracken when he’d first seen it. He’d thought his friend had brought it as a souvenir from the Revenge, only to find it was another gift from this mysterious ‘Strata’ chap. He’d actually like to meet him one day, if for no other reason than to see whether potentially fatal inquisitiveness was a common unicorn trait. That bloody Chalky!

Chalk walked around the outside of the room, running his hoof over the walls and shaking his head, “Looks like we’re stuck, dude. There’s one way in and one way out. Guess we’ll just have to wait for Brindle to get help after all.” He looked up in surprise as Bracken stared back at him, his eyes wide as saucers. “Brack? What is it? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Bracken was stood stock still, as if the barest movement could bring the whole place down around them,

“I…I don’t think helps coming…”

Chalk laughed nervously,

“What are you talking about? There’s…oh, no…”

The white unicorn’s gaze moved slowly to the floor. Bracken’s hooves were standing in the broken remains of what had once quite clearly been a living, breathing pony…like them. Casting the lantern around, Chalk’s eyes took in the reality of the horror surrounding them; the whole room was full of bones, lots and lots of bones. The lamplight glinted off the bleached remains of countless skeletons and, strangely, a large number of small blue globes covered in black and white spots. Chalk shook his mane,

“They’ve…” he swallowed, “They’ve probably been here for years, hundreds of years…”

“I don’t think so,” Bracken whispered. The black stallion gingerly picked up a small metal disk with a name and number stamped on it. It was threaded with a chain and had been hanging around the neck of one of the earth pony skeletons. Bracken read the name in a near whisper, “12646 Copper Elm, First Battalion, E.R.G.”

Chalk looked up in alarm, “What…he was a guardspony?”

“Uh-huh” Bracken nodded, looking more closely at the bones, “There’s more too…”

“I…I don’t understand it, “Chalk said, shaking his head in disbelief, “Why? How?”

Doing his best to overcome his fear and desire to run, Bracken looked more closely at one of the skeletons. With a wave of his hoof, he motioned to Chalk to bring the light nearer so he could see better. It appeared, upon closer scrutiny, that the white bones were far from old and were, more notably, completely devoid of any more ‘tangible’ remains; no metal work, no panniers, no saddle packs…nothing. He scratched his head in puzzlement and lifted one of the bones for a closer look. Chalk quailed, his face contorted in horror,

“Goddesses, Brack, how can you touch that?!”

“Shush!” Bracken hissed, examining the bone. A few seconds later, he shook his head and put it back down quietly, “Damn it…”

“What? What have you found?”

Bracken got back to his hooves, taking a deep breath,

“Teeth marks. Lots and lots of small teeth marks.”

Chalk backed away, his eyes shining wildly in the light from the lantern. Bracken looked up at his friend and immediately cursed himself for his careless choice of words…the white unicorn was terrified. “Chalky?” Bracken held out a hoof to try and comfort him, “Look, keep calm, it’s…”

“Oh…oh, goddesses…no…” Chalk’s heart was racing, his breathing ragged and hoarse, “I…we have to get out Brack…we have to get out!” He suddenly grabbed Bracken, “WE HAVE TO GET OUT!”

Bracken gripped Chalk’s muzzle in his hooves, fixing the panicked unicorn with a hard stare, “We ARE getting out, okay? We just have to think this through. You have magic don’t you?” Chalk was barely conscious of what Bracken was saying but managed a vague nod. “Good,” Bracken said confidently, “so use it on the door and…”

“It doesn’t work like that!” Chalk shouted as he began hopping nervously from one hoof to another, looking around frantically, “I was…I’m not…Oh goddesses!”

Bracken stomped a hoof, trying to get his attention, “Chalky! For the goddesses sake, you were a craftspony, you can do this!”

“I…” Chalk stopped suddenly, his voice changing to a whimper, “Something…something…t…touched…”

Everything happened sickeningly fast. Chalk swung the lantern, illuminating the dark blue bipedal creature that had attached itself to his hind leg. The thing looked like a tiny bald monkey, with long thing appendages on the end of its tiny limbs. The creature’s eyes, as white as the tiny hat it wore on its head, glared up at Bracken and let out a high pitch squeak, hissing aggressively and displaying a battery of needle like teeth.

Chalk screamed.

Bucking out as hard as he could, the unicorn kicked the vile blue creature across the room where it slammed with a wet crunch into the crystalline wall. The thing didn’t move again, but in the lamplight, there was more movement from the shadows, dark shapes shifting about and uttering the same strange squeaking call as the blue creature. Bracken’s heart suddenly leapt into his throat,

“Chalky, it’s those blue ball things, it’s the creatures!”

Without another word, Chalk’s sword was out and he charged around the room, followed by a hideous screaming and shrieking noise as the creatures, now fully roused, surged in on their prospective meals. Unfortunately for many of them, this time, dinner fought back.

Magic burst around the room as Chalk’s horn glowed, oblitering swathes of the things even as his sword cut through them like butter. Bracken’s own sword, the curved griffin blade, similarly made light work of the chittering blue mass of hissing, squeaking beasts, but there were just so many of them!

“CHALKY!” he yelled above the screeching din, “CLIMB THE STATUE!”

“Oh goddess…” Bracken prayed, leaping onto the stylised tail of the large stone unicorn wizard, “Hooves don’t fail me now!” He grappled and heaved until he was up on the things rump. Chalk wasn’t there.

“Chalky? CHALKY!” A huge magical blast below him sent burning and mangled pieces of creature into the air as red and blue vapour. The stink was unbearable, but the white unicorn was being swamped. He neighed and yelled, his sword still swinging, the magic still glowing, until the blue tide was simply…too much…

Bracken stared down in horror,

“Chalky?”

The mass of blue surged and rippled like some monstrous living blanket as the tiny blue things all pushed in, trying to get to their meal below. Bracken’s heart was beating so hard, his stomach roiling...

“Chalky…”

His friend…his dear friend, the one he’d loved as a brother since they were foals…he was…Bracken squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth. Oh goddesses, why? WHY?! He smashed his hoof impotently onto the statue’s neck and threw back his head, howling his rage and pain to the world. Lifting his sword, Bracken gathered his resolve and readied himself to leap into the mass as his eyes filled with tears of grief. He wouldn’t die up here a trapped rat waiting to be killed, he would go down fighting as his friend had, he would die proudly…as a soldier of the goddess…

“Buck the lot of you…” he muttered and took a breath as the statue suddenly moved.

Hooves scrabbling for purchase, Bracken dropped to his belly, grabbing the now bucking and shifting statue as the world around him burst with a brilliant white intensity he could still see through his closed eyes. And then, suddenly, everything stopped. The shrieking, the squealing, the movement, even the light…there was…nothing. Bracken took a breath…and then the world exploded.

The black earth pony was flung upward into the ceiling where he hit hard before dropping back down, landing on the outstretched book of the statue. Around him, a hurricane of unimaginable power raged, a storm of roaring, screaming magical energy. Within the maelstrom, the overwhelming sense of anger, fear and pain, mixed with a sense, a desire, to live. Bracken hung onto the statue as the ethereal winds threatened to rip him away into the swirling mass, but as quickly as it had begun, the storm began to ebb and finally die down.

If ever Bracken wanted to provide a description of the word ‘carnage’, he would use the scene below him now to do so; if he ever could describe it. He blinked in horror and shock at the charnel house of death that had once been lined with elegant crystal walls. Now everything; the ceiling, the walls, and the floor, were coated with a film of red, blue and white gore. Horribly, pieces of what had once been living creatures began dropping from the ceiling making wet sounds like some hellish rain. Bracken slipped down from the statue, landing in the thick gloopy mess and found the eye of the storm, the once white, now red soaked unicorn. He wasn’t moving.

“Chalky?” Bracken wiped the blood away from his friends face, “Come on…you’re safe now, you can wake up.”

Nothing.

Bracken closed his eyes. He’d been here before; Chalk would simply come round on his own if he was left in peace. He leaned down, lifting up the surprisingly light form of the unicorn in his hooves and heaved him up the stairs to the upper level. At least here he could get Chalk’s gear off him and clean him up a bit, that would help for when he came back to the land of the living. Bracken took out his cleaning cloth and his canteen. It was supposed to be for drinking, but a little wouldn’t hurt just to wipe down Chalk’s face at least. Dampening the cloth, he began cleaning around Chalks muzzle, his mouth, nose, ears, eyes…he was covered in blood…

“Chalky?”

Nothing.

Bracken’s hooves dropped to his sides as he stared down at the limp body of his friend. He reached out a hoof and felt around to see if he could find a heart beat, but he was so covered in gore it was hard to clear enough away to reach the unicorn below. Bracken closed his eyes, casting his mind back to basic training, the basics of medical aid…

“Check airways” Bracken said to himself quietly, trying to picture the lecture, the room full of disinterested and bored students.

He levered Chalk’s mouth open. It was clear.

“Check for a heartbeat” He leaned his ear next to Chalk’s mouth, but there was nothing; no telltale sound of breathing and even his chest remained still.

“Mirror…” Bracken searching in his pack for his cleaning kit, finding the small travel mirror in his wash kit. Pulling it out, he held it in front of Chalk’s mouth to see if his breath misted it. But it too, showed the despairing stallion what he already suspected.

Bracken manouvered Chalk’s body into a position where he could try one last thing. Sinking to his haunches beside his fallen friend, he checked his airway was clear and placed his hooves on his chest ready to start compression. His instructors had told him that at this stage, without magical intervention, the patient was most likely too far gone, but there was no way in this goddess forsaken world he would…

There was a scraping sound behind him.

Bracken froze, his hooves reaching for his sword. The sound was getting louder, and it was coming from the doorway. A sudden wave of realisation washed over him…and anger. Pushing himself up, he scooted into the corner and extinguished the lantern. The sound grew louder.

Bracken waited. With a final scrape, the door swung open fully, and the familiar figure of a silver coated stallion walked in, looking around himself. But this pony wasn’t showing any signs of nervousness, nor fear, no…he was looking for something, or rather, somepony. Dulled sunlight flowed into the room behind him, illuminating the broken form of Chalky, his white coated so slick and matted with blood he looked like he’d been flayed. Brindle however, instead of being shocked at the horrific sight, chuckled,

“My darlin’s didn’t like their dinner eh?” The old stallion walked up to the unicorn and prodded him with a hoof, “Still kickin’? Huh! Guess them’s is picky too sometimes.” He leaned down and lifted up Chalk’s pack, “Nah then, let’s see what goodies yer brought fer old Brindle,” he opened the pack and peered inside, “then we kin see what yer pal has fer me too.”

Wait…Chalk was ‘still kicking’? He was still alive? A spark of hope flickered in Bracken’s heart, the feeling surging through him, fighting the other emotions that were beginning to vie for his attention. But one won out, its insidious tendrils snaking their way through his mind and heart; he welcomed it, revelled in it. Bracken narrowed his eyes and focussed.

“Guess we’ll leave yer, then” Brindle muttered, throwing Chalk’s pack over his shoulder, “I’ll put yer wit the rest later.”

“Don’t…bucking…move.”

The silver stallion froze, clucking his tongue in annoyance,

“Missed ya did they?”

Bracken flicked off the safety on his crossbow,

“What have you done, Brindle?”

“Me?” The old stallions grinned, “Ah ain’t done nuttin! Ah came ta rescue ya.”

Bracken levelled the crossbow, the deadly point aiming right at the old stallions head,
“Let’s assume for a moment I don’t believe a single bucking word you say.” He said his hoof twitching on the release lever, “Let’s also assume that if I even begin to suspect the next words out of your filthy are lies as well, I’ll paint that wall with your stinking brains.”

“Ya wouldn’t murder an old pony in old blood, would yer?” Brindle sneered.

Bracken smiled back at him, “I’ve killed thestrals, I’ve killed minotaurs, what makes you think I wouldn’t kill some weasly old murderer like you? You’re not fit to lick my shoes.”

“Murderer?” Brindle asked innocently, “How can ya say…”

“-Shut your mouth or I’ll drop you where you stand you damned vermin!” Bracken snarled, the anger and hatred he felt, burning through his veins. Goddesses, he wanted to kill this scum, he wanted so badly to send his reeking soul straight to the afterlife in a burning screaming mess of writhing agony, “What have done to my friend?”

“Ah haven’t d…” Brindle paused. The old stallion licked his lips and looked round at the crossbow pointing at him. He took a breath and started again, “The critters ‘ere av a poison in their bite, sends a pony into shock, stuns ‘em right good.” He grinned cruelly, “Stops ‘em movin’ while they feed. Don’t likes ‘em kickin’ see.” Brindle’s eyes took on a look of unimaginable cruelty, “He kin still here ya though, still see ya…an’ he kin feel…everythin’”

If the stallion was trying to unsettle Bracken, it didn’t work. As horrifying and sickening as the fate of the other ponies in the room below must have been, all he was focussed on now was getting his friend and himself out alive. But there was one thing he needed to know,

“You have an antidote?”

Brindle shrugged, “Might ‘av? What’s it worth ta yer?”

Bracken hefted the crossbow, “Your life.”

The stallion shrugged, “Guess ya got me, boy.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pottery bottle.

“Put it on the floor, nice and slow.” Bracken instructed, “Any funny moves and you’ll be going to meet those ponies you’ve murdered, and I don’t think they’ll be exactly happy to see you.”

Brindle snorted, pushing the bottle towards Bracken who pocketed it quickly,

“Now, pick him up, and his gear...”

Bracken walked out first, checking the area was clear, watching the angles, the high places, the possible danger points. All his military training, the hours of drills and schooling, all flooding back as if responding to his unspoken need. The old stallion followed him out cautiously, his cold eyes never leaving him. At Bracken’s signal, he lowered the still form of Chalk to the ground,

“Right, ya got yer friend, now what?”

Bracken’s expression never wavered, “I want you to go back in,”

“WHAT?!”

“That’s right.” Bracken said, calmly, “I want you to go back in, and collect every single one of these you find.” He waved the identity tag in front of the silver stallion, “Every…single…one.”

“But…”

Bracken lifted the crossbow, “Goodbye, Brindle.”

“No! Wait…” Brindle hung his head, “Ah’ll do it, just…just wait.”

Without another word, the silver stallion lifted up his lantern and disappeared down the steps. Bracken watched him go, then let out the pent up breath he’d been holding in. Quickly, he put down the crossbow and went to Chalk’s side, lifting his head. As gently as he could, Bracken pried open his friend’s mouth and poured in the clear liquid from the pottery bottle. Chalk didn’t swallow, the liquid simply pooling in his mouth. His heart thumping hard, Bracken held the unicorn’s mouth shut and lifted his head, stroking his neck gently but firmly, all the while praying silently to whichever of the goddesses would listen and lend their aid. Finally, with a choking gasp, Chalk’s body spasmed and was still. Bracken allowed himself a small smile of relief; it was the first sign of life he’d seen from the white unicorn since he’d collapsed in the crystal chamber. Now, he’d have to…

“Here! Ah’ve got ‘em all.”

Brindle stood in the doorway, holding a bunch of identity tags in his mouth.

“Throw them over here” Bracken called, walking over to him. The silver stallion complied, backing away as the black earth pony advanced on him, drawing his sword.

“Hang on! Yer said yer wouldn’t kill me!”

Bracken paused, “I did didn’t I?” he said scratching his chin, “Tell me, Brindle, did those ponies down there beg and plead for their lives? Did they come here, thinking you were helping them too?”

The old stallion remained silent.

“You did this, all of this, so you could rob them, didn’t you? Your house is full of the things you stole from the bodies of the ponies you murdered.”

Silence.

Bracken looked away for a moment to his friend, to the pile of tags, and closed his eyes. One of his mother’s favourite passages from the ‘book of the moon’ came to mind. His voice was low, cold and devoid of emotion as he glared unadulterated hatred at the evil pony before him,

“As ye sow, so shall ye reap.”

“Wha…?”

Bracken span, his kick taking the old pony off his hooves and throwing him backwards down the stairs into a sprawling heap. Calmly, Bracken walked to the door and pressed the panel beside it, the one with the fresh scuff marks on he wished he’d seen before this horrible experience had begun. In the darkening room, Brindle pulled himself back to his hooves and made for the door,

“No! Yer can’t!”

“Oh, yes I can, Brindle” Bracken snarled, “Listen…your friends are waiting for you.” The chittering and squeaking coming from further back in the room was getting louder by the second, “They sound hungry. Won’t you join them for dinner?”

“You…!”

The door slammed shut just as the screaming began, the blood chilling sound cut dead, leaving the open surface of the island as quiet as a graveyard. And, in many ways, that was exactly what it was.

A fleeting feeling of regret sparked in Bracken’s heart, which his quickly quashed. It was a just end, an end that seemed…’fitting’ somehow. Yes, he thought to himself, most fitting. He lifted Chalk onto his back and carried him back to the boat which, thankfully, wasn’t too far. Bracken shook his head sadly as he lowered his friend in; he weighed so little, even with his pack. His friend…he had to get him help, proper help. Bracken made the unresponsive unicorn as comfortable as possible with the blankets and cloaks. It might not look pretty, but it would keep the worst of the cold and water off him. After packing the rest of their gear into the small craft, the black stallion pushed it out into the water, running out the oars and, after a few false starts, heaved them into the flow of the river. He looked up at the sky; they were losing the light already, the sun sinking below the horizon somewhere behind the mass of lead grey clouds. Bracken shook his mane. Brindle had been right about one thing, it was beginning to rain. Still, he reasoned, anything was better than staying on that island, and right now, he never wanted to see another crystal as long as he lived.

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

“HEY! Hey up there, give us a hoof! I’ve got a hurt pony here!”

The appaloosa stallion on the dock peered over the edge,

“Hang on, I’ll get somepony.” The spotted pony disappeared, his hoofsteps fading into the distance.

Bracken finished tying the boat up and checked on Chalk. He still looked painfully drawn, his face sunken and his eyes had never opened all the way to Drakestown, but at least he looked like he was breathing…barely. By the looks of it, the tidal wave of war hadn’t affected this place, or at least not yet. Still, the town had always been considered ‘out of the way’ from most trading routes, with the exception being the river. One of the advantages of this place though was that they had a clinic, rather than the usual local quack like the one they had back home.

“Ahoy! Somepony said you needed help?”A voice called down.

“Yes!” Bracken called up to the bronze coloured stallion looking down at him, “My friend’s hurt, I need to get him to the clinic.”

“No problem, friend.” The stallion turned to somepony beside him and a stretcher attached to ropes suddenly appeared over the edge, “Can you get him on here?”

He could, all too easily. Chalk weighed so little, it was like lifting a sack of feathers. Bracken’s heart felt like it was being squeezed, yet as much as it hurt him, he had a single focus, and that was to get his friend help as quickly as possible.

“Okay!” The bronze pony called down, “He tied on okay? We’re going to bring him up.”

Bracken waved a hoof.

“Right boys, haul away!”

Chalk shot up the side of the dock like a cork from a bottle, the ponies on the dock muttering to one another about how light he was. Bracken ignored them, busying himself with collecting their gear and hauling himself up the steep steps to the top of the dock.

The small group of ponies parted, the bronze stallion, apparently the one in charge, shook his mane and motioned to Bracken’s numerous packs,

“Help him get them on the cart boys and we’ll load this chap on too.” The bronze coated pony directed the dockside team like a conductor with an orchestra. Everypony seemed to know exactly what to do, and were good at what they did. Sure enough, a cart had been brought up, clearly in anticipation of taking an injured pony to the clinic. What they didn’t expect was the blood soaked appearance of Chalk Dust, and that was only the part of him Bracken had been able to wipe down. His friends white coat made him look like he’d been cut to ribbons. The appaloosa stallion shook his head sadly,

“Friend, I don’t think he’s…”

“He’s alive!” Bracken snapped unintentionally, “He’s…look, i’m sorry, I know it looks bad, but believe me, he’s just in shock, that’s all.”

“No time.” The bronze pony said urgently, trotting up to Bracken, “You want a ride in the back or your hooves good?”

Bracken shook his head, “I need a stretch, sir, and…thanks.”

“Never mind that now,” the stallion replied, waving to his team, “you can get me a wheat beer later if you like.”

The group headed out along the cobbled streets, the clatter of their hooves, along with the rumble of the cart’s wheels sounded deafeningly loud as it echoed off the buildings. Taking one corner and then the next, Bracken felt his spirits lift slightly as the familiar large blue cross and horseshoe sign of the clinic appeared, swinging slightly in the breeze. The bronze stallion ran up the short flight of steps to the door and hammered on it,

“Doc, DOC! We got an injured pony here! DOC!”

A window opened above the door followed by a purple muzzle,

“What the hells going on? Gal? Is that you? What’s all the…” the male unicorn suddenly took in the pony lying in the cart, “Hang on, I’m coming down.”

A few agonisingly long seconds passed before the door was pulled open by the good Doctor. He’d donned a white coat, stethoscope and was busy pulling on a pair of round lens spectacles,

“Get him inside quickly, straight onto the table if you please.”

The bronze pony nodded to his team, “Okay, boys, you heard the pony.”

Bracken followed the rest of them inside, feeling in an odd way like little more than a bystander. He’d wanted to help Chalk himself, but without medical knowledge, what could he do? The two of them had relied on each other for so long, to now be only able to stand by and watch was one of the hardest things he’d ever done. Thankfully, it looked like the doctor knew what he was doing.

The ponies deposited their charge onto a long table in a cleanly scrubbed room, with large windows providing a surprisingly good level of light. The blankets were removed and the bloodied and gore soaked pony beneath was revealed, much to the shocked mutterings of the dock workers. The doctor looked up at Bracken, his expression, by comparison to the others, was completely neutral,

“Are you his friend?”

“Yes, Sir” Bracken replied.

“Tell me what happened to him, and be to the point.”

“Yes, Sir.” Bracken dumped the packs and bags behind him as he explained, “We were attacked by these small blue creatures. We fought them off, but Chalky was swamped by them. I believe they carry some sort of venom, but he’s had an antidote for it. He’s not moved since.”

As Bracken talked, the doctor examined the still unmoving unicorn, instructing his now numerous volunteers to begin cleaning their patient while he worked. With some relief, Bracken noticed the doctor listening to his friend’s chest and nodding. Maybe there wasn’t much in it, but it was still a spark of hope that he clung to desperately as he watched the purple unicorn at work.

There was a commotion from outside and a white coated unicorn mare hurried in,

“Doctor Alright, one of the ponies from the dock said we had an emergency?”

“Ah, Nurse Chess, thank you.” The doctor waved towards a medicine cabinet full of brightly coloured bottles of liquid, “Bring me the Equiphrine and Smirfactin Antivenom, please.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

There was a dreadful sense of tension in the room as the doctor worked. Back and forth the medical ponies moved like choreographed dancers as various items of equipment, bottles, tubes, and the goddesses knew what else, quickly began to appear around the bed with the pathetic figure of Chalk Dust at the centre of it all.

Bracken nearly jumped out of his skin when a quiet voice beside him spoke,

“You were on that island weren’t you?”

“We were,” Bracken replied to the bronze earth pony, “Some old stallion tricked us into going into a room and locked us in there with these blue things.”

“Who was it?” The pony asked, casting a glance back at the doctor.

“Called himself Brindle,” Bracken replied, “a silver earth stallion.”

Gal’s brow pulled down, “Brindle? Dear goddesses, are you sure that was his name?”

“I’ll never forget him as long as I live,” Bracken said in hushed tones, “did you know him?”

“Did? You mean?” The stallion shook his head sadly, “Yes, most folk in town did. He used to travel up here and trade for food and other supplies. He always had interesting things for sale too.” He sighed, “There’ve been a lot of disappearances along the river over the years, but we put it down to the treacherous currents that can spring up around there. That island’s flooded for a good part of the year, and most give it a wide birth. Many of us knew Brindle from way back, when he worked as a river pilot in his younger days. He moved into a village nearby when he retired, saying he would keep ponies away from the place.” He closed his eyes and rubbed his face, “I’d like to say you were wrong about him, but…” he trailed off. “The names Galliard, but you can call be Gal.”

Bracken reached up and shook his hoof, “Bracken, Brack to my friends. Thanks, Gal, to you and your ponies. We would have been in a mess without your help.”

“I don’t think your friends out of the woods yet, Brack,” Gal said, “We’ve had ponies here before who’ve been bitten by those things, but not for a long time.”

“What the hell were they?” Bracken asked, “I’ve never heard of anything like them before.”

“Pixies” Gal said quietly, “Nasty bloody things. They mostly live in caves, usually up north apparently where the cold suits them.”

“That old rat…” Bracken hissed, “We thought he was pulling our leg about them.” He shook his mane, “I bet he got a kick out of that one.”

Gal gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder,

“Don’t worry too much, Brack, doc Alright knows his stuff.”

Bracken nodded. Goddess, his hoped so, but by the look of the ongoing work on his friend, it looked like there would be a long day of worrying and waiting ahead.

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

“Mister Bracken?”

The black stallion opened his eyes. Damn! He must have dozed off. The stress and panic, not to mention piloting that bloody boat all night had taken him to the point of exhaustion. He looked up hopefully into the eyes of the doctor,

“How is he?”

The doctor shook his head, “I won’t lie to you Mister Bracken, your friends in a bad way.” He pulled up a chair and wiped his forehead with a cloth, “I’ve seen Pixie venom injuries before, but never so many.”

“But…” Bracken stammered, “I gave him the antidote, wasn’t it enough?”

“Enough to keep him alive until I could give him enough,” doctor Alright replied, “but i’m afraid that’s only half of it. Did Chalky use a lot of magic recently?”

Bracken nodded, “When those things swarmed us, he did, yes. If he hadn’t, we wouldn’t be here now.”

“No doubt,” Alright said, “Tell me, Bracken, have you heard of ‘magical burnout’?” Bracken shook his head. “It’s when a unicorn pushes him or herself beyond what they could normally achieve, rather like expelling all the air from your lungs, but pushing…” the doctor waved his hooves for emphasis, “so hard you actually pass out.”

“I’ve…” Bracken paused, thinking back to…he shook his head. Oh goddesses, the school! “Yes,” he said solemnly, “He’s done it before, and he ended up unconscious then too. But even so, it was years ago and he wasn’t as bad as this.”

“Hmm.” The doctor scrubbed his chin in thought, “Interesting. Mister Bracken, your friend is suffering from what looks like a high level of stress, together with shock from his injuries and the Pixie venom, but also burnout.”

“But…he will get better though, won’t he?” Bracken asked hopefully.

Doctor Alright clopped Bracken on the knee,

“We’ll know in the next few hours. If he gets through them, he should make a good recovery.”

Bracken’s heart sank, “’Good’ recovery? Not, ‘Full’ recover?”

The purple stallion shook his head, “Bracken, your friend nearly fried his own brain. I know you’re not a unicorn and unlikely to know what it feels like to expend a great deal of magical energy, but believe me when I tell you, your body can only take so much before something ‘gives’.” He scratched his mane and yawned, “If Chalky recovers, he won’t be able to use magic like that again or else next time, may well be the last time. Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”

Bracken hung his head, “Yes,” he said quietly, “I do.”

“Good.” Doctor Alright said smiling suddenly, “He’s a lucky pony to have a friend like you, Bracken, a very lucky pony indeed. Now, do you have somewhere to stay tonight?”

“No,” Bracken said, his heart sinking, “I came straight here.”

“Well, I’d invite you to stay here, but there’s precious little room. I’d suggest you go see Wood Tick at the Panned Ferret, he’ll put you up and…” he gave Bracken a poke in the chest, grinning, “You need a bath.”

“But…”

“But nothing,” Doctor Alright said bluntly, fixing Bracken with a hard look “If he gives you any trouble tell him I sent you. Now,” he patted Bracken’s leg again, “don’t worry about young Chalk Dust here, he’s in good hooves. Come see me in the morning, around ten.”

Bracken nodded, “Oh…okay, doctor.”

Outside, it was pitch black other than for the small pools of light cast by the large street lanterns which a thin yellow pegasus mare was busy lighting with a long taper. The tavern however, wasn’t hard to find thanks to the bright light spilling from its leaded windows, rowdy chatter and the loud music. Bracken paused. Memories of Spurs Anvil pushed through his consciousness vying for his attention, each one more unpleasant than the last. He shook his head. This was wasn’t the Full Moon, it wasn’t Spurs Anvil…Damn it! What was wrong with him? He was nearly home! Bracken wasn’t a nervous pony normally, but after everything that had been going on lately, not to mention having an inexplicable gaping hole in his memory, he was fast approaching breaking point, and he knew it. He needed a bath, food, and a good nights sleep or else he’d be no good to anypony, least of all his best friend. He gave himself a good shake, and with a whinny, trotted purposefully for the tavern door.

The Panned Ferret was in full swing. A typical small town tavern, it had been his semi-regular haunt with Chalk from when they’d been old enough to be allowed drinks. Bracken, being the larger of the two and considerably bulkier, had always looked the oldest. As such, he’d often been the one to buy the drinks from the not so vigilant bar mare. He’d all too quickly discovered alcohol and its effects, as had the easily inebriated white unicorn as it turned out. Chalk, apparently, couldn’t hold his drink that well and would suddenly consider himself to be an accomplished acrobat after several pints. Bracken smiled at the memory; how the daft bugger hadn’t fallen off the dock wall was anyponies guess. Tonight, music was being played by an enthusiastic group of ponies, who actually appeared to be really quite good. Bracken pushed his way to bar through the throng and looked over to the musicians, recognising the chorus of, ‘Rat in the bed’. He loved that tune…

“What can I get you, flower?”

Bracken smiled at the charcoal coated mare behind the bar. Something nostalgic sounded nice,

“A wheat beer and a room, please”

“Doc Alright’s sent word you were coming,” she passed him a large iron key, “Room five’s been reserved for you. We’ll send up a hot meal at eight and the bath house is out the back. This time of night, the water will be at its best.”

“Thanks,” Bracken nodded, “Busy tonight.”

“Aye, it’s all the refugees,” the bar mare said matter-of-factly, “been flooding in for weeks.” She leaned in conspiratorially, “I reckon it’s them Legion characters; has them right scared. Good for trade though.”

“Any news from Wellford Springs?” Bracken asked.

“Nah,” she shook her head, “not for a while. Last we heard all the younger ones had gone off to fight and only the really young and old were left behind. You from there?”

“Yeah,” Bracken replied taking a mouthful of his beer, closing his eyes as the foaming brew slipped down his throat, “Once my pal’s back on his hooves, we’re going home.”

“Don’t blame you” She nodded to him and hurried off to serve another customer, leaving Bracken to ponder.

The bar mare hadn’t been exaggerating; the tavern was overflowing with ponies he’d never seen before, all of them crammed in like sardines. He still tried to see if the bronze pony was there with his fellow dockworkers, but of his new found friends, there was no sign. Bracken shrugged. As much as he’d like to share a pint with Gal and his ponies, he doubted they’d appreciate him passing out in front of them from exhaustion. He finished his drink and headed for his room where he dumped his gear, locked the door and trotted down the back stairs to the familiar bathhouse.

Steam greeted him, with all its warm tantalising allure. On a cold night like this, the bathhouse was often packed out, but if you got the time right, then you could enjoy the water for yourself…most of time. The large round bath tubs were arranged in a wide circle, with steps leading up to each one with a pony ferrying towels and soaps to the washing area at the far end. Bracken sat himself down on the raised, slotted planking and dumped a bucket of warm water over himself, nearly shrieking in shock at the sensation. Another bucket, and then another, the warmth soaking through his fur felt like heaven sent. Goddesses, he could get used to this! Still, a good soaping was next, along with the bath house supplied curry combs and brushes. He shrugged to himself; no mares to help him this time. It was a shame really, it had all felt ridiculously wonderful, if a little embarrassing. He sighed, remembering the feeling of Pickles’ warm fur against his own, her beautiful pink mane and those large lantern yellow eyes…he hoped she was alright.

Soon, soaped, rinsed and with most of the tangles out of his hair, Bracken walked up the steps to the nearest steaming tub and walked down the steps into the hot water. He closed his eyes and groaned; how something could feel so good was beyond imagination…

Comments

[That One Brony Dude]

Holy crap! So, Brindle wanted to kill them Gollum-style, by luring them into a place where they would be killed by creepy beings with paralyzing poison. That has to be the darkest thing I've read on this site to date. Even the assassination of Dray's family seems almost happy in comparison. It goes without saying that Brindle got exactly what he deserved (maybe someday, that pathetic horse cock Ochre can join him). I'll keep my fingers crossed for Chalk's sake. May the goddesses weep for all eternity should he die before having a chance to make up with Gretel.

[Truthseeker]

Brindle got what he deserved. Poetic justice.