Ice Fall

by Bluespectre

Chapter Thirty Four - Reunited

CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR

REUNITED

The dockside was cold, bitterly cold. This time of year the normally stifling heat of the port was replaced with a bone chilling drop in temperature that, if nothing else, at least had the relatively welcome side effect of reducing the ambient stink of rotting piles of waste to almost bearable levels. Like some amorphous sentient being, the roads and alleys were covered in a rolling low lying fog, the otherworldly feeling it inspired made all the more disturbing by the fact that you could actually see the white clouds pouring off the accumulated filth of decades.

Spurs Anvil had been a bustling port once, where peoples of all species and nations would visit to trade: Llamalian’s, Yakistani’s, Equestrians, Griffins, and more besides. It wasn’t long before the port had been forced to expand out into the surrounding countryside to accompany its burgeoning population and similarly growing wealth. Back then Spurs Anvil had been a living, breathing creature all of its own. The buildings were its body, the roads and alleys its arteries and veins, and throughout it all, the ports life blood - trade. Now, many of those once proud buildings had decayed and collapsed in on themselves, the warehouses, once so full of exotic goods from around the known world, these days were more likely to be full of mice and rats than crates of sweet smelling spices.

There had been cotton, silks, fine china and bolts of the most magnificently embroidered cloth. So many of the land’s ladies and gentlecolts would gather here to see the latest trending fashions from around the Crystal Empire or the Llamalian Empire. The docks, markets and merchants were awash with wondrous items in a riot of colours, with blues deep as the ocean, greens like emeralds, gold as rich as the temples of the Goddesses and reds as lush as the first bloom of on a maiden’s cheeks.

It had all gone now, mostly. Only the memories, the faded ghosts of a more prosperous time…a happier time, remained. Oh, how she would have loved to have seen it back then! The stallions in their suits and top hats, the ladies in the long gowns, hats and parasols…so magnificent, so beautiful. Pickles smiled to herself as she walked, her breath coming a little ragged today, but it was of no importance; the cold was probably just catching her chest and besides, Hay Wain’s building was just ahead. She pondered the strange creature and the dealings she’d had with him over the years. To be blunt, he was a villain, of that there was little doubt and he would more than likely be the first to simply agree with anypony who pointed that out to him. Still, he was very ‘old school’ in many respects and had a certain honourability about him that garnered a great deal of respect amongst the port’s more permanent inhabitants. Pickles had known him for many years, from the first day she’d arrived in fact. He’d never changed. The sea green mare smiled to herself demurely. Hay Wain had been quite dashing back then, if a little strange for her tastes, what with the feathers and that sharp looking beak of his. She knew she was being petty, but just couldn’t really see herself coping with that. There was something intimidating about it all that made her shiver inside. Some of her girls’ clients were griffins of course, although not many, truth be told. Most species had a tendency to stick to their own kind unless they had some itch they couldn’t scratch, and Pickles’ place was the place to get those itches well and truly scratched. Most left with a smile on their face, those that didn’t tended to do so on the end of Fix’s hooves…painfully.

Pickles’ hooves clopped along on the hard cobbles. This was one of the few areas in Spurs Anvil that anypony bothered to sweep, but then, when you owned virtually everything in the port, it didn’t do to look like you were wallowing in the same filth as everypony else.

The burly guards outside, Hay Wain’s hired thugs, didn’t even bother to ask what she was doing there. It was one of the few perks she had living in this squalid cess pool at the arse end of Equestria; not that being freely allowed to visit a noted crime boss was anything to brag about.

She walked up the steps, through the musty smelling halls and up the long flight of scarlet carpeted stairs. It had been quite a beautiful building once, but Hay Wain wasn’t that bothered by such things as replacing old carpets. The enigmatic griffin maintained everything here at a certain level, but he was the sort of creature that kept it at the level of ‘necessity’. It was necessary for example to have a carpet, so he had one, it was necessary to have lamps, so he had them. Everything had a level, and that level was, for the most part, intensely dull. Pickles could possibly have overlooked her phobia about feathers if he hadn’t been so damnably boring, but then, perhaps she was being a tad unfair. So far, Hay Wain hadn’t crossed that invisible line that would take him from respected, to hated, and in Spurs Anvil that was no easy task.

Pickles knocked on the heavy dark wood door.

“Come in.”

She pushed it open and stepped inside, closing the well made portal behind her. It was yet another reminder of the old Empire, and so typical of those times: tastefully carved with vine leaves and scenes of a land she had never seen. Most importantly, it had been made to last. Strangely, she’d never really paid much attention to the smaller details before, but now it seemed to impact on her just how much she’d been missing…

“Madam Pickles, a pleasure to see you this fine day.” Hay Wain smiled, rising from his chair and indicating a vacant seat, “Unexpected of course, but a pleasure nonetheless. If only I’d had word you would be visiting me today I would have had my assistant bring us tea and cakes. Sadly, he appears to be missing. I expect he’s taken the day off and forgotten to inform me.”

Pickles smiled, “How remiss of him, Mister Wain.” She swept her dress neatly beneath herself as she lowered her body into the seat. It was cushioned velvet, comfortable and, as always, practical. She took a deep breath, the room was chilly despite the fire that crackled and snapped in the large hearth. Of course, it didn’t help that the old griffin had left the window open. She smiled to herself; it was always open. ‘Must be a griffin thing’, she summised.

“I must say, Madam Pickles, it is quite a surprise for you to stop by these days. Although I have to say, not an unpleasant one” Hay Wain smiled, “Not in the slightest.”

“You flatter me, Mister Wain.” Pickles replied lightly, “Thank you for seeing me today, and forgive my rudeness in not sending word first.”

“Not at all,” he said walking over to his drinks cabinet, “Brandy? I have some excellent Yak brandy, aged I believe in casks some two centuries old.”

“Sounds wonderful,” Pickles said politely, “thank you, I will.”

The griffin removed the stopper from his crystal brandy decanter and poured the sparkling spirit into two equally sparkling crystal glasses,

“Forgive me for asking,” Hay Wain said politely, “but may I ask the purpose of your visit? I suspect Madam is not in the habit of making social calls to single griffins.”

He passed Pickles the glass which she took in her forehooves, earning an interested glance from the griffin,

“Mister Wain, you may recall you very kindly loaned me the money to buy my property when I first began to…’trade’ there.” She took a sip of the brandy, feeling the warmth of it slip down her throat. It was delicious, so flavourful and warming…

“Indeed,” the griffin replied, “and you will also recall I said you had no need to concern yourself with repayment due to the kindness you showed my sister when she had been…hurt.”

Pickles nodded sadly, “Thank you Mister Wain, however I don’t believe I deserve the credit you give me for what was, after all, a simple act.”

The old griffin harrumphed, “Hardly a ‘simple act’, Madam, it nearly cost you your life.” He sat back down in his chair and raised a feathery eyebrow, “Now, what’s this about…really.”

Pickles chuckled, “I’ll be straight to the point. I fear I am somewhat short on time today.” She cleared her throat, “I wish to pay the loan off and buy the property completely, including all rights and deeds.”

Hay Wain’s eyes narrowed, “I am curious as to why you would decide to do that now.” He leaned forward, resting his chin on the tips of his claws.

“Mister Wain…”

The griffin suddenly slapped his claw on the table top and reached down into a drawer, “It matters not,” he said abruptly, “of course you may. I have it here.” A few moments later, the paperwork appeared.

Pickles raised an eyebrow, “Quite a trick, Mister Wain. I thought you would have it locked away in a safe somewhere. You seem very trusting.”

Hay Wain shrugged, “I keep mostly…’personal’ documents in here, but then, who would break in here? I am a respected business griffin and a pillar of society.” He laughed, making Pickles smile too. He still had that charm, and, she noticed, the same twinkle in his eye that had turned many a girls head when he was younger.

Pickles began to take out a bag of bits from her purse, but Wain held up a claw forestalling her as he peered intently at the paperwork,

“Wait, please.” He read it through and nodded to himself, “It would appear to have already been paid in full. Interesting.” He passed her the deeds and rights to her property, “Forgive my tardiness, Madam Pickles, this should have been delivered to you some time ago. Please accept my sincerest apologies for my careless oversight.”

The sea green mare looked up at him and shook her head slowly,

“Why?”

He sniffed, “Why does the sun shine in the morning, the wind blow through the trees, and the birds fly?”

Pickles beamed at him, “Is that some sort of griffin saying?”

“No,” Hay Wain said quietly, “not particularly.” He rose from his chair and walked around to hers, “Madam Pickles, we have know each other for many years, you and I.” he took a deep breath, “Is there anything I can do for you?”

She smiled wanly, her big yellow eyes catching the firelight as she shrugged demurely, “I’m sorry, Mister Wain. There are some things that even money cannot mend.”

Hay Wain stood watching her as she sipped her brandy and stared into the fire. “There is something I’ve always wanted to ask you.” She said politely, “If I’m being too personal, please say so, but I would dearly like to know.”

The old griffin nodded, “Of course, Madam Pickles, if I can answer, I shall.”

Pickles smiled, “Your name, ‘Hay Wain’. Why an Equestrian name?”

“Ah.” He looked away for a moment then walked slowly over to the mantelpiece, nodding towards an old painting of two griffins, “My mother and father. Mother was what you might call an aberration in our family - she was half griffin, half pony.”

“A hippogriff?” Pickles said in surprise.

Hay Wain’s face took on an expression Pickles could only describe as…gentle. “Yes,” he said quietly, “and a wonderful creature she was too. Kind, loving, and generous. All the best qualities that Equestrian’s value, yes?”

Pickles nodded slowly, “Yes, very much so. Although, perhaps, in a more ideal world.”

“True,” Hay Wain replied. He gazed up at the picture, “but she was ostracised by both peoples, Equestrian and Griffin. Strange isn’t it? All that fluff about friendship and love, yet when it came to somepony who was a little different, she was treated like an outcast.” He shook his head sadly, “When I was born, I think it was a relief to my parents that I was a full griffin.” Hay Wain gently ran his claw down the frame of the picture, his voice wistful and distant, “She wouldn’t have wanted me to…to be like her…”

Pickles stood, laying a hoof upon his shoulder, “Mister Wain, I’m sorry, I’ve made you remember something painful…forgive me.”

“No, not at all.” Hay Wain took her hoof and kissed it, “It should never be painful to remember those you love.”

Pickles chuckled, “Ah, if only that were true!”

The old griffin shook his head with a wry smile, “Honestly, Madam Pickles, I had thought you would be coming here to enquire about your…friend.”

Pickles lowered her eyes together with her voice, “No, not really. I had been concerned initially I’ll admit, but I believe you and I know each other better than that after all this time.”

The griffin smiled, “Indeed we do. You may like to know however, that the party that kidnapped your friend were dealt with, and both he and one other pony appear to have gone on their way unharmed.”

Pickles’ heart leaped, “Dealt with?”

“Oh yes,” Hay Wain explained, “but not by my…associates. Our two young friends appear to have beaten them to the punch so to speak. Quite enterprising individuals I must say.”

“But…he’s safe?” she asked anxiously.

“So far as I know,” the old griffin smiled, “I hope this is good news for you.”

“It is…” Pickles sighed, “it…” she suddenly stumbled, the room lurching slightly beneath her hooves.

“Madam!” Hay Wain caught her in his claws, “Are you alright? I can call my physician to…”

“-No…” Pickles held up a hoof, “It’s alright, Mister Wain, truly. I’m afraid your wonderful brandy must have affected me a little more than I thought.”

“At least let me have a sedan chair brought round for you.” The griffin offered.

“No, please Hay Wain,” Pickles shook her head, her mane catching the sunlight as she turned toward the door, “thank you, but i’d rather walk today. It’s such a beautiful day outside.”

Hay Wain walked with her to the door as she stopped and turned to look back at him,

“I always thought you were a devilishly handsome griffin, you know. Your mother must have been so very proud of you.”

Hay Wain nodded, “I think she was, Madam Pickles, I really do.”

She smiled and bobbed her head, trotting down the stairs and out the front door, taking a quick backward glance at the once magnificent building and the old griffin watching her go from out of his window. She gave him a wave and headed back to the house, back along the hard cobbled road that ran near the dockside.

Pickles slowed her pace, walking carefully. The cobbles could be treacherous when the weather became wintry and many a pony had pulled a fetlock or chipped a hoof on the hard things. She could never really understand why the Empire had built the place like that in the first place. After all, pony hooves didn’t seem to grip too well on them unless you wore over shoes or boots. She didn’t like wearing them either, they were clunky, workponylike things that a dignified lady simply wouldn’t wear! But tonight, it was just so cold, she was beginning to wish she’d bought that Yak coat the travelling sales llama had tried to sell her. The odd fellow had been so insistent too,

“One hundred percent genuine Yak!” he’d said, “Guaranteed to keep a pony warm on even the coldest days!”

Goddesses knew how the Yak was going to keep him or herself warm with no fur. She sniffed. It was so typical of Llamalians, and no wonder their eternal enemies the Yaks were so warlike. Anypony would be if they turned your people into winter coats. Still, it had been wonderfully warm…

A rush of cold ran through her and she let out a hacking cough. Damn this weather! Why was it so bloody cold? Looking up, she could see the sun beginning to dip lower in the sky. This time of year, the dark mornings and early nights were bad for trade as many ponies simply wanted to keep warm and hibernate like bears, but that said, there were always those whose friskiness knew no bounds. And then of course, there were the old hooves, who just liked to sit and chat. She always had time for them, the ones who regailed her with their magical stories of adventures in far away lands. It made her world, her tiny brick, tile and plaster world, seem less of a prison and more of a…home.

Pickles watched the sun as it began to set, the huge orange orb gradually dropping down as if it were sinking into the sea itself. The clouds above reflected the warm rays and reflected the deep hue of Celestia’s charge out across the water. She smiled. If she looked closely, she imagine she could see sails…the old ship bringing her love back to her, the one who had left her so long ago. She shook her head. That dream had turned into a cruel awakening, hadn’t it? ‘No unicorns on ships’…she sneered. No, no unicorns, but it was fine to steal her daughter like some damned thief in the night and leave her all alone, wasn’t it.

Pickles shook her mane, trying to dislodge the unwelcome memories. It didn’t do to live in the past, nor did it do to live in the world of wishful thinking. He’d gone now, as indeed had the only one she’d felt anything for since then. It wasn’t surprising. She’d accepted long ago the fate of one such as herself: a scarred ex-slave, used and abandoned as if she meant nothing, cast away like so much…she stopped and stared…

There silhouetted by the setting sun, sails billowing in the wind, her hull sleek and refined…

“The Revenge” she whispered to herself, and quickly trotted back to the house. She had to ready things, make things just so. Maybe, just maybe he was on there! Pickles trotted up to the door, stumbling slightly, but catching herself just in time to avoid a very unladylike entrance,

“Girls! The Revenge is coming into port, make sure everythings in order now, look lively!” She turned to Frilly and Jade, “Send Fix to meet the ship when she docks, tell him to ask Gretel to come and see me, tell her it’s important.”

Jade bobbed a curtsy, “Yes ma’am”

“Good girl.” Pickles smiled, heading for the stairs, “Oh, and send some…”

The room suddenly span horribly, the motion making her stomach churn. It was all she could do to stop herself from being sick. Frilly rushed over and caught her as she began to topple over,

“Fix! FIX! Get over here! Help me with the Ma’am.”

The lumbering lunk of a pony thudded over with his customary silence and hoisted Pickles onto his back before heading up the stairs with her slung like a sack of potatoes. She would have laughed if she’d only had the strength.

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

Pickles lay on her bed, her breathing laboured. Goddesses she was tired. All she wanted to do now was rest, but Gretel would be here soon and there was still business to attend to. Frilly and Jade were buzzing around her like worker bees with her as their queen. She chuckled at the thought, and lifted her head,

“Help me up, girls. I’ll ruin my dress lying on it like this.”

The powder blue mare, hurried to her side, her hazel eyes full of concern, “Ma’am, I don’t think you should be…” she saw Pickles’ determination and quickly relented, “Yes, ma’am.”

Frilly had been with her since she’d first arrived there as a filly - lost, frightened and alone. Her parents had been killed in a timber wolf attack on their farm and she’d simply wandered into the port one day. Pickles had tried to find her relatives, but all her enquiries had drawn a blank. Jade’s story was different, but equally tragic. She’d been sold by her parents to pay off a debt. Her ‘new husband’ had subsequently beaten her half to death and one day she’d all but crawled into Pickles home. The husband had appeared shortly afterwards but disappeared not long after he arrived. A pity nopony looked for him in the dock, but then, who would have bothered? Most of the girls here had a story - some tragic, some not so, but all of them could leave any time they wanted. Pickles’ home offered shelter, good food, good pay, and the best medical care Spurs Anvil could provide.Her girls saw her as a protective mother, one whom they cared for and treasured.

Jade brought over a cup of tea which she took gratefully. It truly was delicious, so tantalising and warming. Pickles had always appreciated good tea, and she made sure there was always a good supply on hoof. A shudder ran through her as she looked up at the two concerned mares,

“Girls, pass me my bag please.” Frilly glanced at Jade, her expression conveying her worry. Pickles smiled sadly. She didn’t want to alarm them, but this had to be done while there was still time. “Now then, Frilly, Jade, I want you to take these documents and keep them in the vault. I’ve signed over the ownership to all of you, and the establishment is to be run as a free house.”

Frilly held up a hoof, her mouth opening to speak but Pickles shook her head stopping her,

“There are stipulations, including honouring prior agreements with clients which, Jade, you have the book on. I want to leave this place in safe hooves, ladies and I know I can trust you, all of you, to carry on. Pickles’ place should be a place a mare can feel safe…” she yawned, “and protected…” Pickles leaned back in the chair, “I’m sorry girls, would you excuse me? I’m…so very tired…”

“Ma’am?” Frilly looked distraught, “I…I don’t understand, whats this all about?”

Jade paced back and forth beside her, tossing her mane. The poor girl didn’t know what to say.

“Girls, I…” Pickles stopped and stared at the open fire, the yellow flames flickering…they were so beautiful…

A loud knock on the door made them all look up in surprise as a worried looking young mare poked her head in,

“Ma’am?”

Jade pulled the door open the rest of the way in a flurry, “What?”

The newcomer opened her mouth, “It’s…”

“I’m here,” the red coated mare announced pushing into the room, “whats going on? That big lummox all but dragged me here, saying I had to hurry. What’s all the excitement about? Caught the clap have you?”

“Shut your mouth! You ignorant…!” Jade dropped into a fighting stance as she snarled at Gretel.

“Oh pull your horns in, girl,” Gretel said offhoofedly, “don’t get your tail in a knot.”

Pickles shook her head, “You never change do you?” she took a breath and waved to the other mares, “Off you go now, the good Captain and I have some things to discuss.”

Frilly stomped a hoof, “Ma’am, I’m not leaving you with her! Who know what she’ll…”

“Frilly…please.” Pickles smiled and waved to the door, “I know you’re worried for me, but I need to speak to my daughter…alone.”

Reluctantly, the powder blue mare backed out the room in silence, accompanied by a distraught looking green mare who shot Gretel a withering gaze, no doubt promising dire retribution if anything ‘untoward’ happened to their precious ‘Ma’am’. Gretel rolled her eyes, this place never changed - a house full of that kind of mare. By the Goddess how she hated coming here! And it still stank of that same bloody perfume too! She rolled her eyes,

“What is it mother?”

“And it’s nice to see you again too, dearest daughter.” Pickles waved to a chair, “Tea?”

“No thanks.” Gretel replied tartly, “Got any brandy?”

Pickles sniffed at her daughter’s lack of manners, “No. I don’t have that sort of thing in here, I find it crude. But one of the girls could bring you some from the bar…if you’re desperate.”

“Hardly” Gretel retaliated, “Now, you wanted to see me?”

“Yes, I did.” Pickles shook her head, “You’re always so busy, Gretel, running that ship and flying across the skies of Equestria.” She chuckled, “How I wish I could have joined you.”

Gretel paused. She…she what? She’d wanted to… “But, mother, why didn’t you? Dad didn’t…I mean, that is I…” What did she mean? After all this time, she’d never really asked. Pickles had always been the enemy, the whore house owner, the tart who’d left her father. Now, she was saying this?

“Your father’s love was always his ship, Gretel.” Pickles smiled, shaking her head sadly, “Not me.” She leaned forward to take the tea pot, but her hoof began to tremble and she quickly put it down, “Sorry, would you mind?”

Gretel’s brows drew down questioningly, but she reached out with her forehooves and topped up the cup with the steaming tea.

Pickles wiped her face with her lace hankie, “When you were a little filly, you felt the pull of that ship and I knew…” she stared at the tea distantly, “I knew there was no place for me.”

“But why not?” Gretel said irritably, “Because you’re a unicorn? That was all a crock of crap, a stupid misinterpretation of…”

“-I know that!” Pickles cut in, her eyes flashing in the firelight, “Have you heard Salty’s story? The real story?”

“I…yes, recently,” Gretel stuttered, surprised by her mother’s sudden change in demeanor, “that’s why we’ve come back to Spurs Anvil.”

“You’ve come for the heart, havent you.” It wasn’t a question.

Gretel was livid, “You…you knew about that?! All this time, you had the heart of the Raven and you said NOTHING?!”

Large yellow eyes look up at her from under long lashes, “Correct.” Pickles placed her cup back on its saucer, her usual unflappable self was back, “Salty is one of our clients and he asked me to look after the heart of the Raven for him. I didn’t know what it was until he’d had a few drinks one night and poured out his own heart to me; the whole sordid story.” She shook her head, “Gretel, I’ve know for years the story of the Raven’s Eye. Your father knew it too, but he kept up that fantastical story about unicorns on ships being bad luck and the ‘amended’ tale of the last voyage of the Ravens Eye spread like wildfire.”

All the colour drained from Gretels’ face as she took in what her mother was saying, “You mean…Dad knew the story was bogus, but kept it up anyway? But why? He always warned me about it!”

Pickles smiled and lifted her hoof, tapping the horn on her head meaningfully. Gretel’s eyes went wide as realisation dawned on her and all that it meant. Her father, her own beloved father, had lied to her…all this time…she began to feel a stinging in the corners of her eyes. Pickles shook her head and leaned forward to console her daughter,

“Gretel, please, I don’t want to talk about the past now, I have to tell you something important.” She took a breath, “Hay Wain didn’t have anything to do with Bracken’s abduction. I found out that both he and Chalk Dust got away from those cloaked thugs. I don’t what’s happened to two of them since, but at least we know they escaped.” She sighed, “I wanted to tell you, because I know how much that pretty young unicorn means to you.”

“Mum…” Gretel murmered hanging her head, “I know…”

“You know?”

The red mare nodded, “I had a message from the remnants of the Celestian army. Bracken and Chalky are with them now. They’re safe.”

Pickles leaned back and let out a gasp, “Oh, thank the Goddesses!” She sniffed back a tear, “I thought…I had hoped they’d be…” she snorted, “you can’t have it all can you…”

Gretel peered at her mother, “Mum? Are you alright, you don’t look too well.”

As if on que, Pickles felt a tremor run through her and she could feel a cold sweat breaking out across her body. It wouldn’t be long now. She waved to the other side of the bed,

“Behind there.”

Filled with uncertain curiosity, Gretel rose to her hooves and trotted round to the bed nearest the window. She jumped back in alarm,

“Bloody hell! It’s a body!”

It was. A chestnut coated stallion, slim and fit, wearing close fitting black clothes and belts full of knives, darts and pouchs of…

“-Don’t touch him!” Pickles said urgently, “The daggers and darts are poisoned.”

Gretel peered down at the stallion. He was stiff as a board, and no wonder, a crossbow bolt had taken him right between the eyes. There was a strange smell too; bitter and sharp like lemon but with a sort of sweetness to it that...oh Goddess, no…she knew what that was…

“It’s…” Gretel began.

“-Eternity Flower…I know.” Pickles finished quietly, “the little rat got me before I managed to do for him. Good shot though, even if I do say so myself.”

Gretel hurried back to her mother’s side, “Mum, you need a physician quickly. I’ll call…”

“NO!” Pickles snapped, suddenly coughing violently into her hanky, “G…Gretel, no…there’s no cure, and I…I have so little time left…” she closed her eyes and fought back the heavy tiredness that was threatening to pull her down into its warm embrace, “I wanted to see you…to tell you…”

Gretel took her mothers hooves in hers as the older mare looked up into her daughters eyes, he own yellow orbs shining in the reflected light from the fireplace,

“I love you, my beautiful daughter, I’ve always loved you. Please…don’t ever…don’t ever forget that.”

“Mum!” Gretel’s heart was in her throat, it was like seeing her mother for the first time. All the times she’d shunned her, ignored her and fought with her. She’d called her such cruel names, such terrible, terrible names, and now…Doc! Good Goddess, he could do something surely! She turned to the door,

“Frilly! Jade!” The door burst open at her shout, the pastel green mare’s wide eyes staring back at her,

“What? What is it?”

“Go to the Revenge!” Gretel said desperately, “Get Doc, tell him its Eternity Flower poisoning and for the Goddess’s sake girl, run like the wind!”

Without another word, Jade vanished, the sound of her hooves rapidly disappearing down the stairs. By the Goddess, that mare could run…Gretel turned back to her mother, “Mum, you’ve got to hang on,” she leaned forward and stroked her mothers beautiful pink mane, “Doc’s on his way, don’t worry, don’t…”

A sudden flush of cold ran through Pickles, making her whimper slightly as it made her vision shift. Gretel steadied her in her chair, her fur warm against her chill body,

“G…Gretel, the heart of…the Raven…it’s in the vault.” Pickles voice was little more than a whisper, “Tell Frilly to get it out for you, tell her…tell her I said it was alright…she can…”

“Mum, please!” Gretel cradled her mothers head in her forelegs, “Don’t! I can’t lose you, not now! Dear Goddess, not now…” she kissed Pickles on the forehead, “We’ll go see the Revenge, and you and I can set sail together, as we should have. You can come and live with me! Or when you like, we can…”

“Gretel…” Pickles’ voice was fading, so very quiet now Gretel could hardly hear it, “Gretel…” Her daughter leaned closer, straining to hear her, “There’s a letter on…my bed…give it to Bracken…please.” She coughed weakly, “And…and Gretel…find Chalky…you deserve to…to be…happy.”

“Mum…” Gretel sobbed, “Mum, please, you’ve got to hang on, Doc’ll only be a moment! Please!” Tears were flowing down her face as her mother tried to reach up with a shaking hoof to stroke her cheek,

“You’re such a beautiful girl…” she smiled, “I’ve always been…so very proud…of you.”

“Mum…oh Goddess no! MUM!”

Gretel hugged her mother as her body went limp. Seconds later, the door crashed open. It was Doc,

“Gretel? Frilly said somepony had…oh no…” he hurried over to Pickles, the mare hanging like a rag doll in the forelegs of her grieving daughter. He opened his panniers and set out some equipment before checking for a pulse, for breath, for anything that would indicate that…

Doc let out a breath, hanging his head, “Gretel…I’m sorry, she’s…”

The Captain rocked her mother in her forelegs, softly singing to her the old nursery rhyme she’d sung with her as a foal. It was the only one she knew, from the only time she could really remember with much clarity of the far too little time she’d spent with the sea green unicorn mare…her mother. She choked back a sob, her tears falling like rain in the warm room. She knew now, far, far too late, just how much she’d meant to her, how much time they’d wasted - time that was now gone…forever. Gretel kissed her mother on the muzzle and nuzzled her neck gently, praying her mother would hear her words in the next world,

“I love you Mum.”

Doc sat in silence as the room became a scene of the most unimaginable tragedy. Gretel continued to hold her mother while Frilly and Jade sat on their haunches weeping. The whole house was wracked with grief, even the big stallion Fix was peering into the room with tears running down his muzzle. Doc closed his eyes and waited. He would be there when Gretel needed him, for now though, she needed to be with the mare who’d bore her into this world, the same mare who had left to be with the eternal herd. Under his breath, he said a prayer to the Goddesses for the departed.

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

Moving the lanterns to better illuminate his work, Doc examined the body of the dead stallion; he had been moved from Pickles’ bedroom to the store-room until he could be disposed of properly. Of course, in Spurs Anvil that usually meant little more than being unceremoniously dumped into the dark waters of the dock. Gretel was with the rest of the household, paying her final respects and making plans for her mother’s funeral. Doc didn’t want to think about that, he had things to do and knew from painful experience that work was indeed the best cure for taking your mind off more ‘personal’ matters.

Doc adjusted his spectacles and peered closely at the corpse laid out before him. He was a young stallion, in his early twenties by the looks of him, and fit too. He had good muscle tone, his hooves were neatly trimmed, and his mane and tail kept short. His teeth were good in good condition and his cutie mark was a fairly mundane cartwheel, so he was probably from farming stock – there were plenty of those around in Equestria. Doc checked his gear next. Gretel had been right, some of the short daggers and darts were tipped with the distinctive smelling poison made from a concentration of the rare bloom known as the Eternity Flower. If it had a proper name, he didn’t know what it was, but the one it was generally known by was enough to identify its effects - it was a lethal. Poor Pickles had been dead from the moment this vile concoction had entered her bloodstream. Even if he’d arrived earlier, there was little he could have done, except perhaps make her a little more comfortable in her final minutes.In all likelihood Pickles had known that all too well.

Lifting up one of the short daggers, Doc admired the craftsponyship that had gone into making them. They were truly beautiful items and certainly worth a bit or two. He’d never seen quality of this level in an item designed to kill before, but he’d heard of it, and seen the bearers of similar looking equipment. He closed his eyes and cast his mind back, remembering the Legion camp, the tents, and the cloaked ponies who’d walked amongst the thestrals as if they were their masters. One of the ponies had called them the ‘children of the night’, Nightmare Moon’s ‘chosen people’. Doc suspected they were probably ponies dedicated to Luna before she’d turned into that despicable creature, but who could say for sure? One thing was certain though, this pony was Legion. Either that or he’d somehow acquired the same clothing and equipment they wore, and the likelihood of that was ludicrously small, besides, this stallion was quite clearly trained. Doc sighed and shook his head. What was more intriguing though was the reason behind this; why would somepony want to kill Pickles? Whatever that reason was, was anyponies guess - she’d quite likely had her fair share of enemies in the kind of business she was in. Doc stood back and wiped his muzzle. At least he had enough information to go on for now.

He laid out the rest of the dead stallions personal possessions. The fellow had few items on him other than weapons: a few bits, a water bottle and some dry biscuits. Apparently he’d come through the window from the balcony outside. The scuff marks on the wooden window sill and the scratched paint of the frame evidence enough of that. How Pickles had managed to detect him and shoot him in the head with only a small crossbow was incredible, and it was doubly cruel of the fates to take her from this life after she had so nearly saved it. Doc clucked his tongue. There wasn’t anything else to be gained from this now, and besides, he had to see to other matters. Strata was keen to go home to retrieve a fresh note book, and show off his collection to his friend of course. For Doc himself it seemed innocent enough, but that stallion had an intriguing side to him that fascinated him. ‘A fellow seeker of knowledge’, he thought to himself happily, and a friend who had come to understand him in ways he had never thought possible. Perhaps…just perhaps, the Goddesses had given him a small ray of sunshine in these dark times. Time would tell of course…he sighed, it always did.

Doc got up and walked to the door, collecting a sweet roll and bottle of barley wine on the way. He’d drop the money off with one of the girls later, and anyway, he was working for free wasn’t he? He snorted, and headed out to the front door where the sombre Fix was sat like some enormous guard dog. A heavy crossbow and fell axe leaned up against the wall beside him. Dear goddesses, it was incredible anypony could lift things that size, let alone wield them, and if Fix could, he’d likely be a one pony army. Outside, Strata was waiting for him,

“Anything?”

Doc shrugged, “Some bits and pieces, questions mostly though.”

“Ah, the eternal dilemma of the seeker of knowledge my dear Doc. Questions beget questions, beget questions.” Strata smiled, “How’s the Captain?”

“Not good.” Doc said adjusting his saddle bags, “They weren’t close, but I suspect they realised just how much they really meant to each other…at the end.”

“Oh…” Strata replied quietly, “Where is she now?”

Doc pointed down the road, “She said to meet her in the Full Moon, she has a private room there.”

The indigo stallion nodded and the two friends trotted off up the cobbled street to the loud and lively place that was the largest tavern in the port. Doc couldn’t help but find a peculiar irony in it all; how Pickles’ house had become a place of death and there, not one hundred yards away, was a place overflowing with life. It seemed wrong and yet, strangely apt, almost metaphorical really - Death and life, two sides of the same road, where eventually, one simply transitioned from one to the other. He snorted. Sod it all, he wanted to enjoy as much of this life as he could before he entered the house of the dead himself and spent eternity with the eternal herd. Knowing his luck, he’d end up being a bloody doctor there too!

The noise in the Full Moon was deafening. Barmares dodged between patrons who kept trying to whack their behinds or else push their way to the bar while others attempted to dance drunkenly to the lively music. It was life: loud, course, and full of vibrancy. Doc raised an eyebrow at Strata who nodded happily, following the blue stallion to the back rooms that were off the corridor behind the staircase. He could only hope that the sheer outflowing of energy here had reminded Gretel that there was more to this world than grief and loneliness, and that her friends and her ship awaited her. The last time he saw her, those eyes, those beautiful deep maroon eyes so normally bright and full of fire, had seemed…empty…dead. He couldn’t imagine what she was going through; to lose someone that in some ways, she’d only just found - it must have torn her heart in two. But as awful as it sounded, it was still better than never knowing, and going through life…always wondering.

Strata nudged him, “Hey frowny face, do you think the Captain will want to see you looking like that? Come on, let’s see the doctors bedside manner face.”

Doc snorted, a wry grin coming unbidden to his features, “’Beside manner face’?”

“Ha! There you go! Knew you could do it.” The indigo pony chuckled, “She needs you Doc, but you know…so do I.”

The blue stallion nearly tripped over his own hooves as he got to the door, and cleared his throat noisily before knocking,

“Captain?”

The muffled voice from inside was Gretels alright, “Come in, Doc.”

They entered. The room itself was surprisingly well appointed for a tavern, with a log fire, matching table and chairs, and a selection of paintings of what was probably Spurs Anvil in its heyday, or more likely an ‘artists impression’ of what they thought it had looked like. Doc glanced at one of them as he took his seat. The artist had portrayed a veritable abundance of sparkly ponies in the lively street scene. It certainly tied in to some extent with what Strata had explained to him one evening. Apparently, it all had something to do with the ‘empire’s heart’, whatever that was. It seemed to him that the whole Crystal Empire lot were obsessed with ‘hearts’. Probably sacrificed them, he thought to himself sarcastically.

In contrast to the elegant trappings of the room, Gretel looked a fright. Her mane and tail were unkempt and her eyes were bloodshot and puffy with dark circles around them, no doubt from crying. She’d probably not admit it of course, but that was Gretel. A bottle of brandy sat open on the table which she waved to. Two extra glasses had already been put out in anticipation of their arrival.

“Find anything, Doc?” she asked.

The blue stallion nodded,

“He was Legion, or at least as far as I could tell he was. I saw characters like him in Nightmare Moon’s camp.” He took a breath, “You were right, it was Eternity Flower poisoning. Several of the knives and darts were tipped with the stuff, and he had a bottle of it too. There was enough there to kill half of the ponies in Spurs Anvil.”

Gretel’s eyes narrowed as she stared into the fire. The way the yellow flames reflected in her maroon eyes made Doc’s heart skip a beat. He’d never seen such intensity from her before.

“Legion…” she murmured, “Those bastards.” Gretel knocked back her brandy, her voice dropping to a level that was more of a menacing growl, “Why…why would they murder my mother?”

“I don’t know, Gretel.” Doc said quietly, “All I can say is that, most likely, it was a Legion assassin.”

The red mare leaned against the mantelpiece and hung her head,

“What about the Raven’s heart?”

“It’s still in the vault.” Doc replied, “Frilly said we can take it anytime. Salty went to speak to her earlier about it.”

Gretel nodded and said nothing. Strata looked at Doc who just shook his head. Eventually Gretel spoke,

“You knew my father, didn’t you Doc.”

He nodded, “Aye, Gretel, I knew him. He was a good pony.”

She snorted back a laugh, “Really? He was, was he? Maybe not quite as ‘good’ as you thought he was.” The red mare returned to fill her glass, “Did you know he knew all about Salty’s real story? Did you know he used it to keep my mother from going aboard the ship? To keep her away from me with his…his…” she spat, “His damnable lies!”

Doc shook his head. He’d suspected something like this had happened after he’d heard Salty’s retelling of the story, but he’d hoped he’d been wrong. “No.” he said shaking his head solemnly, “Like the rest of the crew, I believed the warnings about unicorns. To my shame, I never questioned it either. I suppose I just put it down to some cautionary tale passed down through the generations about magic interfering with the ship. I mean, we have magic suppression in the hold, so it didn’t seem that much of a stretch of the imagination to assume all magic, and by association, unicorns, were incompatible with the safe running of a vessel.” He leaned a hoof on the table, “Gretel, look, whatever your father’s disagreement was with your mother, I know for a fact he loved you very much.”

Gretel sneered, “Enough to poison me against my own mother. Oh yes, he ‘loved me’ alright, the lousy snake.”

Doc banged his hoof on the table, “Gretel, that’s enough, please! Your father was a good pony in his own way, and a damned good Captain too. He and your mother’s falling out happened, rightly or wrongly, but he never stopped loving you even up to his dying day. He bequeathed you his greatest love - his ship, the same ship you Captain now. Your mother loved you dearly as well, even if she didn’t always show it.” He fixed her with his pink eyed gaze, “There are faults on all sides here, Gretel, and the Goddesses know, nopony is perfect, nopony at all, but you had something that you can always cherish: that is the knowledge that you had parents who loved you, and were proud of you. That’s a hell of a lot more than some of us can say.”

Gretel sighed, taking a sip of her brandy. She knew, she’d always known really, deep down. She was just too stubborn and bloody minded to listen to her own heart. Now, she needed a friend to tell just her how lucky a mare she was, and how bloody stupid she was being. Gretel swished her tail, her ears twitching. Mum and Dad wouldn’t want to see her like this, moping and dripping about like some lost soul. No, they’d want her to move ahead, to drive forward and take this damnable world by the balls and screw it for every bit. Her parents would live on forever within her and, in some ways, in the Revenge, that most magnificent of ships. Gretel nodded to herself, a smile on her face that felt strangely alien right now,

“You ready for an adventure, boys?”

“I…suppose so?” Doc said in surprise.

Strata nodded vigorously.

“Right then,” Gretel announced grabbing the bottle, “let’s go and see a pony about a heart.”

The three of them left the Full Moon and were soon heading up the steps to Pickles’ place. Still in mourning, the house was closed to the public, yet even so several of the old hooves had somehow managed to wrangle their way in - Salty being one of them. He was sat with a turquoise mare who was holding his hoof and speaking softly to him. Gretel smiled to herself; the old goat looked as happy as a foal in cut grass at the attention. Strangely though, the mare he was with seemed to be genuinely interested in talking to him, rather than putting on an act as she’d always assumed they did. Maybe…maybe she’d been wrong about her mum’s work? She shrugged to herself…maybe. Frilly was working on one of the house registers, a ludicrous set of horn rimmed glasses perched on her muzzle. She looked tired; the long day had clearly been wearing on her as much as it had on everypony else. At their approach, the powder blue mare looked up, brushing a few loose whisps of mane from her eyes,

“Ah, Captain Gretel, have you come to collect your item?”

Gretel nodded, “Aye, its time to put it where it belongs,”

Frilly shrugged. All she knew was that it was a box in the vault, “This way, please.”

The trio followed the mare into a back office, through a heavy iron plated door and down a long flight of well worn steps. As they descended, they all pressed in close to one another: it was pitch black. Down here, there was no other illumination than the warm pool of light cast by Frilly’s lantern. Their hoof steps echoed hollowly around them as they walked, suggestive of a large empty space - a space beneath the house itself? Gretel’s imagination was beginning to run rampant, she didn’t like places like this, not one bit! She could feel her heartrate beginning to increase as they continued their descent into what felt like the bowels of Equestria until, mercifully, they reached the bottom. Frilly reached out and tapped a couple of metal plates set in the wall, and suddenly a glowing archway of bright blue light appeared before her, seemingly from out of thin air.

There was a collective gasp behind her, but Frilly just shrugged and disappeared through the archway,

“Are you coming?” she called back, “You can stay here if you…”

“-No!” Gretel squeaked, quickly clearing her throat, “Erm, no, thanks Frilly, we’ll follow you, thank you.”

The blue mare smirked to herself. It worked every time.

Gretel, Doc and Strata stared about themselves in amazement at the blue glow that was emanating from the stonework around them, lighting their way and tingeing everything with an ethereal glow that had no clear source. Strata didn’t seem to know where to look next, his notepad and pencil a virtual blur in the glow of his own magic. Come to think of it, Gretel pondered, why hadn’t he used his magic to light the bloody stairs? Useless bugger…

Gretel shook her head and began looked around in awe at the vast collection. She could hear Strata droning on and on in the background about stones, crystals and magic; thoroughly and completely boring, she thought to herself rolling her eyes. All she needed to know was where this blasted box was. The sooner they had it, the sooner they could get out of this place. As incredible as it all was, it had a feeling about of some ancient tomb where the grave goods of the deceased had been left for their owners to enjoy in the afterlife. She felt a shiver run down her spine at the thought.

Frilly waved a hoof at the massive room before them,

“Here we are, and your box…” she trotted along to a shelf and took down a black lacquered wooden box, “Is here.”

Gretel tried to tear her eyes away from the rest of the room, but the more she looked, the more it began to unveil its treasures. It was full to bursting with the most amazing items, from trinkets, to crates, to ships figureheads of all things. Good Goddess there was probably a small city’s ransom in here!

“Captain?”

“Oh, sorry…” Gretel gave herself a shake, and reached out to take the box, “Is it locked?”

Frilly nodded, “Salty has the key upstairs I believe. He wants to be the one to open it.”

Gretel snorted out a laugh, “And who can blame him. Come on, let’s get back.” She turned to Strata, “Oh, and by the way, can you actually use that horn of yours for light Mister Strata?”

“Hmm?” the indigo unitcorn peered up from his notepad, “Why, um, yes…yes, it’s a basic really.”

“Well that’s just splendid!” Gretel quipped, clopping him on the shoulder, “Then you can bring up the rear and put that horn of yours to some good use, instead of floating note books around like some bloody breezy.”

Strata nodded, a wry grin on his face, “Aye, aye, Cap’n.”

Gretel smiled, “And don’t you forget it.”

Salty looked up as the four of them reentered the lobby. His marefriend tenderly stroked his back as he rose to his hooves, remaining in her seat and waiting quietly. Gretel found the scene surprisingly touching. Whether there was something genuine between the two of them remained to be seen, but it was good to see the old sailor’s smile again.

Gretel, Strata, Doc and Salty stood around the box staring at it in silence. Nopony seemed to know what to do and just stood there, staring at the black lacquered container as if something deadly where about to leap out at them. The tension in the air of the house’s lobby was electric.

“You could try opening it?” Frilly suggested, leaning in, “It won’t do it itself you know.”

Salty shook his mane, breaking the spell that held the ponies around him in its thrall. It had been so long since he’d seen the box, he could barely remember how many years it had been in here at all. He’d been a much younger stallion back then of course, full of the spirit of adventure and the love of the sea. It had been just after he’d joined the Revenge’s crew that he’d left the Raven’s heart with Madam Pickles for safekeeping. In some ways it had been a symbolic act; burying in that vault a part of his past as well as the heart of the vessel he had loved so much. Until then, he’d kept it with him day and night, remembering the good times, and the bad. But he couldn’t live in the past forever, and the future had seemed so much brighter after the Captain had offered him a place on his crew after hearing his tale - and after a few drinks of course. Salty shook his head. He couldn’t remember anything about that night other than waking up in the forward end of the Revenge the next morning with his sign on papers. They were good days…good days…

“Salty? You okay?” It was the turquoise mare. She rubbed his mane lovingly, “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to love. It’s your choice.”

The old hoof looked at the box nervously and then his expression began to change beneath the mare’s touch, “Thank ye, Glass,” he said with a sigh, “I be alright now.”

Salty reached up to the neck of the striped shirt he habitually wore and rummaged about for something. Gretel looked on, staring in amazement as the object emerged, the object Salty had referred to in his story…suddenly, it all seemed so tantalisingly real; not that she didn’t actually believe him of course, but to see it in person, to see it actually right there in front of her nose, was…amazing!

The large iron key dangled there on the end of a long leather thong. It was such a simple thing, almost crude really, but right now every eye was on it.

“I ‘ad the box made just for her,” the old sailor said quietly, lifting the key reverently, “I even ‘ad a locksmith make a lock ter fit the key.” He snorted, “Silly, eh?”

Gretel shook her head. No…it was far from that, not somepony you cared so deeply for. She watched in silence as Salty deftly flicked the key up into his mouth and placed it in the lock. He took a step back and paused, seeming to gather his thoughts, and then, calmly, reached out with his hoof and turned it. Gretel’s heart felt like it was going to explode in anticipation. All she wanted now was to throw the bloody thing open and…

“Here…” Salty lifted the lid and turned the box so they could all see inside, “The heart o’ the ship, the heart o’ the Raven’s Eye.”

Gretel couldn’t speak for the rest, but for herself, time felt like it was standing still. Nestled in a bed of scarlet velvet, the heart shaped crystal before her was…indescribably beautiful. It shone with all the colours of the rainbow as the light reflected off its multi-faceted surface, drawing her gaze. A deep inner light and otherworldy warmth emanated from within the heart that seemed to resonate with every pony in the room. Somehow, it felt…alive. Gretel reached out a hoof, but pulled back quickly. To touch such a thing would sully it, would mar its perfection…that small heart shaped crystal…she could almost feel the ship within, calling to Salty, speaking with him. The old stallion himself just stood there, holding the crystal as gently as a newborn foal and smiled softly, his eyes unfocussed and distant. He was talking to her, she knew it, and she could understand. Doc and Strata looked at one another, no doubt wondering if they should say something, but Salty beat them to the punch,

“She says she be ‘appy ter do this,” Salty said in relief, his face breaking into a huge grin, “she don’t know what’ll ‘appen’ though. Guess we all be a little in the dark eh?”

“Aye…” Gretel said quietly, her eyes locked on the magnificent object, “but not for long. You ready?”

Salty nodded, “Aye, Cap’n. Um…” he glanced towards the mare beside him, “Would ye mind if young Glass ‘ere…” his voice trailed off.

The turquoise mare with the green eyes nuzzled him gently. Gretel couldn’t help be raise a smile at them,

“Of course.” She nodded, “Come on then everypony. The Revenge awaits.”

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

With the sails furled and rocking gently at anchor, it looked as if the old ship was asleep. Gretel smiled to herself. In reality, despite the vessel’s age, she’d never really considered the Revenge to be old. Even when she was just a filly, she’d felt the ship was like a kindred spirit, a youngster who’d never grown up. Now, after hearing Salty’s tale and what she’d discovered from her conversations with Strata, it finally began to make sense. The Revenge had never had the chance to grow, because she’d been made up of little more than an amalgamation of memories – the voyages, trials and tribulations of a vessel that had all combined to make her what she was today. But, was that truly fair? To say she was simply an entity comprised of a collection of memories with no mind of her own? No…no there was more there. She was like a seed, sleeping beneath the frozen earth waiting for spring to arrive. Gretel smiled to herself, the small wooden room, more of a cupboard really, lay before her. The key that she’d found amongst her fathers most precious possessions, now one of her more precious reminders of him, hung from her neck as Salty’s had. When she thought about it, the two looked like twins, but…no…not twins…sisters. Gretel lifted the heavy iron key and closed her eyes thinking of her father. He’d probably never realised what this was, or maybe never cared. Perhaps Salty had never told him the part of his story about the heart? She’d probably never know, and maybe…maybe it was best that way. You didn’t need to know everything to make things right. Her father was dead, her mother was dead and maybe in the eternal herd they could reconcile, but in her own heart they held a special place, each of them unique, each equally loved.

The key turned.

Inside the small room was a single wooden box, black and silver bound and quite beautiful in its own way. As with Salty’s tale, Gretel’s key opened it, quickly proving that the box was indeed, quite empty. She looked up at the old stallion and nodded, stepping back. Goddess have mercy, she prayed this would work…

Glass, the pretty middle aged mare with the long snow white and blue striped mane nudged Salty and…and nipped his ear! Gretel face hoofed…good grief! Doc sniggered behind her, receiving a playful shove from Strata. She had to smile. This had felt like such a sombre time, a time of introspection and hope, and yet they had forgotten one key ingredient…love.

Salty kissed the mare on the muzzle and grinned. Taking a deep breath he lifted out the crystal heart from its resting place of years and kissed it too, before lowering the delicate item into the empty box of the Revenge,

“Time ter go home, me love. Ye belong ‘ere.”

Carefully, Salty closed the lid, stepping aside for Gretel to lock it…and waited.

Nothing happened.

“What happens now?” Doc asked Strata quietly,”Do we need to do something?”

The indigo unicorn raised his eyebrows, “I have no idea. I don’t think this has ever been done before.”

“No incantations? No spells?” Doc queried.

“Um…no?”

“Maybe nothing happens until you lock the door?” Doc pondered, and Gretel reached out clicking the cupboards lock into place.

Nothing.

Gretels heart sank. So…that was it, was it? All that, and for what? She shook her head with a sigh, “Come on you lot, no harm done in trying.” She certainly sounded a lot more positive than she felt right then. It was like the world had dropped out beneath her. She headed for the stairs, reaching out, trying to feel for any changes in the ship, but there was nothing…just a distant sense of…wonderment…

“CAPTAIN!” It was Haggis’s voice, “For the Goddesses sake, get up on deck! Somethings wrong with the ship!”

Haggis was still calling down to them as they thundered up the stairs from the between deck and out into the glaring sunshine. Gretel was the first on deck, with the others all but crashing into her as she came to a sudden halt, staring open mouthed at the ship around her.

It was glowing.

Gretel stared with a mixture of horror, amazement and awe. Everywhere, the wood, the rope, the sails, virtually every part of the Revenge was pulsing with a deep golden light. Beneath her hooves the deck thrummed, a powerfully strong resonance that was making even the sails high above her shudder and ripple. Haggis looked distraught, his odd eyes wide in panic. Salty stood next to him, talking to him while the other pony jumped from hoof to hoof in agitation. Gretel closed her eyes, trying to block it all out and calm her own racing heart. Slowing her breathing, she reached for the ship, to try and sense her emotional state. There was something there, the same sense of wonder from before, but also a feeling of fear mingling with anticipation. She was…waiting…

“Mister Haggis, I…”

The deck heaved, suddenly throwing everypony off their hooves to crash heavily onto the pitching deck. Shout and cries from the crew rang out as they tried desperately to hang on, their voices blending with another sound, a noise like a long low moan. It was getting louder, rising in volume and pitch from a whisper, to a shout, to a scream of absolute horror and torment. Gretel threw her forelegs over her head, trying to block out the terrible sound, but it was hopeless, the cry of the ship was permeating everything. Doc and the other ponies around her covered their ears, looking at each other in alarm…something had gone terribly wrong. Haggis and Salty stared at their Captain, their eyes conveying the distress and fear that they were all feeling, but not just theirs, it was the Revenge herself. Her fear of what was happening within her was consuming her. Gretel knew she had to do something, she had to act now or else…Salty’s story came flooding back to her, the way the Raven had…the way she…broke apart. Gretel slammed a hoof down,

“Not my ship,” she snarled, “NOT MY SHIP!”

The red mare threw herself towards the rear hatch, nearly pitching though it head first with the shaking and rolling of her vessel. The Revenge cried out, her wordless voice resounding through her hull, and surging through her Captain and her crew. Below decks it was worse, the sound here was an almost impenetrable barrier that Gretel had to battle her way through. And then there was that voice, the voice she didn’t recognise, but somehow she already knew who it was. It was old, ancient even, as deep as the ocean and as dark as the night sky, with a feminine quality that was almost…motherly. She couldn’t make out the words, it was as if she were overhearing a conversation intended for somepony else, but there was no doubt as to who it was:

The Raven’s Eye.

Gretel reached the lower deck as that alien voice began to change, crying out suddenly in pain and fear,

SALTY!

The Captain shuddered as the voice ploughed through her with the force of a hurricane. Should she go back? Should she get the old sailor? Damn it, there wasn’t time! She had to get that bloody crystal out of her! She’d made a terrible mistake. They never should have done this to her, never!

SALTY!

Damn it all! Gretel hurried, her hooves slipping from beneath her, sending her tumbling down the last few steps to land in a heap on the deck below. She tried to stand…and screamed. A pain like white hot fire burned through her. She daren’t look, but she knew with horrible certainty that one of her hind legs was broken. Goddess damn it all! Why now? What bloody timing! The Captain tried to pull herself up onto her three good legs and shook her head, neighing loudly as another shock of pain lanced though her. Her stomach roiled. The Revenge’s distress had become her own, and no doubt the ship could sense her physical pain as well, making the situation even more dire than it had been. But there was not time for that, she had to get to the heart and get that bloody thing out.

SALTY!!

The voice cried out it terror. She was alone in the darkness, with shapes and sensations she’d had never experienced assailing her. Images of places, times and ponies she didn’t know ran through her in an endless torrent. She didn’t want this! She was so frightened!

“CAPTAIN!”

Breathing heavily, Gretel looked up into the blue eyes of Salty, his face a picture of concern. She tried to smile…it was quite touching really, she thought. Pain shot through her leg making her shiver,

“Hello Salty,” she gasped, “come to give an old mare a hoof, eh?”

Salty stared at her, his face paling. Slowly, he looked down at her hind quarters, “Oh Goddesses, Cap’n, yer leg…” he turned to the stairs, “DOC! The Capn’s hurt, we needs ‘elp!”

Gretel reach out a hoof, “We don’t have time. Salty…she needs you. Please.” She took off the iron key from around her neck and passed it to him, “Go to her. Get that bloody thing out of her.”

Salty hesitated, “Captain, I…”

“DO IT! Mister Salty, that is and order!” The red mare snapped.

“A..Aye, aye, Cap’n!” The brown and cream stallion shook his short black mane and with a quick backward glance, dashed off down the stairs.

How the hell he managed to keep on his hooves was nothing short of miraculous, Gretel thought to herself as she hung onto the support beam. Damn…she wanted to be the one, the one the ship needed. She was her Captain, not Salty, but…he was the one she’d called for, not her…not her…

“Captain?” It was Doc, “What’s…damn.” He called back up the stairs, “Stretcher! Get a stretcher down here, now!”

The shaking and rolling of the ship wasn’t as pronounced now, but the feeling of fear was still there, the sensation of wanting to curl up and hide was overwhelming. Gretel was so absorbed by it she barely noticed being strapped onto the stretcher, nor the journey into sickbay. Others were in there too it seemed: bumps and sprains mostly, but all bearing that same look of fear and uncertainty. The Captain sighed,

“Get a bloody move on Salty, you old goat.”

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

The old sailor ducked under the low beams in the bowels of the frightened ship, her cries of distress calling to him…only to him. He should never have left her alone in that vault. He’d wanted her to be safe, but it had been cruel to leave her alone all this time. She was frightened, the images and memories she was experiencing were so strange, so alien to her. There was a presence here too - a warm, kind, but childlike energy that was trying to…to touch her! She’d been so excited at first, but…but she didn’t know it would be like this! She didn’t…!

Salty reached the cupboard, unlocked the door and reached for the box. It was hot, almost red hot, making him recoil from the radiated heat. He took a breath. Should he be doing this? To take out the heart, to pull it from the ship…dear Goddesses, he remembered all too well what happened last time.

The key turned in the lock.

Lifting the lacquered black lid carefully with the tips of his hooves, Salty ducked away quickly as a blast of heat caught his mane, singing it slightly. He balked. What was this? He didn’t recall the Raven’s heart being like this! Taking a steadying breath, he peered over the edge.

“Raven…”

Salty stared down into the box. The crystal heart was glowing, throbbing with intense multicoloured lights. It was as if a fight were going on within it, a battle which she was losing. Salty closed his eyes and reached out for the crystal, waiting for that connection, the pull of…

Light vanished. Sound disappeared. The world had simply…gone.

The old stallion stood in absolute darkness. There was no sense of up, down, left or right, nor, as he noticed even more worryingly, any floor beneath his hooves. Salty gasped and closed his eyes again, not that it really made much difference here, but right now he felt like he just wanted to curl up and hide. But where? There was nowhere to hide or run to! Where…ah…of course…he was inside her, wasn’t he? He’d heard of this, but had never actually experienced it before first hoof. She’d only ever spoken to him, never taken him inside her like this. He took a breath,

“Raven? I be here me love.”

Salty?

The voice came back to him, quavering and uncertain.

Yes. You are here.

Salty’s heart went out to her, “Me love, I be so sorry I left yer. I thought ye’d be safe, but…”

I was. But this…I didn’t expect this!

“I don’t understand, Raven.” Salty said honestly, “What be ‘appenin?”

Wait. Close your eyes.

Salty did as he was instructed and waited. What was going on? This was something that he hadn’t expected, but Raven sounded the same as she always had, and in his heart, the old sailor was overjoyed to hear her beautiful voice once again, as strong as it had been when he’d been at her helm.

“Salty? You may open your eyes now.”

The old sailor complied, slowly opening his eyes, and blinked in surprise. An image of a pony, stood before him. She was…beautiful. His eyes drank her in, from the sparkling lilac and purple mane with its long silver hair pins, her shining silver-grey coat, to the wonderful curls of her tail. The mare seemed to shine like diamonds, rubies, and emeralds; as though she were made of the very material of the ships heart itself…crystal. A long flowing purple robe cinched with a large silver brooch covered most of her body, hiding her cutie mark. But it was her eyes, those relective pools of blues, silver and gold that captured his heart as surely as if he’d put his own in that box. He swallowed. The mare before him was so unimaginable to look upon, he felt ashamed to be stood there before her, as though his mere presence would mar her perfection.

“You seem surprised.” The mare said, “Does this image not please you?”

Salty choked back a sob. He felt so overjoyed, elated even, just to be standing before her. “Me lady,” he bowed, “Forgive an old sailor, I never been before a Goddess before and…”

The mare giggled,

“A Goddess?” she hid her mirth behind her hoof demurely, “No! I am no Goddess, my dear Salty.” She walked closer, lifting his chin, “I am the one who you touched all those years ago.” She gazed into his eyes, her voice lilting and full of life, “You know who I am.”

“Raven…” he breathed.

The mare smiled, “Who else?”

“But…” Salty began, “Ye look so, pony-like, but…more beautiful.” He blushed, feeling the heat in his cheeks, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be so forward an’…”

Raven held a delicate crystalline hoof up to her mouth and giggled girlishly, “You are a dear!” She began walking around in a circle and stretched her legs, “I haven’t been in this form for…” she furrowed her brow, “A while. Time doesn’t seem to move for me the way it does for others. Everything feels as if it only just happened, and yet so long ago.”

Salty waited as the mare shrugged,

“It doesn’t matter,” she said dismissively, “I knew what I was getting into when I volunteered for this.” She grimaced, “Mostly.”

“Volunteered?” Salty asked curiously, “I don’t understand.”

“Oh, it doesn’t matter, dear Salty.” Raven replied, “What does matter is that you need to get rid of…her.”

“What?!” Salty choked, “Get rid of…? Who? Why?”

Raven raised her eyebrows, “Her!” she pointed with her hoof at…a foal.

Salty’s eyes went even wider. There, standing not far from them was a happy looking orange foal, sparkling and shimmering as if she too were made of the same crystal as the Raven. The foal sat watching them both, her big green eyes matching her green mane and tail. She was quite cute really.

“Quite cute? QUITE CUTE?!”

Raven’s voice was like a tempest, blasting into Salty’s ears and making his head ache. Damn it all! He hadn’t realised he’d spoken his thoughts out loud! He must be going senile, that was it. Too many years before the mast could make you go do-lally. Weevil had always said that and…

“Salty!” Raven hissed, her eye’s narrowing, “Do something!”

“I don’t know what’s going on!” Salty replied in frustration, “It’s so confusing!”

Raven appeared to take a deep breath and gave herself a shake,

“Look, it’s quite simple.” She said quietly, “That foal keeps trying to…to touch me, and I…I don’t like it!”

Raven pouted. Salty rubbed his eyes; good Goddesses…she was actually pouting! He cleared his throat,

“Raven, what be wrong with ‘er? She be such a little thing.” He called over to the foal, “Come ‘ere poppet, we won’t ‘urt’s ye.”

The orange foal seemed a little unsure, but blinked her eyes and happily trotted towards them.

Raven shrieked and suddenly ran round to hide behind Salty, peering over his neck at the foal, “No!” She squeaked, “Don’t let it touch me!”

The foal stopped, holding her head to one side, her big round eyes full of curiosity.

“Why?” Salty said quietly, “What’ll ‘appen?”

“I…I don’t know!” Raven quavered, “It’s…I don’t…just look at her!”

“She’s a foal?”

“I can see that!” Raven hissed, “But…she should be like me! I thought…”

Salty closed his eyes a moment, keeping his voice calm, “We spoke about this me love, ‘an I did as ye asked.”

“I know!” Raven snapped, backing away and casting a look of disgust at the tiny foal, “It’s just…it’s not ‘like’ me, it’s…not a real…pony.”

Salty shook his head, “But…you be a ship, or where a ship? I…”

Raven rolled her eyes, “A ship? Yes, I suppose I am, or rather was when I still had my body. But I didn’t always look like that you know. I looked like, well…” she stood back from him and waved her hoof, “This.”

“This is how you looked before you became a ship?” Salty asked.

The crystal mare let out a long sigh, “You really didn’t know?” she paused, “No…I don’t suppose you would, would you? Sometimes I forget how many have ‘Captained’ me since I was…changed.” She stared at Salty meaningully, “Now, never mind all that, just get rid of…” she waved a hoof at the foal, “that!”

“No”

“WHAT?!” Raven shrieked, “What do you mean ‘no’?! It’s just a thing! It was never like me! It’s a…”

“-A foal” Salty interrupted quietly, “She should ‘ave been like ye, shouldn’t she? She should o’ ‘ad an ‘eart. But she were denied one. Why, who can say, but she be like ye, she be the memories o’ this ship; the lives, loves, trials an’ struggles o’ ‘er life.” Salty smiled, “She only wants ter share that with ye.”

“I know!” Raven said irritably, “It’s just…I don’t want to…” she pressed into Salty, her eyes squeezed tight shut, “…to lose who I am. I’m frightened Salty…”

“Me love, I can take yer heart out o’ the Revenge if ye truly wants me ter,” Salty replied in a soft voice, “but won’t ye at least talk to ‘er?”

“No!”

“I be right ‘ere with ye, I promise.” Salty said gently.

Raven sniffed, “She doesn’t…talk, really.” She said, “She seems to communicate through ‘images’. Some of them are…strange. I don’t like it!”

“’ere,” Salty said, “If I ‘olds yer ‘oof an’ the little foal’s, will ye be able to see what she see’s?”

Raven frowned, “Well, maybe…”

“Come on, poppet,” Salty waved the foal over, “Right.” He said pointing with his hoof, “now then, you lies there,” he nodded to the worried looking mare, “’an you lies there. Right then,” the old sailor settled down between them, reaching out his forehooves, “I don’t knows if this’ll do anythin’ but…

There was a bright flash of light and colour. Blinding images, sounds, smells…and ponies…so many ponies! Salty could feel the fear emanating from Raven, the enthusiasm and happiness from the Revenge, and him, the helmspony in the middle, the anchor that held them together. He closed his eyes and sent out his feelings to both of them, for the two sisters to see the world as he saw it, to share his own experiences, both the good and the bad. From the first day he stood on the Raven’s decks, to the day he lost her, he shared it all, not holding anything back. It was about trust, it was about the love he had for the sea and the sky, but through it all, he wanted the two sisters to know each other, to find a place of calm and understanding that only they themselves could truly find.

The light vanished.

Salty blinked. He was stood on a dockside beside a ship…the Ravens Eye! He gasped in shock, nearly bumping into a pony behind him,

“Oh! Sorry miss, I…”

She completely ignored him, tossing her glittering mane and chatting to the stallion beside her without a care in the world. Salty squinted at the scene around him, it was so…crystalline. All the buildings, the docks, even the ponies, all of them and everything around glinting with that reflected colourful light, like they were made up of diamonds, like…

“Beautiful isn’t it?”

Raven stood beside him, smiling sadly,

“This was my home, when I was who I really was.”

Salty didn’t know what to say.

The little foal appeared beside them, her eyes taking it all in as she pranced around in delight. Raven shook her head, “She never stops, does she?” She smiled distantly, “Come on, I’ll show you where I lived.”

The three of them walked along the dockside, passing beside a myriad of elegantly dressed ponies: mares and stallions, all sporting a bewildering variety of colourful hats, gowns and suits. Adding to the riot of colour, were the surprisingly large number of soldiers, all of the wearing crystalline armour and armed with long wicked looking spears. Salty couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Good Goddesses, no wonder the place was called the Crystal Empire! Didn’t they have any other building material? That said, the Raven was made of wood though, so…

“Not everything is made of crystal,” Raven explained as they walked, “it just looks that way because of the Heart of the Empire.”

Salty blinked. He still wasn’t used to Raven reading his mind, “The…?”

Raven rolled her eyes, “Don’t you know anything?!” she said irritably.

“Apparently not!” Salty replied in exasperation.

The mare clucked her tongue, “It make’s everything sparkly.”

“Oh.”

“Anyway, we’re here.” Raven walked straight through a huge crystal door in the side of what looked like a mountain.

Salty looked up in awe. No, it wasn’t a mountain, it was a… “A palace!” he breathed, “It’s a palace made of…Oop!”

A hoof grabbed him and pulled the startled stallion, quite literally, through the door. Raven shook her head in annoyance, “At least try to keep up!” she snapped, “Honestly, you seemed to know when you had a hold of my helm.” She looked away, blushing slightly and making Salty’s neck twitch at some unspoken implication. Why did he suddenly feel guilty about Glass?

“I am not jealous!” Raven hissed, “So stop thinking that!”

“I never said ye were!” Salty retorted, “’an stop readin’ me mind!”

Raven frowned, “I can’t help it if your heads as leaky as a colander! Now shush, we’re here.”

They’d stopped in front of another set of crystal doors. Again, more guards stood outside as a troop of ponies trotted along the corridor. Several wore long white coats, while the rest sported uniforms of various types. It all seemed very ‘official’ somehow, and made Salty’s usual sailor garb make him feel distinctly out of place.

The door opened and the ponies marched in; Salty, Raven and the little foal following close behind.

Inside, the now familiar crystalline architecture continued. Dominating the centre of the room was a huge round table with equally spaced chairs around its edge. Banners, trophies and paintings of ponies Salty didn’t recognise, adorned the walls, together with gold filigree sconces topped with large lights that made the room as bright as day without the need for windows. The uniformed ponies took positions around the table and waited, with one chair, a large silver and gold edged one, standing empty at the far end of the table opposite the door. The room was silent…

“Who?” Salty began, but Raven shushed him just as the door opened behind them.

“Sorry I’m late gentlecolts, please be seated,” A tall dark grey unicorn with a slick black mane and tail waved to them all as he approached, “Just a second…” he turned back to one of the guards, “Sergeant, would you nip over to the kitchen and find out where the drinks are? There’s a good fellow.”

Whoever he was, the rest of the ponies there bowed to him before taking their seats. He was, Salty thought, a fairly ordinary looking stallion really: a uniform dark grey coated fellow with neatly trimmed mane and tail, but it was his bright magenta eyes that were his most striking feature, and they echoed the three magenta crystals on his flank. He’d seen that symbol before somewhere but couldn’t quite place it. It didn’t matter though particularly as the stallion had begun to address the assembled ponies,

“Well, it looks like refreshments will be a little later than planned, everypony.” The grey stallion said apologetically as he popped a pair of spectacles onto his muzzle and flipped open a thin folder, “Now, let’s crack on, I’m sure you’re all keen to get down to business.”

The discussion being held dragged on for what must have been hours: discussions about military formations, defensive strategies, recruitment figures, and so on and so on. Salty could feel his ears drooping and felt a yawn beginning to make its awkward presence felt as he tried desperately to keep listening – and awake. How in Equestria did ponies do this sort of thing? Why?! Couldn’t they just, you know, tell somepony what to do? Surely all that grey fellow needed to do was issue his orders and they’d be carried out. After all, he was in charge wasn’t he?

As if reading his mind, the grey unicorn waved his hoof at one of the white overcoat wearing ponies,

“Doctor Folsom, are we ready to proceed with our next item on the agenda?”

The tan coloured unicorn stallion nodded, “Yes, Your Majesty. The subject has signed all the release papers and we can proceed whenever you are ready.”

“Excellent.” The grey pony said flipping his folder closed, “Then let us not tarry gentlecolts, I don’t like to keep ladies waiting.”

He rose to his hooves and left the room, the rest of them doing likewise and following him out like a duck with its chicks into the corridor. Unseen and unheard, Salty, Raven, and the little foal trotted after them. Salty leaned across to Raven,

“Who is that?” he whispered.

“Who?” Raven asked irritably.

“The one they called ‘Majesty’.”

Raven smiled back at him, “He’s the teapot king. He’s the one responsible for ensuring everypony in the Empire receives their allocation of tea leaves. We’re going to check on somepony now who’s raised concerns about the national shortage of matching lids.”

“I don’t remember’s ye being so damnably sarcastic.” Salty grumbled.

Raven clucked her tongue, “Then stop asking such stupid questions!”

“How the ‘ell am I supposed to know who ‘e be? ‘E’s likely been dead some thousand years by now!” Salty retorted.

“Shush!” Raven waved a hoof and the old sailor shut his mouth with a snap.

Salty gave up. He felt like he was in a dreamworld, stuck with a snippy mare and a silent foal, where the three of them were no more than ghosts to the spirits around them. Unfortunately, he realised, that was pretty much exactly what was going on. He shook his head, wishing he hadn’t squandered that bottle of brandy from the Captain. She’d said to share it, and he had…mostly. When he got back he’d ask Glass if he could…

“Ouch!”

Raven’s hoof was lethally accurate and cracked him painfully right on the fetlock. Salty glowered at her as she made frantic waving motions towards a door the other ponies had walked through. He suddenly realised, rather embarrassingly, she was trying to encourage him to follow them through.

On the other side was a long winding set of stairs, narrow corridors and, by the smell of it, an increasing amount of incense. It wasn’t especially unpleasant, but was certainly potent and was starting to make him feel a little woozy. Raven and the foal however didn’t seem to be affected by it in the slightest and they walked along after the others as if they were meant to be there. Giving himself a shake, Salty quickened his pace to catch up. As they walked, he marvelled at the magnificent tapestries hanging from the walls, the whole magical scene lit by row upon row of large crystal lamps hanging from golden chains making everything reflect with the most beautiful colours. They finally stopped by a small door, small at least compared to the others they’d passed in this vast structure, and waited. The one Salty had begun to think of as ‘The King’, hung his head a moment apparently lost in thought, and then smartly stepped forward and knocked. A few seconds later, the door opened a crack and an emerald green mare poked her nose out. She quickly bowed and backed away, allowing the party to enter.

It was a fairly well appointed room, with a four poster bed, a few cupboards and a dresser. Other than for the fact the whole room sparkled like the rest of the palace, it was a fairly mundane scene which had Salty scratching his head as to what was going on. Raven reached over and hooked a foreleg around his neck and guided him to the other side of the bed where he could have a better view of the occupant. He soon found himself staring at a familiar purple and lilac mane, only this one was poking out from the top of the mound of covers on the bed. He glanced at Raven, and then back to the bed; was this her sister? Her mother maybe? No…of course not. The silver-grey coat he could just about see was the giveaway, and besides, why would she bring him here to show him somepony he didn’t know?

The conversation on the other side of the room had woken the occupant. Slowly, the covers moved slightly, revealing a silver-grey head and a pair of eyes that looked surprisingly dull when compared with…

“Amethyst…” The King said quietly.

‘Amethyst’? Salty furrowed his brow, maybe this was a relative of Raven’s after all.

The voice from the bed sounded frighteningly weak, as the mare tried to speak,

“Y…your…”

The King reached out and gently stroked her mane, “Shhh, don’t push yourself Amy, everything’s going to be alright now.”

The mare gave a sad smile, a single tear rolling down her cheek. Beside her the white coated ponies stood in silence as the grey stallion closed his eyes a moment and looked away. Salty had seen that look before, the expression that spoke of an inner turmoil, an unimaginable pain that he clearly didn’t want the others to see. The King took a breath, his expression changing back to his more familiar one as he addressed the two before him,

“You are certain this will not harm her?”

“As far as we know, your majesty.” The tan stallion replied, “However, this is untested and…”

“Yes, yes, I know all that,” the King replied, “I did read the reports you sent me you know.” He shook his mane and gazed back at the bed, his voice quavering slightly, “Amy…”

The mare weakly tried to lift up a hoof, “I…It’s fine…I know…what…”

Beside her, the grey stallion squeezed his eyes shut and held her hoof to his muzzle, “Get out, all of you. Give me a minute with her…alone.”

Without another word, the others filed out, leaving the King, Amethyst and their unseen guests in the room. Instinctively, Salty moved to leave but a quick tap on the side of his head brought him up short. Raven was nodding towards the two ponies and waggling her eyebrows. He took a deep breath. Goddesses above, had she always been like this?

The King looked down with a kindly gaze upon the mare in the bed, “Amy, are you sure you want to go through with this?” She nodded. “If you do this,” he continued softly, “you’ll live on, but…changed, in that…” his words faded away, the stallion unable to drag the words forth.

She smiled up at him weakly, “I know…but…I can be…with you.”

The grey stallion sniffed loudly, wiping his eyes with his foreleg,

“Amy…” he leaned down and kissed her gently on the muzzle, “I love you so much.”

He stayed there for a while, his eyes closed and his ears drooping. It was a private moment, a moment of loss, of love, and such heart rending tragedy that it struck Salty surprisingly hard considering he didn’t know these two. He wanted to look away, to leave the two of them alone. This was…wrong; standing here like some ghoul waiting for the mare to…to what? Die?

Time passed. Beside him Raven stood quietly, her eyes taking in every word, every movement. She looked as if she were watching a play she’d seen a thousand times before, her lips moving silently in sync with the words of the ponies before her. It was touching, and yet a little disturbing at the same time. Had Raven lived her own passing like this, time after time, all along these centuries?

The orange foal had her hooves up on the bed and was watching intently. She reminded Salty of a sea sponge: the way she looked as though she were drawing in all the images and sounds around her with those large eyes. He could see it in her expression, that intent look, the way her ears swivelled. Although he knew the foal wasn’t really, well…a ‘real’ foal, Salty still couldn’t help but feel she shouldn’t be here watching this. He had no children of his own, but even so, having such a tiny thing watching something so heartbreaking felt…wrong.

Salty’s ruminations were interrupted as the King rose to his hooves and walked to the door,

“You can come in now, she’s ready.”

Salty closed his eyes as the two white overcoat wearing ponies entered once more and bowed to their king. The regal stallion turned to the first,

“Master Shipwright, Amethyst is prepared. You have everything you need?”

The Shipwright bowed, waving to another pony outside the door who walked in pushing a trolley with various strangely shaped items upon it. The King gave a grim smile,

“Carry on.”

Salty watched in amazement, and no degree of horror, as a strange silver and red wire framework was assembled around the bed. Next, the ponies began positioning a variety of other objects made of various metals and gems around the room; all of it focussed on the lone silver-grey mare lying still and quiet at its centre. While all of this was happening, another pony appeared in the doorway carrying a small black and gold lacquered box. Salty’s heart skipped a beat. Oh Goddesses…he’d seen that before…what was…? With a sudden horrible realisation, he knew what was going to happen and swallowed, looking away. He didn’t want to see this. He didn’t want to see what they were going to…

Something warm pushed against him. He didn’t need to see to know what, or rather who, it was. Raven was trembling.

“Raven,” Salty began, “do ye want ter leave love? We don’t need ter see this. Please…”

She closed her eyes and nodded silently.

The imagery about them began to change, just as the colourless crystal heart emerged from the box and was place at the centre of the metal construction above the mare. The room wavered, falling out of focus, before snapping back into view. They were on the dockside once more. This time there were no public, no hustle and bustle of life, only soldiers and the two white overcoat wearing stallions looking decidedly nervous at the top of the gangplank as the King walked towards them. Raven, Salty and the foal trotted along behind him, following the grey stallion up the gangplank and onto the deck of the sky galleon Salty had served on when he was little more than a colt. The old sailor hesitated, his heart leaping into his mouth as he suddenly found himself standing on the deck of his old ship, that most magnificent of vessels, his beloved Raven. She looked exactly as she always had…sleek, dark, mysterious and undeniably beautiful. But part of the allure of working her decks had been the connection he’d felt from her; the thoughts, the feelings, and the innocent sense of wonder she seemed to exude, but from this vessel, standing here now, there was nothing…nothing at all.

The party descended the stairs into the bowels of the ship and headed towards the stern. It was all too clear where they were going. Salty remembered it like it had only happened yesterday; the way the salt water kept rising, chilling his skin, the bright sunlight breaking in through the gaps in the opening timbers, holding his breath as he swam, his lungs burning, crying out for air, the fear coursing through him…

A hoof nudged him, shaking him gratefully out of his memories. The rest of the ponies had stopped by a small cupboard like room, that place he never thought he’d ever see again, and one he never wanted to either. One of the stallions levitated out the box containing the heart of the ship and placed it into a space that had been carved out for it. A quick glow of magic from his horn and the box was in place, never to move again. He backed away, bowing and allowing the king to step forward. Slowly and carefully, he lifted the lid of the box and looked inside. Salty couldn’t see, but he knew it was there; the crystal, the life that had once been a living breathing mare. He shut his eyes at the look distress on the King’s face. He never wanted to see that again - that look of pain, the horror in his eyes, and the dawning realisation of what they had done.

“Amy?” he whispered, “Can you hear me?”

Silence.

“Amy?” the King turned to the Master Shipwright, “I can’t hear anything.”

“Your Majesty,” the stallion replied, “if we return to the main deck, you should be able to sense her from there.

The King nodded, and together they trotted back up the stairs and into the sunlight on the Ravens deck where the dark grey stallion soon began to pace irritably,

“I still can’t feel anything, gentlecolts. Will somepony tell me what is happening here? You told me this would work!”

Salty felt a sudden chill run through him and took an involuntary step back as the king’s gaze turned hard and cold. He swallowed. This was a pony you didn’t want to cross, and the Master Shipwright knew it. The poor fellow all but shrank back in fright,

“Y…Your Majesty, please, it could take some time. This is untested magical…”

Salty’s heart leaped into his chest at the King rounded on the stallion,

“-UNTESTED?!” he roared, “Did you say it was UNTESTED?!” A wave of menace and danger emanated from the King as he raised himself up to his full height, his teeth bared,

“You told me it would work! And now you told me you haven’t even tested this?” Magic began to seep out from him, drawing in the very light around him, “You used Amy as…as an ‘EXPERIMENT’?”

“No!” the Shipwright shrieked, “Please! Your Majesty, place your hooves on the ship’s wheel and try to reach for her, she should be there!”

The King narrowed his eyes, his maroon gaze boring into the terrified Shipwright,

“She had better be, Folsom.” He hissed, “Or I shall see how you enjoy the ‘procedure’ yourself.”

The Shipwright went white as a sheet.

Walking slowly up to the ship’s wheel, the king placed his forehooves on it and closed his eyes, slowing his breathing. Salty nearly jumped out of his skin as Raven pushed into him, her body soft and comforting, and yet, he felt so afraid inside, a feeling he couldn’t quite identify. Was it hers? Or his? Maybe it was being here on the deck, listening, waiting for…

A cry of anger rose from the King, a shout of helpless rage and pain morphing into one despairing bellow that made the whole ship shudder horribly. The grey stallion looked back over his shoulder at the two stallions,

“She doesn’t remember me…” he closed his eyes and pulled himself away from the wheel, “Why…why doesn’t she remember me?”

The Master Shipwright bowed, “Your Majesty, the heart needs time to adjust and…”

The stallion gasped as the bright glow of purple magic suddenly enveloped his neck. Salty lifted his hoof up to his own in sympathy as the stricken stallion was hoisted off the deck. The King’s magic was frighteningly powerful, and even as an earth pony, Salty could feel the barely restrained deadly force of it being employed. The King snarled,

“You…LIAR!” He shook the struggling tan stallion, bringing the terrified creature near so they were eye to eye, “You told me she wouldn’t lose anything that made her who she is!” he lifted the Shipwright even higher into the air where the dangling stallion started to choke and struggle. “You put her through that torment, through that hell…FOR THIS?!”

The other white coated stallion gingerly stepped forward,

“Er…Your Majesty…we, um, we may be able to help coax her memories to the fore. She most likely is, er, suffering from shock from the transfer to the new body. It must be quite a, um, new experience for her.”

With a thump, the magic winked out and the choking, gasping Folsom was unceremoniously dumped onto the deck. The King advanced on the one who’d addressed him,

“You’d better,” he said quietly, “Or I will find a ‘new experience’ for you. And I can assure you, both of you, it will be the last one you will ever have.” The dark grey stallion stepped forward, his eyes narrowing menacingly, “Now get off my ship.”

Virtually falling over themselves, the two white overcoat wearing ponies dashed down the gangplank, leaving the King alone on the deck. Salty watched in silence as the dark grey unicorn sank to his haunches and leaned his head back, tears leaking from his eyes as he gritted his teeth in the most unimaginable grief. He shook, choking back his sobs while the three watchers looked on at this most private of scenes. Salty turned his head away, while Raven, her eyes wet with her own tears, walked up to the grieving ruler of the Crystal Empire. She reached out to him, her face full of pain and sorrow, but her hooves passed right through him as though they were nothing more substantial than those of a ghost. Salty looked down at the little foal and let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding in. The little one probably didn’t fully understand what was going on, and it was maybe just as well; who would want to see this? Who would…he paused. Raven did didn’t she? That was the whole point of bringing them here; so they could see her for who, or rather ‘what’ she was.

“Amy…”

Salty could hear the mare’s name being uttered by the stallion who must have loved her more than he could ever imagine.

“Amy…I’m so sorry…I’m so, so sorry…”

Salty wanted to leave, to go back to the ship. This was too much for him. He wasn’t good with emotions, and it was one of the main reasons why he’d never bothered with females for anything more than a little warm company on a cold night. Salty closed his eyes. He didn’t know what to say, or what to do. For that matter, what could he do? Nothing! Goddesses, when was this going to end?

Raven walked up beside him, her voice soft and gentle,

“He really loved me, you know. He didn’t say it very often, but I knew…a mare always knows.”

The words were meant more for her herself and the world around her than for the old cream and brown helmspony, but Salty understood. His heart cried out for her, wanting to console her and make this right. But he knew, that for these two, the world had moved on…a very, very long time ago. He hung his head. The world could be a truly cold place sometimes. He spoke softly,

“Who were ye, Raven? Who be Amy?”

Raven sniffed, her mouth curling up in a sardonic smile, “Who indeed.”

“Ye be the Queen o’ the Empire…” he breathed.

“Me?” Raven chuckled, “No, just a courtesan. King Sombra never married. But of all the mares he favoured, I was always his favourite.” She smiled sadly, “But…yes, I had hoped that one day he would have proposed to me.” Raven shook her head, “it was never to be…” she trailed off, “never to be.”

Salty had never heard such heartache in a voice before. He closed his eyes, fighting the urge to flee, to get away from all of this. And yet despite it all he wanted to help her, to do something, anything that would mend this and make it right for her. Raven turned away from the King and gave Salty a brief nuzzle,

“If only you could, dear Salty.”

“I’m sorry…” was all he could manage.

Raven’s face changed to one of shock, and then kindness, “You’re sorry? Why?”

He looked up at her, his eyes wet with tears, “Because…if there be anypony in the world I would ‘ave…” he couldn’t finish. Raven smiled at him. She knew anyway, she’d always known. The ship, the mare, had always understood Salty’s heart better than anypony he’d ever known in his entire life. He’d dedicated himself to her, given, in some way, his own heart to her….willingly. The sparkling silver-grey mare gave him a nudge,

“Let’s go, Salty…” she said sadly, “I’ve seen this too many times already.”

In the time it took for the old sailor to blink, the ship, the dock, the King and everypony around them had vanished, replaced by a…a study? Salty looked around himself in wonder at it all. It was indeed a study, with dark oak panelled walls, a grandfather clock ticking away in the corner, deep rich rugs and a log fire crackling away adding light and warmth to the room. It was…comforting, and intensely feminine. A delicately carved oak table took centre place, covered over with a delicate lace table cloth, a tasteful vase of fragrant flowers and a cake stand. Pictures of puppies, watercolours of landscapes and lacy ‘things’ hung everywhere.

“Do you like it?” Raven asked quietly.

“This…this be yer home?”

“Aye, that it be.” Raven chuckled, teasing Salty with her emulation of his manner of speech, “Welcome to my home from home, so to speak.”

The old sailor shook his head in amazement as he took it all in, “It’s…very you.”

“Hmph!” Raven snorted, “I’d hoped for something a little more descriptive! You could have tried ‘how is this possible?!’, or maybe ‘it’s beautiful!’ or,” she waved a hoof vaguely, “something like that.”

“I meant it be feminine, like ye.” Salty scrubbed his mane, “I not be good with words, Raven, ye know that already, so stop teasing me, please.”

The mare walked over to him, so close the old sailor took a step back in surprise, but she pressed in until she was barely inches away,

“Teasing you?” Raven let out a low rumble, “You don’t know what teasing is, my helmspony. Perhaps…I should show you?”

Salty gasped as she reached out for him,

“Now…where should I…” She breathed on his ear making him shudder, “…begin…”

With a sudden bark of laughter, Raven bounced away, her eyes sparkling,

“Now that, Mister Salty, is teasing!” She giggled, waggling her rump at him, “Besides, with a foal here, it wouldn’t be appropriate for you to…shall we say, ‘take the helm’?”

Salty could feel his cheeks burning like they’d been branded, but all that seemed to do was make the infuriating mare laugh all the more. Eventually though, she’d had enough of her play and dropped into one of the chairs by the fire. Waving a hoof, she beckoned the old sailor to sit opposite her. Salty sat quietly, looking into the fire while Raven watched him with her large reflective eyes. She was clearly expecting him to say something, he could see that, but what he didn’t know, was what to say. He was no good with words, let alone mares! His mind was racing through the events in the city, everything he’d seen and heard there running through his mind: the dock, the streets, the whole ‘crystaliness’ of it all…was that even a word? And…and what they’d done to her! He felt sickened, angry, and saddened all at once. These were all emotions he tried not to experience if he could help it, usually with the help of a bottle of brandy or two. But there was one thing that was niggling at him - a name, a name one of the Shipwrights had said…

It popped into Salty’s head like a flash of light and came straight out of his mouth,

“SOMBRA!”

Raven smiled, “Nothing wrong with your hearing then.”

“Aye! But…wait, if he be King Sombra, then he were, well, the Princesses…” Salty rubbed his muzzle in consternation. If he said what he was going to say, then Raven could be hurt, and this mare had suffered more than enough already. She certainly didn’t need him opening his big mouth. Unfortunately, she could also read his thoughts as if they were written on the pages of an open book,

“In answer to your question,” she said pleasantly, “he wasn’t always as the history books no doubt paint him now. He was a good pony, a wonderful and kind ruler whom everypony loved back home.” She looked away slightly, staring at a point past Salty as she continued, “He changed. The war, the demands of running the Empire, and what happened to me…” She hung her head, her eyes sad and distant, “In some ways, I blame myself for…”

“-How can ye blame yer self?” Salty said suddenly, cutting her off, “That fella had a mind o’ ‘is own didn’t ‘e? ‘e didn’t ‘ave ter do what ‘e did, ‘e ‘ad a choice, we all ‘ave a choice. An’ look what ‘appened! The whole Empire, gone, just like that! All those ponies, innocent foals, mares, everypony…gone!”

Raven’s eyes blazed, “And what do you know about it? You don’t know him! Nopony knew him! Not like me! You all ostracised him, like he was some sort of demon, when all he wanted was to protect his people! Was that so wrong? They were dying, Salty! Dying!”

The old sailor hung his head, “Raven, I don’t know what to say to ye. I just…I don’t want to see ye cry. I not be much good with big words an’ all that fancy stuff, I just be a simple stallion who works the decks. If I could do somethin’ to make things right for ye, I would. I…” he suddenly found himself becoming tongue tied and gave a light whinny, “Oh, I don’t know! Ye know more about me than I knows about meself, Raven.”

The mare nodded,

“They made a Captain for me you know, with magic; one to sail me for the Empire. I was used, not for trade, but for war. I didn’t mind though I suppose, so long as I could still see him.” She smiled distantly, “Over time my memories did come back, but for Sombra, it was never enough. He wanted me to be as I had been before, and I don’t think he could ever accept what had happened to me and it haunted him. I could see it in his eyes, and when he touched me…in his heart.” She took one of the cakes and stared at it, “The war dragged on, and more and more ships were planned, but then he…he began forcing ponies to become one with the crystal, to become the heart of the ship. His desperation to end the war began to darken his heart and he turned to magics nopony should ever have used. I saw him change from the much loved ruler he was to the…the monster he became.” She shook her head sadly, “It was very hard, Salty, so hard, when Sombra and the Empire...left. I was so frightened and alone, with one Captain passing on and another taking over, time and time again. So many years, I can’t even remember how long ago it was now.” She smiled up at him, “And then I met a young sailor, one with a light and delicate touch upon my wheel.”

Salty blushed, “I…oh…”

“Can you see now?” Raven said looking at the little foal, “Can you see why I don’t want to lose all of that? If I merge with her, all those moments may be lost, like tears in a rainstorm.”

The little orange foal gazed up at Salty and then at Raven, slowly walking up to her. Raven, rather than backing away, merely watched her approach until the foal sat down on her haunches beside Raven’s chair and fixed her with those big round eyes. The orange foal never spoke, never uttered a word, she just… reached out a hoof, a single tear rolling down her cheek. Raven stared at her,

“I suppose you have your own story to tell, don’t you…little sister.”

Salty watched in silence as Raven reached down and carefully encircled the foal in her forelegs, lifting her up into her lap,

“I bet I know some big pony likes cake!”

The tiny foal smiled and clopped her hooves together in delight. With a grin, Raven passed her one of the brightly coloured treats and the young foal, the personification of the King Sombra’s Revenge, gave a huge beaming grin. She reached up with her tiny forelegs and hugged the silver-grey mare who smiled happily at her, kissing her gently on the muzzle. Salty watched wide eyed as the foal suddenly began to glow; a bright fluorescent orange light emanating from her, rapidly growing in intensity and spreading outwards, engulfing Raven and expanding until it filled the entire room. Salty closed his eyes, trying to keep his fear under control, but…nothing happened. There was no pain, no discomfort, only…warmth. The sensation of unconditional love flowed through him, carrying with it a sensation of caring, of joy and laughter, a foals love for her mother or, in this case, her older sister. Images of past Captains and crew, of sailing high above the clouds in the pure blue sky, the sun bright above them, filled Salty’s eyes. There were the stars at night, beautifully clear and exotically alluring, there was the coast of Llamalia, with its white sands, white painted buildings and equally exotic inhabitants. Voyages, singing, happiness, all of it laid out for Raven and Salty to see. Finally, the tempo of the memories began to slow. The ones the foal showed now featured the smiling face of the odd eyed stallion Haggis, Salty, Stock, Cyclone, but predominantly, the red coated mare with the bright yellow mane…Captain Gretel.

The last image filled Salty with an overwhelming sense of joy, protectiveness, love and caring. This tiny life, the ‘soul’ of the Revenge, really was as innocent as she looked. He smiled to himself and felt a wash of contentment flood through him making his spine tingle. Slowly, softly, the images began to fade, the study returning with Raven sat on her own, staring at the fireplace, her face an unreadable mask. Of the foal however, there was no sign.

“Raven?” Salty ventured.

“She’s with me now,” the mare replied calmly, staring straight ahead, “and I with her. It seems, strange, the memories of two, now one, within me.”

Salty felt his heart sink. This was what he’d wanted wasn’t it? To merge the two, to see them become one single, stable entity. That had been his goal…right? But now when he looked at her, she seemed different, softer somehow, as though she’d been ‘smoothed’ almost. Salty shook his head and felt a shudder run through his body. She’d changed, the Raven he knew and…loved, gone…forever. Grief threatened to take him, but he held back, keeping himself as calm as he could. Soon he would be back on the ship, and by the Goddesses, he was going to get so drunk they’d have to mop him off the floor.

Raven…Amy…Revenge, or whoever she was now, smiled at him,

“I haven’t forgotten you, Salty.” She got up from the chair and approached him, her smile so familiar and yet so alien, “You made us whole, brought us back…home.”

Home?

The mare smiled, “I long to fly, to feel the wind in my sails and the clouds beneath my keel. I want…I need to be free!” she grinned at Salty, “Will you take my helm?”

Salty returned her smile, “Aye my love, with pleasure.”

Suddenly the mare bopped him on the nose,

“Naughty!”

Before he could say any more, the startled stallion found himself lying in sick bay with several concerned ponies staring down at him. Doc nodded to him,

“Welcome back, sailor.”

Haggis pushed in, gaving him a stern look, “Goddesses you had us worried, you’ve been gone for hours.”

The Captain’s voice called over from the next bed, “About bloody time, Salty.” She chuckled, “But a damned good job sir, damned good job. I’ll have to owe you a bottle though Salty, don’t think I’m going anywhere anytime soon.”

Salty began thrashing in the sheets, pulling himself out of the bed and onto his hooves. Doc tried to stop him, but it was too late,

“She needs to set sail, Cap’n” Salty announced, his eyes wide with urgency, “She has to fly!”

Gretel nodded, “And she will, I assure you of that Mister Salty. We have a job to do, and I expect everypony on this crew to be at their best. That includes, naturally, the Revenge’s helmsponies.”

“Aye, Cap’n!” Salty and Haggis replied together.

Doc layed a hoof on Salty’s shoulder, his voice low, “Salty, the Captain has a broken leg, and there’s Pickles’ funeral tomorrow. Do you think the Revenge can wait a couple of days?”

Salty nodded slowly, his enthusiasm draining away, “Aye, Doc, I reckon she will.”

From beneath her, Gretel could feel the Revenge’s joy. The sky galleon was singing a happy refrain that even if most of them could not hear it, they still could sense it. The liveliness, the contentedness of the old ship was back, only this time there was more; a spirit and drive that made the red mare want to leap from her bed and simply…move. She smiled to herself, quietly wishing her father and mother could have been here to see the sky galleon as she should have been…complete and ready to sail. Gretel closed her eyes and let out a deep breath, letting the song of the waves and clouds lull her to sleep.

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

The Revenge’s Captain slept soundly for the first time in what seemed like ages. The song of the ship and the happiness flowing from her, made her feel more relaxed than she probably should do right then with such a nasty break. Doc had done what he could, but it had still hurt like hell. Fortunately, she was so full of painkilling herbs that she couldn’t feel nor care about much at all right then, at least, not until she’d had some more sleep. Unfortunately, morning came all too quickly and Gretel awoke with a yawn, then a hiss of pain as her body reminded her of what had happened to her leg. Doc trotted over,

“Sleep well?”

“Better than I have in ages.” Gretel replied honestly, “Damned things killing me though, Doc. Can I have some more of those herbs?”

Doc nodded, “Of course, just a second.”

He moved to his cabinet and quickly returned with a bottle of bright green liquid which Gretel took gratefully.

“Let’s have a look at that leg of yours,” he said in his usual businesslike tone, lifting the corned of the bed sheet.

Doc furrowed his brow as he gently examined the leg.

“Morning!” Strata’s chirpy voice drifted in through the open door, “Oooh, that looks nasty!”

Gretel rolled her eyes and tried to pretend the infuriating unicorn wasn’t there, staring at her hind leg. Doc fortunately was the consummate professional and gently, but firmly, manoeuvred his friend away from his current staring position which was no more than a few inches from Gretel’s flank. Thank the Goddess for that! Unfortunately however, the blue coated ships doctor didn’t appear to share his friend’s bubbly enthusiasm. A wave of dread flowed through her at his expression,

“Doc? What is it?”

“Gretel…” Doc began, rubbing his muzzle, “Your leg’s badly broken. I won’t mince words with you though,” he looked her in the eye, “i’m not sure we can save it.”

The Captain’s face paled, “Oh…”

“Even if we did,” Doc continued, “you may never walk properly again, not without pain.”

Gretel nodded slowly, “What are the options Doc?”

Doc’s face darkened, “We can strap and peg it, hoping it will heal, or…”

“Or?”

“Or we can remove it.” Doc finished levelly.

“No.” Gretel said emphatically, “I won’t meet Chalky as half a mare. Pain or no pain, it’s not happening Doc. We’ll go with option one.”

Doc’s eyes reflected the lamplight in the sickbay, his expression one of concern but still carrying that level of professional neutrality she’d seen him use with ponies before,

“Captain,” he began, “You realise it may never heal properly don’t you? Sooner or later it’ll probably have to…”

“I don’t give a damn!” Gretel snapped, “I’m not going to see my…” she trailed off. Taking a deep breath, she looked back up at Doc, “I’ve already given my answer Doc.”

A voice from behind them made them look up in surprise,

“Um…Captain? Doc? I may be able to, you know, do something?”

Gretel and Doc stared at Strata. His innocent expression had a peculiarly endearing effect, even if he did have an uncanny knack of driving you up the wall with his incessant twaddle. Doc pushed him away from the bed and spoke quietly to him out of earshot of the Captain. Whatever it was about, Strata seemed to be getting the worst of it as Doc waved his hooves and spoke in a low, no nonsense tone. Gretel had had enough,

“Hoy! You two, I’m right here you know. What’s going on?”

Strata poked his head over Doc’s neck, “Well, using…”

“STOP!” Gretel shouted suddenly, “Don’t you dare start giving me all that usual mumbo jumbo you come out with, Mister Strata, just…” she softened her voice, “please, to the point.”

Doc shot the indigo unicorn a stern look but his friend gently pushed past him waggling his eyebrows and stuck his tongue out cheekily.

“Well, Mister Strata?” Gretel asked.

Strata seemed to be struggling with some sort of inner turmoil. His eyes darting this way and that while he constantly fidgeted with his hooves. By the Goddess, even his tail was swishing incessantly!

“Mister Strata!”

“Oh! Sorry Captain, I…” he scratched his neck, “It’s difficult to explain, you know, without using magical terminology.”

Gretel groaned, “So, let me make this easier for you.” She looked up at him and raised an eyebrow, “You can fix my leg with magic. Right?”

Strata clopped his forehooves together,

“That’s right! Well done, Captain! Gosh, you earth ponies are full of surprises!”

The Captain’s eye began to twitch. Goddess forgive her, how she’d love to ‘surprise’ Strata one day with an earth pony hoof in his bloody arrogant face! That infuriating creature seemed to see earth ponies as some kind of blasted sub-species, a sort of lumbering, mumbling, lump that was only one step up from cave ponies. Gretel would have words with him one day…long and meaningful words…

She saw Doc face hoof and shook her head with a smirk. It appeared Doc already had spoken to him. For that matter, since Doc was an earth pony himself, did Strata treat him differently? Or did he still get the ‘all earth ponies are village idiots’ line which his cheeky little pal quite obviously believed. She closed her eyes and tried to find the calm within herself. This wasn’t the time for that sort of discussion. Right now she need help, and if the horned nuisance could do something practical, she was all for it.

“Doc?” Gretel asked looking across at the worried expression on his face, “Any thoughts?”

Doc shook his head, “Not really. Magical healing is a field of study I haven’t much experience in, not being a ‘superior life-form’ and all that.”

Gretel couldn’t help but raise a smile at his comment. If Strata heard it, he didn’t let on; rather he was busy scratching at a spot on his muzzle.

“Strata? Are you still with us?” The Captain asked hopefully.

“Hmm? Oh!” He gave his mane a shake, “Right then, if we’ve finished taking a break,” he sniggered, “are you happy for me to ‘crack’ on?”

“Doc?” Gretel said quietly.

“Yes, Captain?”

“Can you give me something to knock me out?” Gretel glowered at Strata, “So I don’t have to listen to your friend’s bloody voice!”

“Oh, I can do that, Captain,” Strata smiled beside her, “In fact…you’ll need to be…” he had a strange look about him that worried her. In fact, she could feel her heart beginning to race already. There was something about this pony, another side to him that…

Strata suddenly leaned down, his horn glowing until it touched the Captain’s forehead,

“And…BOP!”

Gretel’s world turned black. Goddess, that…that bloody unicorn! Why had she agreed to this?! She began to pace back and forth, worried sick that…hang on…what the hell?! Where was she? What was going on here!?

“So…you are the Captain? Captain…Gretel?”

A silvery grey coated earth pony mare with a lilac and purple mane stood before her, staring at her with eyes that looked like they were made of every colour in the rainbow. Gretel gasped and took a step back in alarm,

“Who…who are you?”

“Didn’t Salty say?” the mare asked curiously, “Well, I don’t suppose I’m that surprised, he is a stallion after all.” she cocked her head on one side, “I have…memories of you, and your father, and yet I’ve never met you. Strange.” She furrowed her brow, “But not unexpected I suppose.” The mare walked up to her, peering at her coat closely, “I like your coat colour. It’s such a shame the Empire is no more, else I’m certain you would have looked simply magnificent.” She scratched her chin, “Your mane needs a lot of work though. I think you could do with visiting a proper mane dresser.”

Gretel’s mind was reeling. Who…ah, of course, ‘memories’…

“Are you…are you the King Sombra’s Revenge?” she asked with mixture of curiosity and trepidation.

“Who? Oh! You mean the name your father gave me? Or rather ‘her’, I suppose.” The silver-grey mare shrugged demurely, “It doesn’t matter really, does it? I have had several names, even having the fleet named after me.” She snorted, “How noble!”

“Your name is Amethyst?” Gretel said in surprise.

“Humph!” the mare sniffed, “Quite astute of you, Captain. Yes, that was my name, but later, who I ‘was’ ceased to matter, and I simply became ‘the ship’, the ‘Raven’s Eye’, or ‘Raven’, as Salty likes to call me.”

“But…what happened to….?”

“-The Revenge?” The mare said with a flick of her tail, “She’s here, within me. We…share each other in a way, but are still one. I can’t really explain it very well I’m afraid, I’m not a Shipwright.” She smiled, “But rest assured, the Revenge and I shall serve you well, my Captain.”

Gretel didn’t know what to say, her mind was reeling with everything she was trying to take in. How the hell did Salty cope? Did he always see her like this? Speak to her in this way?

“No.” The mare replied shaking her head, her large eyes twinkling in some unseen light, “We talked, but it was only after Salty saved me from spending an eternity on the bottom of the ocean that I learned how to…how can I say…’create’ the world you see before you.”

The mare swept her foreleg out before her and the world of darkness wavered, coalescing into an elegant gazebo, complete with the most beautifully ornate table and matching chairs Gretel had ever seen. All manner of sweet smelling flowers climbed up the elaborate marble pillars around them, while in the distance, ponies played cricket, the occasion ‘thwack’ of the batspony hitting the ball adding to the strangely enchanting atmosphere. Gretel couldn’t stop staring at it all. She felt oddly out of place here, whereas Raven, Amethyst, or whoever she was, blended in seamlessly.

Gretel tore her eyes away from the beauty of her surroundings and addressed her host,

“What should I call you?”

The silver-grey mare shrugged,

“Whatever you wish, I don’t mind.” She lifted her hoof, indicating to the silver service beside her, “Tea?”

“Er…yes, thank you.” Gretel stammered.

“It’s Llamalian Dark Forest, a purer blend than many, and really quite rich. I hope you like it.” The mare poured the tea out and smiled, “May I call you Gretel?”

The Captain smiled back, relieved at the mare’s question, “Yes, of course. I’d be happy if you did.”

The mare nodded, “In which case, you may call me Amy. As for Salty,” she smiled, “I think I shall always be Raven.”

“I think that’s going to be a little challenging for me,” Gretel chuckled, “I’ve always known you as the King Sombra’s Revenge. Calling you Amy may be tricky for the crew to…”

Amy lifted her hoof forestalling the Captain, her lilting laugh drifting out across the manicured lawns of lush grass, “Oh, please, Gretel, this is just between us! The crew and everypony else needn’t know of our meetings like this. Believe me, deckhooves don’t tend to be the brightest tools in the set, although I suspect you already know that.”

Gretel laughed, “I do, Amy. But that said, they’re a good lot at heart. A little rough, certainly, but good ponies every stallion and mare of them.” She nodded to the tea, “I’m not really a tea drinker, brandy is more my thing, but I have to say you were absolutely right…this is delicious!”

“Ah! Another connoisseur at long last!” Amy waved a hoof in the air in delight, “Please, try the pastries, these are from Yakistan. Now, I don’t normally hold with food from the north, but these are simply divine.”

“I can’t say I’ve ever really had any myself,” Gretel said nibbling on one of the sweet treats, “I haven’t had much to do with Yaks. They’re quite an aggressive lot I find.”

Amy shrugged, “Oh, yes…very much so.” She looked a little distant and stared out across the cricket pitch.

“Amy, I’m not really here am I?” Gretel asked quietly, “I mean, I’m back in sick bay having…’things’ done to me.”

The silvery mare nodded, sipping her tea thoughtfully. Her voice was sad and a little distant somehow, “I’m sorry you were hurt, Gretel, it was my fault.” She kept looking out at the ongoing match.

“You didn’t force me to run down the stairs you know.” Gretel replied. She closed her eyes, savouring the wonderful earthiness of the tea, “I’m a grown mare and I’d sure as hell berate any of my crew for doing something so bloody stupid to themselves.”

“You were trying to help me…both of us.” Amy said quietly, “So, yes, it is my fault, even if indirectly.”

The Captain snorted, “Pah! Accidents happen.”

Amy took another cake, a small lemon coloured sponge with delicate icing. Gretel’s eyes were drawn to it - she’d have one of those next. Distracted, Amy’s next words caught her by surprise,

“I can show you if you like,” the silver mare said absently, “the Shipwright is doing a magnificent job on repairing your leg. He has quite a delicate touch for such a young stallion.”

Gretel paled, “You can see what they’re doing to me?”

Amy nodded.

“Then I’d rather not.” Gretel continued, “Sometimes ignorance is bliss, and right now I’m enjoying the bliss part.” “Long may it continue…” she added in a mutter. Gretel shook her mane and yawned, noting the frowning look of disapproval from Amy,

“What?”

“Ladies do not shake their manes.” The silvery coated mare said indignantly, “It’s uncouth and undignified.”

Gretel raised an eyebrow, “It is?”

“Yes, very.”

“Just as well I’m not then” Gretel laughed.

Amy looked confused, “Uncouth and undignified?”

“No,” Gretel replied, “a lady.”

“Humph!” Amy snorted loudly in response, “You may say that, but inside every mare is a grace and nobility that can elevate her above the level of the gutter. It’s up to her to realise her own potential, or not as the case may be.”

Gretel began to feel a little rankled at the direction this conversation was heading, “Look, I’m the Captain of a ship full of mares and ponies who haul ropes, climb rigging and scrub decks. They’re stuffed into a wooden hulled vessel for days, sometimes weeks on end. Do you really think they want a graceful and noble mare as their Captain?” she sniffed, “Of course not! They want a rough tough leader of ponies, one they can rely on to make the right decisions and keep them safe.”

Amy gave her a peculiar smile, her eyes twinkling, “But what about the Captain herself?”

Gretel raised an eyebrow, “What do you mean?”

“You have a life too, Gretel.” Amy said pointedly, “You know what I’m talking about…and who.” She suddenly grinned wickedly; an almost lewd expression passing across her face, “I saw you, you know…you and that white unicorn. He had quite a lot of stamina in him for such a frail thing. They’re not like earth ponies you know, not that much ‘go’ in them, but what they can do with that magic…”

“Good Goddess!” Gretel barked nearly choking on her cake, “You…you saw that?!”

Amy rolled her eyes, “Of course, you did do all that inside my hull remember?” she waved a hoof across her nose, “I can still sm…”

Gretel clopped her hoof on the table, “-Stop it! Please, Amy!”

The silvery mare threw her head back and laughed, the table shaking with her raucus laughter until, eventually, it subsided. Amy lifted her foreleg and wiped the tears away from her eyes,

“I’m sorry, Gretel!” she giggled, “I couldn’t resist it! The poor thing showed me everything: all the memories, sights and sounds of her life, including ‘that’! Goodness, I was so shocked!”

Something in the mare’s voice suggested that she was far from shocked and certainly no stranger to what happened in private between a stallion and a mare. She gave the cheeky creature a hard look and received a knowing smirk in return; a smirk that infuriatingly reminded her of the bloody creature that was working on her as they spoke. She shuddered. Maybe she shouldn’t be thinking about blood right now.

The silver-grey mare placed her cup delicately back on the saucer, “I believe they are finished now, Captain Gretel.” She smiled sadly, “I will have to send you back now. You need proper rest to help your body heal.”

“Wait!” Gretel said urgently raising a hoof, “Amy, you said ‘Shipwright’ before. They disappeared with the Empire didn’t they? I mean, there haven’t been any sky galleons built for hundreds of years!”

“Maybe…” the enigmatic silvery mare said shrugging, “But I know the feel of one all too well.” She raised an eyebrow, fixing Gretel with a decidedly worrying expression, “Why don’t you ask him yourself when you see him? He’s the one who’s saved your leg after all.”

“Strata?” Gretel asked in amazement.

“The indigo unicorn? Yes…” Amy wiped dabbed at the corner of her mouth with a white serviette, “Now, I’m afraid its time for sleep young lady. We shall talk again soon enough.”

Gretel opened her mouth to protest but it was hopeless, the silver-grey mare was the ruler in this world - a virtual goddess in her own right with the power to create and manipulate everything around her. In some ways that sort of power sounded enticing, but to spend eternity in what was, essentially, your own mind, wasn’t something Gretel envied. It sounded more like an image of hell.

Around her the scene faded out to black and then to a more familiar faint light, the light of lanterns hanging near the bed she was lying in. Gretel felt decidedly groggy, but other than that, surprisingly well considering what they’d done. Come to think of it, what had they done? What…what if they’d had to…? She opened her eyes and tried to move, only to be stopped by a hoof gently pressing her back down,

“Captain, please don’t move about, it’s going to take a while for your stitches to heal.”

“Stitches…” Gretel mumbled, still a little unfocussed, “My leg?”

Doc smiled slightly, “It’s alright, in fact, its going be better than alright. Strata did an amazing job replacing the bone and repairing the damaged muscle.”

Gretel’s heart leaped, “Replaced?! What do you mean replaced?”

“The bone was shattered,” Doc explained, “Strata made a new one from a type of crystal I’ve never seen before, it was incredible. He used his magic to mould it and…”

Gretel coughed, “Tha…thanks Doc,” she wheezed feeling a little nauseous at the mental imagery, “could you pass me some water?”

“Sure.”

“By the way, where’s Strata?” The Captain asked, accepting the bowl of water from the doctor, “I want to speak to him.”

The blue stallion shook his head as he glanced towards the next bed, “He’s there, asleep. Poor fellow was exhausted. I’ve never seen a unicorn use magic like that before, it was quite astounding.”

Gretel nodded, gazing at the lump under the bed covers, one indigo coloured ear poking out of the top. She smiled. It didn’t matter who he was, or what he was for that matter. This stallion had saved her leg and for that, if nothing else, he deserved her thanks and admiration. In a way, it seemed strangely ironic that a ‘Shipwright’ had mended the Captain whose life was linked to the vessel she served on; ironic and almost…prophetic somehow. Gretel took a deep breath and sighed it out,

“Doc, about mum’s funeral, will I be able to travel do you think?”

“I don’t know,” Doc said honestly, “the real doctor here is asleep at the minute. I’ll ask him for you when he wakes up. For now though, Captain, your ships surgeon orders you to get some sleep.”

“But i’ve only just woken up!” Gretel protested.

A hoof tapped her on the nose, “No excuses, now…” Doc tucked the covers in around her and gave her a fatherly look, “Goodnight, Gretel.”

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

Rain hammered down, drowning out the words of the priest and the sobs of the mares as the casket was lowered into the ground. As per her wishes, Pickles’ body had been cremated, the ashes placed in a small white casket with tasteful silver inlay. In some ways it was a reflection of her personality; neat, clean and with a practicality of outlook that Gretel hoped she’d inherited. She watched in silence as her mothers physical remains vanished forever into that hole and took her turn placing a shovel full of earth into it until the casket disappeared from sight for the last time. She was alone now in the world, at least as far as family was concerned. It was strange to think of the Revenge, or ‘Amy’ even, as family, but really, she still was despite having changed somewhat. Then there was the crew - that rough and tumble band of deck hooves that made every day fresh and new in their own unique way. Gretel took a deep breath. She had so much more than a lot of ponies had in this world. So many of them had lost everything in that terrible war, in many cases, even their own lives. She lifted a single red rose and tossed it onto the grave, her heart feeling as heavy as lead.

“Goodbye Mum”

Gretel gave her muzzle a rub. The sowester wasn’t exactly dignified for this, but mum would have understood. She always had. Goddess help her; if only she’d bothered to listen to her, discussed things with her sooner, maybe this wouldn’t have... She gritted her teeth. Why was she always so bloody stubborn?! But of course, that could be said to have applied to both of them. It was too late now anyway, far, far too late. The eternal herd had a new recruit, and the Goddess help them all. Gretel turned away, followed by Doc and Salty. Strata, who didn’t know Pickles, had gone back to his home to collect some of his personal items to keep on board. She’d not had much of a chance to talk to him since she’d been back on her hooves, but the story amongst the crew had spread like wildfire nonetheless. No doubt a certain cream and brown stallion not standing a million miles from her right now had something to do with that. As if saving her leg wasn’t remarkable enough, Strata had now been credited with ‘saving the Captain’s life’. The more he’d tried to deny it, the more the crew believed it. He was ‘just be modest’ after all!

The three of them walked in silence. Gretel didn’t want to speak to the other mares there, they were all wrapped up in their own world of sorrow for the one they’d seen as their own mother. In reality, she was probably more mother to them than she had been to her own daughter, if you looked at the amount of time they’d spent together, and years of pointless hate were hard to forget…even if they were nothing more than foolishness. Conflicting emotions crashed through her mind as she walked, climbing the gangplank and straight into her cabin without a word. Gretel was in a daze. She hadn’t even said goodbye to anypony, not even Hay Wain who’d paid for most of the funeral. Now, she sat in her cabin, alone and lost in her thoughts…

You’re not alone.

The voice of the ship soaked through her, up her scarred leg, her scarred body and warmed her tortured mind. She hated this world sometimes, the way it caused pain and suffering then just carried on as if it was of absolutely no importance whatsoever. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. She’d lost her dad and now her mother, their lives snuffed out like candles. Gretel choked back a sob as the tears rolled down her cheeks; it wasn’t fair…none of it! She’d just found her mother after all these years of lies, lies and stupidity! And now some bastard had murdered her, and for what? Why? Goddess damn them, if she ever found out who’d done this she’d gut them and leave what was left for the rats to devour. Grief rolled through the red mare, taking her away on a tide of sorrow that lead to the bottle rack. Somepony, possibly Doc, had resupplied it and she quickly found the clear glass bottles of the finest Yak brandy…Goddess bless him. Gretel pulled out the cork with her teeth and began to drink. No glass this time, she just wanted to ease the pain, to drown out the emptiness and heartache with the fiery spirit that was filling her belly. She could sense the ship’s concern for her, hear her voice in the background calling to her. Bloody nuisance! What…what did she know?

Chalky.

“What?” Gretel spat, the room spinning slightly, “Did you…?”

He’s waiting for you. Will you not go to him?

“He’s with that toy army, dammit.” Gretel grumbled, “We can’t get involved or we’ll risk losing her…you, rather…and I can’t lose you!”

This army is fighting the Legion?

“Aye, some bloody buffoons playing at soldiers.”

But they are fighting the Legion, the one’s who murdered your mother are they not?

Gretel took another pull on the bottle and stared at the floor. She had a point point, a damned good point too. Those rats had murdered her mum, Chalky was with the one’s fighting them, and here she was…moping…

Shoving the cork back in the bottle, Gretel stomped to the door of the cabin and threw it open,

“MISTER HAGGIS!”

The odd eyed pony looked up at her,

“Aye Cap’n?”

“Are all the crew aboard?”

“Aye Cap’n.”

Gretel looked around the deck,

“What about that bloody unicorn?”

“He’s below stowing his gear, Cap’n.” The helmspony replied.

“Best place for the blasted nuisance!” Gretel laughed, “Make ready to leave port, Mister Haggis, we’ve got a delivery to make.”

The strange stallion tapped his forelock with a toothy grin,

“Aye, aye, Cap’n!”

Gretel grinned to herself menacingly. If anypony had been looking at her right at that moment they quite likely would have withered under the intensity of her glare. The Legion had taken something precious from her, and she had a hold full of things that would take something precious from them…their rotten, stinking lives. Gretel leaned on the balustrade and smiled, picturing the Revenge sweeping down from the skies and delivering her cargo to its unexpecting recipients.

Now this, she thought to herself, was going to be good.

Comments

[Bluespectre]

6994110 Oh, I think it's better than that. But, you know...spoilers!

[PanzerBrony Metallicom]

R.I.P Pickles

Poor Bracken will be pretty down, when he gets to know what happend to his love.

[That One Brony Dude]

Frankly, I'm surprised Nightmare Moon didn't attempt to make it look like a Celestian did the deed. Now Bracken's going to want to get his revenge against Nightmare and The Legion. Gretel is heading for the Celestians, with her ship loaded with explosive, and her heart full of vengence. What exactly does Nightmare think she will do? Unless Nightmare doesn't know she exists, it's clear that Nightmare wasn't thinking.

[NATOstrike]

I've made it past the half-way point now. I've gotta say, I really like this.

Like really really... regardless of the punctuation errors, typos, and minor continuity problems (none of which are bad enough to detract from the story itself), this is an absolutely fantastic story, and I'm definitely going to continue with reading the rest of the series after this one. I'm truthfully surprised that this story didn't gain more traction back when it was still updating.

It's really fun to stumble across these hidden gems once in a while. Thanks for writing it!