A Beginner's Guide to Heroism

by LoyalLiar

XXIX - Deus Ex Somnia

XXIX
Deus Ex Somnia

In the cells under Burning Hearth Castle, the wreck of a handsome pale blue stallion shivered in the center of a nest of itchy woolen blankets, glaring spitefully at a barred window nearby. I knew, loosely, that River Rock had once been quite warm in the summer, so it made sense that open windows would be a pleasant—if not necessary—relief for prisoners.

Now, though, River Rock was going on seventeen or eighteen years since its last real summer, and those open windows were not providing yours truly with anything resembling relief. Instead, they offered me the need to continually check my extremities, and make sure they weren’t about to fall (or snap) off. Beyond that tragically intimate task, however, I was largely left to my own thoughts.

That was the worst of it. For an hour at least, and perhaps even two, I dwelt on Wintershimmer. Despite how brutally he’d betrayed me, my feelings on the stallion remained divided. He was very literally the reason I was at the point in my life I had reached that day, both figuratively as a skilled wizard, and literally in a freezing prison cell. I wanted so desperately to separate the Wintershimmer who’d raised me as a father from the stallion who tried to use me to settle a fifty year vendetta. And yet every time I tried to pull those ponies apart, they stubbornly insisted on remaining the same bitter mentor.

And where did that leave me? In the streets of Union City, I’d called myself a hero as I fought off Silhouette’s thugs. Yet when I came up to join Wintershimmer, I had no doubt I’d taken part in poisoning Smart Cookie—even if I had no idea what I was actually doing to the poor stallion. How much had my work contributed to Jade’s madness? What terrible consequences had followed from my days spent helping Wintershimmer with what I had assumed were simply experiments and lessons?

As you can probably gather, my morale had sunk to an icy grave. I’ll spare you any further summary of dreary thoughts, because nopony in their right mind wants to read that any more than I want to recall it.

After some time of my wallowing, my mind finally managed to find a different trail to chase: I was going to die. As you can imagine, I felt this was a dramatically more pleasant topic for meditation.

The above statement isn’t a reflection on fatalist philosophy. I found it pleasant because it represented a challenge, and nothing consumes my attention quite like a challenge with death in the stakes.

I couldn’t count on Jade trying to hang me again; even if she hadn’t figured out my trick, she wasn’t likely to give me a second chance to perform it. I was spent on spells, again, even if I did somehow get the lodestone cap they’d locked to my head to come off of my horn. I could defeat Jade or Cyclone in battle, but not both, and certainly not Jade’s entourage. Graargh and Angel weren’t accessible, and even if they had been, I wouldn’t want them anywhere near a potential fight that might involve Cyclone. The fire he’d shown in our earlier encounters was simply too massive a force to risk a young… whatever Graargh was… and a golem against. I couldn’t count on Gale’s diplomatic skills or Blizzard’s influence over Cyclone to talk our way out of the issue. And even if I did come up with some masterful argument for my innocence, Cyclone had made it altogether clear that he’d hand me over to Jade for reparations unless I could convince her of my innocence. And that ship had long since sailed.

I was going to die.

Would that be so bad? I admit, even without speaking aloud that I somehow managed to come across sarcastic in asking that question. I could probably have convinced Celestia or Luna that I was innocent and earn myself a place in the Summer Lands…

The idea that followed was fundamentally stupid, felt completely unlikely to succeed, and frankly, was the best hope I had left. Unfortunately, it was also simultaneously my worst idea left, which I feel is an accurate summary of my hopelessness.

I shuffled myself, itchy blankets and all, over to the window. Finally able to see overhead, I caught a glimpse of exactly zero stars, and only the slightest of glows from the moon, obscured beyond meaningful recognition by the thick clouds of the unrelenting snow.

“Luna… Your Holiness, or whatever title it is you desire. Please, forgive my ignorance. And frankly, my impudence trying to contact you like this and expecting your attention. However, I’m about to be unjustly executed for murder in River Rock. And if the stories are true, you might actually hear this because I’m talking toward the moon. If so, please help me. If not… I’ll see you shortly anyway?”

A moment later, in a strange bit of recollection from Wintershimmer’s lessons, I added “Amen.”

I then promptly fled from the freezing window, curled up into a ball as far from the outside cold as I could, and worried myself to sleep. The question that sat in my mind as I waited for sleep to come is whether it would be worse if my request went unanswered. The legends about Luna’s boons varied from cruel and inventive to simply brutal; all stated she required some recompense when she intervened in the lives of mortals.

At best, I could expect something time consuming and seemingly impossible, like building a full-sized palace out of sand on the summit of a mountain. At worse, I’d be asked to give her a century of service after my death before being allowed to flit off to the Summer Lands.

If I had known the truth of where those legends came from, I likely would have died the next morning.

---

For all its flaws relating to blind hope and stupidity, my plan did have one redeeming quality: it worked.

I dreamt I was being chased by Commander Hurricane, in that odd way that you can know in a dream the identity of something you have never seen nor witnessed, because it came from within your imagination. He took the form of a jet black giant pegasus, with flaming eyes and teeth and other similarly ridiculous eccentricities that seemed completely normal within the scope of dreams.

Just as Hurricane’s serrated teeth were about to settle around my throat, a beam of radiant blue pierced the monster, and he vanished like smoke into the air.

“Let me first say, colt, that you are without exception the worst supplicant I have ever heard speak.”

I looked up at an alicorn, whose description I will now spare you on the assumption that in the ensuing years between my writing and your reading, she has almost certainly survived. I only note the magical quality of her mane, appearing less like hair and more like a slice out of the world that opened into some starry far-away sky, as a contrast to my previous experience with Queen Jade, who was both an alicorn and definitively not immortal.

After a few moments of awe and a split second processing her preceding words, I rose to my hooves and bowed forward. “But you did hear me.”

“Hmmph.” Luna delivered the snort with some small measure of amusement. “What is your name, mortal?”

“Well, you guessed it,” I told her with a smile. Luna, to her credit, only bothered with the effort to slightly lower her brow. “Mortal Coil. My friends call me Morty.”

At that, in a display of recognition that somewhat surprised me, Luna’s brow rose to where it had been before. “I had suspected... The stallion Gale has so often mentioned? Well, now I see what she meant about you.”

Never has a sentence been at once so promising and so troubling.

“You said that you were going to be executed unjustly? Is that correct?”

“That’s what Cyclone and Jade are planning, at least… I’m not dead already, am I?”

Luna shook her head. “You call yourself a necromancer, and yet you cannot tell death from a dream? Or was that meant to be poetic?”

I honestly smiled, despite the finesse and brutality of the insult I’d suffered. Luna spoke with a cunning that rivaled (or more accurately, as I would later learn, far surpassed) my own. “You call yourself the goddess of secrets, don’t you? Why don’t you tell me?”

Luna’s matching smile was somehow far more predatory than mine. “Do you actually wish to play this game, 'Morty?' Or shall we settle the matter of saving your life first?”

“The latter would be preferable.”

“As expected. I will be blunt: I can save your life. In repayment, I require of you a geas.”

I blinked. “You want to magically compel me to serve you? I suppose it’s probably worth not dying. Can I hear the terms before I agree?”

“The service will be short-term,” Luna answered. “Less than a year, and most likely less than a day. However, I have not decided what my demand will be. I much prefer to have those I help in my debt for when a day when they prove to be most useful. Do you agree to these terms?”

“Promise me you won’t obligate me to do evil, and I’ll agree.”

Luna cocked her head with a decidedly philosophical expression. “What is evil, Morty? The monster under an adult’s bed?”

The words sent a chill down my spine, not so much from the morality they implied as that Luna had directly quoted Wintershimmer. To my relief and embarrassment, a moment later she released a soft laugh. “You needn’t worry so visibly, Morty. I give you my word, I will not compel you to evil. Do you agree to my terms?’

I nodded. “You have my word.”

“Then when you are free, you will come to Everfree City and submit yourself to me. I expect you within a month’s time. But before then, expect a rescuer. Farewell.” Luna began to fade into the aether of the dreamscape.

I rose to my hooves. “Who should I be expecting? What’s the actual plan?”

Silence met my question, before the stable island of dreaming consciousness gave way to a peaceful sleep.

---

“Morty? Did you sleep well, my little pony?”

The voice was musical and gentle but without losing its grounding in reality. Nevertheless, drowsy from my interrupted sleep and the terrible quality of my ‘bed’, I took umbrage at the way I’d been addressed.

“Excuse me? Your little…” On the opposite side of my cell bars, sitting and staring at me with what I can only describe as bemusement at my incomplete reply, was the goddess Celestia. Again, you know what she looks like. I won’t waste your time. She had raised one brow at my irate greeting, much like her sister, but otherwise wore a calm, level expression.

I coughed into my hoof. “Oh. I’m sorry. Please, forgive me, Lady Celestia.”

“No, it’s fine.” Once I had stood up, Celestia extended a wing in a motion of greeting. “You can call me Celestia. I prefer not to bother with titles.”

“Your loss.”

Celestia chuckled at that, which gave me a moment to toss off the furs and adjust my signature jacket. “Well, you certainly live up to Gale’s description, Morty.” As she said those words, Celestia’s eyes swept over my body.

Yes. Really.

---

Forgive me for interrupting Morty’s narrative, but I feel the need to defend my honor. While I really did say what Morty records, I was referring to what he’d said, and not his body. I can’t deny that Mortal Coil was (and is) a handsome stallion, but at the time, he was seventeen, and I was… older. In looking him over, I was less interested in romance, and more in the substantial bruises and cuts he earned in his journey thus far, such as the sizeable welt on his cheek Queen Jade had given him the previous day.

---

“I hope ‘Gale’s description’ is at least endearing.”

“Hmm…” Where Luna’s smile had been predatory, Celestia’s was knowing and certainly teasing. “I think it will be more valuable if you hear that from Gale yourself.”

I couldn’t help but cock my head. “More valuable? Are you implying there’s some life lesson I need to learn, or…?”

“There might be, but I meant that it’s more valuable for me as entertainment to leave you wondering.” In that very moment, I began to appreciate the hint of deviousness in Celestia’s slight smile. “Now, as fun as talking like this might be, I didn’t fly all this way overnight just to chat. I understand you’ve been accused of murder. Is that correct?”

I nodded. “I… oh. Wait, hold on. I’m sorry, this must seem obvious from your side, but… Lady Luna sent you?”

“You hadn’t put that together yet?” Celestia’s expression grew only more amused. “Am I that distracting?”

“I don’t often wake up in the company of a goddess. When Luna said she was sending someone, I assumed some sort of subordinate. Maybe a servant or a golem or something. I would assume that isn’t your relation with your sister, though…”

Celestia shook her head, stretching her wings. “I elected to come when Luna described your situation because she has a terrible lack of willpower toward Queen Platinum’s chocolates, and thus cannot beat me in a race by wing even on her best day. Luna is many things, but punctual is rarely one of them. And in this case, it wouldn’t do to be fashionably late.”

“That’s appreciated.”

“I’m glad, Morty. Now, let’s start from the top. Who are you accused of murdering?”

“My mentor. Wintershimmer the Complacent.”

Celestia’s eyes widened, and then she chuckled with that airy, soothing voice. “Well, this will be easier than I was expecting.”

“How so?”

“Wintershimmer isn’t dead.”

It was my turn to express shock. “Um… yes he is. Why would you think otherwise?”

Celestia sat down firmly on the stone floor of the dungeon. “Luna and I judge the souls of the dead. We determine who passes on to the Summer Lands, and who is condemned to Tartarus… or a rare few who meet other fates.”

“What, every single pony?”

“For most, the process is unconscious. Thankfully, ponies truly evil enough to even require consideration are rare. Luna could explain our magic more elegantly than I can, but what matters is that there are a certain few ponies we agree to devote our conscious attention to. Wintershimmer was… is such a pony.”

“Hmph. I’m surprised you don’t just condemn him to Tartarus without wasting your time paying attention.”

Celestia seemed taken aback at my callous observation, and her expression darkened. “We never condemn a pony without hearing them out.” She shook her head, seeming to clear the utter seriousness of the comment. Some of her earlier joviality returned quickly. “If Wintershimmer really had passed, either Luna or I would have intercepted his soul on its way to its final resting place. Please, Morty, tell me: why did you believe he had truly died?”

I felt the jigsaw of the mystery at last click into place in my mind. “Celestia, I know Wintershimmer is dead. And I also know why you didn’t encounter his soul. You see, I didn’t murder him. But I did kill him. And I sent him to the Summer Lands.”

Celestia’s brow rose but she said nothing, leaving me to explain. From my battle with Silhouette’s minions that cost me two spells that morning to the experiment gone wrong, I recited the beginning of my journey. Throughout my story, Celestia was silent, listening intently. At times, she closed her eyes in concentration, especially as my description turned more technical. Even as I finished, recalling the pain of my escape from a noose and a swift death at Jade’s hoof, she held her tongue. Only in the ensuing quiet almost a minute later did Celestia speak up.

“Wintershimmer is in the Summer Lands.”

I nodded. “He doesn’t deserve it, but that’s what happened. I didn’t exactly put him there on purpose.”

“No, I imagine you did not.” Celestia shook her head. “I’m inclined to believe your story, Morty. That would be both the most convoluted and the least subtle strategy for murder I could possibly imagine. I need only one element of evidence, and then I will help you leave this place, even if it means breaking you out of prison myself.”

I admit, the thought amused me. “Alright. What do you need from me?”

“Just a spell.” Celestia’s horn ignited, casting a radiant golden glow around my cell. With a surprising ease, she pulled the lodestone cap off of my horn, almost as if it were a simple piece of cloth instead of a stone known for its magic-resistant properties. “Please let me speak to Wintershimmer.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea…”

“I give you my word, Morty, it will be fine. Would you like to seance him, or should I?”

Wanting for chalk or even dirt, I wasted no time drawing stabilizing glyphs. It isn’t as if I expected to impress a literal goddess with the time-consuming rituals of preparation anyway. Instead, my horn lit in blue, and the spell was cast.

Wintershimmer stared at me as he first as he faded into view, and then very quickly identified the alicorn in the room.

“Wintershimmer.”

“Lady Celestia.”

I still recall that, unlike with my greeting, she didn’t correct Wintershimmer about his use of a title. That is perhaps all I recall about Celestia’s reaction to my mentor; he dominated my focus. Unadulterated loathing is a glutton of attention. Even holding my seance, all that ran through my mind were the memories of my studies under Wintershimmer. Every time I looked the other way when he performed some act of pure cruelty for its own sake flooded the forefront of my attention. Ignoring them seemed like a brutal condemnation of my own character, somehow made worse by the naive belief that his apparent care for me could even suggest there was a decent pony underneath.

Wintershimmer seemed oblivious to my emotions, perhaps because he remained wholly fixated on Celestia. “Coil, I admit I’m impressed. The company you keep continues to improve with each passing day, it seems. I thought you might have been satisfied with the crown princess.” The ghostly eyes of my mentor swept around my cell. “Though your accommodations leave something to be desired. Still playing the hero, then?”

“I don’t see much point playing anything anymore,” I muttered, focusing most of my effort on resisting the urge to start an argument.

“In any case, I assume you’ve summoned me for a reason. Speak, Coil. Or if you have questions for me, Lady Celestia, I will consider answering them.”

“I only have a few,” Celestia replied harshly. “Firstly, have you been enjoying your time in the Summer Lands?”

Something akin to worry passed over Wintershimmer’s face. “I suppose I have. Why do you ask?”

“Professional curiosity. You were Queen Jade’s archmage, weren’t you? Before your passing?”

“Yes…” Wintershimmer answered with the beginnings of a hint of annoyance. “And there are a thousand living ponies who could have told you that, ‘goddess’. Is there a point to this seance?”

“There is. Did Coil actually murder you?”

Wintershimmer rolled his eyes, and then glared at me. “Of course not. The colt was too wrapped up in his delusions of ‘heroism’ to contemplate something as pragmatic as assuming my title by way of murder. Even if he were willing to take that step, he’s smart enough to know he had too much left to learn from me for it to be worthwhile.” Then Wintershimmer sat down, actually addressing me directly. “Tell me, Coil, has that finally changed?”

“It has,” I answered, giving all the words I could bring myself to speak.

Celestia’s wings shifted slightly upward on her back—a motion I only noticed because of how incredibly still the rest of her body remained. “That’s a shame. The world could use more heroes.”

Wintershimmer scoffed. “Heroes are only good for suffering and failing for a greater ‘good’. Coil would be wasted that way. But I have no interest in debating philosophy with either of you. Let me ask you this, Celestia: what do you intend to do with that information?”

“I came here because I believe in Morty’s innocence. You’ve confirmed that. So now I’m going to ensure he is freed.”

“You may as well leave. Coil can take care of himself.” He glanced over to me briefly. “That nickname may have been a convenient way to earn the crown princess’ favor, but it is no suitable name for a mage.”

To keep from lashing out, I held my tongue completely.

Celestia took some small affront, either to my silence or Wintershimmer’s orders; though her face remained stern and neutral, her eyebrow rose ever so slightly. The motion seemed to somehow indicate very little curiosity, and a surprisingly vast amount of judgement.

“You say I should let Morty deal with this himself?” She put no emphasis on my name, yet the word bit nonetheless. “If he seances you, are you prepared to correct your lie to Jade?”

Wintershimmer answered with a scoff. “What good would that do? Teach him to rely on the mercy of others? Or political manipulation? There is a lesson he needs to learn here.”

I barely found the willpower to contain my words to a whisper. Nevertheless, all the venom I felt toward my mentor seeped into a few truncated syllables. “You want me to kill Jade?”

In the ghost of the archmage’s expression, I knew he detected my hatred. But instead of answering it, he said only one word. “Yes.”

Celestia’s disapproval was clear from the legible ‘V’ formed in her brow. It even had tasteful serifs. “Have you considered, Wintershimmer, what Jade’s death would do to the Crystal Union? Or to Equestria?”

“What difference does it make to me?” Wintershimmer stared up at Celestia, looking all the world like he was unintimidated by the deific alicorn. “I’ve already found my way to the Summer Lands. Here I sit with all the mana in the world, and yet no physical body with which to use more than a trickle of it at a time. If anything, I would love the diversion of watching the Crystal Union tear itself apart.”

“You don’t care about the potential for war?”

“No, I absolutely do. The crystals are barbarian brutes who rape and pillage, and Jade won’t change that nature. Better to let Hurricane’s armies kill them off. If Jade insists on forcing her conflict with Coil, he ought to defend himself, and let the consequences rest on her shoulders. Hers is the head that lies uneasy beneath the crown. In brutal honesty, Celestia, both the Crystal Union and Equestria would be better off if Jade were killed. Then the inevitable war will be in your court, instead of the whims of an insane crystal.”

It took Celestia few moments to find an answer. “Do you honestly believe that, Wintershimmer?”

“I understand you disagree with my methods, and no doubt with my morality. I don’t much care. You were gone from equine civilization for millennia, and in your absence, it was ponies like Coil and I who built the Diamond Kingdoms into their glory. Do what you will, Celestia; break open the wall and let Coil escape if it pleases you to prolong Jade’s life, but know this: Coil is my legacy.”

“Like Solemn Vow was?”

Wintershimmer visibly winced. “Vow was a disgrace who abandoned the rules we stand for, and he mistook political influence for real power. Coil is nothing like him.”

“I agree. Thank you for your time, Wintershimmer.” Before the ghost had a chance to reply, Celestia nodded to me, and I ended my spell. I watched her wings settle down to a more comfortable place on her sides before she turned toward me. “I’m sorry I had to ask you to endure that. Thank you, Morty.”

“He doesn’t matter.” I snorted out. “He’s dead. I’d rather let him be.”

“Luna and I will have to discuss what to do with him. Never before has somepony gone behind our back in sending a soul to the Summer Lands. Will you forgive me for a personal question, Morty?”

I shrugged, still casting away the last vestiges of my momentary fury.

“What did he do to you?”

I turned to face her. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t wish to force my way into your personal affairs, but I can tell you are bottling up your feelings. That isn’t healthy.”

I sighed. “Was I that obvious?”

“More in what you didn’t say than what you did. Ponies don’t often wear masks to bed.” At my raised brow, Celestia continued. “When I first arrived here, I woke you. Within a few startled seconds, you were up to a witty, charming young stallion with no fear whatsoever to speak his mind. In front of Wintershimmer, you remained silent. When you did speak it was constrained. Forced.”

“So I am that easy to read?”

“Don’t give yourself so much credit,” Celestia joked. “That sort of perception comes with wisdom. Or, if we’re both being completely honest, just with being very old. So what is it?”

“He… I almost wound up like him.”

At the time, I thought that was enough of an answer for Celestia to drop her inquiry. Only later would I realized that the immortal’s idea of patience was far different than mine. Celestia’s horn ignited, and in what seemed to be a completely gentle motion, the door to my cell creaked open. “Let’s go see if we can sort this out.”

Comments

[RoboRed]

Gotta wonder what Luna has planned, here...

[djthomp]

At best, I could expect something time consuming and seemingly impossible, like building a full-sized palace out of sand on the summit of a mountain. At worse, I’d be asked to give her a century of service after my death before being allowed to flit off to the Summer Lands.

Err, I'd advise against that part.

At that, in a display of recognition that somewhat surprised me, Luna’s brow rose to where it had been before. “I had suspected... The stallion Gale has so often mentioned? Well, now I see what she meant about you.”

Never has a sentence been at once so promising and so troubling.

Think of it as being so famous already that even the gods know of you.

A two for one special on goddesses, nice. And hey, to Celestia nearly everyone is a little pony.

As terrible as Wintershimmer is, he's likely not wrong about Jade and how Equestria and probably even the Crystal ponies would be better off if she wasn't ruling as a crazed loose cannon.

At the time, I thought that was enough of an answer for Celestia to drop her inquiry. Only later would I realized that the immortal’s idea of patience was far different than mine. Celestia’s horn ignited, and in what seemed to be a completely gentle motion, the door to my cell creaked open. “Let’s go see if we can sort this out.”

There will be a great deal of time later on to keep discussing the issue.

[ponygrad]

For a chapter about a condemned pony beseeching a higher power to save him and confronting the stallion who framed him, this had more laugh out loud moments than any chapter yet.

Cheers love!