Fallen-Song

by Chicago Ted

Book of Harmony, Canto 1

As they both climb’d, their hoofing did not fail –
She’d ascertain as such. E’en if a gale
Of wind might sweep them off the rising path,
Her magic’d pull him up before the veil

Of fog below consum’d him – and too, she’d hath
The wings to hoist herself against such wrath.
“I don’t expect us t’ make the trip so soon,”
Honeycomb said. “If I could do the math:

By my own reckoning (this evernoon
Denies me), I could carve right here a rune
Delineating how much time had past,
Against how many others we’ve met strewn

Across this land, it comes to just a vast
Amount of time – such number leav’s aghast
E’en the most season’d thinker – and to think
We’ve not arriv’d yet – this trip won’t be fast;

Whereas before, we’ve crost sand sans a wink
Of verticality – and now, the brink
Is nigh, but it’s all uphill, o’er my head.
We struggle ’gainst the gravitation sink.”

“I see your argument,” said Luna, “but I dread
You may have gotten sev’ral things i’ th’ head
Wrong. If you’re to compare the passing time
Of here t’ Equestria’s, you may find instead

That just an hour had past. It may be prime
To see the sun rise, even now.” The climb
Would further on without another word.
And true to what she thought, the heated clime

Would start to cool, if only just. Sh’ inferr’d
This as their progress slight, but how absurd
’Twould be indeed if such a temp’rature
Would be wrought from a meager climb? And third,

Besides the time and clime, she wasn’t sure
If this climb’d bring them to their goal – the blur
Of fog obscur’d the top – or if, indeed,
The mountain itself was what they sought, per

Her sister dear’s insistence. She would need
To ask, eventually, if such a speed
Would buy her time to talk to her again.
And if forsooth she could hear, she would plead

That she grant her solution to this bane
That plagu’d her mind – to spell, in language plain,
Exactly what she meant when she had sent
Them on their chase. But it had been in vain

The first two times they met – she would resent
Her ignorance, but then, ’twas evident
That it was merely inability.
But in the meantime, she would vie for th’ scent

That pointed her along the way, to see
What lied beyond her sight – and she barely
Could see beyond ten times her height, and there
Was much more b’yond the fog, that there could be

Some obstacle that they could dodge with care,
Or simply freezing in the bitter air.
So many dangers she’d foresee, and yet
The ones that would ring true were rather rare.

“Perhaps,” he offer’d, “th’ land could never get
Its cursed reach upon us – such a threat
Would only bother us upon the ground
Below.” “I see that now – but don’t forget

That we know little, even now. I’ve found
That such surprises might not make a sound
Or sign before they pounce, as we have seen
Before.” She pointed outward. “Look around

Us – can’t you tell beneath the veneer’s sheen
That little is for true?” The tranquil scene
Betray’d her words, as though she told a lie,
Or merely was so paranoid. “Between

The lines that separate the hills so dry,
We’ve found that crystal-pony – by the sky
Above, I’ve never known another as
Her, playing tricks with light!” She gave a sigh.

“But who knows, you might be correct. The hike
Should carry us from danger, which would strike
Us where we stand.” They had not halted here;
But then, the base o’ th’ mountain was quite like

A nation in its breadth – and yet, ’twas clear
That they knew it not, ’til she would appear
Before her, telling Luna of her prize
That waited somewhere up on high. The fear

That it would be us’d sooner kept her eyes
Pointed forth. Yet, she thought, were I more wise,
I’d also keep a sharp eye on the view
Surrounding – lest such danger shall arise.

But he was worried not, because so few
Would threaten him, and those indeed that do
She would safeguard him. She saw down below
The wonders and the hazards they went through:

A distant sandstorm ravag’d in a throe
That she thought this time (though she’d never show)
The two would probably not well survive;
To say nought of the dryness – they would stow

Whatever meager bits of water t’ stay alive,
And never know when, on their lengthy drive,
They might find more. “I’ve never seen this sight,”
The baker interrupted. She would strive

For forward motion, but e’en now, she might
Pause for a moment, taking in the slight
Exoticism. Nary there for her
T’ appreciate – the Princess of the Night

Would usher him along. “’Tis but a blur,”
She told him, “but there’s nothing, as it were.
Nought but the same plain, far as I could tell.
Now come along, before your thoughts can stir

Another fit of whimsy.” “Very well.”
He sigh’d. “I only wonder’d, if we fell,
If such a landing would for us be soft.”
“It won’t,” she said. “Upon those thought I dwell –

You do not want to see that end.” She scoft.
“I’ll keep you from that – I’ll hoist you aloft
And back upon the path, if you should fall.”
“I hope you’re right, but it won’t happen oft,”

He said. “I hope it won’t occur at all.”
“I wish the same,” responded she. “It’d stall
Our journey’s progress, when in point of fact
We have no time for error. This slow crawl

Has kept us rather busy, whilst we pact
Delays so endless – it’s as if we slact.”
And then she noted where the path grew slim.
“Shall you proceed, or see where I exact

My steps?” she askt him. “I’ll proceed.” To him,
It seem’d so sturdy – yet he saw her grim
Face, speaking silently that it might not be
As safe as he imagin’d. He stuck a limb

Before him, set it down for him to see
That this ground held so firmly, then lightly
He pranced right across the rocky way.
Then Luna took a step, but did not flee,

As it too held her weight. She did not stay
For long, lest she would stress it further. “Say,”
He said, “why don’t you fly if you’re afraid
Of breaking down the path?” “My feathers fray

I’ th’ wind, and muscles tire,” she said. “I’ve staid
Upon the ground as well, and if I splaid
My wings for flight, I might leave you behind.”
He nodded at her speech. “Ahead’s some shade,

It would appear,” he spake. Indeed, his find
Would bring relief for quite some time – align’d
In just the place to keep th’ eternal sun
Out of their eyes. This land was quite unkind

In general, but rather often, one
May find respite in such hostile action.
“I guess the sun is stationary,” spake
The baker. “A but still, we are not done.”

“Do you think we’ll meet others?” “By mistake,
I’m sure,” he answer’d. “Why? Should you forsake
Me when I need you just as much as I?”
“Perish the thought! That question makes me ache

Uneasily. Of course, it’d be a lie
If I told you that I would hang you t’ dry
In cursed heat and sun. Nay, you will not
Depart from my side, not whilst I still vie

For this our goal. This mountainside may rot
Away beneath our hoov’s, but I will wrought
A path by my own magic should I need.
I made a vow to get you home; I’ll not be caught

Without you – understand?” “With all due speed,
Then, let us make haste to the top!” decreed
Honeycomb – and the shade would make them quick
To scurry ’long the winding path. The need

For that which laid upon the top would stick
Within their mind, but let him with a nick
Of curiosity within his head.
“I ask,” he said, “what do you think the trick

Would be?” “What do you mean?” “Once we both shed
Our light upon the thing, what could be said
About its own appearance?” She would think
A moment over this. “What if, instead,

It were no object at all?” She would blink
And stop right then. “You ask me, on the brink
Of its discovery – ” “No better time,
If you inquire. Whilst you would bask and drink

The river water from below, my rhyme
Had never chang’d,” he spat. “I think it prime
To ask you of the things your sister told.”
“I told you ev’rything,” said Luna. “Th’ climb

Is but the last she mention’d. It grows old,
This argument, and soon we may lose hold
Upon our prize. All that is but the truth.”
“The truth, you say?” a voice that rather roll’d

Across the rock would interrupt th’ uncouth
Words out her mouth before they reach’d their youth.
And on the mountain’s side, the stone would shift
And form into a pony. “Hear my ruth,”

He spake again, “and know no greater gift
Is than that of the truth.” He left no rift
Within the wall; ’twas if he was the wall.
“I did expect no princess here to lift

Me from my rest. Pray tell, how did you fall
Within this realm?” “How did you guess at all?”
He laught. “My dear, I know what happens here,
How others come as well.” In such a drawl,

He show’d to them that they need not to fear
The apparition that would show. “You’re quite near
The place,” he said, “much more than once before.
But you need some assistance, ’twould appear.

To wit, what thing do you two seek? Whose lore
Do you abide by? Tell me – I won’t ignore
Or ridicule.” The two were dumbstruck – how
Could he inquire on such a thing? And more,

What answer would expect he? “Even now,”
He said, “your silence tell me much. A vow
Of silence, is it?” “Not at all,” she said.
“We’re much confus’d of your nature.” “Then allow

Me to explain: my name is Fair Trade, led
A life of relative success. A shred
Of my own memory might still exist
Back in Equestria, but I’m here instead.”

“I know the land’s nature, but don’t resist
My words, no matter how grim. I insist!”
“We’ve figur’d just as much ourselv’s – ” “Have you?”
He interrupted. “I don’t think the twist

Would be so obvious.” The princess blue
Was sick of roundabout talk, so in lieu
Of a reply, she brought her hoof down. “Hey!”
He call’d. “I might not perish, so you’ll rue

Your fall, and only you.” He pointed th’ way
They went before they found him. “On this day
Eternal, tell me: why did you become
Another Fallen?” “What is that, I say?”

“Are you a Fallen too?” “We’re Fallen – some
With grace, and others not. ’Tis but a crumb
I’ th’ end – but I imagine you would love
To hear of life before. ’Tis rather glum,

But if you – ” “We accept! We shall hear of
Your life before.” “But more, the truth above
The tale – the latter you must hear and know,
But just to sate – ” he clear’d his throat – a dove

Flew o’erhead, startl’d by the noise. “I’ll show
You what I was. Once, very long ago,
I led a life as but a peddler, where
I bought and sold some random items – so

Many things left my stand, I did not care
What would become of them. Some things were rare,
And others not – I’m sure I’ve seen the lot
Pass through my stand. I sold them in the square

Each day, and each time I was there, I thought
I would head home that day with only nought.
But to my shock, each time I would at least
Make e’en one sale t’ another, as I ought.

So now you know my background – from the east
The gryphons come, and with them gold that ceast
N’ at all, but even then they’d pick and choose
But just the cheapest. (I would too – what beast

Would otherwise?) In any case, the clues
They leave in their behavior I could use
To my advantage. For just rather small
Bits of their precious gold, they would peruse

And buy the strangest things but not at all
What I would usu’lly sell – a bowl, a shawl,
A box of matches – these they did not want.
But all the same, by th’ end o’ th’ day, their haul

Was much resplendent – they had gold to flaunt,
But did not spend so much. This is a daunt
For some who come, but they? It was their way
Of living, down to how they even spoke to vaunt.

Of course, I buy things too – that is to say,
You can sell me your useless things. I’d pay
A price so fair, regardless of what you
Might bring to me. For instance, if you say

That it’s not rare, I’ll offer ten bits true
You say fifteen bits – I might pay that too.
But if I’ll never sell, I’ll say as much
And send you off. If only you two knew

The value of one’s honesty. As such,
I tell you what my father told: a touch
Of lies undoes a year of honesty.”
“I’ve heard the same,” said Luna, “inasmuch

As one mare of the law has said to me.”
“A yes, of course,” he said – “I can well see
What she meant by her words. At times, I’d think
That speaking nought can help you drastic’lly

More than to speak the damning truth.” A wink,
And he continu’d, “I would say a drink
Of serum might out what you wish to hide,
But better far it is to let it sink

In secrecy. Well, one fine day, I spied
A trinket that I wish’d was at my side –
Not to sell, mind you, but for once to keep.
I call’d the stallion over, then I tried

To buy it from him – twenty bits? Too cheap!
Thirty bits? He’d sell then, but I did not reap
Enough gold to pay him just that, and worse,
He would not take any other. I would sleep

That night awonder how I should converse
If we would meet again. I’d not coërce
At all, that much would never work, but I
Just had to have that thing! I would rehearse

Some lines, to see what might convince, see why
He should part with his thing – but not a lie,
I say, would ever fall out from my maw.
That much is unacceptable.” A sigh

Escapt his lips. “But still, I knew the law,
And this time, I would have a better draw.
I counted out some fifty bits, in case
He rais’d his asking price. The night would thaw

In due course of time, and I had my place
Set up within the square. I would not chase
Him down, O no; I’d seem too desperate.
I waited there for him t’ approach my space.

Nopony notic’d me, and yet I’d wait
For him to come – and after half past eight,
There he would show, with just the thing in tow.
I call’d him in a careful word – too late,

Another peddler had him first, and so
I’d keep on waiting. They went rather slow,
But then he came my way, and to my shock,
He hadn’t sold it after all! I’d show

What meager bits I gather’d up, and talk
Of buying it from him that day. He’d gawk
At what I had – apparently before
He thought me far too desperate, my stock

Reflecting this, and wrote me off a chore
In dealing with – but now? He was much more
Invested in the deal. We shook on th’ spot,
And for those fifty bits, I had my score!

Incident’lly, there was no more I bought,
Nor anything to sell. The day had wrought
My only deal within that moment. Well,
Who was I to complain? To home I’d trot

With it in tow. I did not wish to sell –
’Twas mine for good. And when I got to dwell
Upon the find, I notic’d something odd:
It was a snowglobe, but within the shell

Of glass, it was not white. A simple prod
Would make it swim in tan – a neat façade,
It seem’d to me, for something made of sand.
Of course he charg’d so much – I too was aw’d

At such a curiosity so grand,
And I was glad I had it, just as plann’d.
I lookt it over even more, but found
No more to note. I left it on my stand

As I drifted away to sleep. Around
Me in my head, I saw its sandy ground –
It seem’d so tranquil, I’d stay for all time,
But then the winds pickt up, and I soon drown’d

In scorching heat and dryness. Such a clime!
I thankt the Princesses I knew no rhyme.
I hunker’d down in darkness, waiting out
The end o’ th’ storm, and then I heard the chime

That would announce the morning. Sans a doubt
About my dream’s nature, I’d nearly shout
And wake my neighbor. I packt up my cart
For this morn’s marketing, but on the route

To the square, there he stood – a stallion, part
O’ th’ pack of thiev’s that roam’d the local chart.
He would demand that I give him my prize
Or he and gang would tear me all apart.

I did not bring it with me – by the skies
Above, why would I do that? He’d realize
That soon enough, and be engorg’d in rage.
A swipe of steel would fall me. ’Fore my eyes,

My life would be bestow’d. At such an age
As mine, ’twas little t’ show, but I’d engage
The lot as I fell at alarming speed.
I would continue, with no way t’ assuage

Me as I plummeted into, indeed,
What would become the end. I’d not succeed
In freeing myself from th’ impending doom.
I found myself i’ th’ sand, as all’ve agreed.

Although I noted quite a bit of room
Around me, there was nothing here to bloom.
I found myself so parcht, I had desire
To dig away the dust to drink fro’ th’ womb

Of life, wherever it may lay. The fire
Within me burn’d much hotter than the ire
Of that sun, which I later learn’d would shine
Forevermore. But still, I had t’ acquire

Some water, so that I may live and dine.
I found a source beneath; I drank – ’twas mine!
But then, as if upon a cursed cue,
A sandstorm whipped into being. – Fine,

I thought, I’d sit the newfound mishap through.
But then, it did relent not. – Even you
Would give up on the spot, with powerful
Magic at your disposal. O so few

Were mercies – heavy stones to hit my skull,
And sand to choke and blind you, ’til you’re dull
In ev’ry sense. I call’d out to the void,
But nought would answer me. Barely able

To hunker down, I put my face, t’ avoid
The worst, into the sandy ground, deploid
Whatever way might fasten me, t’ oppose
A further wrath. I may’ve been paranoid,

But such would save my life, I knew – these throes
Were merciless, but e’en such a thing knows
That it would not last for all time, and soon
I could walk free again. For now the glows

Of blue o’ th’ sun above could well attune
Me in the darkness of the sandstorm, strewn
With those curst particles. I thought I saw
A pony walk. I call’d out to the loon,

Who thought it somehow wise to break the law
Of nature, brave the storm. And yet my maw
Would fill with sand before I got the chance
To speak. I watcht him closely, and voilà,

It was a phantom all along. To prance
Through such a foul disaster, sans a glance
To one’s surroundings – that is most absurd.
But it would soon be lost, whilst I advance

Upon first light, for mine own sight was blurr’d
But how you can imagine – not a word
Need to describe. I thought that I would drown
Within the sand, and that I’d not be heard –

But when I heard the winds die down,
I stood again and saw a dusty town
With not a single pony out of doors –
Which left upon my face a sullen frown.

Perhaps, I thought, I’ll cross these sandy shores
And meet the townsfolk – and with luck, indoors
They’d have an answer for my questions grand,
Be it on high, or e’en beneath their floors.

With grace, I set my hoof into the sand,
And then another, moving ’cross this land,
Steadying, to keep myself from sinking in,
As I trotted into this strange town, and

I rapt upon the first door – of an inn.
When th’ keeper answer’d, I would bear a grin
And ask about the place. But he was stern,
And sent me off without a clue t’ begin.

T’ another house I’d go, and I would learn
That ev’ryone here was so hostile. Yearn
For answers, but they’d not provide. To me,
’Twas though the others’ trust I had to earn

First. So I staid outside, for them to see
That I was friendly, friendly as could be.
After some hours, one would step outside –
To tend a garden in the back. With glee,

I would approach and ask her if she tried
To keep them in the shade – but when she spied
Me hov’ring o’er the wall, she gave a shout
And ran inside. I did not follow stride,

But askt her what the matter was. But out
Her mouth came just the word: “Outsider!” Doubt
Would linger of reception – there was fear
So certain of my nature – what about

Me caus’d such sudden panic? Something here
Compels them, that is true – but rather queer
That I cannot pinpoint it anywhere.
And then I saw him – th’ elder village seeër,

Who saw me wander in the streets sans care.
He call’d to me, and I would answer there
And then, to my surprise. He said he’d know
That my place in this realm was not i’ th’ square,

But someplace different, much more holy. So
I had to ask him, ‘What do you mean? Show
Your secrets!’ He said, ‘I have not much time
Left in my life – allow me to bestow

This secret – such a secret of this clime
You must remember well.’ No pantomime
Would do it justice, so I vow’d to him
That I would memorize – ’twould be a crime

Otherwise!” Fair trade paus’d. “This one is grim.
Are you so certain you will hear the hymn?”
“I am,” spake Luna. “As am I,” he said.
“Quite well – I do not speak this on a whim:

This is Nihilia, Land of Fallen – dead
Is ev’ryone you’ve met and seen. Your head
May still try to fool you, but do not let:
Embrace the truth about the land instead.

When we fell down here, we would get
Up not again – for we have died. And yet,
You wonder, howe’er do we breathe and live?
We all do, for a time – but then the threat

To be forgotten creeps upon us – it would give
Us life, their memory, but th’ attentive
Ones know that they too will forget those past,
And when they do, their form will not forgive

Th’ amnesia – it will crumble at long last
Into the sand that you see in this vast
Plain, gath’ring up within this growing pile.
If you’re among us, she would be aghast,

Your sister – how again will she e’er smile?
To say nought of your moon – for all the while,
She’ll need manipulate both sun and it.
There’s no escape, no matter what the wile.”

“But there is more to tell,” she said. “To wit,
How did y’ ascend this mountain? What culprit
Told you that tale fantastic? Fallen – right!
Why should we both believe? You must omit

A truth.” “But I do not – for in your sight,
And ’neath your hoov’s, there lays the dust. The height
O’ th’ mountain here composes of the dust
Of Fallen, too.” The Princess of the Night

Was still unmov’d. “Fair Trade, I cannot trust
The words you speak – in point of fact, we must
Doubt ev’rything the ‘seeër’ said to you.
Dissolve, forgotten? Simply, that’s not just

At all!” “But,” said he, “take a closer view
Within the sandy wall – they may be few,
But smaller bony fragments still remain.”
She peer’d into the stone, to see it true –

And found a lower jaw embedded. Pain
It must’ve felt, when it would fin’lly deign
To break apart, along with all the rest.
She said, “I do not wish to see again –

Once is enough.” “Indeed,” said Fair Trade, “best
It is to see it once. Believe now, lest
I show you something grimmer.” “That would leave
Another question,” spake she. “Why’s your nest

Along this pathway? What does that achieve?”
“Because,” he said, “i’ th’ town, I’d not receive
More help from him or others – said that my
Integrity would keep me well. Naïve

As that might sound, my fate was in the sky
Above, if you imagine. I’d have to ask, “Why?
Why does my honesty affect my soul?
What more say you?” He gave a weary sigh

And told me, ‘Up that mountain, in a hole,
There lies a place for you. Now that that stroll
With all due haste, lest you disintegrate –
Important times will come; you’ll play that role

Eventually.’ ’Twas all he said; I’d hate
To leave you hanging, just like that – my fate
Was here this time entire.” “It seem’s a throe
Within its own right – how long was your wait?”

She askt. “I cannot say,” he told them – “though
I do imagine I’d experience th’ flow
Of time as little as I could. It could
Be days, it could be years – I’ll never know.”

“Are others on this path?” he askt. “So good
A question!” Fair Trade offer’d. “Why, there should
Be more, but you’ve not found – nor I, forsooth.
It’s likely there are more along – I would

Peer ’long the cracks within the walls; its truth
May still be found within, just as a sleuth
Might peer in ev’ry nook and cranny. See
If you succeed where I have fail’d – your youth

Eternal should keep sharp your senses.” She
Admitted later on, it did help. “We
Will keep your wiser words in mind,” she said.
“But still, we hope to answer freedom’s plea.”

“You’ve better luck than I, for we are dead –
You might revive yet, whilst I stay instead
Forever ’mongst the Fallen.” With that speech,
He merg’d again within the rock, sans shred

Of proof that he was ever there. “To each
Their own,” the baker spake. “They could still teach
Us something more about this cursed land.
I guess we’ll have to see.” “Yes, when we reach

The top, and find our key to new life – and
Then we return to our lives. No more sand
Or silly tales – trust me, we shall prevail!”
She set upon the spiral trail, plann’d

On moving forward, without stop or fail.
Honeycomb would reluctantly avail
Himself to the important task along.
At least here, in the shade, the mountain trail

Would not be subject to the heat, so long
As it would stay – which, he thought, would be wrong
T’ imagine, for not long they’d come around
Into the sun again – and then, the throng

Of heat and sand begin once more. The ground
Already felt so coarse – which bade not well, he found.
And then, they came in eerie silence – th’ air
Was very still, no wind to make a sound.

He felt his hoof come down on sand. With care,
He lifted it away, and saw right there
That he left not a hoofprint in the place.
She senst it all as well, but did not share.

He tried to speak, and though he felt his face
Contort t’ expel the words, he heard no trace.
She tried herself, and only silence heard
Between the two. They quickened their pace

T’ escape this part o’ th’ mountain. Then the herd
Of two could hear the flight o’ th’ desert bird.
“What was that?” he would ask. “I never thought
We’d find a place where you’d not hear my word.”

Spake Luna, “Nor did I – what being wrought
This joke upon us? – Why, if I had caught
The Fallen culprit – ” “Easy, Princess Mine!
We’ve other things to worry of. We ought

T’ return to th’ task.” The princess sighed. “Fine.
I’ll leave – but should it happen down the line
Again – ” and said no more about the curse.
Although, she thought, we neither saw a sign

Of who conjur’d it, things could have been worse.
We ought to see the brighter side, traverse
The obstacle, arrive unscathed. Near,
She saw the sun – or rather, where’d disperse

Its scorching rays. She stretcht, and felt the sheer
Heat on her leg – she sigh’d, and pact her fear
Away. Behind her, he would feel the same
Pain for himself. She thought it’d disappear

In passing time, but sooner felt the flame
Lick at her hide. They had their cloaks still – same
As they were when she conjured them first.
She donn’d hers, then gave his. “How’d you reclaim

These?” askt he. “I did not – we had them erst;
I kept them fully safe and never curst.”
“They’re dry, however,” said he. “I’m unsure
If they’d survive the wasteland’s heat. Their thirst

Does threaten us.” Said she, “Along this tour
We’ll find some water, if to quell you poor
Guide.” Yet such aspirations might not come
Fulfill’d, she thought – I’ll find another cure.