The River Rose

by Stosyl

VII. Forget-Me-Not, or, An Uninvited Guest

Next morning, Emerald Alembic requested official leave from the Day Princess to be allowed to see to the safety of his secret. To ease her mind, he permitted her to retrieve what he had not used of the Blue Swamp Lily.

“Would you like to take a royal carriage?” the Princess offered.

“Thank you,” said Emerald, “but the train will do just fine. Would you mind writing ahead to say that I will be visiting?”

“I will see to it.”

“I will be back by tonight. Say, how have you found the instructions I provided? I did my best to word it as a unicorn would be used to hearing magical instruction given.”

“Your instructions are satisfactory. I tested them myself, and we already have half a dozen Royal Guards performing your sealing spell, and basic defensive alchemy. Tell me, Emerald Alembic, who created those spells? They do not have the same language as Star Swirl’s other spells.”

“You are quite astute, Your Highness, as expected. True, it is not just that they are alchemical spells. The language is different because I created them. As I told your sister, my master abandoned alchemy before he made much use of it.”

“An adept spell crafter is a useful kind of pony to have around the palace.”

“May I say also,” said Emerald, “that your Guard is made of fast learners to manage my sealing spell so quickly. It took me years to craft it. It pleases me to know you surround yourself with the best and brightest, and I among them.”

“Do not be too flattered,” said Princess Luna’s voice behind him. “An ego is a hard beast to tame.”

“Princess!” he said brightly. “I did not hear you there. I’m glad I got to see you before I was off.”

“Oh? Why is that?”

“I can’t remember,” he laughed. “It must be the fumes from my potion.”

Luna allowed herself a familiar laugh. The two alicorns made brief friendly conversation until Emerald excused himself.

“I want to make the next train,” he said. “Thank you again for your generosity.”

Emerald was escorted by guards to the train station and seated alone in the caboose. Two railroad stallions and a colt who was obviously still in training, occupied the car with him. The stallions sat in an elevated perch, looking out the window of the cupola to hold watch on either side of the train. It was the job of the colt to radio ahead to the engine when a potential obstruction approached the tracks from the side.

Occasionally this happened and the train slowed down. Emerald did not mind the delays, nor did he mind the bustle and coarse talk of the three ponies he shared the car with. Their conversations amongst each other was sometimes even interesting, though he never butted in, and they never included him.

When there were quiet moments he managed to be very pensive. He thought mostly about Luna. She was a good mare, kindly and gentle. Much of the sadness he had been feeling, the regret and anxiety of the urgency of his plans, melted away in her company. He was indeed quite fond of her, and hoped to call her a friend one day. He remembered the dream of the previous night, a dream where he used and manipulated her to exact his revenge. He did not want that to become reality. His revenge would hurt no one but his adversary. He had to make certain of that.

Quickly his thoughts jumped to the dressmaker Rarity. For all the multifarious ways in which a stallion like Emerald might find her manner unbearable, he knew that she, too, was sweet and crimeless. She was kind to him, and her generosity would certainly have caused her a significant loss on his account, had he not asked the Princess to pay her.

It was at this thought that the train pulled into the Ponyville station, and he alighted on the platform with a single bag, containing two vials of his potion. When he crossed the river into the town square, there was very little activity, as if it were a holiday. The shops were open, all but the bakery—a shame because he would have liked a cinnamon roll just then—but very few people were in them.

Emerald traced his way back to the library to find Twilight Sparkle. He hoped he would find her waiting for him, since she should have been notified of his visit.

He knocked at the door before entering. The dragon was again busy reshelving books.

“Hello Spike,” Emerald said. “Is Twilight in?”

“Oh hey Emerald,” Spike began. “Erm, she went to the station to meet you.”

“How stupid of me. I didn’t notice her. I suppose she’ll be back soon once she thinks I wasn’t on the train?”

“Probably.”

Twilight materialized in the room with a flash.

“Emerald!” she exclaimed. “Weren’t you on the train?”

“I guess we didn’t see each other. I wasn’t told anypony would be waiting for me at the station.”

“Oh, well I’m busy preparing for a party,” Twilight responded. “My mind must have been somewhere else.”

“The party wouldn’t happen to be why there’s nopony in the town square?”

Twilight nodded.

“Two of our friends are celebrating their anniversary today,” she explained. “Would you care to join us? I’m sure Mr. and Mrs. Cake wouldn’t mind if we invited you.”

“I would be happy to. I don’t have much work to get done, anyway.”

“Great! The party begins in two hours. Meet us back here and we’ll go there together?”

Emerald consented and excused himself on the pretense of work. In truth, he did not wish to have to put up with a party. Since leaving Canterlot his bad mood had returned, and he would have preferred to bury himself in work again. He knew the danger of delaying too long. His opponent would be busy preparing; there was no time to be wasting at social events. But he knew Rarity would be there, and what better way to have access to a pony’s drink than at a party? He would slip her the potion there and she would forget his secret. Afterward he could always sneak off early—he had led the Princess to expect he would return tonight, after all.

He found a quiet place in the outskirts of Ponyville to finish preparing. He took the vials from his bag and cast a memory spell on them: for that particular potion must be told what memory to erase, or else it will not work.

He replaced the vials and returned to Ponyville, where he whiled away the time in a restaurant before returning to the library.

Twilight Sparkle was dressed in an informal sundress when he entered. The baby dragon seemed itching to get out of the bowtie he would be wearing for the occasion. Emerald felt sorry he would be going in a traveling cloak, though he did not know the couple, and for the first time he was thankful the dressmaker had made it so presentable as to be almost noble.

“The anniversary party is on a hill outside of town,” said Twilight. “In the park. Ready to go?”

Emerald nodded.

The three set off together toward the south.

“So, Emerald,” Twilight began when they crossed the river, “where are you from? Originally, I mean.”

“I think that’s a complicated question,” said Emerald. He was not in the mood to dance around the issue. It is always so tiresome to think up lies when we are in a bad mood.

“Well, where were you born?”

“Not far from Canterlot,” he said half-truthfully, “in a village that was very famous for its corn at that time.”

“I’ve never heard of it,” said Twilight. “What’s it called?”

“You still won’t have heard of it,” he replied, trying to smile.

For the rest of the walk Twilight and Spike talked amongst themselves, but Emerald meekly resisted any attempts to get him to join in their festive attitude. He listened, however, as they discussed the couple who would be celebrated that night. It wasn’t long after they passed the last house on the road out of Ponyville that they entered the park.

The park was filled with massive canopy tents, like at a county fair. They shaded the benches and food stands and picnic tables from the mid-afternoon sun. Gigantic tubs of fruit punch capped the end of each table, and underneath them coolers filled with ice kept bottles of soda pop refreshingly chilled. Stalls were set up selling baked goods and other treats, with a surprising preponderance of “apple” in their names, given that apples should not be in season for another month anywhere else: There were apple fritters, candy apples, apple tarts, apple pie, even apple cupcakes. But there were many other delicious treats: carrot and funnel cake; peach cobbler, because peaches were in peak season; and smoothies made from the midsummer fruit were served at one or two stalls. The only thing missing was rides, to make you feel you truly were at a carnival.

The whole thing was very rustic and lively. Ponies stood shoulder to shoulder in many places and it was difficult to walk through. Rather than a romantic celebration of married devotion, it was a community celebration. Emerald almost felt bad for the shopkeepers who, rather than being here, were keeping their shops open for their customers—most of whom must be here anyway.

A bright pink mare came hopping toward them with a picnic basket in her mouth. She was wearing a party hat and a half-eaten popcorn necklace.

“Twilight!” she said in the bubbliest of voices, “you’re not going to believe this. I bobbed three apples at once. Three!”

“That’s great, Pinkie,” said Twilight happily.

Emerald was confused; she did not seem to be simply humoring her.

“Pinkie, this is Emerald Alembic. He’s visiting from Canterlot. Emerald, this is my friend Pinkie Pie.”

“Pinkamena Pie, at your service,” said the flighty mare with an ironic salute. “How do you know Twilight?”

“We ran into each other,” said Emerald.

“Literally,” Spike laughed.

Pinkie laughed until she snorted.

“What’s in the basket?” Twilight asked.

“Oh, this? They’re party supplies. See!”

She pulled an unreasonably tall stack of party hats from the basket and placed one on each of the newcomers’ heads, and gave a second one to herself. Emerald began to feel like he was wearing Spike’s bowtie.

“I have to get these supplies to the front booth,” said Pinkie. “See you later Twilight!”

“She seems…fun,” said Emerald after a moment.

“Well it isn’t a party without Pinkie Pie,” Twilight smiled.

The Element of Laughter, he thought. It couldn’t possibly be anypony else.

They kept walking through the crowded park. It was a very warm sunny day; most of the ponies began to crowd together under the shade of the tents, and the path became clearer by the minute.

“I want to give my best wishes to the Cakes,” said Twilight. “You don’t know them, so if you want to wait here…”

“No, no,” said Emerald. “What kind of guest would I be not to compliment the hosts on their special occasion?”

Twilight smiled and guided him to where the Cakes were standing. We say guided—in fact she was as lost while finding them as anyone ever was at any large event. But she led the way and Emerald followed until they had retraced every inch of the park several times, and finally found the Cakes in the place they had passed the greatest number of times.

The couple were at a vending stand that was being operated by three school-fillies. The fillies distributed cookies, fudge, and other bite-size treats as per demand. Mr. Cake, a lanky and tired-looking stallion, pressed together a brownie and a chocolate chip cookie together and ate them both in one bite. The bystanders all acted quite pleased, like they had believed he wouldn’t do it until just that moment.

The Cakes were lost in conversation with other guests, so Twilight greeted the fillies first.

“Hey, Apple Bloom,” she said. “Helping your sister out?”

“Yep!” said a red-haired filly with a careless southern accent. “Big Mac even took the day off the farm to carry the supplies.”

“We’re gonna get our cutie marks selling cookies!” said a tomboyish filly to the right. The other two nodded with terrible enthusiasm.

“Well, good luck girls,” said Twilight. “Can I get a brownie?”

“Here ya go!” said the squeaky-voiced third filly. “That’s one bit.”

Twilight paid and enjoyed her brownie slowly. The Cakes had moved to another stall so they followed.

“Those fillies do know the odds of having the same cutie mark are astronomical, don’t they?” said Emerald.

“It’s best to just indulge them,” Twilight told him. “They’ll learn eventually. They already know what they’re good at. Don’t we all? What we have to learn is how to like ourselves for what we’re good at. That’s the challenge.”

They caught up to the Cakes, who were occupied throwing rings on plastic ducklings.

“Happy Anniversary, Mr. and Mrs. Cake,” Twilight said to get their attention. “How are you enjoying the party?”

“Oh, Twilight, dear!” said Mrs. Cake.

She and her husband took turns embracing Twilight Sparkle. Mrs. Cake was a robust mare, the kind of pony whose jolliness seems proportional to the roundness of her frame. She wasn’t actually large, but quite short, and her figure created a humorous contrast beside her gaunt husband.

“The party is marvelous, thank you! If only our nephew Plum could have made it. But he’s a big important palace guard now.”

“Don’t exaggerate, Cup,” said Mr. Cake. “He’s only a private.”

“Oh hush!” she retorted. “Before you know it he’ll be a sergeant, or Captain!”

“Yes, dear,” said her husband, defeated.

“Who’s your friend?” they said, finally taking notice of Emerald.

“This is Emerald Alembic,” said Twilight with a hint of pride. “He’s been working at the palace teaching spells to the Royal Guard.”

“Oh, gee,” said Mrs. Cake. “You must be quite the skillful unicorn.”

Emerald bowed very deeply.

“Congratulations on your anniversary,” he said. “How long have you two been married?”

“Ten years now, isn’t it, honey bun?” said Mr. Cake before getting distracted by a balloon cart.

Emerald smiled and thought for a moment. He wanted to have a gift for the couple, and as he dwelt on the subject very rapidly, an idea came to mind. He pressed his horn to the ground and put all his magic through it, glowing and sparking while shoots forced their way through the grass. One shoot was followed by three, then a dozen, and while Mrs. Cake remained dazzled, and Mr. Cake remained focused on the pony twisting balloon animals, a veritable field of daffodils grew from the earth, ten inches tall in front of the duck-toss stand.

Mr. Cake turned around with a balloon monkey in his prognathous jaws, and dropped it at the sudden appearance of the grove. Emerald picked a single flower from the bed.

“I don’t know about today,” he said, “but in ancient times, ten was the daffodil anniversary. My humblest congratulations to you both.”

“Well, aren’t you just the sweetest charmer?” said Mrs. Cake, her cerulean cheeks turning bright pink. “Twilight, you never told me you had such a gentlecolt for a friend.”

Internally Emerald and Twilight fought over who was made more uncomfortable by Mrs. Cake’s saying this.

“Do you know where Applejack is?” Twilight said at last to break the silence.

“Oh, she should be running the pie stand,” said Mr. Cake. “Under the great oak.”

Twilight knew the place, so she excused the three of them. Spike acted quickly to wish the Cakes a happy anniversary before racing after his two companions.

“I’ve never seen that kind of magic before,” said Twilight to Emerald as they walked. “It looks like a type of growth magic.”

“It is,” said Emerald. “I created it. It’s very simple if you want to learn.”

“Twilight already knows growth magic,” Spike interrupted, scarfing down a whole plate of jellied candies. “She’s real stingy with it, though.”

“Spike,” said Twilight, “plants aren’t the same as moustaches. You have to create new life. I didn’t even know it was possible.”

“Oh, there’s nothing to it,” said Emerald, “with the right technique. I felt bad that I didn’t have a gift for them, so I gave them the only thing I could.”

“It was very sweet,” returned Twilight. “I didn’t know daffodils used to be the anniversary flower.”

“Next year is the tulip,” he replied. “I hope I’ll be around to give the Cakes a field of them for their eleventh anniversary. All different colors. They remind me of my aunt and uncle. They practically raised me.”

“Where are they now?”

“They died many years ago, in a landslide.”

“I’m so sorry,” said Twilight.

“It’s alright. With the Cakes just now, it was almost like seeing them again.”

Emerald almost stopped walking; his remark had reminded him of the Princess’s visit the previous night. How he wished he had not scolded her for wishing to relive her past! He, of all ponies, knew the pain of longing for lost loves. With all his might he shook off his inner turmoil and returned his mind to the party.

The three of them passed a few minutes quietly until they reached the giant oak tree at the far end of the park, where a blonde-maned pony in a brown Stetson hat was dishing out slices of pie to the guests.

“How’s business, Applejack?” said Twilight.

“Howdy, Twi!” said the mare. “Business is as boomin’ as a Pegasus in a thunder cloud. This caterin’ stuff sure will be good for the farm. Here, have a slice.”

“No, thanks,” Twilight smiled, “I’m still full from a brownie.”

“Those’ll do ya,” Applejack laughed. “Who’s this?”

Emerald introduced himself, trying not to be too formal with this kind of pony.

“Pleased as punch to meet ya, Emerald,” said Applejack.

She gave him a lively hoofshake from over the counter and opened a new pie box when the last was empty.

“Have a slice, sugarcube,” she said. “You look famished.”

Emerald took a slice and pulled out a couple of bits to pay. Applejack held out her hoof to stop him.

“This one’s on the house.”

“Thank you,” Emerald said with genuine gratitude. “I haven’t eaten since this morning.”

“How ’bout you, Spike? You want a slice?”

The baby dragon immediately took a piece of the pie in his claws and swallowed it without chewing.

“With all the sales today,” Applejack continued, “the apple pies alone have all but paid for the whole party. Maybe I can close up shop and tag along with y’all?”

“That’d be great,” said Twilight.

Applejack closed the stand and joined their company. She and Twilight made conversation together, and Emerald began to feel that he could have wandered off alone and nopony would have noticed. He tried talking to Spike, but quickly learned that baby dragons are not the best conversationalists.

He spotted Rarity standing along a row of hedges, speaking with a small group of well-dressed ponies. He snuck away to talk with her and, as he expected, was not missed for quite some time.

Out of the corner of her eyes Rarity noticed Emerald approaching. She excused herself from the conversation and trotted to meet him halfway.

“It’s wonderful to see you again, Emerald,” she said loudly. “And you do look dazzling in that cloak, if I may say so myself.”

“All credit to the craftsman,” said Emerald. “You must have a lot of control over your magic to make clothes this fine.”

Rarity indulged in a game of false modesty that made Emerald want to flee and try to erase her memory some other time. He managed to suffer through it.

“Would you like to play some games?” he said to stop her talking. “The ring toss looked fun when I passed it.”

“Oh,” Rarity hesitated. “Erm, sure. I would love to.”

At first there was unease between them; he was only trying to keep himself close to her, and she only wanted to keep herself close to him. Neither of them wished to play games. Eventually, however, their ulterior motives canceled each other out, and they began to enjoy the games they played.

They watched small foals play pin-the-tail-on-the-pony and take swings at a tenacious piñata. Emerald bobbed for apples enthusiastically, and Rarity stayed back to keep her mane well away from the water. Several hours passed before they exhausted all the games at the party. Emerald lost himself in the festivities, too many bottles of soda pop went to his head, and he nearly forgot the reason he was keeping himself alone with the dressmaker.

“Let’s sit down,” said Emerald. “You must be tired from all this walking.”

They found a park bench that wasn’t under a tent. The late July sun was fading and a star and planet poked pinholes in the great celestial dome here and there. Torches were lit at the ends of every tent, and park lamps flickered on as usual, partly killing the ambiance of the torches.

The fillies that Emerald recognized from the cookie stand came running down the path past them. He noticed now that one of them was wearing a rather fine white outfit. The three were laughing at each other like they were racing, and the one in the outfit tripped over her own hoof and slid through the dirt. Her outfit was completely filthy even without this additional accident.

“Sweetie Belle!” shouted Rarity indignantly. “What did I tell you about ruining your new dress?”

“…Not to?” the filly squeaked.

“What ever will I do with you?” Rarity sighed. “Come on, take it off. If you insist on playing in the dirt, at least you won’t ruin your clothing.”

The filly pulled the outfit over her head with the look of a prisoner freed from her shackles. Emerald remembered his party hat and felt a little foolish that he had been wearing it the whole time. He considered taking the hat off.

He left it where it was.

“I remember you!” said Sweetie Belle. “You were with Twilight.”

“That’s true,” said Emerald. “How did getting your cutie marks go?”

All three turned their flanks toward him.

“Not one cutie mark within a thousand-mile radius,” said the tomboy.

“I was sure we had it that time,” said Apple Bloom. “Scootaloo was like a pro with the lockbox.”

Scootaloo, the tomboy, hung her head.

“You know, girls, I don’t think you ought to stress out over it,” said Emerald. “I didn’t get my cutie mark until I was quite old.”

“How old?” said Sweetie Belle.

“Much older than you.”

“How’s that supposed to cheer us up?” said the exasperated Scootaloo.

“You’re right,” Emerald laughed. “I said it wrong. What I meant is, it’s not a matter of time, or of trying everything you can think of. It doesn’t matter what you do. What matters is that you love what you do.”

The fillies stared at him with large eyes.

“I don’t get it,” said Apple Bloom.

“Yeah, that doesn’t help,” said Scootaloo.

“Guys,” Sweetie Belle said, “I think he means that if we do what we love, we’ll get our cutie marks!”

“Oh yeah!” exclaimed Apple Bloom. “So, what do we love?”

“I like ice skating,” offered Scootaloo.

“But I don’t,” said Apple Bloom. “That’s a girly sport.”

“It is not a girly sport!” shouted Scootaloo. “Take that back!”

“Girls,” said Rarity, “stop arguing and go play.”

The fillies all groaned and marched off reluctantly, but they began laughing and running again before they had taken more than a few steps.

“I tried,” Emerald shrugged. “Twilight was right, it’s best to just indulge them.”

“It was a noble effort,” Rarity said reassuringly.

“The way you spoke to that one filly—are you related?”

“She’s my sister.”

“It’s funny,” said Emerald, “when you were scolding her, you reminded me of someone.”

“Who, pray tell?” said Rarity, who was very interested now that Emerald said this.

“My wife.”

“You’re married?” said Rarity, leaning away from Emerald quite suddenly.

“Oh, no. She died a long time ago. Don’t apologize,” he added just as Rarity opened her mouth. She smiled sheepishly.

“It’s just that she was quite a neat freak,” Emerald continued. “She always obsessed about keeping me cleanly and presentable. But that was a very long time ago.”

“Can I ask you something?” said Rarity. “Why do you hide your—”

Emerald shot her a fastidious look.

“—your wings?” she whispered.

Emerald sighed.

“Don’t get me wrong,” she went on to reassure him. “Your secret is safe with me. But why?”

“It’s more complicated than it seems. It’s not as if you’re the one I’m hiding them from. This world may finally be safe for alicorns, but it’s still not safe for me.”

“Unsafe?” said Rarity doubtingly. “How could it be unsafe for you to be an alicorn?”

“The truth is—” Emerald gulped.

“The truth is,” he said again, “I’ve been pursued by somepony for a very long time. He’s very powerful with magic, and he finds me wherever I let my secret slip. He has destroyed more than one of my homes with barely enough notice to escape. He’s been pursuing me for six hundred years.”

“How is that possible?” she said.

“I’m making my throat sore from talking,” Emerald said. “I’m going to get a glass of punch, would you like some?”

“Oh yes, thank you,” said Rarity. “I’m absolutely parched.”

“Wait here,” he said. “I’ll come back with it.”

He trotted off into the crowd. Some light dance music had started to play at sundown, and many ponies were instinctively moving their bodies to the beat, others were dancing blithely. He hid behind them as he ladled punch into two cups. From his saddlebag he extracted one of the vials of forgetfulness potion. Carefully he made sure he was hidden from Rarity’s view, then he emptied the vial into one of the cups.

Emerald peaked through the crowd before returning. He saw Rarity checking her teeth in a pocket mirror and chuckled to himself. Always her tidy attention to detail reminded him of River Rose. He was beginning to enjoy her company; certainly he had had fun with her today. He wondered whether she would be the same toward him after she had forgotten his secret? Was it not his confidence that made her open with him in turn?

But no, he thought, I cannot let myself want it. River Rose is gone.

He trotted back to her, and she shoved her mirror into a pocket embarrassedly. She turned her fake eyelashes on him, and he felt a familiar twinge in his heart as he caught her blue eyes, her flushed cheeks, her carefully curled mane.

He caught his hoof on a rock and tripped. Both glasses of punch spilled at Rarity’s hooves.

“I’m so sorry!” Emerald said quickly. “I’ll get two more.”

“Could you get me a ginger ale instead?” said Rarity. “It’s better for a dry throat than punch.”

“That’s a good idea.”

Emerald left and returned with two bottles of ginger ale. He popped the caps off in front of her and sat down. They drank in silence for a few moments. Emerald feared he would regret letting her keep his secret, but he knew it was the right thing to do.

“There you are!” a voice cried out. Twilight approached with Spike and Applejack. “We’ve been looking for you all afternoon. Why’d you wander off?”

“Oh, something caught my eye,” said Emerald, “and then I met up with Rarity.”

“We came to get you for the cutting of the anniversary cake. Somehow the fireworks have gone missing, so we have to skip them.”

A dreadful tightness came over Emerald’s gut, and his face became wet with cold sweat.

“We have to get everyone out of the park,” he cried. “It isn’t safe.”

Before any of them had time to question him, a deafening explosion sent fireworks streaming into the park like missiles. Many tents caught fire; a mare lay injured across the path with a younger stallion trying to tend to her.

Another large explosion, and more flares like cannon fire that set the park ablaze and knocked guests unconscious. Emerald maintained a barrier spell around his companions. He kept a lookout for the source of the fireworks, but there were no more explosions.

The silhouette of a sturdily built stallion appeared atop a hill in the direction of Ponyville. In the dark not much could be made of the figure, but as he slowly stepped toward Emerald’s barrier spell, he walked under the light of a lamp. He was completely covered in black cloth from head to hoof. A hood covered his face completely, but for a portion of his jaw that stuck out at the bottom, which appeared to be covered by a porcelain mask.

A tube of fireworks floated to the hooded stallion’s side, took aim at Emerald, and was set off. The projectile whistled toward the group and collided with the barrier. It exploded on impact, sending sparks in every direction.

“Yer barrier wasn’t that strong the last time we fought, Emerald,” said the stallion.

His voice was deep with age, his accent almost Appleloosan; Emerald recognized it immediately. His mask—the top half still covered by his hood—bore red lines along its contours like war paint.

“Yet you haven’t become any less cowardly, Spade,” Emerald spat.

“Oh, I don’t think I’m the coward, of the two of us,” said his enemy. “When I hide behind my mask, you hide behind yer barriers. And which one of us, I reckon, is the fondest of erasin’ ponies’ memories to save his hide? How long till you was a-planning’ on erasin’ theirs?”

“What does he mean, Emerald?” said Twilight.

Emerald ignored her.

“I’m done running from you,” he shouted at his foe.

The attacker laughed heartily through his accent and broke into a terrible hacking cough.

“Y’always was the kidder, Emerald,” he said. “I think what you means is, y’all ain’t got no place to run this time.”

Two more tubes of fireworks appeared at the stranger’s side and went off aimed for Emerald’s barrier. He kept it strong for the impact and weakened it to let a counterattack through. His enemy summoned a barrier and dissolved the attack unharmed.

“His magical signature,” Emerald muttered; “it’s become exactly like mine.”

“What does that mean?” said Twilight.

“Alchemy!” he shouted back.

The stallion pulled back his hood. Even with the mask still on, Twilight started: the stallion had no horn. He pulled his mask off, and cold, green eyes stared down at the five companions in the barrier.

“You should have died six hundred years ago,” Emerald said.

“Who is he?” Spike shrieked.

“I’m the ghost of his nightmares, little dragon,” said the stallion, “come back from the dead to take his soul.”

Spike whimpered.

“Stowaway Spade!” Emerald said.

The stallion on the hill smiled wickedly. A wispy grey mane hung over his face. His coat was nearly as black as his outfit with two or three spots of white above each eye, and on the edge of his left eye a bright white scar extended to his ear, and was divided by a second scar that made a cross on his temple.

“Will someone please tell me what in the hay is goin’ on here,” Applejack yelled.

“Yes,” Rarity agreed, shaking. “How can an Earth pony be using magic?”

“It’s because he isn’t using unicorn magic,” said Emerald.

“First time I came to get my revenge on you,” said Spade, “you got my comrades sealed up nice and tight, but you didn’t get me. Nossir, you reckoned if you hid yerself long enough, I’d be gone and that’d be the end of it. You fled like a yella’ coward, and left yer lab for me to take.

“I learned yer time magic and kept my body young these six hundred years so I could master all yer spells, and getcha when I was strong enough to take ya. Now I’ve come to avenge what I’ve lost.”

“Who are you to talk about revenge?” Emerald shouted so loud his voice cracked. “You killed my wife over your silly Earth-pony supremacy!”

“And you took my entire family in return!” Spade bellowed.

Their anger put a horrifying chill in the air for all around. Party guests were cowering under benches and picnic tables to hide from the attack, too afraid to run into the open to escape.

“You didn’t take ‘em from me,” Spade continued. “You took me from them. I woke up one day, separated from them by two thousand years. Everyone I ever loved, dead to dust. It was a fate worse than death.”

“I designed it that way, Spade,” Emerald barked. “The only punishment worse than death is immortality.”

“If you won’t come out of yer bubble,” Spade interrupted, “I might get bored and find me another playmate.”

A firework floated to his side. He aimed it at a small family trembling under an elm tree and set it off.

Emerald dissolved the barrier spell and shot the firework down with his magic. Spade did not miss the opportunity: a powerful bolt of lightning erupted from the ground at his hooves and hit Emerald in the shoulder. The bleeding was tremendous. Emerald could no longer support his own weight and fell to the ground.

With all his energy he prepared his sealing spell and took careful aim; but he was woozy and the seal went off course, hitting Spade in his left hind leg.

Spade lost his balance and fell on his side, cursing Emerald Alembic. He pulled himself back up and fired another spell. Twilight jumped in front of Emerald and shielded them with her magic.

In one sudden motion a chariot pulled by two purple-clad Pegasus stallions appeared in the night sky and descended upon the park. It landed directly beside Emerald, who had fallen unconscious.

“Princess Luna!” Twilight exclaimed.

“The Princess of the Night!” said Spade.

Immediately Stowaway Spade began to retreat. The going was slow: his hind leg was completely paralyzed by Emerald’s sealing spell.

“After him!” cried the Princess.

With her two guards she pursued the culprit over the hill, but when they reached the top they were overlooking Ponyville, and Spade had disappeared.

Comments

[dbanksischillin]

Dun dun dun.

[jordanwriter]

Damn
t3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRPTXHTt6GlZv39J2sUXR4_-6Yz9WGVt0Nvr2ndYAw8dnkLgA9b

[Fancies himself a lurker]

Shit Just got real.