The Hero's Journey

by Gabriel LaVedier

Rancor's Road

The pair of stallions passed down the passage of the cavern alternately illuminated by the exposed veins of magical crystal and plunged into the darkness between the exposed portions. There was silence again, both of them steadily walking to warm themselves after the soaking in the slough and to dry off somewhat.

The path moved generally upwards, even as it lazily twisted and waved, a single road reaching for a very particular end. The exit came into view as a dim and continuous glow in the distance. With each hoofstep it became more and more distinct, a cave mouth at the end of a gentle slope, revealing pale daylight that was, nonetheless, much better than the sickly gloom of the slough's illumination.

Outside of the cave, the sky was one that wanted to rain, but never would. An eternal promise of a downpour from the clouds that sat on the wrong side of dark, but only enough to imply. They filtered the sunlight into a diffuse atmosphere that was somber, but not as relentlessly depression as the prior sky.

Big Mac peered up at the clouds and looked back, in a futile attempt to see behind the mountain through which they had passed. “Mighty odd sky y'got here, stranger. T'aint nat'ral fer it ta go from what it was back there ta this. Leastways not without a passel of pegasi ta do yer sky-tendin'.”

“There is nothing much natural about the land on which you tread. I would have that that would be apparent to you. But no matter. You will learn swiftly enough. You must if you intend to let love carry you very far. Understand the rules are not the same here as they are in the land you know, but nothing so different that it will stop you. If you stop, that is your doing.” The old male trotted along calmly, down the rocky path that led to a flat land, like a scrubbier version of the flatland on the river side of the canyon.

“Can y'all tell me anythin' 'bout what is gonna be comin'? Can't hurt none t'ask ya. Worst ya can say is 'no'.”

There was a silent striding over the crisp grass, which stretched into an uncomfortable duration, until it was finally broken by the word, “Argus.”

“Uhh... beg pardon, sir?”

“You came through the cavern of mortal delights and didn't stop even for a moment to claim treasures lying the smallest fraction of an inch below the rock, because it would not get you any closer to your love. Your dedication moved me to at least tell you my name. I promised you, after all.”

“'Argus'... ain't the most usual name. Can't say as ah've heard it before. An' th' only zebra ah know ain't got a name like that.”

“Not that it matters, but I was born on the borderland of Griffin lands and the Veldt. Names were... more varied. But that is not the point. Now you know.”

Big Mac nodded his huge head. “Good ta meet ya proper, mister Argus.”

Argus trotted on ahead, towards the sound of thrashing water. He softly muttered, “Never was a time when I thought a pony would be calling me 'mister' anything...”

“What was that?” Big Mac tilted his head curiously, but lifted it up as he also heard the churning of water that usually indicated rapids.

Down from the cave, in a haze of foul-smelling mist, was a most unusual cataract. There was another river there, composed of churning brownish-black water. It surged along with a speed seldom seen outside of a tidal bore or whitewater rapids. The particular spot on the river had a boat tethered to the shore, being thrown and jostled by the force of the water.

“Whatever magical force brings the brackish muck to the slough pushes the water down the hateful river, a disgusting bore of pestilential filth churned to a scummy froth on the surface. Down below the rapidly-moving surface the slime of the slough settles into a sullen sludge. It cannot be forded, and to follow it is to walk endlessly. There will always be boats to be found, because there is only one way to reach... that city.”

“Land sakes... they ain't none too kind to them folks the likes of miss Rarity 'round these parts. Mmm.” Big Mac put a fetlock over his nose cleared his throat softly. “Ah may be a farmer, and ah may know from fertilizer but mah word... this is powerful powerful, as they say.”

“It... does not become easier or more pleasant with company. The river surges along to its destined destination, another trot closer to your goal. Can you guide a boat? I may not aide you in any way save to tell you the limitations and explain the nature of these trials.”

“Ah been on a boat 'r two. Mah uncle used ta take me out in the little boat on the pond in Pericarp. Can't say as ah've ever had ta lead a boat through somethin' like this. But... ah'm game fer it. Gotta get where ah'm goin' so's ah kin talk ta miss Smarty-Pants again.”

The two stallions stepped to the boat, Argus stepping in first and settling himself at the front of the thrashing vessel, looking very natural. Big Mac was on next, stumbling and thumping around, sitting down solidly, only half-intending to do so. There was a large rudder on the back, and oars inside the boat, though given the state of the river it was unlikely they would ever be used for anything but supplemental steering.

They were moored to the bank by a single stout rope, attached to the boat by a simple spring-clip. Pushing down on the base would release the jaws from the anchor point and send the boat off down the river. After taking a deep breath of the befouled air, Big Mac hit the clip and lurched the boat down the scummy surge.

His hoof was on the rudder immediately, jerking it hard so that the boat surged away from the shore. He then hard to quickly pull it again to avoid striking the other side. The river suddenly seemed far less narrow than it previously had. Again, a body of water what fooling his perceptions. From a thin trickle becoming a wide gulf to an unfordable monster becoming a narrow channel. His teeth ground together hard, as his hoof pushed and pulled the rudder with decreasing force and frequency, as he got himself settled into more subtle motions to respond to the rush of the river.

Argus looked forward, through the haze of swamp water, a hoof over his snout as he peered into the distance. “The way is long and winding. At least there are no choices to make, no loops back to avoid or other such troubles. It is unlikely you will even find sunken rocks to throw you down to the slime.”

The words somehow managed to fall poorly upon Big Macintosh. He was stressed to the limit by guiding the boat with fine motions, and tormented by the foul odor of the ubiquitous mist that was washing over his face with the rush of the boat. “Well ah certainly hope not! T'aint like ah kin haul mah own carcass outta the slime an' foulness down there. Why do ah gotta do it alone? Miss Smarty-Pants could be brought to life fer somma this! Ah ain't a super-pony!”

“Could I reach you I would slap you, young one!” Argus yelled above the roar of the water, turning his head to glare hotly at Big Mac. “You selfish creature! She has done her part! She has done more than you know! You are here only because you know her love exists! Had you never seen her alive you would never have passed beyond the grasslands. You are here by her grace alone! Would you have your complaints betray that wonderful allowance through love?”

Big Mac's massive form shuddered as if stricken, and he shrank in his seat, eyes flicking away from the accusatory gaze of the zebra. “Ah'm sorry... fergive me miss Smarty-Pants. And ah'm right ashamed mister Argus. T'aint right a' me ta complain none...”

Argus faced forward again and resumed his search for what he knew would be coming. “You are in no worse position than those whose lovers are in a coma or turned to stone by magical means.” A looming shadow appeared on the horizon through the filthy mist. “You may be better off. She does not weight on your body as much as they may...”

Neither male spoke further when the shadows seemed to appear out of the mist, an imposing rise of hazy shapes that eventually resolved themselves into what appeared to be a stone wall, topped with crenelations. It was like some ancient fortified town brought into the present, but grander and more imposing. There was some aura about it, a fearful miasma swarming around and seeping from the very stones.

The river's fury slowly subsided, the powerful surge becoming and oozing seep as it passed along by the silent stone walls. A swamp was in evidence in the distance, but they never arrived. They reached a mooring place by a worn stone pier. There was even a conveniently-placed clipped rope, so that the boat could be attached as it had been up the river.

Big Mac looked up with some trepidation at the high stone walls, while reaching into his horse collar to check on the state of Smarty-Pants. Despite being mostly exposed despite her position, and despite the ubiquity of the fetid mist, she was completely clean, and smelled fresh. “How is that possible?”

“She is not capable of being affected. What would be the point? Water will dry and falling from your hold does not foul her irreparably. There is some advantage to being so still as she is.” Argus lifted himself from the boat and clopped grandly up the stone pier in the direction of the walls.

Big Mac wiped some of the lingering grime off of his face and gave Smarty-Pants a kiss before tucking her back into his horse collar and turning towards the imposing structure. “An' jes what is this here evil-lookin' place?”

“In ancient times there was a great evil over the face of Equestria. It is best forgotten; almost all ponies have lost the memory of the true scope and they hate only the reputation. It was Discord the evil one that brought it, but just as terrible were his unquestioning followers. Even when he was sealed away they continued to obey the random dictates that had ensured his favor or merely the passing of his eye. The Princesses would not let that remain so. Other nations did not. But while griffins slaughtered in self-defense and zebras bound them in chains to slowly waste away, the princesses removed them. But they would not kill. They were swept away to another place. This place, a pocket of space long occupied by a spirit of pure love and unity. And here they will reside, forever. In this place, the city of Discordians, the City of Lost Souls.”

Both stallions approached the dark stone walls, which looked like they were made of blood-flecked granite. They were rough-hewn, but not cracked or decayed in the slightest. They proceeded around the base of structure, Big Mac finally noting the overall environment. It was dark and cold, the sky like steel, the vegetation squat and sere, trees stunted and everything an unhealthy brown color. It was a wasteland, like in the very eerie stories he had seen in movies about the end of the world, were the princesses not immortal and capable of handling such things. “We jes gonna slink around it an' move along?”

“Would that we could, young one. But such is not the fate of those who pass this way. All are bound to walk this road, and it must take us through here.” Around the corner there appeared a grand gate. It was carved with the image of the imprisoned Discord, though the gaze of the carving was quite malevolent, and almost looked alive. Above the gate were words carved into the stone. For they that would never leave off pain and injustice to others, the burners of the wicker foal and the sowers of blood, the prisons inside the prison will stand forever, and leave none free.

“You got yerself a key? 'R is there some sorta trick to it?”

“No trick. No key. The gate is unlocked. We shall step through and you will know why.” Argus put his hoof on the gate, and paused, turning back to regard Big Mac. “When we enter, you will see them. The Discordians. They are the challenge. You may scoff, but you will see. Let us not speak of them; but look, and pass on.” With that final admonition, Argus pushed firmly on the gate, allowing both stallions entrance into the city.

A/N: Argus' last line, the italicized one, is Virgil's line from The Divine Comedy. Inferno, Canto 3, line 51

Comments

[Kagitaar]

as relentlessly depression. Either as relentlessly depressing or relentless depression.

becoming and oozing. an