Zecora's Redemption

by The Mountaineer Brony

A Line Crossed

Zecora swung her head forward and to the left, the curved blade of the khopesh she gripped in her teeth clanging against the one Sundiata held. The sun beat down relentlessly that day, baking the earth of the ikanda beneath their hooves, even as the sweat from their brows wetted it.

"<Very good, Zecora.>" the young stallion said from around the hilt of his weapon. "<You've learned to handle the weight of the blade and let momentum work for you. Now, try to make me drop my weapon.>"

"<Is your neck killing you? Because mine is.">" Zecora said wryly through clenched teeth. Some of the other zebras watching them spar chuckled. The mare stepped back, sizing up her opponent as he shifted on his hooves. She gave a mock lunge at her opponent, who mistook it for another attack, shifting the sword in his teeth to block thin air.

The two zebras circled each other on the hardened earth, the eyes of dozens of their kin watching eagerly. Zecora furrowed her brow in concentration; Sundiata held a tight defense, and could maneuver his sword easier than her. How would she get through to disarm him? Zecora pawed the ground with her forehoof, emitting a quiet zebrine whoop whoop from her throat, daring Sundiata to make a move. After an intense few seconds, Sundiata swung his khopesh in a wide arc at Zecora; she ducked beneath its swing, using her lips and tongue to twirl her blade to face the opposite direction. She brought her head up with a small hop, catching her opponent's blade near the hilt and knocking it from his mouth, much to the delight of the crowd.

Having disarmed her opponent, Zecora dropped her own weapon with a laugh.

<"Wouldn't you know it! I'm better at this than I thought!"> She looked around for Sundiata and noticed him looking down at his hoof, reddened slightly by something. She quickly noticed a small cut on his jawline where her blade must have nicked him. The training weapons weren't terribly sharp, but they could definitely still hurt somezebra.

<"Sundiata! I'm sorry! I guess I should have been more careful.">

<"Oh, I'll be fine, Zecora. Besides, you're doing much better as a soldier."> The disheveled colt rubbed his jaw as the young mare approached. <"There's just one more lesson you need to learn.">

With a quick sweep from Sundiata, Zecora's legs were out from under her, and she landed on her back in the dust.

<"Never let your guard down until you're sure a foe is dealt with. I've heard many tales of colts who thought they'd dispatched their enemy, only to be stabbed in the back by a foe they thought dead."> With that, Sundiata helped Zecora back to her hooves. <"Altogether, though? I think you're ready.">

Zecora gave a knowing grin. <"Then I suppose you're ready to learn from me for a change?">

---

The two striped equines stamped their way through the undergrowth, cutting a path through the jungle near Sundiata's home. Zecora knew of a place near here, not far from her old village, a place where she used to meditate and hone her magical craft.

<"So, what sorts of magic do you think I need to know?"> The shaggy-maned colt spoke up from behind her. <"Anything that will be helpful in battle?">

<"Zebras that learn any magic beyond your storytelling aids tend not to use it for violence."> she replied. <"The great shamans and fakirs channel the earth's energy into spells that heal and defend; sometimes to disable, but never to harm.">

<"I have a feeling that Soumaoro doesn't care much for that tradition.">

Zecora fell silent and still for a moment, her eyes boring through thin air as her mind took hold.

<"...There are some lines which should not be crossed."

After a few minutes, the zebras found that which they sought: a small cave within a rock face, carved out by running water and the passage of years. Zecora could sense that this was the right place, but even if she couldn't, she could still make out the faded paint hoofprints she and her mother had left by the entrance so long ago. Her memories came flooding back, sweet and vivid: she could remember her mother bringing her here to begin her training in the ways of the shaman, and the look of pride in her eyes when she knew Zecora was ready. How the young mare wished she could see those eyes again.

<"Enter in, Sundiata."> said Zecora, sweeping aside a desiccated curtain of leaves. <"Your training is about to begin.>

Zecora couldn't help but think how much she sounded like her mother as Sundiata, then herself, entered the snug crevice in the rock. The entryway was narrow, much smaller than Zecora remembered it, but after some maneuvering, she stepped onto the cool, wet stone. On the inside, the cave was a single room, yet quite expansive. Moss grew on the slimy walls, there was a persistent coolness in the air, and at the center of the room was a large, vaguely circular pool of water, lit from below by bioluminescent creatures. Aside from the faint sunlight from the entrance, this was the only light in the room, but it was still bright enough to illuminate most of the chamber. In the corner, Zecora found an old oil lamp, still partially full, and brought it to life with a nearby flint.

<"What a place!"> Sundiata said, taking in the placid cave. <"You used to train here?">

<"Yes."> Zecora replied. <"It's been... many years since I was here last. I doubt anyzebra else knew about this place but Mother and I."> The young mare stepped over to examine her reflection in the clear, glowing water.

<"The art of the shaman takes time and dedication. I trained from my eighth year to the time I was a teenager to master my craft, and my mother said she worked until she was our age now. I wish I had more time to impart the finer aspects to you, my friend... but a few days shall have to do. Just as my mother trained me in this very cave, so shall I train you.">

Closing her eyes, Zecora put her forehoof to the surface of the water, making small circular motions with it as she muttered shamanic words under her breath. Sundiata tilted his head in confusion; his ears flicked about as they tried to listen in on the incantation. The ripples from Zecora's hoof grew larger as her chanting quickened. She sported a little smile upon her muzzle as she remembered practicing this spell with her mother.

Then, with one final utterance, Zecora planted her hoof firmly against the surface of the water, and it held her weight completely. Hoof-sized bubbles formed beneath the surface of the water as Zecora stepped out onto it and began to walk.

"WHOA!" cried Sundiata in amazement.

Zecora kept her eyes closed as she slowly moved out to the middle of the pool, bubbles magically appearing and vanishing with each step. She tried to pass an appearance of calm, but inside, she was taxing her concentration, having not cast such a spell in many years. After reaching what she suspected was the midpoint, she slowly turned and began to make her way back. Or at least, she would have.

<"Are you gonna teach ME to do that?!"> Sundiata proclaimed like an excitable colt.

Zecora's eyes popped open and her ears perked up as the echo bounced around the cave. Her concentration shattered, the bubbles disappeared, and she splashed down into the pool. Sundiata gave a look of embarrassed realization as Zecora's head emerged, her hooves treading water beneath her.

<"With luck."> she said with a face and tone of voice that were significantly drier than she physically was.

---

Zecora trotted slowly around her new student as he sat with his hindlegs crossed and eyes closed. He was using his forehooves to draw small circles on the stone floor; reaching out with his own energy to tap into that of the earth, he was making several small rocks move, magically arranging them into various shapes and stacks as they rolled by his command.

"As you saw earlier from my dip in the pool," Zecora began "concentration is the shaman's number one rule. On the battlefield, you will have many tasks, but you must center yourself before you can cast."

Sundiata took a deep breath and furrowed his brow as he tried to mentally arrange the rocks into a tall, balanced tower. Zecora still circled him, observing his progress and testing his mettle.

"No noise, no sound, no din, no fuss, must interfere with your focus."

Sundiata bit his lip. He was beginning to feel his resolve wear thin. The rocks were oddly shaped, with many bumps and craters; since zebra magic couldn't levitate objects, he had to roll them up each other to form the tower, which was proving more difficult than expected. He cracked one eye open to check on his progress. The rock tower, which had gotten about five high with a sixth on its way, suddenly crumbled to the floor. He sighed. Zecora put a hoof on his shoulder.

"You must have faith in the magic you control! Only then will you achieve your goal." Zecora thought for a moment about how she could show him what she meant, and, after some pondering, it came to her.

<"What are you doing?"> Sundiata asked as Zecora trotted over to the oil lamp in the corner.

<"Just watch.">

Closing her eyes and centering herself, Zecora slowly started to extend a forehoof towards the open flame.

<"Zecora, no!"> Sundiata leapt to his hooves and dashed over, knocking Zecora's hoof out of the way with his own. Both of them recoiled in pain as the flames tried to lick them. Zecora angrily stamped the ground.

<"Do you not trust me, Sundiata?!">

<"W-What?">

<"Do. You. Not. Trust. Me?""

<"...I trust you.">

Zecora nodded. <"Good. Then allow me to show you how to trust yourself.">

Reaching out her hoof once more, Zecora focused her mind. The hoof swept into the flickering flame; Zecora did not react with pain, and her fur did not singe. Her hoof scooped up the open flame, removing it from its source of fuel, even as it continued to burn. She opened her eyes, locking them with Sundiata's shocked expression.

Zecora brought the flame close to her chest, cupping her other hoof around it as if she held something precious. She closed her eyes once more and began to speak, the flame trying to reach up and tickle her chin.

<"Fire. The most violent of the elements. A giver of life, yet also a taker of it. Such a powerful force can consume anything it wishes... yet it is also very fragile, as such a simple thing as water will extinguish it from the earth. We may be fragile enough to be consumed by fire, Sundiata, but with the shaman's powers and a little belief in ourselves, we too can be powerful enough to resist it.">

She took a moment to observe his reaction. He seemed to understand so far, despite the shock and awe.

<"Water is also a powerful thing, a violent element in its own right; a giver of life, as well as a taker of it. Though all things need water to survive, great floods of it stand ready to sweep away everything in their path, and even the smallest amount can serve to quench a fire. Fire and water are much alike in many ways, even as one seeks to destroy the other. But, as you have witnessed, a shaman who believes in themselves can learn to overcome both. In fact, if a shaman truly puts their trust in that which they practice...">

Zecora swung her forehoof up over her head, arcing the flame through the air and onto the surface of the pool, where it floated atop the water without burning out.

<"...they can even help fire overcome water.">

Sundiata was speechless; he simply watched and contemplated as Zecora spoke. She rose to her hooves beside him, giving him a sideways glance.

<"But if we ever lose faith in ourselves...">

Zecora looked back to the floating fire. It quickly extinguished itself against the water, and the room grew darker.

<"...it is only a matter of time before all is lost.">

The two zebras turned to look at each other, barely visible in the darkness.

<"Think you're up to the task?"> Zecora said, the corners of her mouth turning up slightly.

Sundiata just grinned.

---

The two of them trained in various arcane skills, and Zecora was pleased to see that she was working with a fast learner. For many hours, she tested him, encouraged him to push his limits and tap into his higher self. Sundiata proved quite capable, and before long was performing some of the minor feats Zecora had shown him, though not quite to the level the mare herself could.

That evening, the zebras returned down the old dirt road as the sun ducked beneath the horizon. The torches and oil lamps lit the city of Zanzebrar quite beautifully, and the clay brick buildings could be seen from far away.

<"I haven't had fun like that in a while!"> Sundiata remarked. <"Made me feel like a colt again.">

Zecora hummed. <"When I was a filly, it wasn't play, but work. Though... I suppose it did have its lighthearted moments. I'm impressed with how quickly you learn, my friend... I'll make a shaman of you yet.">

<"Was there ever any doubt?"> The stallion playfully chided, bumping Zecora with his flank as they walked along.

Zecora corrected her course and returned the shove with her own body. <"Now, now. There's a delicate balance between believing in yourself and letting it go to your head.">

<"Then it seems that I'm still learning."> Sundiata smiled, laughing to himself. <"Same time and place tomorrow?">

<"It would be my pleasure.">

It was later that night under a pale moon that Zecora found herself sneaking away while her friends slept, bound for the place where she divulged her past to the listening ear of the princess.

---

It was the autumn of Zecora's 15th year that she first noticed something unusual. Her mother, who was typically a bright and energetic presence, seemed atypically tired and fatigued easily. Her smile never faded though, and so when she told Zecora there wasn't any worry to be had, Zecora had none. She assumed she was just feeling her age, even though she wasn't terribly old; nonetheless, Zecora cared for her mother, always there to support her and pull extra weight around the house. It got to the point where she took over the majority of their business dealings, as her mother simply lacked the strength to leave home.

Over a year passed before physical symptoms appeared.

Zecora wasn't quite sure what to think when she first saw them. Hard, swollen masses beneath her mother's skin, almost like stones. Her mother said she'd only seen the ailment very rarely in her years of medical practice; she wasn't sure what it was called, but she knew that it didn't offer much chance of survival. Her father, Zecora's grandfather, had died from it, as had some of his siblings.

Zecora was heartbroken at the prospect of losing her mother, but her mother assured her that even if she passed, Zecora had become a fine young mare, and would do well on her own. Regardless, the young mare worked furiously to try and cure her mother, trying every treatment short of cutting out the masses, which would only have made things worse, as Zecora wasn't a surgeon.

As time passed, Zecora's mother grew only weaker. The swellings beneath her skin grew larger, as though they were sapping her strength. She became so powerless that she couldn't leave her bed. But through it all, she kept smiling for her daughter's sake.

Even on the day she knew she was dying.

It was the summer that Zecora reached the age of adulthood. Her little village would normally have held a grand ceremony to celebrate her coming-of-age; instead, they downsized to an intimate affair held near her hut, so that Zecora could be with her mother. A few days later, Zecora was cleaning the hut when her mother called her to her side.

<"My dear,"> she said weakly. <"I do not think I will be with you much longer. I can feel my grip on life waning.">

<"Please don't leave, Mother..."> Zecora whispered as tears began to well within her. <"Not today; I'm so close to finding a cure, I just know it! If you have it in you to--">

"Zecora." Her mother sternly cut her off before returning to a softer voice. <"My life is ending. Nothing can change that now. Even if these things that are killing me magically disappeared, I know I would not have the strength to live beyond a day. I can feel it, my daughter; I will leave you soon. But before I do..."> The elder mare stopped to catch her breath. <"...there is something... that I want you to know.">

<"Anything, Mother."> Zecora said, barely able to hold back her sobs.

<"You are grown now, my darling. My precious child has become a beautiful young mare. Though you would like to keep me around, you do not need me. I know that you are destined for great things, Zecora. I have seen it in the stars. And if there is one thing I'd like to be remembered for, it is you, my love.">

Zecora tried to speak, but couldn't find the words. She brought her mother close, giving and receiving a kiss on the head. Her mother was struggling to return her daughter's embrace. Her breathing was becoming shallow and slow.

<"I love you, Zecora, more than anything else in the world. Know that th... that though... I may die... I will never leave you.">

<"I love you so, Mother, and that's why I can't bear to see you go. If only I could--">

<"My vision darkens."> Her mother spoke one last time with strength. <"Zecora, let me look at you.">

Zecora's tearful blue eyes locked with those of her dying mother and best friend. A small smile crept upon the old mare's muzzle, and with the last of her strength, she reassured her daughter.

<"I will never leave you.">

Zecora gave her mother the smile she knew she'd want to see.

There was a light in her mother's eyes.

And then it was gone.

…

Zecora took a ragged breath. Her eyes darted about frantically.

Her mother was gone. Only this crude matter remained.

Zecora closed her eyes tightly and bit her lip. She lowered her head to her mother's silent chest and broke down crying. Her grief was so loud that several neighbors came to check upon her. After seeing her mother's decease, they stood silently away with lowered heads, allowing Zecora time to mourn. Later that day, they prepared her body with incense and herbs, wrapped her in finely woven cloth, and buried her next to the hut. Zecora maintained a silent vigil at the graveside for the rest of the day, bidding her mother goodbye and mentally scolding herself for not discovering a cure.

From across the way, Luna witnessed this tragic memory play out with shock and sorrow splayed across her face.

"Zecora… I'm... so sorry... I can't even begin..." The lunar princess said, slowly collecting her senses. "I knew your mother had passed, but... like this? I--"

Luna's words were interrupted by a sound to her right. She spun her head to look and found Zecora quietly sobbing.

"She said she only wished to be remembered for me…" the striped mare forced out of her throat. "...and here I am: banished by my own people! I've... I've failed her!"

Zecora gripped Luna's foreleg and began to weep into the princess' shoulder. Luna wrapped a caring wing around her friend, petting her with her opposite hoof and comforting her. She didn't know what to say, so she simply hummed a lullaby she'd heard from her own mother.

She would stay by Zecora's side until the sun rose.

---

In the depths of the night, Soumaoro's army marched.

Earlier that day, they'd won a decisive victory against the forces of Neighrobi. The king and queen posed quite a challenge to the old warlock; both of them were military geniuses that had fought many civil wars to unite their kingdom. Nonetheless, Soumaoro's forces had numbers on their side... not to mention the secret weapon their master had retrieved from beneath the earth. Their enemy was crushed in record time, and the king and queen were taken prisoner. Now, they marched across open plains, sparse forest to one side, towards their ultimate goal: the round-topped mountain in the distance, and the city that lay in its long shadow.

<"Sir, can we stop yet? The troops are exhausted--me in particular."> Hondo groaned, marching beside his master. <"It's well past midnight, and we should be--">

Suddenly, Soumaoro extended a hoof across his general's chest, bringing him--and the troops marching behind him--to a stop. Looking back at his armies, he took a few steps forward, then turned to face them.

<"Do you know what we have just accomplished?"> The old zebra's solemn face slowly began to turn to a malevolent, wrinkled smile.

<"Once you pass those rocks, as I just have,"> Soumaoro gestured to a sandy orange rock formation jutting from the ground about 200 feet away. <"you will be in Zanzebrari territory, and one large step closer to our grand victory! My grand design!">

The troops were largely silent, except for a few who called out in triumph and clattered their weapons.

Soumaoro frowned. He slammed his staff against the ground, producing a loud thunderclap and echoing his voice.

<"CHEER!">

All at once, his army let up a great cry of victory, stamping the ground with their hooves, smacking their shields and armor, and chanting Soumaoro's name.

<"Are you ready to topple our hated foe?! Then follow me!">

Soumaoro marched his troops across the border to Zanzebrar, accompanied by the roars and thunderous footfalls of his secret weapon. After every soldier had made it past the rocks, he raised his hoof again.

<"Halt!">

He turned once more to observe his exhausted troops.

<"Now you may rest.">

Collectively, the troops dropped to the ground with a groan.

Comments

[Starlight Nova]

If the main OCs in this story were voiced, what would they sound like?

[Booster Spice]

Im waiting to see what this apparently immortal monster is, thats going to take at least the Elements to deal with, unless the Elements are for the Sorceror, and the army is for the weapons etc?

At least Dash has a chance of dropping a sandstorm or tornado, and breaking it if the Sorcer throws one, bounces it back himself? I wonder if Pinkie could get hold of enough extremely sticky bread dough that could cause problems?

Normally, for large armies, Id say Daisy Cutters and Trebuchets, but with magic and monsters? Really alters things.

The battle is going to be multiple chapters, starting next?

[The Mountaineer Brony]

9804051
I actually haven't considered it that much. I'd love to hear suggestions. : )

[LiboR]

Yay! The story's alive!