Tales of an Equestrian Mare

by Durandal

Chapter 10

The corridors were full of the scent of disturbed mud and silt, bubbling up from the bottom of the bay as the city thrashed itself apart under the force of the storm, an acidic, boggy aroma. The entire building was creaking and groaning, and she half expected to see the corridors ahead of her twist and distort like a crazy mirror at a carnival. There were signs of fighting everywhere, smashed-in doors, makeshift barricades, ruined furniture scattered anyhow across the once-plush interior, all mingling with fallen timbers and heaps of plaster dust as the ceiling began to give way.

Hearthfire shook herself as she galloped along the corridor, dislodging dollops of accumulated rainwater from her coat. At each doorway she came across, she would look inside, and at each intersection, she would halt, and listen with baited breath for sounds of any pony still trapped nearby. She stuck to the main corridor, a curving path that sloped slowly upwards as it ran the circumference of the hemispherical building, with rain-spattered windows to the right looking out over the surrounding waterways, and an endless string of doors to the left that lead into administrative spaces and filing rooms. Most had been ransacked, either to access the documents locked inside, or for chairs and desks and cabinets to aid in the defense of this or that corridor. The skirmish, battle, whatever it had been, had clearly been going on for hours before the storm brought it to its close.

A quarter-turn around the building brought Hearthfire to a huge door, twin in design philosophy to one which had stood, locked, across from the main entrance; this one, however, was slightly smaller, and also ajar. It opened at a touch, onto what could only be the auditorium in which the Council of Architects met, in which the two families had fought each other for centuries.

Rows of circular benches circled the chamber like the rings of a severed tree trunk, steeply descending stepwise towards a railing; Hearthfire realised that she had entered the room on to an upper, balcony level. Below, another circle of benches, this time at a less dizzying incline, coalesced towards a wide circular space, from which ponies could address the gathering.

Looking around, the room was just as damaged as the others she had seen. Benches had been flung around or crushed by falling ponies, a few sizeable chunks of the balcony railing had been torn out, and banners, presumably previously displaying city and family emblems, had been shredded or torn down. Water was beginning to flood the speaking floor, and before long, the front few rows of benches on the lower level would be submerged. Judging from the chamber’s position within the city hall, most of the left half of the ground floor was probably underwater by now.

“Wow... they really went at it, didn’t they?” Hearthfire muttered as she took in the wanton destruction. “I hope Stonefeather’s all right.”

Moving further round the outer wall of the chamber, she found a tight spiral staircase down to the lower level, and after a moment’s hesitation, she descended gingerly, careful of the added treachery of the building’s tilt.

“Is anypony still in here?” There was an answering moan of pain, somewhere close to the rising water line, from beneath a pile of splintered wood and plaster dust. Hearthfire galloped down the aisle; it was Dancing Pinion, half-coated in the white chalky mess and trapped beneath a timber from the torn ceiling. He was smeared with patches of drying blood.

“Hang on, I’ll try and get you out of there,” Hearthfire said, though she couldn’t honestly say if the pegasus was fully conscious or not. It took all her might, and the help of her horn, to push the beam off of him, and by then the cold water was washing around her hooves. With gritted teeth, she lifted, every muscle screaming in protest as she hoisted him onto her back. It was lucky that he was relatively light; if he had been a younger, sturdier colt, or a meatier earth pony or unicorn, she was sure that she could not have managed it. Even so, she knew that there was no way she would make it back up the listing spiral staircase to the upper level, to exit through the door she had come in. She might be able to batter down the large main doors to get out, but... there wasn’t enough time...

She fought down the panic before it could take hold. After all, she could still get out if she just abandoned -

No, that would only be a last resort. She looked around for another door. There was one at the back of the chamber. Groaning under the strain of her burden, she staggered up the aisle between the lines of benches.

“This had better be unlocked...” Hearthfire worked the handle, pulse racing, and shoved as hard as she could. She nearly fell over when it glided open without resistance. The corridor she had almost nosedived into looked much the same as the previous one, but there was no way they could be the same corridor. If she understood the layout correctly, the corridor she had been in before had been gently sloping upwards - even before accounting for the building’s tilt - so perhaps the building’s layout was based around some kind of helix?

The water seemed to be rising faster by the minute. Hearthfire discarded useless musings. There was only one route open to her, as to the left the corridor ramped down into churning, opaque water that was even now visibly creeping towards her. She moved as fast as she could, with all the weight on her back.

“I hope you’re going to be grateful for this when you wake up...”

Another brief wave of panic hit her as she began to hear a roaring water sound from up ahead, until she realised that there was no way the water level could be higher ahead than it was behind, given that she had been running uphill. Another part turn of the circle, and the corridor ended abruptly in what was once a partially concealed door, painted to blend into the wall. It had been kicked in. To her left, a stairwell led only upwards. She glanced briefly in through the broken door, and through the gloom beyond, she could just make out row upon row of what looked like enormous leather balloons, trapped beneath wooden racks. The smell of salt water and silt was even stronger here. It seemed that she had reached the bottom of the building, the floatation raft which normally kept everything buoyant and stable. There would be no way out through there. Up it was, then.

Climbing the stairs sapped most of her remaining energy. She was utterly winded, placing each leaden hoof in front of the next with dogged determination, pushed onwards and upwards by the sound of water sloshing as it began to ascend the stairs behind her.

On reaching the third landing, she was forced to stop, all but collapsing in a heap with Pinion lying limply on top of her. She fought to catch her breath through lungs that no longer seemed to be working, and tried to work out if the roaring in her ears was the water below or the rush of blood in her veins. If she was fast, she might be able to abandon the stairwell, and find her way to an outer wall of the building, and jump from a window, but if she got lost, or turned around... it was a horrible thought.

She struggled to her feet again, and prepared to tackle the next flight of stairs. How much further could it possibly be, to reach the roof? The water was getting closer with each moment she delayed, and if she gave up now, it would all be over...

A grey blur rounded the turn of the stairs, limbs skidding wildly as it whipped through the corner, and practically slammed into Hearthfire’s leg, rumbling deep sounds of relief.

“What? Cas! How did you get in here?” The cat completed an urgent circuit of her hooves, batted at her leg, and skipped back up the first few stairs. It wasn’t difficult to understand her meaning; follow.

Her friend danced ahead of her, always a few paces in front, always looking back. They made the next landing, the rising waters not half a floor behind Hearthfire’s hooves, but as she turned to tackle the next flight, Cas dived past her, out into the corridor that the stairwell opened on to. Hearthfire was about to open her mouth to object, to say that their only chance was to reach the roof, but thought better of it. She might not even make it up the next flight of stairs, with Dancing Pinion slung across her back. May as well trust in her friend’s instincts.

Cas led the way, down corridor after corridor, past rows and rows of identical-looking doors. Hearthfire had no idea where they were, or what direction they were headed in, she just kept slogging on after Cas’ beckoning dance as the water lapped around her hooves, as it rose to her knees, until she was wading through it almost up to her flank, with a soaking wet Cas riding on top of her head, batting at her ears to give direct her down this or that corridor. Stumbling was not an option. Stopping was not an option.

Until, up ahead, for some reason which Hearthfire was not inclined to question, there was a windowed door, opaqued by the driving rain which the storm lashed against it. A door to the outside. With energy should would never have guessed she had, she pushed on through the rising water. Reached the door. Fumbled blindly underwater for the handle.

Half-walked, half-swam out into blinding rain. She was on some kind of wide balcony, perhaps a rooftop garden space. Here and there, trees were swiftly vanishing into the swirling water. Out here, the water was furious. She would, she realised with a falling heart, likely be dragged down by the undertow as the building finally succumbed to the waves. She, and Cas, and even the old idiot Dancing Pinion.

“No reason to give up, though, right, Cas?”

She pushed on further across the balcony, to where the last of the floor was just vanishing and the water was less deep, and rolled Pinion off. He splashed as he hit the water, flailed feebly, but she quickly grabbed hold of him and floated him around until she could support him and keep both their heads above the surface.

“Now...” She didn’t have the strength to swim. She could feel the water sucking at her hooves, trying to draw them all down. She’d done everything she could, except...

Focused, drawing on her last reserves.

In the gloom and the driving rain, her horn glowed feebly, flickered. She tried again, and this time her horn flared like a beacon in the dark.

* * *

Comments

[Durandal]

Woah. Had a couple of bad days, I managed 500 words combined between Friday and Saturday. Fortunately I had a solid buffer to absorb a lot of that loss, but I've still got a few hundred words to make up over the rest of the month. I'm sure it won't be the last time I fall behind.