Fairlight - To the Edge of Midnight

by Bluespectre

Chapter Twelve - The Fog

CHAPTER TWELVE

THE FOG

Walking. Endless, endless walking. Bloody hell, how far was this damned mountain? All I could see was mile after mile of sand, forest, forest and sand, or for a little bit of interest – water so black it was near invisible against the sand. How exciting! Gods above, this took boredom to a whole new level. We’d been walking for days now, with stops along the way that were little more than brief toilet breaks and cat-naps. The incessant trudging was apparently taking its toll on the rest of our party too, as barely a word had been said between us since the incident by the lake. Even Clarion walked with his head low now, his hooves plodding along woodenly as they thumped down one after the other. Damn it all, I don’t about his hooves, my own felt like they were about to drop off! What was worse though was the fog. It had begun to gather earlier that morning, relatively slow at first, but then steadily thickening and swirling around us until we had been forced to walk closer and closer together so we didn’t lose sight of one another. I’d never seen anything like it. Manehattan certainly had its fair share of fog that would roll in from the bay, blanketing the city in its damp embrace, but nothing like this. This was wrong. It felt wrong. We’d been walking along the road, the black sand and crystal trees as common as they had been ever since I’d arrived here, but then out of nowhere this white cloud began to appear, hanging over the ground like a morning mist on a sunny morning. The temperature hadn’t changed, nor what passed as weather in this peculiar world, and yet here was this low lying carpet of fog just... sitting there. Maybe it was just my fatigue talking, but my hackles were going up like noponies business. And no wonder. As we’d walked onward the fog had steadily built up, thickening until I could barely see the end of my own muzzle let alone the pony in front of me. I wasn’t the type to scare easily, but this was something that sent a chill down my spine, and the proverbial alarm bells in my head were rapidly becoming a deafening cacophony of dread that was hard to ignore.

“Stay close.”

Who was that? Damn it all, and why were they whispering? I tried to look around myself, but all I could see was the endless suffocating whiteness. Ha! So much for the Darklands being bland and boring! Maybe this was one of the attractions that tourists of old used to come and see. Personally I think you’d have to have been a complete nutcase to come here and-

“Damn it!” I stumbled over something in the fog, stubbing my hoof and nearly losing my footing completely. What the hell was that? A rock? Oh gods… I shouldn’t have looked. I stood and stared at the form spread out on the ground in the middle of the road. The grey coat, soaked through as though half drowned. The once yellow eyes, now as pale as milk staring into nothingness. The mouth, frozen open in a silent scream of unimaginable horror. Oh Luna… Oh gods... I was going to be sick…

“Don’t stop! Keep moving!” Clarion appeared out of nowhere, grabbing my barding in his magic and pulled me onward. “Don’t look down, and keep your weapon to hoof.”

“Clarion?” I gave myself a mental shake and hurried after him, matching his pace until we were side by side. “What the hell’s going on?!”

“Shhh!” The grey stallion glared a warning to me but kept moving onward. “Sickle Foxes,” he whispered, staring into the mist. “I don’t understand it, they don’t normally come this far out of the mountain forests.” I could feel the tension in his voice which added to my own nervousness as he continued, “They follow the mists and are attracted by sound, so for the love of the goddess, keep quiet!”

Goddesses buck me, he didn’t need to tell me twice! We kept walking along the road, but in the mist it was nearly impossible to tell where the road even was. I concentrated on putting one hoof in front of the other, feeling for the firmness of the surface and listening for anything that- Oh gods! Something - a shape, a shadowed form - darted through the fog, appearing and disappearing like a ghost of the underworld. From behind us the sound of growling and snarling tugged urgently at my senses. Muffled as it was by the mist, but still horribly distinct, it set my hackles to twitching furiously, triggering a desperate desire to run and escape. I looked up into the eyes of Clarion.

“They’re feeding,” he whispered. “Keep walking, we’ll get out of this.”

I nodded my understanding and tried to push away the spectral images clouding my mind, conjuring up phantom forms of small furry beasts biting at my rump with needle sharp teeth. It wasn’t helped by the faint sounds of tearing flesh and crunching bone behind us.

I don’t know how long we continued along like that. Minutes? Hours? Bugger me, it felt like it was never going to end. We kept moving all the same, the thump of my hooves sounding damnably loud in that strange environment, and I cursed silently to myself that I hadn’t asked about overshoes to keep the noise down. I’d had kit like that in the watch where I’d taken such standard issue items for granted, but I hadn’t had a clue I’d ever need something like that here. If this was the afterlife of the thestrals then the gods must have been on an all night bender to come up with a nightmare like this! At least the fog wasn’t that thick bone soaking damp sort that you got in the down town areas of Manehattan. Being wet and miserable would have been the top hat to this misery for sure. Thank Luna for Clarion being here with me too. Without his reassuring presence I’d be… I’d… Oh no. Oh, no, no, NO! Where the hell was he? Eyes wide I looked around as a rising sense of isolation and panic began to grip me. Whilst I’d been day dreaming I’d lost sight of my rock in this sea of insanity, and now I was on my own! Without knowing which way to turn I carried on in what I thought was a straight line, feeling for the road beneath my hooves to anchor me in the endless sea of white.

The sand crunched beneath me.

I felt my heart sink like a lead weight in my chest. “Clarion?” I hissed into the nothingness. “Taurs? Anypony?” Celestia damn me, what a fool I was! I nearly choked on my own tongue when a shapeless form rushed at me out of the mist. A thing, a white and blue shape with eyes as black as midnight and a mouth full of small razor sharp teeth, bounded towards me, barely touching the ground beneath its paws. It was about the size of a small dog, but moved without making even the slightest sound. And in a blink of an eye, it was gone. My heart was racing now, my blood pumping in my veins. Unbidden, my hooves began to move forward as though they had a mind of their own and I soon found myself moving from a trot to a canter. From behind me I heard a bark. Another answered it, further away, but then another and another, coming nearer by the second. From out of the mist another of the things shot past me, nearly tipping me over. Gods, it was so fast! And now something was running down my leg. Something warm. I closed my eyes as I ran; I knew damned well what that was and there was no way in hell I was stopping to find out how much damage had been done. I poured all my energy into running now. It was far too late for stealth, if that had even been a worthwhile option in the first place. Images of the dead stallion’s blank staring eyes raced through my mind adding speed to my legs. We had been taught in the watch, when the odds were against you, to run in a straight line to put as much distance between you and an attacker, rather than jinking side to side like they did in the movies. I’d never been completely convinced by such a notion, but right now all I could think of was outrunning those fox things before I became the next casualty on that damned road. Dear gods, was this some sort of divine punishment for me? Had I really sinned so badly that this was now my eternal punishment? Running through the emptiness in a helpless flight from invisible pursuers? I’m sure I’d nightmares like this as a child, but at least I’d been able to wake up from them before the worst happened. Now, despite everything, I was lost. Utterly, utterly lost, and running towards only the gods knew where.

Something flashed by my flank, sending a shock of pain across my haunches. Barely a moment later a searing heat followed, slicing across my neck. So much for the bloody armour. Hell fire, where were they?! How in the gods names had I got into this mess? More to the point, what could I do to escape it? I couldn’t out run them. I couldn’t even see them! And so, I did the only thing I could do: I stopped. I didn’t remove my gear, nor my cloak. Trying to remove them would cost me precious time and leave me vulnerable. Instead, I channelled my magic and felt for my scythe. Carefully, with as much measured precision as I could muster despite my fluttering heart, I felt for the keeper, removed it, and slid the weapon free. The sound of the blade clicking into place sounded deafeningly loud, but rather than adding to my alarm, it cut through the cloying overcoat of fear like a razor sharp knife. I was where I was. If I was to meet my end here, then at least I would do so on my hooves rather than running away like a frightened foal. I’d take as many of these damned things with me as I could. I would-

A flash of white on white, marked by a blur of blue. I flicked my scythe up, the blade knowing its own mark. A slight resistance, a gasping sound, and something fell away into the mist. Around me a silence as deep as the ocean fell, smothering every sound, even my own heavy breathing. And then the baying began. Barks, snarls, grows and howls, played through the whiteness from every conceivable direction. It was like the Everfree all over again, only this time I doubted I’d be walking away from it in one piece. Goddesses in their heaven, I didn’t stand a bloody chance.

One of the beasts rushed me, only to jink away at the last second while another nipped at my hind leg. I kicked out, catching nothing but air. Moments later another came at me from the flank, biting my barding, only to receive a smashed jaw from the hilt of my scythe. But it wasn’t enough. There were too many. Far too many. They were all around me now, maybe even dozens of them. I tried to recall the dance of blades, the memory of battle that would come to me when I was in a fight. I knew it was there. I knew I could do it. Deep down, somewhere inside me, lay the memories that had been suppressed. If only I could find them, I could-

“Agh! Damn you!” I neighed in fury and pain as the tiny razor sharp teeth nipped into my hock. If this kept up they’d eventually wear me down, and when that happened, it would all be over. It was only a matter of time now, and soon I’d be-

“Fairlight? Fairlight!”

Oh, thank the goddess! “Clarion! Clarion, over here!” I could see the faint blue light bobbing in the mist. “Clarion!”

The sound of hooves running towards me was water to a pony dying of thirst. Every hoof fall, every crunch of sand, was a symphony of unadulterated joy. It was... salvation.

Clarion appeared, bathed in a ball of magical blue light. “Fairlight! Can you walk?”

“I can run,” I assured him.

“No!” The grey stallion closed his eyes a moment and took a long breath. “Listen, you can do that flame thing, right?”

“Flame?” I frowned in though, “Sure. But-”

“No time.” Clarion tossed his mane, looking around us hurriedly. “Bring up your flame and I’ll do the rest. Whatever you do, keep it going, okay? We only run when I say to, and when we do we run like the bucking wind, understand?”

I nodded. Channelling my magic I slipped my scythe back into its sheath before concentrating on following Clarion’s orders. Putting my weapon away when there were enemies abroad went against the grain so much so I felt like screaming at him at how utterly stupid this was. But Clarion hadn’t lead me astray so far, and if there was anypony I was going to trust to get me out of this mess, it was him. Not that there was anypony else! Well, in for a bit in for… whatever the hell it was. Concentrating, one small flame appeared as ordered. It wasn’t exactly huge, but did the job alright. As Meadow always told me, it wasn’t the size that mattered, it was what you did with it that counted. Despite my fear I chuckled to myself, making the flame as bright as possible.

“What now?” I asked.

“Watch.” Clarion’s magic rapidly began to build at an impressive rate. My horn always itched when near high magical fields, and by the gods this guy had it in spades. The grey stallion shuddered, the strain showing in his eyes. “Fairlight, keep it up, concentrate on the flame.”

I did. In the still of the hanging fog, a miracle happened. A breeze. The slightest brush of air glided across my cheek, expanding outwards little by little. The fox calls intensified with it, crying out in alarm. About us the air hissed and hushed through the black sand, rising higher and higher, dragging the reluctant fog with it, hauling in its tendrils of white as it rose. And then, with a sudden pulse of magical energy, the wind surged into a howling torrent of power. I watched in mesmerised awe as the wind picked up the small flame and drew it in with the fog, spitting and crackling like some otherworldly firestorm. The flames reflected in Clarion’s eyes, glinting off our equipment and armour.

“Now, Fairlight. With me! Move!”

The two of us began to move forward, keeping a measured pace as we walked side by side, surrounded by the whirling howl of the storm. Around us I could hear the shrieks and yelps of the sickle foxes. Their strange barks of anger and frustration of being denied their meal was so loud and shrill as to be almost tangible, but even these mysterious denizens of the fog would not brave the searing heat of the storm winds swirling around us. Here in the eye of the storm the two ponies picked up their pace. We didn’t run, instead keeping to a steady trot which I prayed would lead us away from these vicious little predators as quickly as possible. Beside me Clarion’s face was a contorted picture of concentration and effort. Sweat beaded his brow, his pupils dilated, and the whites of his eyes bloodshot. The drain on his magic must have been excruciating. I was worried about him. Back when I’d been in the watch I’d come across ponies who had used large amounts of magic, and fallen deathly ill as a result. Usually it was young ones playing about with spells they didn’t understand, or acting the fool showing off to friends. Sometimes it was an overzealous researcher or practitioner of the higher forms of thaumaturgy who’d taken that one step too far. Personally I’d never come anywhere close to burning myself out through overexertion, except when using the wendigo magic to heal others. Whether the two were even vaguely similar I had no idea, and no desire to experience it again either.

We kept moving, keeping the magic flowing, keeping close together. I could feel the pull on my magic now. It was like something pulling on my brain, steadily, slowly, drawing it out of the top of my head. It didn’t hurt as such, but was a distinctly unpleasant feeling that I wanted to stop. I could have stopped it. I could also have been eaten alive. That thought alone drove my legs onward through the fog, on through the sand, and onto the… the road? Oh gods, the road!

“Keep… keep moving...” Clarion gasped. “Keep...”

“I’m right with you buddy, keep it up, you’re doing great.” I assured him. “We’ll be out of this hell soon, you’ll see.” I wasn’t sure who I was trying to convince: Clarion, or myself.

“Fairlight… tell me something,” the wendigo huffed wearily. “Anything at all. Just… keep me awake, okay?”

Keep him awake? And tell him what?! What the hell was I supposed to do?! I gave myself a shake, trying to concentrate. “What do you want me to talk about?” I gasped, wincing as a throb of pain surged though my skull.

Clarion swallowed, pushing out another pulse of magic. “Tell me about... about your thestral mare. Your wife. Anything!”

“Shadow?” I flinched as the magic pulled on me again. The barking and yapping was further away now, but the fog was still all around us like a damned shroud. I knew if we stopped, if we even let up for even a second, they’d be on us. “I met her in the Wither World,” I said loudly over the roar. “I was lost in a land that looked exactly like this one, only with less fog and a lot less on the pony-eating fox front.”

The stallion shivered as he asked, “What… What did she look like?”

“Like a creature from your worst nightmare after a night on blue cheese and cider!” I shouted. “She was all bone and leathery skin, with wings like a dragon and teeth that could tear you shreds. Hell, I didn’t even know she was a ‘she’ until… well, you get the idea.”

“Sound like… like your typical thestral to me,” Clarion bellowed between breaths.

“How did you know about me and her?” I asked.

“Everypony knows about you,” Clarion replied. He winced noticeably and gave his mane a hard shake. “Our brothers and sisters in the eternal herd brought the news back to us. We couldn’t believe it at first, but then… but then we kept hearing more about your exploits.” He smiled despite his exertions. “Is it true you have three wives?”

“Almost,” I shouted. “I have one wife and two marefriends. It just kind of happened that way.”

“And your wife is okay with that?”

“I know, right?” I squinted against the blasting wind. “Believe it or not she’s happy with our little herd. What about you though? Any ladies in your life?”

“Only one, and that’s enough!” Clarion replied. “Varielle and I met here in the Darklands after the fortress fell. We’ve been together ever since.”

“Any foals?”

“No joy on that front,” Clarion called back. “Births are very rare here. Same as the herd.”

“I never found out why that was,” I replied loudly. “I guess it’s something to do with being dead, yeah?” I barked out a laugh, joined by my new friend.

“Probably!”

Clarion stumbled suddenly and I managed to catch him in my forelegs. “Hey! You okay big guy?” I asked in concern. “For the gods’ sake, don’t burn out on me here!”

“I… I don’t think...” Clarion licked his lips and grimaced. “Goddess forgive me… I don’t think...”

“Come on, here, get this down you.” I held up my flask for him to take a draught which he took greedily.

He nodded weakly, “Thanks.”

I shook my head, “No need to thank me. Let’s just get out of here and then we can try that balta, yeah?”

Clarion nodded, and together we pressed on, trying to maintain our measured pace. I looked at him from the corner of my eye. It was obvious the wendigo was losing his strength. I didn’t say it out loud, but every so often the magical winds would drop slightly before picking back up again. Clarion was exhausted, and I wasn’t in a much better state myself. The last thing we needed now was to have the magical storm collapse, along with us inside it. If that happened I wouldn’t have the strength to protect us, and even if I did I doubted I’d be able to keep it up for long. But for once, Fate had other plans. Thankfully ones that didn’t involve me being eaten alive by near invisible foxes from the underworld. I’d have to thank her the next time I met her. After I’d throttled the vicious bitch…

From out of the mists more sounds assailed us over the rushing wind, only this time they were voices. Familiar voices. It was all too much for poor Clarion. Pushed to his limits he collapsed onto his knees as the fire storm began to sputter and fail. Almost in the same instant, blue light burst all about us in all its magical glory, flooding my eyes and heart alike with renewed hope. The wendigo surrounded us in seconds, taking up the last shreds of the storm and fire, rekindling it, adding to it, and sending it out in a shock wave of fiery energy that screamed outwards from its epicentre with us at its heart. My knees shuddered as I leaned down to help my friend. Clarion looked up at me weakly, the dark shadows beneath his eyes already telling their own tale of the toll his magical expenditure had taken on his body.

“You’d… you’d better be… worth it,” he wheezed. “Lord of… of the Four Winds...”

“Hang on, Clarion, the cavalry’s here, buddy,” I smiled down at him. “You’re gonna be okay.”

He closed his eyes, “Yeah...”

Taurs appeared in front of me, about as welcome as one of those damned sickle foxes. Wait… foxes? My goddesses, the fog! I blinked in amazement at the scene around me. It had gone. The fog had gone! Every last shred of it, vanished as though it had simply never existed. An indescribable sense of relief flooded me from nose to tail, taking the strength from my legs as I collapsed to my haunches with a loud huff. The four wendigo around me looked tired too, and were all breathing hard from running. Three of them helped pick up Clarion and between them started to carry him away, leaving me with their leader. The leader who was glaring at me as though everything that had happened had been because of me.

“If Clarion dies, it will be because of you,” he confirmed levelly. “The death of even one of our brothers diminishes our people’s spirit. You will be held accountable.”

I’d had enough of him already. I didn’t want to hear this supercilious prig’s bitter words any more than I wanted to stay in his presence. “You can please yourself, Taurs,” I told him coldly. “I take responsibility for my actions. All my actions. Clarion chose to help a friend. A brother. Where were you when one of your people needed help?”

The stallion’s glare cut have cut marble. “You were the one who wandered off the road into the fog, not I,” he announced. “We came as soon as we realised you had gone missing.”

“Did you?” I mused. “Took your sweet time about it though, didn’t you. Hoped the foxes would rid you of your pet Celestian perhaps?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Taurs sniped. “I don’t give a damn about you or your kind. I’m only doing this because...” his words faltered.

“Because you have to?” I finished for him. “Is that what you were going to say?” My ire was up now and my hooves itched furiously. “Where is the ‘wendigo are all brothers and sisters’ routine now, Taurs? I thought we were all one big happy family. Or is it because I’m a half breed? An aberration? A nag?”

“You’re a fool,” he spat.

“I am, am I?” I rounded on him, pulling him up short as he tried to walk away. “Tell me, Taurs, why are you and your ponies really here, hmm? And don’t give me any of your sugar coated bullshit either.” I took a step towards him. “Come on, out with it. I promise I won’t bite.”

I’m not sure whether it was my questioning of him that hit the mark or my reference to being a half breed, but the nervous tick beneath his eye told me I’d struck a raw nerve. Taurs’ ears twitched and his tail swished in what I would normally have ascribed to absolute fury. But instead of striking me, he closed his eyes and… smiled.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, “I was upset about Clarion, that was all. Of course I’m glad you’re safe, Fairlight. Please, forgive my thoughtless words. I said them in haste, and emotion which is something I don’t normally do well.”

I nodded, giving him a gentle smile, “Of course, Taurs. And I’m sorry I placed you all in danger on my account. Can we move on?”

“Of course!” Taurs beamed suddenly. “But perhaps you should look to the west, beyond the road.”

“The west?” I followed the grey stallion’s gaze, past the black sand, past the rocks that lay as though they had exploded out of the ground, and there, in the distance rising up out of the earth, was the unmistakable outline of the mountains. “Gods...”

“The Gods Hoof Mountains,” Taurs breathed quietly beside me. “The home of the ice dragons.”

“As long as they’re the home to the Roc, I don’t give a damn about dragons,” I said with finality.

“You aren’t of afraid of dragons?” Taurs asked in surprise. “You lived your life in Equestria, and you have no fear of the flying lizards?”

“A healthy fear of things that eat you alive can mean the difference between life and death,” I said, readjusting my equipment. “But if you let fear take control you can lose your ability to think and outwit your enemy. If you can harness your fear, if you acknowledge it and let it rage in the quiet corners of your mind where it can do no harm, then… then you can achieve anything.” I hefted my saddle pack and began walking away. “Fortune favours the bold, Taurs. I learned that a long time ago.”

********************

“How is he?”

“Weakened, but he’ll survive.”

Clarion was pale but his breathing was at least steady, each exhaled breath curling up in the chill night air. I pulled the blanket up and tucked it in around his neck. “I’ll stay here with him,” I said laying my own blanket over his. “You go and get some sleep.”

The wendigo watched me carefully, a look of genuine curiosity crossing his features. “Why?” he asked quietly, “You don’t know him.”

“I know enough to know he’s my friend,” I replied, “and my brother.”

“Your…?” The wendigo shook his head suddenly and looked around as though wary of being overheard. “Your brother?”

“Aren’t all wendigo brothers and sisters?” I asked politely. I took a sip of the hot brew that had been passed around shortly after the fire had been laid. It was quite good really. A little strong for my taste, but still warming. And by the gods I needed it too.

The stallion, a near mirror image of the others sitting close to the fire, frowned in thought before replying, “We are brothers and sisters. But you… you’re a-”

“Half breed?” I finished for him. “Yeah, I keep hearing that.” I gazed into the steaming cup. “Does that make me any less of a wendigo in your eyes?”

He stared at me, his eyes wide. I’d hit a nerve and it showed. But then to my surprise he reached into his pack and moved closer, pulling my cloak aside. “Let me have a look at your wounds.”

“They’re not too bad,” I assured him.

“Bites from a spirit fox can turn septic quickly,” he replied in a conversational tone. “Their teeth carry more bacteria than anything else I’ve ever encountered and slow healing. Even a wendigo could succumb if left untreated.”

“In that case,” I said presenting my injuries for inspection, “feel free, Doc.”

I settled back and let the fellow go to work. It was strange being worked on with magic rather than the more familiar applications of needle, thread and poultice. It was also a lot less painful. The warm glow of the stallion’s magic concentrated on the injuries, knitting the flesh back together. Pleasantly I noticed that the injuries I’d suffered at the claws of the manticore were now as clean as a whistle, showing only bare skin. Hopefully my fur would grow back there soon, otherwise I’d end up looking like a bloody road map.

“You have older wounds,” the wendigo observed. “I thought the magic of the herd prevented injuries.”

“It does,” I replied stretching out my newly mended leg. “No such luck here.”

“Have you been in the Darklands long?” the stallion asked.

“Not really,” I replied pleasantly. “I was here to visit a friend and ended up nearly being eaten alive by a manticore.” I shrugged wistfully, “I think I’ll send a letter next time.” The wendigo chuckled and I sat up, pulling the cloak around me once more. “Thanks for that, it feels great. What’s your name again?”

“Lyrin,” he replied. “Forgive me, I should have introduced myself properly when we first met.”

I shrugged, “That makes two of us then. Call me Fairlight, Lyrin.” I held out my hoof, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Lyrin smiled and shook my hoof with a single, firm shake. “I have to say, Fairlight, that you’re not at all how I expected.”

“Oh?”

“Your concern for Clarion. I…” He sighed, “I hadn’t expected it of a… you know.”

“A Celestian?” I asked.

Lyrin shook his head, “No. I meant an Equestrian.” He continued, “After our defeat by the white witch and her minions we fled through the caves and into the northern wastelands hoping the cold would help protect us from our enemies. Many of us died in the attempt. Be it from wounds, starvation, thirst, sickness… One by one we fell until there was hardly any of us left. It was a time I will never forget. It was also a time when many of us became increasingly embittered towards our cousins, the ones who called themselves Celestians.” He looked down at the ground, his eyes taking on a far away cast. “I saw my whole family butchered, Fairlight. I only escaped more through luck than anything else.”

“But you survived,” I added.

“I did,” Lyrin snorted bitterly, “only to die in the mountains. Our peoples bones litter the snowy wastes as silent reminders of the end of an age and the merciless vengeance of the white witch. We didn’t have the time nor the strength to bury our own loved ones. And if there is one thing that keeps me awake at night, it’s that.” He snorted mirthlessly, “I doubt my remains faired any better.”

I hung my head, “I’m sorry, Lyrin.”

“Vae Victis. Woe to the vanquished,” the stallion quoted. “At least some of us survived. The strongest amongst us found a place to finally call home, taking refuge in-”

“Lyrin?” A voice called over from the campfire. “Lyrin, what are you doing? Come and give us a hoof here with this shelter will you?”

Lyrin turned to leave. “I’d better go. Taurs does not like us… fraternising.”

“I’m not your enemy, Lyrin,” I replied softly. “Born in Equestria or not, I never have been.”

The wendigo smiled sadly and picked up his equipment and packs, “I’ve left some spirit and food for when he awakes. If you need anything, call me.”

“I will,” I assured him gratefully.

I stayed beside Clarion as Lyrin walked slowly back to his brothers who were busily erecting a shelter for themselves. I’d never seen it rain here, but I didn’t want to take the chance that it was going to do just that and I’d be caught outside in some kind of bizarre alien downpour. I doubt it would be like anything I’d ever experienced before of course, nothing here was. Who knew what weird mind warping insanity this place was going to throw at me next. Shrugging my concerns aside I followed their lead and set to putting together a makeshift shelter for myself, making sure I had my waterproof cape to hoof just in case. By the looks of what I ended up with I’d probably need the thing too. Gods above, what a mess... I hoped the wind didn’t pick up or I’d be in real trouble. Survival skills weren’t exactly something we’d needed in the watch. When the nearest you got to being ‘outdoors’ was standing on a street corner in torrential rain watching the time until you could go home, knowing how to build a sturdy shelter against the elements didn’t factor into the top ten of your concerns. Not to mention the fact that my days in the Equestria Scouts had been cut unexpectedly short after I’d thrown up on the scout leader and was too embarrassed to go back again. Still, the rickety mess of sticks I’d managed to erect would do for tonight. I hoped.

A few of the thick thorny bushes were growing nearby. They were a bit small compared to what I’d seen near Briar’s home, but there were enough dry pieces lying about to keep the small fire going for the night. The others had set up their own fire nearby, leaving me to my own devices. There was little in the way of wildlife too I noticed. As the night drew on and the hours passed by there was little sound other than for the occasional cough or snort from the others. In my mind the image of that endless fog burning away in the swirling magical fire replayed over and over no matter how much I tried to ignore it. White fog, the barking of the foxes, the face of the pony I had stumbled over in the enveloping whiteness... The pony… There were five wendigo: Clarion, Taurs, Lyrin, and the other two. If somepony else had died in that dread blanket of death, then nopony here had spoken of it. At least not to me. But that pony had been a wendigo, of that I had no doubt. The grey coat, the black mane and tail, and those eyes… those dead, pale, staring yellow eyes. There had been no sign of a struggle that I could see. Only death. And I had seen more than my fill of that. I could still remember the first pony I’d killed. Melon Patch. The big red bastard who, along with his friend Gates, had raped and murdered my wife and unborn daughter before trying to finish me off. I say ‘trying’ because those vermin hadn’t had the sense to make sure they’d done their job properly. I had survived, barely, and only after help from Princess Luna herself to bring my soul back from the Withers. Sometimes I wished she hadn’t bothered...

“Fairlight?”

Shaken from my thoughts I looked up into the face of the kindly soul who had tended my wounds. “Lyrin? Oh, hi. Can’t sleep?” I asked.

He shook his head, “It’s my turn at watch. Thought I’d bring you a cup of tea to warm you up.”

“Thanks.” I took the cup from him gratefully and took a sip of the hot steamy brew. By the goddess, it was the best thing I’d ever tasted in my life.

“You’re smiling,” Lyrin said in surprise. “Everything alright?”

“I haven’t lost my marbles yet, Doc.” I closed my eyes and sighed loudly, enjoying the warming sensation drifting over me. “No, just marvelling at how everything always tastes better around a camp fire.”

Lyrin watched me with those deep yellow eyes of his before shrugging and sitting down beside Clarion. “He’s sleeping. That’s good.”

“Will he recover his magic?” I asked. “I’ve heard of unicorns overexerting themselves and burning all their magic away.”

Lyrin huffed dismissively, “Old mares tales.” He smiled slightly and began to check on his patient, carefully checking his pulse and temperature. “Using too much magic will cause physical collapse before any permanent damage is done. Clarion reached his limit and his body simply shut down. His magic will come back in time.”

“So ‘burnout’ doesn’t exist?” I asked in surprise.

“Not that I’ve seen,” Lyrin replied. “There are plenty of unicorns whose hearts gave out from pushing themselves too far, but not from over use of their magic.”

“And wendigo?”

“The same.” Lyrin continued to work on Clarion who murmured something in his sleep, but other than that never stirred once throughout his examination. “Push yourself too hard and you run the risk of injury,” he nodded to himself as he tucked the blanket back around his patient. “Run too hard, fly to high, eat too much, drink too much. The list goes on.”

“Everything in moderation, eh?” I suggested.

Lyrin nodded stiffly, “Correct. Everypony has their limits, Fairlight. You just need to listen to your body.”

The stallion moved to leave. I held out a hoof stopping him, “Lyrin?”

“Hmm?”

I took a breath, “Did you… Did you see anypony else in the fog?”

“See anypony?” Lyrin barked out an ironic laugh. “I could barely see myself!” He paused, “You’re serious.”

“I am.” I adjusted my cloak and took another sip of tea. “There was another pony out there. A dead stallion, by the side of the road.”

“Another wendigo?” Lyrin asked.

I nodded, “I’d say so going by his colouring. I couldn’t see the poor sod’s cutie mark because of his cloak, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to go in for a closer look in that fog.”

Lyrin stared at me. I wasn’t sure whether he believed me or not, although there wasn’t so much a look of dismissal of my claim in his eyes as something else. Was it surprise maybe? Fear? Whatever it was, with his immovable features I simply couldn’t tell; this lot would have made damned good poker players, that was for damned sure.

“She was not with our party,” Lyrin said finally. “And I don’t know why anypony else from our tribe would be out here.”

“Perhaps you could send some of your people to recover her body when all this is over,” I suggested. “If there’s anything left by then.”

“With the foxes abroad?” Lyrin shook his head, “We’d be lucky to find a single bone.”

Not a comforting thought, especially at night in the middle of nowhere. Still, at least I was with a group and not on my own for a change, although sometimes I longed for my own company, the freedom to roam and rely only on your own wit, magic and initiative. Other times I wanted nothing more than to cuddle up next to a warm mare and enjoy the company of somepony who loved me. Gods… How I wished I was back home now instead of here on this insane mission.

“It’s an unforgiving land, Lyrin,” I said quietly. “As fascinating as it is, every minute I spend here reminds me of how good I have it in the eternal herd. Have you ever thought of going back there? There’s wendigo like you who’ve made a home for themselves there after passing over.”

Lyrin raised his eyebrows and stared up at the starry sky. He had an air of distance about him tonight, as though he were here physically but his mind was up there, dancing amongst those far away pinpricks of silver light. “I did live there once,” he said softly. “I used my medical knowledge to help those of us who were frightened and lost after the fall of the fortress. Many of us, particularly the ones who had achieved the joining, couldn’t cope with the realisation of what had happened to them. Despite the magic of the herd, I could only watch as they slowly went mad, drowning in a sea of grief and loss. Those… those we lost early. They could never accept losing the part of them that made them what they were. Some of them came here to the Darklands, heading up into the mountains to try and find salvation, to try to reconnect with that which was no longer there. All they ever found was death. Either by accident, starvation or dragon, they left this world and are now no more than a faint memory. Others from our tribe tried living amongst the equestrians for a time. Many of them they treated us with suspicion, but some were kindly and readily accepted us. But to lose our home, our lives, and then to have our very nature cut away from us… It is something that is beyond even the magic of the eternal herd to mend, Fairlight. I suspect that you know of what I speak?”

“I do,” I replied solemnly. “I’ve made a home in the herd with my wife and daughter. For the most part I’m happy there too. I have a job, a beautiful home, and my family’s with me.” I smiled distantly, staring at my hooves. “It’s everything a stallion could wish for.” I closed my eyes, wishing my heart didn’t hurt so in my chest. “But I miss the wendigo part of myself, Lyrin. There are times when I remember the feeling of flying above the mountains, of the sheer raw power of my magic and the song upon the winds. Now… now I’m just a plain old unicorn who can float objects around and light pipes.”

“The gods are harsh, my friend.”

“Yeah,” I took a sip of my tea. “Well bollocks to ‘em. Every bloody one.”

“You know, you really shouldn’t speak ill of the gods, Fairlight.” We both looked round in surprise to see Clarion leaning up and watching us. “It’s not a good idea to piss off something that can turn you to ash with a careless thought,” the stallion smirked. “I thought your watch training would have told you that much.”

“Oh, bugger off!” I laughed.

“Got a cup for me too?” Clarion asked. “A stallion gets a powerful thirst saving others from certain death.”

“Let’s hope it’s not habit forming,” I grinned. “Here...” I passed Clarion a hot cup of tea from the pot. “Feeling any better?”

He shrugged slightly, “Bit kicked about, but I’ll be fine after a good nights sleep.” Clarion’s eyes still had dark circles under them, but he looked a lot more like his old self than he had a few hours earlier. “How long was I out?”

Lyrin, goddess bless him, pulled out a pack of paper wrapped sweet biscuits which went perfectly with the tea. “About a day and a half roughly speaking,” he explained. Stretching his legs he began rummaging in his pack. “I wouldn’t normally recommend it, but considering the circumstances...”

I caught the aroma immediately. “You have tobacco?” I asked.

“And the best too,” Lyrin smiled. “Hill Top Leaf. Taken from our holdings in the herd.”

“You grow tobacco in the herd?!” I nearly choked.

“Why not?” Lyrin seemed put out by my expression of surprise. “We still have friends and family there you know. We have some sent over once a month.”

“And they allow that?” I asked.

“Trade is trade,” Clarion clarified. “We send through crystal lumber for craft items and building projects. In return we have get some of the little luxuries we can’t get here. The tobacco is a nice distraction from the day to day living standards here.”

“Couldn’t you just, you know, go back there?” I asked. “Even for visits and the like.”

“We do occasionally,” Lyrin answered. He packed a pipe and floated it over to Clarion who took it gratefully. “Sometimes a few of us will accompany the monthly supply run to visit family and friends, or simply take a break from life here.”

“But it isn’t home...” I said quietly.

“No.” Clarion accepted a light from my horn and nodded his appreciation as the grey smoke began to curl up into the night sky. “We don’t belong there, Fairlight, remember?”

“I still don’t think it’s right,” I replied. “We’re all ponies and-”

“Fairlight?” Clarion took a puff on his pipe, talking past the stem, “This isn’t the subject for friends to discuss over a pipe, yes?”

Reluctantly I nodded, but even so it didn’t seem right to me. No, not ‘seem’, it wasn’t right! These guys were living in a form of self imposed exile and having to live in this dark and sandy hell hole where rubbery tentacle things stole memories of loved ones from you to lure you to your death, where the land itself smothered you in fog for foxes to eat you alive and… and… and yet it was their home. I hung my head as the realisation of everything Clarion and Lyrin told me finally began to sink through my thick skull. The wendigo had always been able to live in the eternal herd, they just didn’t want to. They had come here to find a new home, and even this place, this inhospitable miserable place, failed to offer them the solace they sought. The wendigo race had vanished from Equestria, vanished nearly from the herd too, only to end up here like driftwood on a beach at high tide. For the wendigo, for my own people, there was simply nowhere left to go. At the edge of eternity, on the very brink of the void… they waited for their end. Maybe this was why they found some affinity with the thestrals. The two races were defunct, unwanted, and left to die out. What the all father had started with the thestral race his daughter Celestia had almost finished with her purge of the wendigo. I closed my eyes and tried to push away the memories that were beginning to bubble up from that dark recesses of my soul: Maroc’s loss of his wife, Arathea, the destruction of his home and people, my own loss of Meadow and Sparrow, and the ever present pain of being unable to save your loved ones from the grief of your own passing. All of it, every infinitesimally tiny piece of memory, cut me deeper than any knife. Even the music sounded melancholy, the way it drifted softly through the air and caressed my ears.

“Hey, Fairlight?”

“Hmm?” I looked up and blinked in surprise. Rubbing my eyes I stared past my two friends, trying to focus on where the music was coming from and saw one of the other wendigo playing a strange looking pipe like instrument at the other campfire.

“Are you nodding off, Fairlight?” Lyrin peered closely at me, “I think you need some sleep my friend, otherwise you’ll be no good for tomorrow’s climb.”

“Climb?” Clarion asked. “Are we that close already?”

“We’re about half a day from the gods hoof mountains,” Lyrin said idly smoking his pipe. “This time tomorrow we’ll be camping amongst the rocks and enjoying all the thrills of rock climbing.”

“Speaking of which, any idea where we’ll find the Roc’s nest?” I asked hopefully.

Clarion shook his head and shared a look with Lyrin. “Normally we avoid the Gods Hooves like a bad arse in summer. If you ever see a Roc then you can bet she’s already seen you, sized you up, and decided whether or not it’s worth her while inviting you to dinner. Few have lived to see her and fewer want to.”

“So why come?” I took a pull on my pipe thoughtfully, “You have all risked your lives to lead a complete stranger to find a monster’s egg of all things. I somehow doubt it’s going to get any easier from here on in, right?”

“True enough,” Clarion replied honestly. “Lyrin?”

Lyrin shrugged and leaned back on his pack, shrugging into it to make himself comfortable. “Taurs is in charge of our village, and we go where he says we go. He told us to come help you, and so,” he said holding out his forelegs, “here we are.”

“It’s that simple?” I asked.

Lyrin nodded, “It’s that simple.”

“What I don’t understand is why,” I said honestly. “He doesn’t know me, and for that matter, neither do you guys.”

“Wendigo look after their own, Fairlight,” Clarion replied. He took a pull on his pipe and sighed it out into the chill air as he brushed a hair out of his eye. “Is it so hard to believe that we’re helping you because we want to?”

“A suspicious mind,” Lyrin announced suddenly. “Typical watchpony trait.”

“How would you know that?” I asked. “The Four Winds tribe wouldn’t have had need for a watch, surely?”

“Oh, they did alright! My father was the night watch commander,” the grey stallion grinned cheekily. “Time, I think, for a little story...”

And so with a fresh cup of tea, a pipe of tobacco and some snacks pilfered from the supply packs, the three of us whiled away the night with stories of home, mares, and adventure…

********************

Morning. You could tell it was morning by virtue of the fact that there was a distinct absence of stars. Other than that it was exactly the same as every other blasted day here. How anypony could live in constant darkness without going completely round the bend was an achievement in itself. By the gods, what I wouldn’t give for a little sunshine! No wonder the wendigo here were so bloody miserable all the time. Maybe a little warmth and sunlight was what they needed in their lives, like the thestrals. At least they had an excuse for being angry; they were stuck here. The wendigo chose to live here. Most of them anyway. I gave myself a hard shake, dislodging the sand that had found its way into every nook and cranny making me feel like I had sandpaper between my legs. I’d dreamt about the wendigo last night, and about their plight. In the dream I’d seen grey unicorns streaming through the mountain pass, heading into the darkness and the unknown whilst behind them the sun blazed high overhead. All I managed to take from it was a strong sense of fear and the terror of an unknown future that many of them would simply never going see. They were lost, leaderless, and had given up on the one thing that made life worthwhile: hope. Without it all the future promised was emptiness and fear, constantly on the run and looking over your shoulder for the rest of your days. For me, hope was what had made me continue to struggle onward. To be without it, to have lost that fundamental drive, that purpose… was beyond terrifying. Now I felt like I needed a hot shower to wash not only the grime away, but the last vestiges of the uncomfortable dream.

“Morning.” Clarion’s face appeared with a cup of tea and a bun.

I rubbed my eyes and yawned, “Mmf.”

“Not a morning pony, eh?”

“Not here, no.” I took a grateful sip of the tea and groaned as the sweetened liquid slipped down my throat. “Oh Luna, that’s so good.”

“Not bad, eh?” Clarion rolled his shoulder and yawned, “Girls love it when a guy can cook.” “And make tea,” he added.

“What’s in the bun?” I asked taking a bite, “It’s delicious!”

“Bacon,” Clarion replied. “We keep a few pigs in the herd and the bacon is packed in freezer boxes before being transported back to our village. We have enchantments on the food packs to stop it going off.”

“That’s incredible,” I muttered past the deliciously salty morsel. “I’ve never heard of anything like that.”

“You have refrigeration in the kitchen at home, don’t you?” Clarion asked.

“Well, sure,” I replied. “But it’s hardly portable.”

“And since ponies don’t generally eat meat,” Clarion continued, “there’s not much need for portable freezer boxes. Besides, the herd has a way of ensuring food doesn’t go rotten. The same can’t be said of here unfortunately.”

“Well whatever the case, that was the best breakfast I’ve had in a long time.” I smiled and licked the crumbs from my muzzle, washing it down with a good slug of hot tea. “Thanks, Clarion. You’re a star.”

“A star?” He laughed and walked over to his belongings. “If you’re going to wash you’d better be quick about it. Taurs wants everypony ready in thirty minutes.”

“Fair enough,” I replied.

I closed my eyes and groaned. Oh for a warm comfortable bed and nothing to do all day! Still, if I got my act together I’d have time for a flannel wash with some warm water from the pot on the fire. Thank the goddess I’d had the forethought to work on my hooves last night whilst we’d been chatting. I suppose they could have been worse; the damned things were absolutely covered in chips – not unusual when travelling in rough terrain particularly - but I’d also found a small crack in one of my hind hooves that had needed immediate attention. My skills in the field had come in handy on more than one occasion over the years, and last night I’d at least been able to seal the crack and roll the edges of my hooves to stop them getting any worse. Honestly, I usually took better care of them, but being out here in the Darklands was playing hell with my normal routine. Considering my normal routine involved dragging myself out of bed into the shower before I enjoyed a breakfast with my family, things really couldn’t have been any more different if I’d tried. Still, the breakfast on offer today was pleasant enough, and the company too for that matter. Taurs was still avoiding speaking to me, and Clarion and Lyrin avoided talking to me whenever he was near. It probably would come as no surprise to even the most casual observer that Taurs did not like me, nor I him. That made it all the more peculiar that he and his stallions were still here. Clarion had warned me about questioning Taurs, and I respected that. However it didn’t stop me wondering about the curious leader of our party, and what his truemotivations were.

Predictably the rest of the day was exhausting. There was no doubt at all we were approaching the mountains now. Our modest morning hike became increasingly laboured as the hours slipped by and the climbing began in earnest. Step by cautious step we stumbled over loose rocks and squeezed past boulders as large as houses, all the while trying not to focus on the black giants looming ahead of us. It wasn’t exactly hard either, taking care of our footing was a nightmare and I think I spent more time staring at the ground rather than where we were actually heading. My hooves constantly skidded and slipped on the freely moving surface, sending pebbles and rocks of all sizes cascading back down the way we’d come. At times we had to help each other make any headway at all by utilising magic, ropes, or just sheer brute force and ignorance. Gods damn it all, I’d never complain about walking on sand again after this nightmare! By comparison it was a palace carpet to this… this crap! At least I’d noticed how the wendigo struggled just as much as I did. The old adage ‘Misery loves company’, seemed oddly appropriate. In any case I was glad of that very same company, and was surprised when even Taurs leant a hoof to help yours truly up a particularly nasty section of scree. The delicious breakfast I’d enjoyed only that morning now felt like a memory from a lifetime ago. All there was now was that interminable, never ending, climbing.

At long last, Lyrin and one of the others grabbed me by my barding and hauled my weary carcase onto the first relatively flat piece of land I’d seen since we’d set out, and we collapsed as one to catch our breath. Suddenly smoking didn’t seem like such a good idea. Fresh air, a cup of water and a travellers biscuit was more than enough up here. Wherever ‘here’ was. One of the wendigo, a fellow by the name of Pulias, was our guide now. Somehow he apparently knew this miserable terrain like the back of his hoof, although how exactly he’d come across such knowledge was a mystery in itself. He had no map, no compass, no nothing. Only the sense of direction in his head was what kept us moving. That, and mindless determination. But even determination will only drag an exhausted pony so far. Taurs had reluctantly agreed to a halt while up ahead of us, Pulias and the other wendigo, ‘Kadun’, or something equally silly, went ahead to scout the land. Luna’s ears, why did they have have such difficult to pronounce names? ‘Clarion’ was as normal it got around here, and I wasn’t that sure I could spell his name properly anyway. It was probably spelled with far more consonants than was decent, but that was old Equestrian for you. It probably meant ‘Biscuit’ or ‘Dave’, or something equally stupid. Speaking of which, I wonder how the old biddy at the rehabilitation centre was doing these days? I hadn’t seen any of the old crew for ages. I kind of missed Booster. He was fun to be around, a bit of a maverick perhaps, but a decent enough sort. Maybe he’d worked things out with Ivy? I’d have to look him up when I got back and catch up with him. Well, after I’d grovelled my way through the front gate at the barracks that is. Whichever way you looked at it I was for the high jump disappearing the way I had. I’d have to come up with some sort of plausible excuse, but precisely what I wasn’t sure yet. I’d give it some thought when I had a few minutes. Unfortunately being stuck halfway up a bloody mountain was far from ideal when it came to formulating plans.

“Lyrin, Fairlight, heads up.” Clarion motioned to one of the scouts returning.

It was Kadun. He hurried up to Taurs who nodded briefly in response to the message being relayed. Moments later, with Kadun heading back the way he’d come, Taurs turned to the rest of us, “Break’s over,” he announced. “We’re heading out.”

“Short and sweet as always,” Lyrin mumbled grumpily beside me. “Come on lads, grab your gear and let’s haul flank.”

“Buck me, already?” one groused. “We’ve just sat down for Luna’s sake!”

“Oh, for a pair of wings...”

“I hear yer.”

The sound of grumbling ponies brought a wry smile to my face. It was reminiscent of so many of my training expeditions in the watch where we would occasionally go off on hikes into the highlands of Equestria, sometimes for days on end. Ostensibly it was to ‘promote team building’ and ‘build stamina and endurance’ as we had spouted at us on a regular basis by the chief instructor. What setting up a tent in blasting wind had to do with avoiding getting a hoof in your knackers on a Friday night in down-town Manehattan was anyponies guess. Then, like now, the cold air and gusts caught at your eyes and chilled your hide to the bone. After a few days all any of us could think about was getting back for a hot bath. Now that I thought about it, the prospect of sinking into hot water was as tantalising as a mirage of an oasis to a pony dying of thirst. And just as elusive. Thankfully, even though I could feel the drop in temperature as we ascended, it was nowhere near as bad as the biting cold of the frozen north and I shrugged it off easily, concentrating instead on watching where I put my hooves. Loose stones would occasionally roll down from above and bounce off my leather armour. It was tempting to look up to admire the view, but I doubted I’d like what I saw. Instead I gave myself a shake and adjusted my gear into a more comfortable position. As my barding was light enough not to cause me any problems, it saved me from a more than a few bumps and scrapes as we shimmied along ledges, jumped over small splits in the trail, until eventually we came to a halt on a ledge overlooking some of the most spectacularly disturbing scenery I had ever seen in my life. Dear goddesses, was this really the afterlife for thestrals? It was more like a scene from my darkest nightmares after an all night bender on mixed drinks and blue cheese.

“Nice, eh?” Clarion noted quietly. “Some of us call this place the ‘Edge of Creation’. They believe it’s where the gods gave up with all the mundane work and had one last splurge of creativity. When it didn’t work out the way they wanted they smashed their hooves into the earth in a fury and conjured up the gods hoof mountains.”

I could see why. The mountain range spread out before us was truly spectacular, and it was easy to believe that they had indeed been created in a moment of divine wrath. There was something primal about the way they stood out stark against the dark sky in shades of black and grey. Peaks vanished high into the sky above a rocky wasteland of tumbled boulders and scree. I stared off at a waterfall that spilled down one of the large silent giants like black blood gushing from a mortal wound.

“What do you believe?” I asked.

“That it doesn’t matter what I believe,” Clarion snorted, brushing a stray mane hair from his eye. “I try to keep neutral on subjects I know little about, and try to avoid pissing something off that’s so powerful it can turn the land inside out like an umbrella. I find it best, and safest, Fairlight, to keep ones opinions to oneself when around those more powerful than you.”

“A word to the wise?” I asked.

“Take it as you will,” Clarion said shrugging. “It’s the proudest nail that gets hammered hardest.”

“Is this how wendigo society is in the afterlife then?” I asked questioningly. “Conformist? I never thought wendigo would bow their heads to-”

Clarion’s face darkened suddenly making me take a step back in surprise. “You were never a part of our society!” he hissed. “How can you know what it was like for us back then? Or what it’s like for us now?”

“I’ll never know if you won’t tell me,” I replied levelly. “I want to know, Clarion. My memories of Maroc and Arathea are-”

“For Luna’s sake, how many times do I have to tell you not to mention their bloody names, you idiot!” Clarion was careful to keep his voice down, but his anger was as bright as his yellow eyes.

I took a breath and spoke through gritted teeth, “Why the hell not? Their memories are in my head whether I like it or not. And besides, I’ve met the guy. He doesn’t seem-”

“You met him?!” Suddenly Clarion grabbed me and shoved me to one side, allowing the others to pass in silence. “Now you listen to me, Fairlight Loam, there are… things you don’t know. Things I can’t tell you, understand? But if you want to keep your head on your shoulders then believe me when I say this: don’t ever, ever, mention Maroc or Arathea around the others, especially Taurs. In fact it would be better if you pretend they don’t exist at all, alright? For all our sakes.”

“No.”

“What?” Clarion closed his eyes. “Fairlight, we don’t have time for this!”

“Then give me a reason, Clarion,” I said pointedly. “Tell me why. Why should I trust you, or any of you? This whole business is so off the bloody wall I still can’t get my head around everything that’s happened, and now I’m stuck halfway up a mountain without a damned clue who you guys are, let alone why you’re helping me. I’ve trusted ponies in the past and my family were butchered like lambs to the slaughter as a result. So as I see it the least you can do is tell me something, anything, about what I’m blundering blindly into.”

Clarion’s yellow eyes searched my own for a moment until finally, with an exasperated breath, he spoke, “There are two factions here in the Darklands. One is lead by Vela, the other by his father, Maroc. Maroc’s people believe that this is their new home and they can live here in peace with the thestrals and equestrians alike. Vela’s…” He contorted his face as if subconsciously trying to fight the words from coming out. “Vela’s faction don’t believe that,” he managed. “They… They believe that they can...” To my amazement, Clarion’s mouth moved as though he were talking, yet not a single word came out. His expression was one of befuddled surprise, but also bore a hint of what I can only describe as weary resignation. Suddenly he gave himself a shake and abruptly jabbed me in the chest with a hoof nearly taking me off balance. “Enough!” He snapped. “You can either come with us or leave, that’s all there is to it. Take what I’ve told you and pay attention to it or else please yourself, Equestrian. I suggest you do the former.”

“Clarion…?” I watched as the grey stallion turned away.

“What’s going on here?” It was Taurs. He must have come back to see where his charge had disappeared to. “Clarion? What are you two talking about?”

“Telling him to keep his opinions to himself,” Clarion replied levelly. “It’s bad enough being stuck up here with a Celestian without his constant jabbering driving us to distraction. I’m not losing any of my brothers because of a damned-”

Taurs held up a hoof stopping him mid-sentence. “I understand. Get back to the others, Clarion.” He gave me a sidelong glance while Clarion walked away. “I would suggest you heed his advice,” he said in a surprisingly polite manner. “There are those amongst us who find being questioned by outsiders profoundly unsettling.” Taurs glanced back at me as he turned to follow his comrade, “If you had been one of the tribe, then you would know. I don’t blame you for not understanding our ways, Fairlight. All I ask is that you show some respect to our wishes whilst you are in our company. We shall part ways soon enough.”

I watched Taurs walk off along the rocky track, his coat blending in with the grey of the mountain. I honestly didn’t know what to make of him. I didn’t like him, that was damned sure, and I was certain the feeling was decidedly mutual too. But what did personal likes and dislikes matter in the greater scheme of things? Taurs was simply a unicorn who had been instructed to help me find the Roc’s egg, at least on the face of it. As for why exactly, I didn’t know, and Clarion quite clearly had no intention of telling me either. I’d hoped earlier that he was going to divulge some snippet, some tantalising kernel of truth that could help me unravel this riddle. But no, for whatever reason he had decided to remain silent. Something stank here, and it wasn’t just my evening’s meal repeating on me either. Whatever was going on would reveal itself in time. Of that, I had no doubt. I just had to be ready for it when it did. For now though I had a job to do, and I had to hurry to catch up with the others or else find myself genuinely lost in this eerie place. A faint mustiness caught at my nose making me sneeze as I picked up the pace. A quick sniff revealed that there really was something stinking, in a decidedly more physical as well as immediate sense. Goddesses, I really needed a bath!

One of the things that rock climbers never tell you is how bloody tedious such a dangerous pastime can be. Hours of torturous trekking through canyons and mountain passes where it was nigh on impossible to put your hoof down without something trying to turn your ankle blended perfectly with endless exhaustion from hauling not only yourself but half the contents of the local blacksmith’s on your back. To think some ponies actually did this for fun. Fun for Luna’s sake! Well, not this stallion. Personally I had a mind to turn right around and go straight back to Lord Maul and stuff my hoof right down his damned thestral throat. Eggs? Bah! In the name of all the gods in the herd, what a steaming pile of dung this madness was turning out to be. No, hang on, that wasn’t right… it was a pile of dung. A hot, reeking mess of filth straight from the bowels of the underworld. Every miserable damned second of sweat-wringing effort was all in aid of finding some pointless nonsense so some overstuffed arrogant prig could have a fried egg for breakfast. I hoped he choked on the blasted thing. Angrily I grabbed the dangling rope and tied it around my harness, gave a whistle, and up I went. According to Pulias and Kadun, our erstwhile guides here in the arse end of nowhere, this was the shortest route and bypassed a rather large cave mouth that the word ‘ominous’ had been invented specifically to describe. With every heave of the rope, with every jarring lurch of my ascent, I peered down into the rocky valley in the distance and wondered what monstrous thing lived inside that place. I prayed I would never find out. I had an issue with caves, especially ones that contained things bigger than me. In my experience the denizens of these dark places tended to be mean, distinctly antisocial in nature, and usually had a lot more teeth than was absolutely necessary for any normal living creature. Oh, and did I mention they were almost invariably hungry too? Goddesses in their heaven, could I help being so succulent? Still, the view from up here was absolutely stunning I suppose. I could see for miles. And wished I couldn’t…

My knees trembled as I was half dragged and half hauled up onto the ledge. Pulias held a hoof up to his mouth in a ‘shushing’ motion. “Whatever you do,” he whispered, “keep quiet.”

“Are we nearing the nest?” I asked hopefully.

Kadun answered, helping untie my harness before lowering it down for the last of us. “Ice dragons,” he explained. “They’re usually hibernating this time of year so shouldn’t cause us any problems. The normal route takes us by their cave, but I don’t want to take chances waking them up. We don’t have the magic to fight them as we are.”

I nodded in silence. Bloody hell! Bit of an issue with the small print on the old holiday brochure then, eh? ‘Visit the magnificent Gods Hoof mountains where you can enjoy the stunning vistas and rugged beauty of nature’. ‘Some visitors may experience a slight chance of being eaten alive by angry dragons’ did not appear anywhere on the brochure I’d seen. Come to think of it, just how long ago was the Darklands tourism boom? The beginning of time perhaps? Damn it all… Anyway, weren’t we- wait… what was that? Was something moving down there? I thought for a second I saw somepony, even if only for the blink of an eye, darting from behind one rock to another not far from the mouth of the cave. I blinked and rubbed my eyes. No, nothing down there but grey rocks on a grey background in a sea of boring greyness. Not content with the constant risk of falling to my death, breaking a leg, or being eaten by dragons, my mind was now starting to make me see things too! Gods, I hated this place!

I was still locked in my darkened mood throughout the rest of our ascent. From up here you could just about make out a path - for want of a better word - meandering through the mountain range like a pale string of spaghetti. It was one of the few discernible features others than rocks, rocks, and more rocks. It felt like a lifetime ago when I had sat with Briar in her warm hut drinking tea and exchanging tales. She had told me briefly of the wendigo who had passed through the Gods Hoof mountains on their way to colder climes that suited them better than the verdant fields of the Eternal Herd. Well, if cold and bleak was your bag then this certainly ticked all the right boxes. Personally I preferred green grass and warm sunshine to freezing my nuts off on the side of some goddess forsaken rock like this, but then, each to their own. I’ll confess there was still that part of me that pined for the snow capped mountains of the northern wastes and the pale blue of the morning sky. But that was the wendigo in me. What was left of it anyway. For these guys, these poor buggers stuck in an eternity of self-imposed exile, it was all they knew. And if there was one thing I knew about wendigo, it was that they didn’t know how to let go. I suppose it was just as well considering what we were doing right now.

The climbing cleats on my overshoes bit into the rock, enabling me to haul my tired carcase around the boulder which had rolled down the mountain to lodge itself right in the middle of our path. Going over it or pushing it out of the way unfortunately hadn’t viable options. The first choice could mean a long fall to a very messy end if your hooves slipped, and the other could piss off the dragons down below – a scenario that would doubtless end with full stomachs. Stomachs full of small grey ponies. That said, I think I was just about beginning to get the hang of this climbing lark now. And the larks could keep it too. Once this nonsense was over and I got back down to ground level I never wanted to see another rock again as long as I lived. Metaphorically speaking of course. Nope, it was going to be gloriously flat land as far as the eye could see from here on in for me, and if I had to go into town up that hill, then it was going to be in the back of a taxi. Ponies, Fairlights particularly, were not mountain goats. The wind up here too… Good goddesses, I would never moan about the lack of a breeze again! The elements seemed to be conspiring to try to rip me from my already tentative grip on the track and toss me bodily over the edge to certain ruin. It had been picking up for a while now, but was starting to really take hold. I could hardly hear anything over the roaring. My eyes were streaming, and for the first time in as long as I could remember, I actually felt cold. It wasn’t too unpleasant on its own especially, but combined with the fatigue and everything else, I wanted nothing more than to collapse and get some sleep. Taurs must have read my mind too. Either that or he’d picked up on the body language of the rest of the group. We were all exhausted, and when he finally called a halt my legs all but gave way.

“No fires,” Taurs said guardedly, “and no smoking either.”

“Roc’s have a good sense of smell,” Lyrin clarified leaning close to me. “We’re near the nest now.”

“How near?” I asked.

Kadun sat down heavily next to me and leaned back against the unforgiving rock wall of our meagre shelter. “A few hours, if that.” He unclipped his equipment, letting it fall to the ground. “We’ll have to wait until the Roc’s flown off on a hunt before we scale the last of the face.”

“Scale?” I blinked in surprise. “How high up is the nest?”

“High enough,” Kadun groaned. “We can use magic to rope the last part, but we’ll have to be in and out quick or else...”

“We’re dinner,” Lyrin finished for him. “Anyway, that’s what you’re here for, right?”

“Ah, I see.” I let out a mirthless laugh, “Let’s hope Fairlight is off the menu for Rocs, eh?” I unbuckled my own equipment and leaned over to help Clarion set up the magically operated heater. We’d be able to get a hot drink out of it before the gems gave out, but thankfully we had plenty of spares. “I hope Maul likes eggs,” I said to nopony in particular, “because he’s going to be eating nothing else for the next week if it’s as big as I think it’s going to be.”

“You got the bag?” Clarion asked.

“Yeah, all set.” I tapped the empty padded bag for emphasis then returned to stirring the tea leaves into the pot. It was no simple task either; my hooves were shaking so much with the cold now I could barely feel them.

“Chilly?” Clarion asked.

I nodded, “Freezing. It’s strange, I don’t normally feel the cold as a rule. I kinda hoped that the wendigo part of me would’ve been able to handle it. Some luck, eh?”

“We’re all feeling it,” Lyrin chipped in. “It’s the reason the ice dragons are here. The areas full of raw magic.”

“Raw magic?” I shuffled a little closer to the heater to try and garner as much heat as I could. The others followed suit, making a warm, furry, wind-break. “You’re talking about elemental magic, right?” I asked. “The stuff left over from the time of creation?”

Hoofsteps from behind us announced the arrival of Pulias and Taurs who joined our circle. It was definitely warming up nicely in here now, and the smell of sweaty stallions was almost tolerable too. Fortunately the tea was a pleasant distraction from the odorous assault on my nostrils. “Raw magic is the magic of the goddess herself,” Pulias announced confidently. “She made her mark upon the land with her hoof to show us the way.”

“The way to what?” I asked genuinely intrigued.

“Not ‘what’, ‘Where’.” Taurs blew on his hooves and held them out towards the heater. “It is the gateway to the mountain where our people now live,” he explained. “If living is what you can call it. It is more of an existence now, especially for those who knew the freedom of the spirit.”

I could understand what Taurs was talking about. I may not have been a wendigo all my life like they had, but their loss had been a thousand years ago. My own was still recent, and whenever I let my guard down it was waiting there like a cat patiently watching a mouse for the right time to strike. And strike it did. I rarely spoke to Meadow about how I felt, but I think she knew, at least on some level. She knew I was hurting, but what could she do? I was in pain, both in my heart and my soul, and there was nothing anypony could do to help. The ones who could have done something would have done so centuries ago if there had been a way. No, there was no help from the gods for any of us.

Screw them. All of them.

The rest of the evening rolled on with stories of family life back home, foals, marefriends, and even on to discussions surrounding the rumours about the various thestral tribes and their intrigues in the great hall. Eventually talk turned to discussing the latest happenings in the mortal realm. Considering they lived a fairly remote and secluded lifestyle, the wendigo here had a well informed hoof on current affairs which I found quite surprising. They knew about the invasion of the changelings, the royal wedding of Cadence and Shining armour, even more mundane matters such as the infestation of parasprites in Ponyville of all places. I’d heard of that one, and I was damned glad I hadn’t been on duty in the village when the bloody things had swarmed. Blasted things were a nuisance living near the forest, but the wiser amongst us kept well away from their breeding grounds. Even so, I’d found one in my workshop one day. I don’t know how the bloody thing had got in there, but fortunately I discovered very quickly that they aren’t immune to brute force, ignorance, and the swift application of a rounders bat. I hadn’t dared give it back to Meadow after that. It had been her keepsake from school and was signed by the whole team too. Now it was little more than a lump of dented wood stained with parasprite gore, and nothing seemed to get those stubborn stains out. One day I may confess what happened to her memento of yesteryear, but it could wait. I wonder whatever happened to it? Probably rotting along with my old home... and my dreams. I yawned widely, swallowed the last of my tea, and spooned up with the others around the dying light of the fire gem. The flickering red light was just like Shadow’s eyes: so warm, so gentle, and with a hidden heat that could burn you if you could got too close. What I wouldn’t give for a snuggle right now. Instead, I had to put up with farting ponies. Beggars, it seemed, really couldn’t be choosers. And with the amount of gas in that small space it was just as well Taurs had put a ban on having any naked flames.

Comments

[RoboRed]

Well, I'd like to say that it seems Fairlight's making new friends, but they're definitely giving him way more than the cold shoulder whenever Maroc is mentioned...