Catch Us If You Can

by Miller Minus

5 - The Crystal Empire

Clyde went to sleep that night feeling like the luckiest pony in all of Equestria. But when he woke up the next morning, the bed was empty.

Say one thing about Troubleshoes Clyde, say he’s never far away from his next reality check.

After a good spell of staring at the ceiling, he rolled himself out of bed, stretched his spine till he heard it crack. Despite how little he’d drank last night, he felt woozy, like his body wasn’t his anymore.

No sign of Sombra anywhere. He had a knack for disappearing like a shadow, making you wonder if he was even real. Clyde walked to the window to look outside, and found even less sign of him. The bright blue tarp fluttered idly in the early morning wind, covered in a light sheen of mist from the falls. Sombra had fled, o’course. That sudden burst of energy last night meant he didn’t need Clyde no more, so why would he stay?

“Just my luck,” Clyde whispered to the window. That was how he usually greeted the day.

The only thing worse than a lifetime of bad luck was a moment of good luck that was snatched away before you had any time to appreciate it. That’s what…

Actually, Mama Clyde never said that. Clyde reckoned he’d come up with that one all on his own. Didn’t make it hurt any less.

Somberly, he checked out of both rooms—ignoring the glee on the innkeeper’s face to be saying goodbye to such a troublesome guest as he—and stepped out into the freezing cold air. He shivered as he huffed out a breath to warm his hooves. He went behind back to the wagon, wondering where he would even go. But when he went to throw Mama’s picture in the wagon, he nearly bit his tongue off at the sight of Sombra wrapped up in the blanket with the ducks on it, shielding his face with a thin foreleg from the piddly grey light.

“I…” Clyde muttered.

Sombra’s red eyes flashed at him. “Raising that a little high, aren’t we?”

Clyde lowered the tarp and stuck his head underneath. He put his hooves inside to pretend he was rummaging. But really he was reaching out.

“Y’alright?” Clyde asked.

Sombra groaned as he pushed himself up to his elbows. “I will be once I have my horn. Start marching, Clyde.”

“Hang on,” and Clyde started to clamber inside the wagon. Probably looked a right fool, from the outside, but he didn’t much care. He crawled halfway in, then went further, up to Sombra’s lips—

Sombra lurched his head back and glared.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he snapped.

Clyde brought his head back. “Sorry,” he said.

“Just march, Clyde.”

“Yes, sir.”

Clyde withdrew from the tarp and tied it back down. Well, he told himself, there you have it. There and gone, just like all the good fortune that ever came his way. But it wasn’t so bad. The Sombra in his wagon was no longer the Sombra he knew from Neighagra, or from Ponyville, or from anywhere on the trail. He was back to being the Sombra from Appleloosa again, first climbing into the wagon. The Sombra who hated him.

And that was the Sombra that he’d fallen for. So why let it bother him now?

Clyde spat in the dirt and got to work at the hitch. There wasn’t any time to be sad when you had work to do. That’s what Mama Clyde always said.

---

They crossed the plains in eleven days. Well, Clyde crossed them; Sombra spent those long days curled up inside the wagon, freezing his ears off as the temperature dropped by a few degrees every day, and by at least fifteen degrees every night. He didn’t have the strength for any campfires. He struggled to know when he was sleeping and when he was awake. He wondered if he would die.

At intervals Clyde would stop and take the tarp off the wagon, sit Sombra up against the back wall and feed him some soup. Coax him to sit by the fire, but never push. Sombra noticed, even in his tired state, Clyde staring at his lips. But by the third day he stopped doing even that.

At some point, Sombra woke with a wide woolen blanket draped over him. It made him warmer, and the weight comforted him. He wondered where it came from, and then remembered a moment when the wagon had stopped—the only time it had stopped and Clyde hadn’t fed him—and Sombra heard Clyde speaking to somepony.

“I’ll give you forty bits for it. No? Alright, I’ll double it…”

The wagon wheels rolled through puddles, through mud, then through the familiar sound of crunching snow. Sombra listened to Clyde’s hooves crunch, crunch, crunch, heard him breathe heavy, heard him sniff but never complain. And Sombra was struck with the realization that every step they took closer to the Empire brought Clyde one step further from his own home. Further than he’d ever been from home, most likely. All those steps, and not a single complaint. Just a hot, heavy breath. A sniff. Crunch, crunch, crunch. The only time he ever spoke was to ask Sombra how he was doing.

And then, on the eleventh day, the temperature rose. Not by a few degrees. It had been winter, cold and dry and desolate, and then the sound of Clyde’s hooves faded to a dull thump, like he was touching earth again, and the temperature shot up into the sky. The cold air fled the wagon, replaced with a warm breeze laced with the echoes of summer birds.

“Uh… Mr. Sombra?” Sniff. “I reckon you can come out now.”

Sombra tore the blanket off, suddenly sweating, and he kicked the back of the wagon open. He stepped out into the summer. His hooves crushed a bed of daffodils. He supported himself on the side of the wagon, breathed in the moist air, and exhaled.

And there was Clyde: Sitting beside the wagon with his forelegs straight, catching his breath, and avoiding Sombra’s stare. His mane was wet with sweat and the clumps of snow that were melting off him. He stood up and shook like a dog, sending drops of water all over the grass.

“How do I look?” Clyde said with a grin, holding his hat over his head.

Sombra sighed. “Terrible,” he said.

“Aw, shucks,” Clyde chuckled. “You’re quite a sight yourself.”

The Empire was hidden behind Clyde’s bulky body. Sombra craned his neck to peer at it, but Clyde moved his head in the way.

“Clyde?” Sombra said.

“Yes, Mr. Sombra?”

“I thank you. You are released from your services.”

Sombra aimed himself just to the side of his loyal workorse, and began walking past him. But Clyde sidestepped, and their shoulders collided. Sombra released an involuntary chuckle, then cleared his throat.

“Clyde, get out of my way.”

“Don’t think you can order somepony you’ve let go.”

“Clyde—”

“And the way I see it, you walked into me. Why don’t you get out of my way?”

“…You’re angry with me.”

“Me? Never. Just teasin’ you, is all.”

At least he could see the Empire now. It stood under the horizon of a small hill—the city, his city, shining and shimmering and waiting for his glorious return. Less snow than he remembered, though. Brighter colors. Probably a lot less strife. Only an hour’s walk away, even at his pace, and yet it felt like it was on another planet.

With a subtle motion of his head, Clyde pressed their necks together, and Sombra let out an involuntary sigh.

“Don’t do it.” Clyde’s voice was quiet but hard. “You’ll die if you go in there.”

“And I’ll die without my horn.”

“That’s your take on things.”

“You’ve seen what’s happening to me. The longer I’m without it the more I wither away. Please, I—”

“Can I ask you a question?” Clyde said.

Sombra felt Clyde’s hoof run through his mane. Automatically, he returned the gesture. He wasn’t ready for what Clyde was about to say, but then he felt a kiss just under his ear, and he relaxed.

“Sure.”

Clyde pushed their heads together and whispered in his ear: “D’you reckon you’re gettin’ weaker the longer you spend away from your horn? Or… are you gettin’ weaker the closer you come to it?”

Sombra’s eyes went wide. He pulled his head back and frowned. “I have no earthly idea,” he said.

Clyde’s green eyes were shining with the joy of somepony with a bright idea. “Welp. I am… almost out of money, and no mistake. And there ain’t no way we can get your horn back. But, we have enough supplies to get back to Neighagra Falls. I could find work there. Every rodeo could use another clown. And if you start to feel better, well… then we’ll know.”

King Sombra, evilest of the evil, bringer of misery and strife, found that his heart was fluttering in his chest. He rocked forwards into Clyde’s fur and rubbed his face in it. He felt Clyde kiss the spot where his horn should be. And the only thing he knew for sure was that he didn’t even want his horn back if it meant that Clyde could never kiss that spot again.

Comments

[semillon]

Clyde withdrew from the tarp and tied it back down. Well, he told himself, there you have it. There and gone, just like all the good fortune that ever came his way. But it wasn’t so bad. The Sombra in his wagon was no longer the Sombra he knew from Neighagra, or from Ponyville, or from anywhere on the trail. He was back to being the Sombra from Appleloosa again, first climbing into the wagon. The Sombra who hated him.

And that was the Sombra that he’d fallen for. So why let it bother him now?

youuuuuu
YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUU
ARE SO GOOD AT CHARACTER

King Sombra, evilest of the evil, bringer of misery and strife, found that his heart was fluttering in his chest. He rocked forwards into Clyde’s fur and rubbed his face in it. He felt Clyde kiss the spot where his horn should be. And the only thing he knew for sure was that he didn’t even want his horn back if it meant that Clyde could never kiss that spot again.

i am crying

[Bicyclette]

Clyde went to sleep that night feeling like the luckiest pony in all of Equestria. But when he woke up the next morning, the bed was empty.

Say one thing about Troubleshoes Clyde, say he’s never far away from his next reality check.

big oof

No sign of Sombra anywhere. He had a knack for disappearing like a shadow, making you wonder if he was even real.

oh no, this isn't going to be one of those twists, is it?

The only thing worse than a lifetime of bad luck was a moment of good luck that was snatched away before you had any time to appreciate it. That’s what…

which is why throughout i was reading into Clyde trepidation at things going well, since having something worth having means it can be taken away...

Actually, Mama Clyde never said that. Clyde reckoned he’d come up with that one all on his own. Didn’t make it hurt any less.

and oof. great use of that recurring bit, too.

But when he went to throw Mama’s picture in the wagon, he nearly bit his tongue off at the sight of Sombra laying on the blanket with the ducks on it, wrapped up in his great red cape, shielding his face with a thin foreleg from the piddly grey light.

that is just adorable, and hopefully it doesn't mean that Sombra was a ghost all along

And that was the Sombra that he’d fallen for. So why let it bother him now?

Clyde spat in the dirt and got to work at the hitch. There wasn’t any time to be sad when you had work to do. That’s what Mama Clyde always said.

aww! that is way worse than Sombra being a ghost all along

He stepped out into the summer. His hooves crushed a bed of daffodils.

such a fitting image, just as he crushed the bed of daffodils that was Clyde's heart!

Sombra aimed himself just to the side of his loyal workorse, and began walking past him.

so we've gone from nuisance to advisor to servant to workhorse

Clyde pushed their heads together and whispered in his ear: “D’you reckon you’re gettin’ weaker the longer you spend away from your horn? Or… are you gettin’ weaker the closer you come to it?”

Sombra’s eyes went wide. He pulled his head back and frowned. “I have no earthly idea,” he said.

ooh, what a twist!

King Sombra, evilest of the evil, bringer of misery and strife, found that his heart was fluttering in his chest. He rocked forwards into Clyde’s fur and rubbed his face in it. He felt Clyde kiss the spot where his horn should be. And the only thing he knew for sure was that he didn’t even want his horn back if it meant that Clyde could never kiss that spot again.

aww, i love this so much

[InlustriusGhost]

THIS IS SO DOGGONE CUTE!!!!!

[AltruistArtist]

The anti-climax of this chapter is glorious. It’s brief in the most beautiful of ways. We as readers know, and Clyde and Sombra know, that this journey was never going to end at the Crystal Empire.

And for what little we get to know about the ever mysterious horn, we know it’s rotten through and through. The conclusion Clyde reaches — I felt it creep up on me right at the same time.

And the only thing he knew for sure was that he didn’t even want his horn back if it meant that Clyde could never kiss that spot again.

Leaving it all off on this banger line is masterful.