The ruins of Las Pegasus

by Peace Petal

Chapter One

I didn’t usually take the elevator. Indoors, I took the stairs. Outdoors, I flew. I hadn’t used the lifts that carried ponies to the different terraces of Zephyr Heights in weeks. But today was an exception. I didn’t want to use my wings just yet. The elevator stopped with a little ding at the top of the highest terrace of ZH, level with the base of the Royal Castle.

I was the only pony to step off the elevator. The sun wasn’t up yet. It was summer, but at these altitudes the mornings were cold. A breeze whipped my scarf around. After I was robbed in Bridlewood Forest, I had bought a new scarf. I had over a dozen scarves, but I wanted one that really expressed who I was. I had settled on one that was striped black, gray, white, and purple. The asexual flag.

That had been an unexpected moment, when I realized I was asexual. I had spent my whole life not understanding that there was a difference between sexual arousal and sexual attraction. As soon as I read a clear definition of sexual attraction, I knew I had never felt it. Looking back, all my life made more sense. If only they explained these things in school or church, I would have figured it out a decade ago. All those years, stuttering through some bogus answer when colts asked, “Who’s your celebrity crush?” As it turned out, I wasn’t just “weird.” There was a word for ponies like me.

I trotted out to the westward edge of the cliff. The breeze blew northward, stronger than I had anticipated. I should have checked the weather beforehoof. Well, I wasn’t backing out now. I had a fetlock compass, a saddlebag with lunch and a map, and a long weekend. It was time to fly.

I had an odd relationship with flight. I had been rather obsessed with it before the magic was restored. I knew quite a lot about birds and their aerodynamics. But of course, I was no athlete. When the magic was restored, I simply didn’t have the time or the fitness to become the best flier out there. Still, I flew to get around quite a lot, and I flew for leisure often as well. I wasn’t bad, except for one thing.

Magic. I was really bad at magic. All pegasi used magic to fly, including me. But I seemed to use it less than other ponies, just enough to compensate for the weight of my scrawny body. I didn’t really think about it when I flew, and if I did think about it, nothing changed. Other pegasi could focus on their flight magic to defy physics, hovering or lifting more than they normally could. But it just wouldn’t come for me.

Using less magic to fly had its perks, though. My wings were stronger than most because I used them so much. I also had better endurance than other pegasi. Most of my family and friends could go for half an hour or so before taking a break. But I could just fly, keep flying, and fly some more. Now that I was back in shape after my hospital stay in Bridlewood Forest, I wasn’t even sure how far I could go. But I was about to find out.

Could I fly for half a day? Or a full day? If I could, that’d be a skill I would use, and use often. By my calculations, if I kept up even a leisurely pace for five hours, I would reach Bridlewood Forest. I had already finished my research there, but it was a nice place and I’d like to visit. I didn’t have the time to trot there—I was still pushing that plant ID book through the publication process—and I didn’t have the money to get a balloon or chariot. Aerodynamically—and that did matter, even though pegasi used magic to fly—my wings were built for long-distance flying. Their shape was similar to that of a tern. Terns could fly from pole to pole. Surely I could make it to Bridlewood, right?

Standing at the edge of the cliff, I stretched out my wings. Cold air rushed past my feathers, which I had preened earlier this morning. My heart beat quicker in anticipation. The cloudless sky was already light, but I had some time before direct sunlight. The rugged mountains and foothills beneath Zephyr Heights all seemed gray in this lighting, although I knew many of the rocks down there were actually tan or red.

I jumped, giving a few hard flaps to speed up. For now, the wind rushing past me made me shiver, but I knew my body would heat up quickly. Once I got going, my high aspect ratio wings kept me aloft without too much work. I could feel air flowing above and below my wings, rustling my feathers, keeping me aloft through the power of Berneighli’s principle. I checked the compass on my right foreleg and aligned myself with the heading I had marked earlier. I had to adjust my angle a little bit to compensate for the wind coming from my left.

I settled into an easy cruise with regular wingbeats and rhythmic breathing. My eyes scanned the increasingly distant ground. I wasn’t climbing, but the mountains dropped away into plains over time. I would have to keep my eyes out for a few landmarks to make sure I didn’t deviate off course. Over these distances, if I were even a degree off I could miss my target by a huge margin.

The sky was getting brighter, especially behind me. It happened rather suddenly. Warmth on my wings. Light filled the sky around me, although the ground was still in shadow. I glanced behind me and saw a brilliant point of light peeking out from behind the mountains. A few cirrus clouds had formed back there, glowing white against the pink sky. “Ah, what a beautiful world!” I called out.

A few minutes later, sunlight advanced across the ground below me. Fields of grasses and flowers lit up. I could see the colors from here, vague streaks of blue, red, yellow, and white on a green canvas. As I continued, my body temperature shifted from cold to warm, then hot. Although the air was still cold, the summer sun was powerful and the exercise heated up my body. Not hot enough for me to sweat, though. I could keep this pace for a long time yet. I turned my head and found the mouthpiece of my hydration pack. I took a quick swig.

Puffy, white cumulus clouds formed here and there. The land rolled underneath me. A sparkling river here, a patch of dark forest there. I checked my compass occasionally and looked around for my first landmark, a newly repaired bridge that spanned a canyon. But before I saw the canyon, I saw a pile of ominous, gray clouds ahead. Cumulonimbus. Storm clouds.

If I deviated from my course, I would have trouble getting back on track. I wasn’t about to go through or under them. I enjoyed a good thunderstorm on the ground, but I had never flown through one. So, then, over it was. Beating my wings harder, I angled upwards towards the top of the clouds. This was another area where I was my flying abilities were untested: How high could I go? The cumulonimbus clouds topped off not far above me, so I wasn’t about to find my limit today. One personal flight record per day was plenty for me.

My breathing became labored as I climbed. Those clouds were getting closer, but their tops were still above me. “Oh, hay,” I muttered. The clouds were building up. I should have expected that from cumulonimbus clouds. Panting, I increased the angle of my climb. My wings were aching, my lungs and throat were burning, my heart was pounding. I needed a break. But there were no clouds below me nearby. Just this storm, reaching higher and higher.

Now I was sweating. Getting nervous, too. Breathing was getting harder. The air was getting thinner, wasn’t it? It was certainly getting colder, even though it was closer to noon. I was starting to feel lightheaded. Those clouds were nearly right in front of me. I couldn’t see the top because of the way they billowed and curved. I angled further upwards, climbing nearly without moving forward. My hooves touched the edge of the clouds. Now I was half running, half flying up the curved slope of the clouds.

Suddenly I broke over a ridge and the cloud dropped away from me. This was the top! I snapped my wings to my side and unceremoniously dropped onto the cloud. It shifted and churned underneath me, but I could still stand on it. Distant thunder rolled through the air. I stood, wobbly-kneed, panting and sweating. I spit out a wad of foul-tasting saliva. I reached into my saddlebag and greedily drank huge gulps of water. “That was unpleasant,” I mumbled.

I locked my legs and relaxed for a standing rest. The cloud was probably taking me higher still, but I needed a break before continuing. I stood there, slowing my breathing. I stretched out my wings, which ached like my legs would after a whole day of trotting. I reached into my saddlebag and grabbed a mouthful of oats. I chewed that down and looked around.

I was in the middle of nowhere, on top of a storm. I couldn’t just stay. Should I go back to Zephyr Heights? No. I still had some juice left in me. Endurance was my thing. The sudden need for power rather than steady flying had done me a number, but after resting I felt well enough to continue. I shivered. The sun was brilliant up here, but it was frigid and I was covered in sweat. How high had I come? I had no reference point; the mountains had long since faded out of view. Storm clouds could reach all the way up to the tropopause, although this one did not yet have the telltale anvil shape.

I checked my compass and aligned with the mark I had made earlier. I galloped forward on the cloud and took off again. I glided down as the clouds fell out from beneath me. The air gradually became warmer, although I leveled off high enough that the trees were still just specks. Patchy clouds continued to cover much of the landscape. The canyon was nowhere in sight. I had probably passed it while I was climbing above the storm. I checked my compass and adjusted course for the second landmark, a distinct rock formation. Hopefully I was still close enough to my course that I would see it. If these clouds ever cleared out.

I flew on, trying to save my energy. I saw a few more cumulus clouds turning stormy, but none of the others were in my path. I started wondering how long I had been in the air. The sun wasn’t at its apex yet, but it was getting close. I thought I would arrive in Bridlewood around noon, but I wasn’t even 60% of the way there until I reached the rock formation. Was I flying slower than I had expected? Or had the storm slowed me down that much?

I decided I need to get underneath the clouds and look around for that rock formation. I gradually descended. Wait, could I… fly through clouds? I could stand on top of them. Would they just be solid to me because of pegasus magic? I slowed down as I was about to go through a cloud. Putting my hooves in front of me, I slowly advanced. There was a soft, fluffy resistance before my hooves started to sink inside the cloud. No, that wasn’t going to work. Not wanting to go around and get off course, I dove straight down.

I was surprised how rapidly I accelerated. Wind whipped past face, drawing tears from eyes. My scarf flapped around crazily. I reached the bottom of the cloud, and I quickly pulled up. I felt strain in my wings, and for a moment my vision went foggy. Well, that was a thing, I thought.

I looked around as my vision cleared. I saw a landscape with patches of sunlight and shade. But where was the rock formation? I slowed down and carefully scanned the land, starting ahead of me. I was doing this for a few minutes, but I hadn’t seen anything. It wasn’t behind me, was it? Or maybe I overestimated how far I had come. I looked more to the left and right. A jagged patch of land caught my eye to the right. That was the rock formation, way off on the edge of the horizon. I turned towards it and accelerated. Good thing I planned to follow landmarks. If I had continued that far off course, I would have ended up over unsettled forest with no idea where the unicorn town was.

I kept my eyes towards the ground until the rock formation was right underneath me. Feeling a little daring, I did a snap roll 270° to the right, turning me left towards Bridlewood Forest. I came out of it a little wobbly, but grinning. I checked my compass and found that I had come about 40° too far. Fine. I righted myself and inclined up towards a better cruising altitude where the air was cooler and thinner. As I climbed, I could feel echoing aches in my pectoralis majors from the climb up over the storm. I impatiently leveled out probably a little lower than where I had been cruising before.

Continuing, my wing muscles still felt burned out. So this was it, then. I could trot for several hours after I felt tired—I loved a good mountain hike. But this wasn’t trotting; it was flying. My wing muscles weren’t as well developed as my leg muscles, and flight was closer to a canter in terms of the energy expended. Even my legs were getting tired of holding up in an aerodynamic position. I turned my head and took a swig of water. It looked to be about noon. I had time to rest if I needed to, but I’d rather not lose the altitude I gained.

I kept on flying straight until there happened to be a cloud right underneath me. That was too good to pass up. I gently landed on the soft, white puff. Clouds beat pillows and mattresses any day. But I stayed standing for a quick nap. If I lay down, I could end up sleeping longer than I intended. Locking the stay apparatus in my legs, I folded my wings against my body and let my head droop.

When I stirred awake again, the sun didn’t seem to have moved much. Good, I didn’t want to lose too much time. I shoved my muzzle into my saddlebag and grabbed some more oats. I was still hungry, but I didn’t want to eat too much. A drink of water, and I was ready. I stretched out my wings. Still sore. Yeah, I would be feeling this flight for days. But I was sure I had the energy to get to Bridlewood. I hopped and took off.

After half a day, the rhythm of flying was getting a little monotonous. My brain wandered. I wouldn’t be able to fly back to Zephyr Heights today. I had brought a couple of gemstones to be able to stay the night in Bridlewood Forest. But I really didn’t want to spend them. Maybe Izzy would let me stay with her? I didn’t like to be a parasite, but I would have several hours of down time. Maybe I could do some chores for her or something.

I thought more clearly when flying, I had discovered. My brain moved better when the rest of me was moving. So when my thoughts drifted over to my work, I had some insights on how I could improve the wording of a part of that Plant Species of Bridlewood Forest book I was working on. I would have to write these thoughts down when I landed. After a while, however, my brain kept coming back to the pain in my chest muscles. I didn’t want to flap down anymore. It felt like doing the hundredth push-up when I had wanted to quit at fifty. I was trying to lengthen the gap between wingbeats, but that meant I had to beat harder each time.

I saw something dark on the ground ahead, way out at the edge of my distance. Was that… Bridlewood? Yes, it had to be. I laid back on the wingbeats, letting myself slowly lose altitude. Finally, I was almost there. As I came closer, I started looking for the road that led into the forest to the town. Yes, there it was, off to the left. I gently banked towards it. The air grew sweltering hot as I lost elevation. It was humid, too, unlike in ZH this morning. However, it became noticeably cooler when I got over the forest. Ah, good old evapotranspiration.

I had come down a little too fast, so I had to level out above the treetops before arriving at the town. I dove down through an opening in the canopy and landed on the street. The unicorns nearby jumped in surprise. Still not used to pegasi. But not hostile, either, except whoever had hit me with a memory wipe and robbed me the last time I was here. What a jerk.

I stood in the middle of the road for a little bit. I gingerly folded my sore wings against my body. I was panting and sweating, and my stomach was rumbling. Not an easy flight. But I had just flown to Bridlewood Forest! Having wings that worked was nice.