H A Z E

by Bandy

Chapter 25

Romulus locked Hypha in a cage, but it was a far cry from Giesu's electrified torture box. There was a cot here, and a toilet, and a basin full of fresh water. There was a doctor on call who came by every few hours and redressed the cuts on Hypha’s hoof.

Hypha wondered if cages were some sort of grotesque status symbol in Derecho. There sure were a lot of them, at any rate.

That evening, Romulus came to visit him. He carried two bowls of rice and vegetables and brown gravy in his hooves.

“I was hoping we could eat together,” he said, passing one bowl through the bars. “Would you mind?”

Hypha inhaled half the bowl all at once. He nodded, paused, then trotted over to the toilet and threw it all up. Romulus grimaced sympathetically.

When the last wave of shivers had passed, Hypha said, “Thank you, general.”

“Please, call me Romulus.”

Phantom pain brought the memory of Giesu sneering, senator, into his face as a lab tech took a bonesaw from its sheath. He shook his head. “Okay.”

Romulus sat down on the floor outside the cell and started eating. In between bites he said, “I’ve been in the military since I was ten. I’ve seen a lot of nasty injuries. Ponies get their faces smashed in with hammers, or they get hit with cannonballs, or they get run over by chariots. Sometimes, they die. But more often than you might expect, they hang on. That begs the question: what do you do with a soldier who can no longer fight?” He paused to rearrange the contents of his bowl. He seemed to be avoiding the vegetables. “Ponies missing arms or legs. Or eyes. Or all their teeth. Or their hips are broken and they can’t walk. Or...” He trailed off. “They give so much. How do I honor that?”

He stood up and walked out of sight. When he came back, he had a sleek new prosthetic leg cradled in one hoof. The core was made of a series of struts and shocks, with a metal baseplate on a ball joint making up the hoof. Thin metal plates curved up from the hoof, protecting a set of tiny gyroscopes and counterweights concealed within. Leather and soft padding poked out from the top.

“The plates are thin enough to emboss them. Or you could paint them. I’ve seen it done both ways.” He pushed the leg through the bars. “It's yours, regardless. I wanted to give this to you up front, so what I say next doesn’t sound like I’m bargaining with your ability to walk.”

Hypha stared at the prosthetic for a long time. The leather flexed with supple softness. The mechanical bits in the leg clicked faintly, like the ticking of a fancy watch. The model Giesu had given him looked like a child’s toy in comparison.

“Can I ask you something first?” Hypha said.

“Of course.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Well, there are certain ponies who control most of the wealth in Derecho. They’ve been in power for a very long time. Giesu and I aren’t those ponies, but we think we should be. We need creative ways to consolidate power in our camp. War is good for that.”

“No. I mean why us specifically?”

Romulus tapped his hoof on the floor, weighing his response. “It was the weather. The jetstream dipped south and blew Derecho about two hundred miles east. Marching to the mountains was considered impossible on a logistical level, but that two hundred mile head-start put it in the realm of possibility.”

The air left Hypha’s lungs in a slow trickle. “That’s it?”

Romulus nudged a piece of carrot out of the way and ate another spoonful of rice. “That’s it.”

A distant draft blew faintly across Hypha’s face. The calculating look in Romulus’s eyes made him feel like he’d been pulled apart and squished between glass plates for examination. “Are there any monasteries left?”

“No.”

The word was so casual. So cruel. Hypha wanted to leap through the bars and strangle Romulus. But the connection between his mind and his motor function had been severed. He could feel the chill of the air on his fur and hear the ambient sound of Derecho like a perpetual wind battering a glass window. But he was powerless to interact with it. Powerless to do anything. He felt a sob bubbling up from within, and turned away so Romulus couldn’t see him cry.

When Romulus was finished eating, he put his bowl down at his hooves. The sound pulled Hypha from his spiral. He noticed all the rice was gone, but the broccoli, carrots, and gravy-stained water chestnuts had barely been touched.

His stomach twisted. He hadn’t eaten in days. He didn’t want to give Romulus the satisfaction, but as he stared at the bowl every ache in his body morphed into hunger. Hunger ate shame and fear and doubt. Hunger was the base force, the same primordial ache that made the snow leopard attack him that long-ago morning in the mountains. It wasn’t personal. It was what it was.

“Are you going to finish that?” Hypha asked.

Romulus slid the bowl between the bars. When Hypha finished eating, Romulus took out a key and unlocked the cell door. “Let’s test that new leg out.”

---

The leg made sounds that reminded Hypha of an old clock. Counterweights clicked. Ball joints rolled. The hydraulic strut in the middle sighed happily under his weight. As they ascended the stairs, the walls of Romulus’s estate turned from indigo to blue, then orange and pink.

They found senator Giesu pacing impatiently on the front steps of the estate. When he saw Hypha emerge, unshackled and wearing a sleek new prosthetic leg, the senator’s face turned a sunset shade of red.

“What on earth are you doing with that?” he howled.

Hypha’s whole body started to tremble. He hunched his shoulders and sunk his head to the ground. But then Romulus put a hoof on his shoulder and addressed Giesu with a soft politician’s smile. “He seemed a little lopsided.”

“He tried to—”

“Kill me, I know. But you gave him to me, and I need all my servants performing at their best.” The smile vanished. “He can’t do much with three legs.”

The senator seemed thrown. “He—tried to kill me too, you know.”

“He’s hardly the first.” Romulus led Hypha down the hall. Giesu struggled to keep up.

“I need a few moments of your time, general. We need to coordinate our next public meeting.”

“Coordinate with my secretaries, please. I’ll be busy for the next hour or so.”

“We have limited time until the public forgets about this campaign. We need to capitalize while we have their attention.”

“We’ll still have their attention in an hour. There’s something important we have to do first.”

“What could possibly be more important than this?”

“It’s an earth pony thing. It just needs to be done.”

As they walked away down the corridor, Giesus’s voice floated after them, spitting incoherent rage. “Dirty, grub-munching, simpleminded—”

Romulus led Hypha through a series of long hallways lined with ornate sculptures done up in traditional Derechan style: lots of flowing robes and shredded stallions rearing up in heroic poses. The hallways themselves didn’t get smaller like they did in Roseroot, but seemed to do the opposite and blow out to leave room for taller and more grandiose statues.

As they walked, Romulus recounted his experience in the mountains. He told him about the mushrooms, the vision, the dead soldier Cherice. When he finished, he looked up to find Hypha wearing a dazed look on his face.

“Do you need me to slow down?” Romulus asked.

Hypha shook his head. “I’m fine. You’re sure it was a snow leopard?”

Romulus nodded. “Positive.”

The hallway terminated at a large door flanked by cloudstone statues of guards. Hypha got the uneasy feeling those guards were actual ponies frozen in stone, guarding their post eternally.

Inside, Hypha saw a small bed and a bare work desk tucked into one corner. Facing it was a colossal pile of boxes overflowing with scrolls and maps and artifacts. Hypha recognized them immediately as those made by Heavenly Peace monks.

Seeing the precious art stuffed into boxes and stacked so haphazardly touched a raw nerve. Before he could articulate the feeling, however, Romulus pulled a wood crate out of the pile and set it on his bed.

“Politicians like things they can manipulate. Ore, precious gems, gold, ponies. They wouldn’t understand the significance of a resource that can manipulate them.” He unlatched the lid. A familiar smell poured out—earthy, almost garlicy, tinged with the faintest hint of sulfur.

The effect on Hypha was instantaneous. He threw himself between Romulus and the crate. Panic squeezed his lungs. His stump leg twitched. Idiot, he thought, you’re gonna lose another one.

“Those aren’t yours,” Hypha said through clenched teeth.

Much to his surprise, the general laughed. “Agreed! This is why I need you, Hypha. You understand the value of these mushrooms. They’re not just psychoactive, aren’t they? They enhance a pony’s strength.”

“They don’t,” Hypha lied. He flinched away from Romulus. His legs started to tremble, trapped by an invisible electric shock. “You’re wrong.”

“It’s too late for that. I know too much already. Mother sky is the true resource of the Stonewood Mountains. We could melt every rock in that range to its base metals, and it still wouldn’t match the value of this one box.”

“No!”

The general grabbed Hypha’s shoulder. His hooves dug into the soft skin like a vice. “Now that we know what to look for, we can go back. My legions can comb the mountains. Harvest them at the source.”

The thought of permanent Derechan bases in the mountains drove him to the edge of hysteria. “You don’t have to strip the mountain. You can grow them here. It’s been done. In Canary’s Cage.”

Romulus raised an eyebrow. “You went to Canary’s Cage?”

“No,” Hypha lied again. “I just heard stories.”

Romulus leaned away from Hypha and let out a little hum of discontent. “Even if it weren’t protected by the senators, it’s too late for Canary’s Cage.”

“What do you mean?”

“We flew over it on our way back. The whole place is abandoned.”

Prairie Sky. Hypha hadn’t just killed him. He’d killed his dream. Hypha’s knees finally buckled. He staggered to one side, grabbed at the bedsheets only to catch the edge of the box instead. Ten pounds of mother sky mushrooms tumbled to the floor. Several fell into the inner mechanisms of his prosthetic arm and tumbled out the other side.

Romulus reached out a hoof to help Hypha back up. In a soft, fatherly tone, he said, “I didn’t bring these back just to use them all myself.”

“You... don’t...”

“Right. Sorry. When I partook in the ritual, I saw things that weren’t there. I was stronger than I’d ever been before. I want to understand those effects and see if they can be replicated consistently.” His demeanor changed suddenly. His eyes gleamed excitedly. “Do you have any experience farming?”

“I managed a farm once.”

“Perfect. That’s how you can be useful to me. I want you to cultivate mother sky here in Derecho.”

Useful. The word filled Hypha with dread. “I can’t.”

“I saved you from the worst monster in the city. If that’s not worth loyalty, then what is it worth?”

“You didn’t save me from anything.”

“Don’t doubt for a second he could find ways to make it worse. The deal’s done.”

“It’s not.”

“It is. You just never got a say in it.”

Hypha shifted his weight and heard the crunch of a dried mushroom underhoof. He jerked his hoof back. “Give me that box,” he said, and stooped to clean the mushrooms up.

Instead, Romulus put a hoof on Hypha’s shoulder. Hypha froze. “Listen to me. Some of these will mold over and become inedible. Some of them will be lost. Some will be used for their intended purpose. But one way or another, they’ll run out.” He seemed to sense the hesitation in the downward bend of Hypha’s body. “I’m giving you the choice. You can use your knowledge and build a hydroponic garden here. You’ll have all my resources, and by extension Giesu’s resources. I’ll give you all the freedom you need. You can even proselytize the staff for all I care. As long as the mushrooms grow.”

“The climate isn’t right.”

“Then we’ll change the climate. Whatever needs to be done, we’ll do it.” He knelt down to look Hypha in the eyes. “My allies are not my friends. If it was more convenient for Giesu to throw me in a cage like he did to you, he’d do it without a second thought. And without my protection... well, you know what he’s capable of. A garden of mother sky will keep us both safe.”

Safe. It was almost funny. Hypha heard the threat lurking behind Romulus’s offer, a snow leopard concealed in a grove of stonewood trees. A bitter memory of Prairie Sky’s face flashed through Hypha’s mind. He’d killed for this. How could he say yes?

“Even if it worked... if. What would you do with them?”

“Convert my legionaries into monks. Then kill every senator in the city.”

Hypha sat still for a long time. Then, slowly, he asked, “Every senator?”

Romulus smiled. Crow’s feet and bluish bags framed his eyes, but he looked livid with youth. “Every single one.”

When the mushrooms had been safely stowed away, Romulus led Hypha on a walking tour around the estate grounds. They passed through a massive library warded against humidity, an open observatory aligned with the constellations, sparring rooms with hundreds of weapons Hypha had never seen before. In each room they passed through, Romulus suggested ways they could turn it into a growing room for the mushrooms. Each time, Hypha shot him down.

After awhile, they arrived in the deepest room in the estate, a spacious terrarium filled with the dust-choked relics of past conquests. The room was a story of Romulus’s past conquests. Redwood chifforobes and ornate mercury mirrors sat atop ornate purrsian rugs from the cat caliphate. Silks styled in spiraling geometries shared wall space with neo-classical battle paintings. Above it all, a massive segmented skylight let in a shower of natural light.

“What about this room?” Hypha asked.

Romulus shrugged dismissively. “It’s a prop room. My staff use it for parties when they want to impress guests.”

“Does the skylight ever open?” Hypha asked.

“No. Humidity swings are bad for the antiques.”

“So the room holds humidity?”

Romulus squinted at the high walls. “You think this room would be a good fit?”

“If it’s got good climate control, then yes. The air needs to be mostly dry with occasional humidity. And we need short bursts of strong, natural light.”

Romulus frowned. “They used artificial light in Canary’s Cage, didn’t they?” Hypha scowled. “Okay, okay, I trust you. Do it your way. The room’s yours. Just please keep the place clean. If there’s even a spot of dirt on the floor when you leave, the staff will have me killed.”

Romulus left Hypha alone to look over the space and gather a list of necessary supplies. When that was done, he dragged the rugs aside and sat down on the bare cloudstone floor. Sunlight poured down on him like ten million tons of earth and stone. He closed his eyes, and he was back in the tunnels of Roseroot. The earth moved. A low rumble filled his ears. Somewhere in the dark, the tunnels were collapsing.

Only one thought could brace him against such a weight. Mother sky. He had to live through this. He thought back to the promise he’d made to Red and Blue. They might be gone, but he could still hold himself accountable. Only by surviving could he ensure Romulus never got his hooves on mother sky.

They wanted a compliant prisoner? Fine. Hypha could pretend. He’d cultivate a garden in the sky. He’d tease out the secrets of mother sky in the fortress of his enemy. Then, when he had what he needed, he’d complete his mission.

And while the sun and mist worked their magic on the mushrooms, Hypha could use the wide open space to practice flying.

Author's Note:

Happy new year everyone! Looking forward to 2023

Comments

[hehelover]

I’m actually rooting for Romulus now. He might be ruthless and manipulative, but he’s certainly not the worst pony out there, and I don’t think Hypha’s doing much better morally speaking. Also the general seemed to have a good head on his shoulders, unlike Hypha who has been utterly confused from start to finish.