The Forgotten: Traveler

by Jatheus

Chapter XVIII

It was another hot day. Pleasantly, Mestra Amymone finally reached the forest that she’d been heading towards, and so the road on which she traveled was shaded from the worst of the sun. Even so, the humid air had an unpleasant way of pressing in all around.

The mare had been warned more than once about straying into the forest. The woods around Hollow Shades hadn’t been exactly dangerous, but the farther away she walked, the more keenly she became aware that there were wild creatures that might find a pony traveling alone to be an enticing meal. It was quite a frightful thought, but Misty had assured her that so long as she stayed on the road, she shouldn’t encounter anything dangerous.

Mestra Amymone stopped near midday to consume a little provender from her bag and drink some water. She was well coated in sweat, but couldn’t spare the water for anything but drinking.

The glowing butterflies that never left her alone were gliding around in no particular direction. She liked to watch them. It was almost as if they danced in the air. Rather suddenly, they changed from their random flitting, all returning to the mare and landing on her large hat. It was then that her ears picked up a noise.

Fear was her first reaction, but she remained calm. The sound was a rhythm, like the sound of a pony walking at a steady, almost leisurely, pace. She stood and turned toward what her ears reported. From the direction she had come, a lone stallion walked around the bend and into sight.

He was an earth pony with a brown coat that was broken by a white blaze on his face. His dark brown mane hung low, almost obscuring one of his bright blue eyes. He stopped when he noticed her. The many large bags with which he was laden shifted slightly. He seemed to have no trouble bearing them.

“Hello there,” his voice was smooth and inviting.

“Hi,” she replied, remembering her manners.

The two gazed at each other for a long moment before he spoke again.

“I must say, you are a lovely surprise to find on this road.”

Mestra felt her face grow warmer. It was not the first time she had been flattered, but it was not a sensation to which she was accustomed.

“Usually this path is an empty one, and the distance between towns can make it rather lonely.”

She stood silently, still observing the stallion.

“Those are the most beautiful butterflies! How do you get them to stay on your hat?”

The mare shrugged, “They just follow me.”

“Where are my manners?” the stallion struck his head. “My name is Brill, explorer and world traveller extraordinaire. Presently, I find myself a spice merchant; I am carrying spices from the far east and selling them across our very own Equestria. I suppose with as many occupations as one such as I have dabbled in, you might call me a Jack-of-all-trades.”

“I am Mestra Amymone.”

“Are you named for the butterflies?”

She tilted her head quizzically at him.

“Your name,” he continued, “it is shared by a species of butterfly that lives in the south.”

“I did not know.”

“I see. Well, it is a beautiful name for a beautiful mare.”

She felt her face go hot again. She realized she was blushing, but she wasn’t sure how to make it stop.

“Please don’t think me presumptuous, but we seem to be heading in the same direction, at least for a while. How would it be if we shared the road? I have little to offer but my company and perhaps stories of my travels.”

Mestra wasn’t generally suspicious by nature, but this stallion had already made her blush twice in a matter of minutes, a most uncomfortable sensation. This was enough to cause her to hesitate.

“We could also share food if you’d like a bit of variety. I have some spices here that will make even the most mundane oats dazzle like a gourmet dish from the finest restaurant in Manehattan.”

Sampling new food sounded nice enough. However, it occurred to Mestra that his knowledge of Equestria could be useful to her quest. This is what ultimately helped her decide.

“Okay,” she finally replied.

“Excellent!” he closed the distance between them. “Shall we go then?”

“Ah.”

They started walking, and he began talking.

“From the burning sands to the south, beyond the salty east seas, and to the frozen tundra in the north, the stallion Brill has traveled. I’ve been through hill and dale, town and country, marshland and open sea. I’ve seen where the timberwolves den deep in the Everfree Forest. I have discovered the roosts of dragons, high in the mountains. I spent the night with quarray eels in their cavernous canyon dwellings. I even once spotted a hydra resting in a swamp. The road may be long, but I assure you, I have tales aplenty to last until we part ways, my lovely companion.”

Mestra felt herself blush again, but she didn’t reply. Her butterflies flitted about the newcomer, but eventually returned to their place on her hat as they walked on, the stallion speaking all the while. It didn’t take long for her to become entranced by his stories. The places that Brill had been and the things that he had seen were nothing short of amazing to the forgotten mare.

“In a faraway land live a race of equine called the Kirin. Now, most ponies will call me a liar and claim they don’t exist, but I have seen them with my own eyes. They live in beautiful harmony with magic and nature and with each other, and it’s a good thing too. For nearby can be found the most frightful creature, a kind of fire demon that they call the Nirik. I was able to establish a rudimentary understanding with one of their stallions, and he took me to the very place where the Nirik had destroyed a village once before. Ashes were all that remained, and…”

Brill trailed off as if distracted.

“Oh, here’s a problem,” he stopped short.

The butterflies darted ahead across a river that crossed in front of the pair. Remnants of a wooden bridge were clearly visible on either side, but they were no longer connected.

“Ah?” the mare asked.

“That rain last week must have washed the bridge out.”

Brill seemed to be speaking to himself as much as to Mestra. He began looking around, his eyes eventually fixing on something upward. He tentatively walked out onto the broken bridge, cautiously testing it. Mestra was about to follow, but then she thought better of it. The care that Brill took made her wary.

“It will be doable, but difficult,” he said. “If I were not on something of a schedule, I’d go around, but that would take at least a day to reach the nearest crossing.”

Brill unloaded the numerous bags he was carrying. He rummaged in one of the smaller ones until he pulled out a large coil of rope. Turning his attention back to the river, he spoke.

“That’s at least ten yards.”

Finding a strong piece of railing, the stallion tied off his rope and tested the knot. Seeming satisfied, he turned to the mare.

“By my estimation, this is but a minor inconvenience to our journey, one that I will have us across shortly. I would have suggested that we swim, but the current seems a little too fast for the baggage we carry, and so I deem it most fruitful to tie off the rope on the other end, and we can slide our bags across one by one. Then you can cross last. Is this agreeable to you?”

“Ah…”

“Brilliant, now, I need you to be ready to pull me back up if I should get into trouble. I don’t expect any mind you. Do you understand?”

“Ah.”

Brill nodded, tying the other end of the rope to himself. He was uncharacteristically quiet as he descended the bank, using the rope to steady himself. He swam, being pulled downstream as he crossed. He didn’t seem to have any trouble, and Mestra wondered whether she could learn to swim like that.

Brill remained silent as he climbed up the other bank, making his way to the other side of the broken bridge. He shook water from his coat, though he was so thoroughly soaked that he continued to drip afterwards. The little glowing butterflies flitted across the gap, circling Brill once before heading back to Mestra.

“Well hello there, little friends,” the stallion chortled as he brushed his mane out of his face. “Utterly fascinating!”

He quickly untied the rope from himself and found a place to secure it, making the line taut. He then pulled a knife from a pouch and cut off the rest of the rope. The part tied across the gap may have been a third of the total length.

Next, he made a large loop around the suspended rope and tied it to hold its shape. Finally, he took the other end of the rope, making a snarl of a knot that was the size of a large grapefruit.

“This is called a monkey fist,” Brill said.

“Mohn… kee… fist.”

“Quite. It is just a name. It’s a trick that a sailor taught me once when I sailed Maretime Bay. That’s a story for another day, but it makes it easy for us to toss the rope across to one another. You understand?”

Mestra cocked her head to one side, not completely sure she saw how they were going to use this setup to get across the water.

“I will throw the monkey fist to you,” Brill explained, “then you pull the length of rope over. Tie my saddle bags on at the loop end, then throw the monkey fist back to me. I can pull my bags across. Then I’ll throw it back and we can do it again, and again to get everything across. Well… how are you at climbing?”

The mare looked at the rope, and more pertinently at the water below. She shook her head, heart pounding. Deep water was the last place she wanted to be. Having once fallen through ice and nearly drowning, Mestra was quite respectful of the danger.

“I see. Well, like I said, you can go to another crossing, but it is a bit out of your way and I certainly don’t have the time. While I would be much saddened to be robbed of your company… If you would be good enough to at least tie my bags on, I’ll get them across one by one and be on my way.”

Brill tossed the rope across the river, the monkey fist smacking the side of the bridge nearest Mestra and skidding onto the road. She picked up the knotted end of the rope, and examined Brill’s saddle bags, running the rope through a strap before realizing that she had not pulled the loop across the river yet.

“Mestra sorry,” she said as she left the bag to pull the length of rope to her side.

“Oh, that’s hardly necessary. You’ve done nothing to give offense, I assure you!”

She worked quietly, making a simple square knot, or something like it. Feeling satisfied with her effort, she threw the monkey fist directly into the river. She felt her face flush in embarrassment.

“Not to worry,” Brill laughed. “Just pull it up and try again. I’m sure that rope has been wet before, no harm done.”

The mare pulled the soggy length of the rope back up and inspected it. She reared back and lobbed it hard. The butterflies scattered from her hat at the sudden motion, and the monkey fist sailed through the air until the length of the rope was spent. It went tight and then the end bounced back, falling well behind a laughing Brill.

“All or nothing with you, I see. But you got the job done and that is what counts after all.”

He worked quickly to remove his bag, easily undoing the knot that Mestra had made. The mare felt conflicted within. She did like the idea of keeping her new friend at least until the next town, but she was afraid to climb across the rope.

“Safe?” she asked.

“Safe? You mean to cross? Why, of course. You see how I pulled my bags across. I can pull you across in the very same way. There’s really nothing to worry about once you are tied to the rope.”

She took a deep breath and said, “I cross.”

They repeated the procedure until all of the stallion’s things were safely across the river. His own bags removed, Brill tossed the monkey fist back to Mestra. She picked it up warily and slowly pulled the loop back to her side, her heart pounding all the while. She wondered what Stormy would do. She gulped, considering Stormy to be fearless.

Mestra began to tie the rope around her shoulders.

“It might be more easily done if you send your bags first. It makes less weight on the line and no chance of getting tangled.”

That made sense to the mare, but she had just managed to get herself tied quite securely in a knot that she didn’t know how to undo. She looked up at him sheepishly.

Brill smiled, “I’m sure that’ll do just fine. Your bags are far lighter and smaller than mine.”

She threw the monkey fist back to Brill, and he pulled up the slack and waited. Mestra wanted to go forward, but her hooves remained firmly planted on the bridge.

“Are you alright?” He asked.

Mestra nodded even as her legs began to quiver underneath her. Brill waited a moment longer; but the mare simply couldn’t move.

“The rope is strong,” he said soothingly. “Just watch.”

He dropped his end of the line, and then slowly climbed out on the secured rope, hanging over the river for a moment. He pulled up and bounced himself twice to demonstrate that it was secure before climbing back up.

“Besides that, you’re tied on. You can’t fall. And if anything goes wrong, I’m right here to help.”

Mestra Amymone tried to swallow, but a lump had formed in her throat. She forced her leg forward, shaky and weak though it was. Her butterfly companions were circling her head, beckoning her to follow the other way, away from the bridge. She ignored them. She took a deep breath, summoning what reserves of courage she had. Her heart pounded, deafening even beyond the gurgling of the river below.

She forced another step, and another until she stood at the edge. There was nowhere left to go but down. A cold sweat covered her body as the mare committed her weight to the rope. The thin line seemed utterly tiny and inadequate to hold her. She eased forward, testing it. The braids creaked under the strain but showed no signs of breaking.

From the other side, Brill gently pulled up the slack in the line until it was nearly taut. Mestra pulled herself along, suspended over the rushing river below. Inch by inch, she eased across the gap. It seemed somehow farther away than when she had started. A breeze kicked up as she swayed over the drop.

Mestra’s mouth had become dry. She wished she could take a drink, but it would have to wait. She forced her breaths into an even rhythm, a trick Stormy had taught her to remain calm.

“There you are,” Brill grinned as he reached out and helped Mestra climb up onto the far side.

Standing upright, she looked back across the void and her legs buckled, forcing her to fall unceremoniously onto her rump. Brill let out a hearty laugh as he began working at the knot to untie the mare.

Her heart pounded still, though it was beginning to slow. A twinge of elation worked through Mestra’s body at the accomplishment, causing her to shiver.

“Come now, it wasn’t really all that bad, was it?”

Perhaps not, but Mestra Amymone would be quite happy if she did not have to do anything like that again anytime soon.