Equestrian Chronicles: The Fated Ones

by Plasmadon

Pages in the Wind

The Fated Ones: Pages in the Wind

Applebloom awoke slowly, the midmorning light rippling through the emerald and robin’s egg leaves. As coherent thought returned to her, she was once again mesmerized with the unnatural beauty that the inner Everfree seemed to radiate. She vaguely wondered where she was, then sat bolt upright. She remembered it all: the forest, the arrow, and the kind giant monsters.

“Well, well, look who’s finally awake,” a voice behind her said. She whirled. The man who had tried to shoot her the night before was stirring a pot that glowed cherry-red over a roaring fire. He held up a ladle, filled to the brim with golden brown liquid. “Want a taste? It’s even vegetarian.”

Applebloom pursed her lips, before tentatively taking a step forward and sipping from the spoon. The soup was delicious. A hot, heady spice filled Applebloom’s nostrils as a mixture of sweet and spicy covered her tongue. She groaned involuntarily as the blend washed down her throat, savoring the hot aftertaste.

“That was great!” she shouted, trying to stop herself from salivating at the thought of more. Robin, she remembered his name was, chuckled.

“That’s good. I have to feed a lot of people back home, so I’m familiar with herbs and spices. In this forest, though, I don’t recognize much. A tree here, a berry bush there, but that’s it.” He took out a small journal and lowered his hood. It revealed a creature much like the others, though this one was much thinner and bonier. A shade of jet-black hair sprinkled his jaw, and tufts of hair stuck up in odd places. He flipped to a page in the tiny book and turned it to her. The parchment showed sketches of various plants and animals, most of them she had seen during her trek through the Everfree.

“These,” he began, “are all of the plants that I can use in the forest. If you find any, bring them to me, okay?”

She nodded. There was a crunch of twigs at the outside of the clearing, following a grunt and a sigh.

“You’re stronger than you look, Merlin,” a deep voice rumbled.

“Obviously not as strong as you, you crazy tree-toting idiot,” the adolescent voice chirped back, though there was no real bite to his words. The two voices belonged to more of the monsters, Applebloom vaguely remembered. Marlin and Lancer? No, that wasn’t it.

“Merlin and Lancelot!” she exclaimed, drawing the attention of the two.

“So, you’re awake, little one,” Lancelot said. “What is it that you need?”

“Oh… not much, really,” she said shyly. “I was just tryin’ to remember yer names.”

“They can be a bit tough to foreigners,” Merlin quipped. “Well, both of ours are. I’ll never understand how Robin got the normal name.”

“That’s because I was born in the southern half of Albion, dumbass!” he shouted, knocking Merlin on the head with his ladle. Applebloom cringed at the profanity, but let it slide. After all, kids were never supposed to say that kind of stuff; at least, that’s what Granny had told her.

What did interest her more was the name “Albion”. She had never heard of a place like that, and she knew all the countries outside of Equestria’s borders. She scratched her head at the unfamiliar term.

“What’s Albion?” she asked, a note of innocent curiosity in her voice. The three monsters stopped and stared at her. She wriggled a little under the combined gazes.

“It’s a country a long, long way away,” Merlin said finally. “A country where magic is outlawed, and people get by with ever-advancing technology. The trees are made of gold, with leaves like gems and lakes of liquid crystal. The castles are made of silver, and they’re decorated by the finest artisans ever born. And the plains –they glitter in the sun like hills of diamond!” The three creatures knew that this wasn’t true, of course; it was just an exaggeration. Applebloom didn’t, though, and her eyes were wide with awe and wonder.

Merlin laughed as he continued. “There was a king in Albion, a king named Uther Pendragon. He was the one who outlawed magic – his wife had died when he asked a druid to save his son from miscarriage. His son, Prince Arthur, grew up to be an arrogant young man, always trying to prove he was better than everyone else. But then someone else came into the picture. A boy came to Camelot, intent on learning how to be a great healer from the court physician, Gaius. He met Arthur and… well, the two didn’t hit it off very well. He saved Arthur’s life in the end, though, and he became Arthur’s personal servant.”

“His name… was Merlin,” Lancelot finished. Applebloom’s jaw dropped. This Merlin was the servant of a king? It was a pretty big honor, considering only a few ponies were allowed by the Royal Guard to be servants of Princess Celestia. Ponies kept trying, even when they knew that Princess Celestia hated having servants.

“If you think that’s cool, you haven’t even heard Lancelot’s tale yet,” Robin joked. “Go on, tell her, Lance!”

“Oh, alright,” Lancelot said. “But first, we’ll eat. That soup of yours looks just about done.” The four of them sat, and Robin served the stew. It was hearty and warm, and it filled all of them with vigor. There was a hint of ale in it, and they soon felt their limitations leave them.

Once everyone was done and the bowls were set aside to be washed, Lancelot cleared his throat. “My tale,” he began, “is but a simple one. I was born as a peasant in an inconsequential village in the far north of Albion. I lived my childhood nice and easy, with my job as a farmhand. Then I heard that the Camelot Knights were looking for new members. I trekked across the country to get there, only to find out that it was reserved for nobles only.”

“A shame, too. He’s a right hand with a sword,” Merlin said jovially.

“So, I met Merlin after a day or two. He was kind enough to give me his lodgings, and helped me forge a false noble’s crest. He even wrote a full family tree and aged it with magic. I entered basic training, and I got very far in. I was elected for knighthood, and Arthur wanted to make me one too, but Uther discovered that my family tree and crest was fake. He and Arthur argued for a while, but Arthur finally gave in, and I was banished. Then, when Uther died and Arthur was made king, he brought me back and made me a knight on the spot.”

“My story isn’t really much to tell,” Robin said. “I was a thief, plain and simple. I stole from the rich, and gave to the poor. That’s it.”

“Wow…” Applebloom said, eyes still wider than plates. She was standing in front of a real, live knight, a healer, and a thief, just like in the stories that Granny told her at bedtime.

“Alright, where do you live, little one?” Lancelot said. Applebloom frowned, remembering that there were probably some ponies looking for her at that very moment.

“It’s a town called Ponyville outside the forest. Y’all know how ta get there?”

“I will in a minute,” Merlin said, closing his eyes in concentration. He whispered a few unintelligible words, then opened his eyes. They flashed gold, and he turned to face her. “I’ve found it. Now, let’s go before anything else tries to kill us.”

_________________________________________________________________________________________________

“Applebloom, where are ya?” Applejack shouted, her eyes brimming with tears. It was midmorning, and they’d searched through more than a mile of the Everfree Forest. Applebloom was nowhere to be found.

“Applejack, do you think she went farther in than this?” Twilight asked. “When a pony gets angry, they don’t really tend to focus on danger. She might be miles in by now.”

“Then we go farther in!” she shouted. Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo nodded sharply and dashed forward, shouting “Applebloom!” left and right. Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy buzzed the treetops, their pegasus reflexes allowing them to flit through an area in record time. Twilight and Rarity were pouring all of their magic into a tracking spell that pointed farther into the forest. Meanwhile, Pinkie was being… Pinkie. She had refused to enter the search once they had reached the Everfree, adamantly stating that Applebloom would be fine and would come out of the forest at the end of the day with three new friends.

Applejack shook her head and sighed. Pinkie did some crazy things, but that was outright ridiculous.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________

Lancelot led the group through a thick patch of glow-moss, as Robin had begun to call it (he was very creative with names). The tip of his sword was gleaming in the parched noon light, and his eyes flickered back and forth across the trees. Behind him, Applebloom trotted merrily, unaware of her new friend’s tenseness as she chatted idly with Merlin. Robin was watching the three with hawking eyes, his hood and cloak only showing his leather moccasins.

“I’m telling you, there’s something wrong here,” Lancelot insisted. “We haven’t been attacked in a good three hours.”

“So?” Robin said. “The better luck we have, the faster we get out of this thrice-blasted forest. I haven’t recognized nearly as many plants as I did back in Sherwood.”

“Ah’ve been meanin’ ta ask y’all about that,” Applebloom put in. Robin and Merlin looked at her inquisitively, while Lancelot’s ears perked slightly. “How come Merlin’s s’posed ta be the great healer when Robin knows so much about plants? It jus’ don’t make sense.” Robin stared at her in disbelief for a few moments, then, with clarity adorning his face, he barked out a laugh.

“I forgot that your kind don’t know who I am,” he chuckled. “See, back in Sherwood, everyone knew who “Robin of the Hood” was. I wasn’t a thief for nothing, you know. I had to know how to make sure my victims kept out of my business, but I never really liked killing ‘em unless they actually deserved it. I mixed up some paralysis poisons instead, and put them in their evening wine. Blessed thing, wine; it masks a lot of poisons if you mix up just the right amount.”

With that, Robin went off on a tangent, muttering to himself about the palates of the richer folk. Lancelot frowned while Merlin chuckled and Applebloom just looked confused.

Merlin’s face, as suddenly as it brightened, turned dark again. “Everyone back!” he shouted. Even Applebloom wasted no time complying with the order. The barely got clear of Merlin before a thunderous roar shook the treetops. A clearing several paces ahead of the group began to flicker red-orange.

Merlin ran ahead, the others following tentatively. Lancelot was scowling in a manner that reminded Applebloom of very serious injury, Robin looked absolutely bewildered, and she herself was shaking in her horseshoes.

The treeline broke to reveal a trio of enormous wyverns. Unlike their dragon brothers, they had no legs, lofting themselves on their armlike wings. Three bloody, blackened talons glinted in the firelight on each wing. Their tails whipped around as they circled their target, a dying sea serpent, floating in a shallow river.

“Eorðe, lyft, fyr, wæter, hiersumaþ me!” Merlin roared. His eyes flashed a pale orange, and energy coursed through him. The fire died as the air rent itself asunder, forming pockets that the wyverns could not fly through. They crashed to the ground while the earth curled up around them, pinning their wings and tails. The water split around the serpent’s body and rose to form very deadly-looking spikes around the lizards’ heads.

“Tell me why you have done this, beasts!” he bellowed. The voice, unbidden by his normal reservation, came out as a series of resounding snarls and roars. Applebloom was utterly lost, as was Robin, but Lancelot looked on in awe as Merlin conversed with the not-dragons.

The three wyverns, however, stopped thrashing and stared at Merlin with utter disbelief. They blinked and hissed, before sending a long jet of flame at Merlin. Applebloom screeched as the flames washed over him, and Lancelot and Robin instinctively drew their weapons flush with their targets. As the torrent of fire died, however, Merlin stood unharmed among a line of blackened ash.

“It is him!” they hissed as one. Applebloom raised an eyebrow. She thought that only dragons, griffins and diamond dogs spoke a coherent language.

“It is him!” they continued. “The true King! Praise be to the Last Dragonlord!” Merlin was surprised, but not overly so. Dragons didn’t exactly like Dragonlords, but he supposed that hate must have been lost on their relatives.

“So I am still the last Dragonlord?” he said. It was always a secret hope of his that some unknown relative bearing the same power had popped up, but it was a fleeting light. The trio nodded.

“After the freedom of our great ancestor, Kilgharrah, the Last Dragonlord set out on a quest to find another dragon egg. He found it and hatched it, and named it…”

“Aithusa,” Merlin replied sadly. Lancelot raised an eyebrow. After Merlin’s revelation of magic, he had begun to teach Lancelot, Elyan and Sagramore of Hungary the language of the Old Religion. Aithusa supposedly correlated to the light of the noonday sun –a strange name, but none more so than Lancelot.

“Yes,” the middle one snarled. “ After the Great Battle of Camelot, when good King Arthur died and Kilgharrah left with Aithusa, they birthed a new thunder of dragons. But we changed. We were unlike the false dragons that made their home here. We became true dragons, the overseers of the druids’ forests. We became the princes of our kind, the last and only defense of these most holy and sacred grounds.”

“You mean this is-” Merlin began.

“Yes, Emrys,” the wyverns hissed. It was somewhat disconcerting to hear them speaking simultaneously. “This is the Perilous Land, where the great Fisher King died, and where the earth was restored to its former glory.”

“That’s brilliant!” Merlin shouted. “Lance, Robin, Applebloom, guess what?”

“The dragons have decided not to kill us?” Robin asked hopefully. Merlin nodded.

“Not just that. I also know where we are!” he pointed to the noonday sun, the aithusa. “If we turn left, we’ll reach the Lake of Avalon, and if we stay on this path, we’ll be heading straight to Camelot! It’s brilliant!”

“If you say so,” Robin said. He nocked an arrow. “I still wanna shoot the dragons.”

“May we eat the hooded one?” the dragons asked politely. Everyone, even Robin, shared a good laugh.