Friends and Enemies

by ObabScribbler

Braeburn and the Buffalo

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7. Braeburn and the Buffalo

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Braeburn had never been closer to his cousins in Ponyville than the rest of his extended family, but he and Applejack had bonded during her visit to Appleloosa and reconnected during the Apple family reunion. She was a hard worker and he could respect that, but she was also fun with an edge of dry humour that sometimes went over his head, but which he could generally appreciate. He liked her better than a lot of his other relations, so when he got the news she had been found injured in the desert he wasted no time in following the buffalo messenger back to their encampment.

Little Strongheart met him at the periphery. Even though Chief Thunderhooves and the Mayor were technically leaders of their respective communities, Braeburn and Little Strongheart had helped to work out a lot of trade and land agreements, so they knew each other as well as any pony and buffalo in these parts, if not better than most. Their acquaintance had become friendship based on honesty and respect, so he knew Little Strongheart wouldn’t lie to him even to spare his feelings. Her expression filled him with dread.

“Where are they?” he panted.

She gestured with her head. “This way.”

“Is it bad? Is she awake? Your messenger wasn’t exactly generous with the details.” Braeburn trotted to keep up even though his mad gallop had left him winded. “Lil’ Strongheart?”

“I think it might be better if you see for yourself.”

“Why? Don’t leave me hangin’ like the last crab-apple on the tree. Lil’ Strongheart?”

“In here.”

She had led him to an especially large tent embroidered with red thread designs. The shapes might have been words or just pretty patterns. Once or twice Little Strongheart had tried to teach Braeburn the written language of the buffalo, but it was deceptively simplistic. While it only had a few dozen ‘letters’ the combinations didn’t always add up to words the way ponies thought of them when they wrote. Braeburn had tried his hardest but it was like trying to catch fish in a net made from tissue paper: sooner or later everything fell through in a tangled mess and he had to start all over again.

“This is the Medicine Bull’s tent,” Little Strongheart explained. “But there were so many sick ponies we couldn’t fit them all in, so some are in my father’s as well.” She pointed at another large tent, though it was smaller than the Medicine Bull’s. It was decorated with stylised lightning bolts crackling down from menacing black clouds.

Braeburn nodded. “Which one is Applejack in?” He cared about the other ponies, of course, but his cousin was his primary concern.

“In here.” Little Strongheart held aside the flap of Chief Thunderhooves’s tent and followed him through.

Inside it smelled of sweet smoke, like someone had been burning herbs and apples. Given how fond Chief Thunderhooves was of Appleloosa apple pies, this was probably expectable. Six bedrolls had been squeezed side by side into the darkened space. Each one contained an unconscious pony. Braeburn recognised only two faces. They were all unicorns except one. He recognised a white mare who had come to Appleloosa with Applejack. She was next to the last bedroll on the left, where there lay a single earth pony. Beside her was a battered but still intact hat nearly identical to his own.

“Applejack!” Braeburn picked his way over to kneel beside her. She didn’t stir. He looked back at Little Strongheart and asked, “What the hay happened to her? To any of them?”

“We don’t know.” Little Strongheart looked ashamed of the admission. “There was a bright flash of magic in the sky and we found them at the source afterwards.”

“I remember that.” He and the rest of Appleloosa had been nonplussed at what it could be. “How many ponies did y’all find?”

“These six, plus four more.”

“Were they all … like this?” The mares were all unnaturally still, their faces blank. If not for the slight rise and fall of each chest, they could have been dead.

“No.” Little Strongheart considered for a moment and then flicked her head. “I think you should see the others for yourself. Chief Thunderhooves identified two of them as soon as he saw them. I think you’ll know who they are too, but you won’t believe me if I tell you.”

Braeburn was reluctant to leave his cousin, but dutifully followed his friend to the Medicine Bull’s tent. He had placed only one hoof over the threshold when he froze, heart momentarily launching out of his chest to clang between his ears. His head throbbed. It couldn’t be. It was impossible. And yet there they were: Princess Celestia and Princess Luna, also in bedrolls while an elderly bull buffalo shuffled between them. The buffalo looked frail but ministered to the two royal ponies with a certainty of movement that bespoke years of dealing with medical crises. His experienced touch was cold comfort to Braeburn.

“Don’t just stand there and gape,” the old bull snapped. “Either come in or go out, but close the flap.”

Braeburn and Little Strongheart scuttled inside, where Braeburn concertinaed his body to avoid stepping on another two ponies. He had been so hypnotised by Celestia and Luna he hadn’t noticed them at first. The princesses were much larger than average ponies and so took up a lot more room. Alongside them Twilight Sparkle and another unicorn Braeburn didn’t recognise seemed smaller than usual; or maybe that was down to the sorry state they were in. The two were as unconscious as the rest, though their expressions were far from peaceful. Twilight in particular looked like she was in terrible pain. A young buffalo cow, only slightly older than Little Strongheart, dabbed at her open mouth and tongue with a damp cloth as her raspy breathing dried out her throat.

“What … happened to them?” Braeburn whispered in horror.

“Who are you?” the old bull snapped irritably. “What need have I to answer your questions?”
“Peace, Laughing Creek.” Little Strongheart stood beside Braeburn, drawing the bull’s attention to her instead. “This is Braeburn.”

“An Appleloosan?” The bull eyeballed Braeburn with a mixture of hostility and suspicion. His name was ridiculous: his wrinkled face looked like he hadn’t smiled in years, and might shatter completely if he ever laughed.

Little Strongheart nodded without apology. “He is an invited guest of Chief Thunderhooves. He has come from Appleloosa to see the ponies who fell from the sky.”

“Fell from the sky?” the bull echoed. “Appeared out of thin air would be a more accurate description. As near as I can tell,” he went on, speaking to Braeburn now his presence had been endorsed, though his tone remained hostile, “They are all suffering from a kind of magical backlash.” He nodded at Twilight and the other unicorn. “Though I have seen such sickness precious few times before, my grandfather wrote extensively of his work and the signs are listed in his journals. During his time our herd moved more often than it does now and he saw many strange things, including feats of pony magic that made him wish buffalos could also grow horns on their foreheads. He was … an odd one, my grandfather.” Laughing Creek shook his head as if to disperse his own thoughts. “These two, on the other hoof –” He pointed at Celestia and Luna. “– I believe have been poisoned.”

“Somepony poisoned the princesses?” Braeburn was aghast.

The bull nodded. “Which would account for the unnaturally long daylight hours, I believe. Yes, pony, I know the identities of my patients. I am old, not stupid. I also know that this mare is the one who cast the spell to bring them all here.” He jabbed a hoof at Twilight.

Braeburn looked down at her contorted face. “All of them?”

Laughing Creek nodded. “ALL of them.” His tone communicated that he knew exactly how big a feat this was.

A teleportation spell for ten ponies, including two alicorns? The amount of magic necessary for such a thing boggled the mind. Braeburn didn’t know much about magic except what he had learned in school and from unicorn friends getting their cutie marks when he was a colt. What he did know made him stare in wonder at Twilight. Somepony so small summoning and using so much magical energy should have been impossible. It should have burned through her like a flamed through a paper doll. One unicorn could teleport him or herself with practise and a lot of effort. A unicorn whose special talent was magic could maybe teleport one or two other ponies, but NINE plus herself? It was a wonder Twilight was still alive. No wonder she looked so burnt out and ill. Braeburn wondered whether anypony could ever recover from what she had done – or, if they could recover, whether they would be the same afterwards. Trauma like that did funny things to folks.

“Can you help them?” he asked.

“The little ones? Yes,” Laughing Creek said dismissively. “Although all most of them need is time to recover and rest. The less magic a pony wields, the less they are affected by the backlash; which means the earth pony will wake first, in my opinion.”

The tightness in Braeburn’s chest eased a little. “What about Twilight and the princesses?”

“These two little unicorns were chosen to remain in my tent because they are the most powerful of the group: the purple one’s power runs to magic itself, the pink one’s to healing. It is somewhat ironic that the healers have all been struck with such an affliction while their princesses require their help so greatly.”

Braeburn was surprised. “ALL those unicorns out there are healers?”

“They were all wearing these when we found them.” Little Strongheart gently tugged back part of the still-nameless unicorn’s bedroll to reveal a white robe with red crosses on the sides. The resident doctor in Appleloosa wore the same symbol on his jacket. “We think maybe they were trying to heal the princesses when Twilight Sparkle was forced to transport them away. We don’t know why she chose here, or if she even chose at all. The fact that she brought them to the open desert suggests she wasn’t aiming.”

“Goshdarnit, if she was using that much magic I’ll bet a hickory button to a steam train she COULDN’T aim!” Braeburn exclaimed. “It’d be like pickin’ up a rock and throwin’ it into a pond versus skimmin’ a pebble across it.”

“We thought so, but we weren’t sure. Before she passed out, Applejack said something about Twilight having to cast her spell even though it was dangerous and even though it meant leaving ponies behind.”

“What the hay happened?” Braeburn wondered aloud.

“Whatever it was, it was not pleasant,” Laughing Creek snapped. “And it has left these ponies in dire need of aid, which is difficult for me to give if I have to waste time talking to you. If you wish to help, stay. If you have nothing to contribute, leave. It will take everything I know and every skill I have to heal these royal ponies of this poison.”

“But you CAN heal them?” That flutter of hope came again in Braeburn’s chest. Laughing Creek’s reply made it plummet back into the pit of his stomach.

“I do not know. The poison has magic in it; and powerful magic at that. I can try to combat it with buffalo charms, but I do not think it is pony magic, so I do not know how effective they will be against it.” He frowned. “Nevertheless, I will do all I can.”

Braeburn bowed his head. “Thank you, sir. Thank you kindly for everythin’ you’ve done. You too, Lil’ Strongheart. The buffalos have done so much to help us ponies today; I don’t know how we’ll ever be able to repay y’all.”

Little Strongheart gave him a wan smile. “If anything we do can help our friends and return the moon to the sky, that will be payment enough for us.”

Braeburn looked back at Celestia and Luna. He swallowed, his own mouth suddenly as dry as Twilight’s. He resolved to head back to town and fetch the doctor out here, plus anypony else with even a hint of healing magic, or just an inclination to help. This went beyond just him and concern for his family: this was a crisis that affected all of Equestria. They needed to get the princesses well again and fast, before eternal daylight took its irrevocable toll on the land.

Dread made Braeburn’s throat tighten. “Um, sir?”

“Hmm?” Laughing Creek looked up from uncorking a vial of evil smelling liquid. “What is it, pony?”

“Do you think … could the princesses … might they, um …?”

“Are you trying to ask me whether they might die?”

Braeburn nodded mutely. Saying the words out loud made them too real. A land without Celestia or Luna was a land of chaos.

“Put it this way: whoever gave them that poison did so with the express intent of them not recovering from it. That they have survived thus far is testament to the talents of the healers who have now been laid low. Do I need to explain it any further?”

Braeburn shook his head. “No, sir.”

“Good. Now help out or get out; I have work to do.”

Braeburn and Little Strongheart darted from the tent.

“I’ll … I’ll fetch the doctor,” Braeburn mumbled when they were outside. “From town. I’ll go back to town. To fetch the doctor. And we should send a message to Canterlot to find out what’s goin’ on there. This ain’t … this is … ponyfeathers!” He stamped his hooves in frustration.

Little Strongheart laid a comforting hoof on his shoulder. “You’re shaken up. I will go back with you to Appleloosa and help you do what needs to be done.”

Braeburn gave her a smile as wan as her own. A deep dread had settled over both of them, like a layer of dust settling over a disturbed attic. “Thanks, partner.” He looked past her to her father’s tent. “Could I just, ah …?”

“Of course.” Little Strongheart moved aside, allowing him to go back in.

Braeburn once again picked his way over the sick ponies and past the buffalo cow who had crossed the way to tend them as well. He knelt to just his forelegs, lowering his face to Applejack so he could murmur into her ear and nopony else could hear. “I’ll be back soon, cousin. You just hold on there and get well, y’hear?”

She didn’t move.

“Ponyfeathers,” Braeburn cursed under his breath. He half raised himself up before, on a whim, crouching again to press a kiss to her forehead. He hadn’t done that since he was a young stallion, really more of a colt and she was the little filly in a diaper he used to give rides around Sweet Apple Acres when they were kids at the Apple family reunion. She still didn’t stir, so he got to his hooves and hurried back out into the blazing sunshine.

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Comments

[Tazmaniac]

Once again I BUCKING LOVE THIS STORY!

[temerarii pulsat]

dont send a letter canterlot!!!! -face desk- loving this i hope ponies win.

[ObabScribbler]

1878397

Thank you. I'm glad you're enjoying this. It certainly is a blast to write and it's nice to know people are enjoying reading it as much as I am writing it.

[ObabScribbler]

1878384

I can't say much yet, but if you think Pinkie has it bad, just wait and see what poor Fluttershy is going through.

[ObabScribbler]

1877551

And I'm bucking glad you do! Seriously though, I'm glad you're enjoying this. It certainly is a blast to write and it's nice to know people are enjoying reading it as much as I am writing it.

[ObabScribbler]

1868055

thereelplace.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/happy_lolcat.jpg

[ObabScribbler]

1864132

Thank you!

[ObabScribbler]

1845044

honchemistry.wikispaces.com/file/view/homer.jpg/141626819/homer.jpg

[ObabScribbler]

1801328

OKAY!

[Eurobeat11]

NO! They'll find the princess!
*table flip*
Fluttershy?
DON'T UOU EVEN DARE!