XIII
Volume 1
XIII
“But I've a rendezvous with Death
At midnight in some flaming town...
...And I to my pledged word am true,
I shall not fail that rendezvous.”
-Alan Seeger, I Have a Rendezvous with Death
They were devouring him, and there was nothing Roads could do.
The chimeras nipped and bit at his forehooves, trying to get to the flesh of his head and chest. Looking for an opening. Roads was determined not to give them a chance, but he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold out. Their claws were shredding him to pieces.
This is it...
His forehooves slackened. He just couldn’t resist anymore. The chimera hunched over his chest reared back, opening its jaws to display rows of razor sharp teeth. Roads closed his eyes, and waited for them close around his neck. For the end. For the deathblow.
It never came. The chimera gave a high-pitched screech as it was lifted bodily off of Roads and slammed into the ground beside him. The creature clawing at his right side jerked suddenly, then went flying into the air as a burst of telekinetic energy caught it in the chest. The beast at its left looked up from him, surprised.
It gave a shrill squeak as something caught it by the throat and tossed it away into the fog like a ragdoll. A hazy figure swam into view before him. He forced his eyes to focus.
“Summer? I thought I told you to—”
The other pony frowned down at him. “‘Keep out of the way,’ Roads? Really? You could’ve died.”
Roads groaned as he looked himself over. “I thought I could handle it.”
“It was a stupid mistake.”
“You’re one to talk,” he said feebly.
“Cut the bickering,” Chief interrupted. “Got a job to do. You okay?”
Roads swallowed as he inspected his wounds. Lacerations covered his forelegs and haunches, the splint Summer had made for his wing was torn to pieces, his sides and chest were covered in bite marks, and the skin on his underside was rapidly beginning to blister.
“I’m not really sure,” he said finally.
“Summer?” Chief glanced at the unicorn.
She shrugged back at him. “There’s not a whole lot I can do. I’ve studied first aid, but healing magic is beyond me. All I’ve got is blood telekinesis.”
“Better than nothing.”
Her horn lit, and Roads felt the blood dripping from his lacerations work its way back up to the cuts and spread itself into a film across the top of the wounds. He tried to stay still as she held the blood there and waited for it to coagulate. Within a few moments, the aura around her horn faded, and she helped him to his hooves. He moved gingerly, trying not to break the scabs.
“Thanks.”
“No problem. What now?”
“I’m close enough to the nexus that I should be able to channel energy into the gem,” he said, reaching over to the base of his splint, where he had wedged the gem between two lengths of copper wire for safekeeping. “I had hoped to swim out to the lake and get closer, but it looks like that’s not happening. I’ll have to do it from here.”
“Couldn’t you have just taken care of it back near the boulders?”
Roads shook his head. “Nope. The further away I am, the longer it takes. And the time it takes decreases exponentially, so what would have taken three hours back there will only take a few minutes here. Likewise, if I could swim out over the nexus, I could probably be done in thirty seconds, but I don’t think I’m up to it.”
Summer nodded. “Get to it, then.”
Roads set the remains of the crown on a rock in front of him, taking a moment to strip away the last bits of wood and leaves that made up the frame. He then placed both hooves against the gem’s surface, closed his eyes, and focused.
Come on, Roads...
He forced magic through his ley lines, feeling the surging power of the nexus before him. Slowly, the gem began to fill with energy, resonating weakly at first, but growing stronger as he poured more magic into it. Sweat began to collect on his brow as he channeled as much as he could.
This wasn’t like the first nexus. The engine had been submersed in it then, surrounded by it. Now, though, Roads was being forced to act as a vessel for a force he didn’t even have physical contact with. Which was probably for the best, given that even though the magic of the nexus itself couldn’t burn him, the scalding water around it would boil him alive if he got too close.
But he was getting sidetracked. Focus, focus! He was channeling as much energy as he could—if his attention slipped and he stopped directing that magic at the gem, the release might roast Summer and Chief.
Not that he had much more to go. He could already feel the magic in the gem begin to approach saturation point.
Almost there...
A moment passed. Then another.
And then he was done.
A weak grin spreading across his face, he held up the glowing gem, displaying it proudly to Summer and Chief.
“Done.”
“Good,” Summer replied. “How long has it been since we left the cave?” she asked Chief.
“Nearly an hour.”
“Alright,” she replied. “So, we’ve got two hours to get back to the cave and send Willow and Aspen into the city, and then head to the nexus all the way on the other side of the island?”
Chief nodded.
“Well,” she said, a determined smirk crossing her face, “we’d better get moving, then.”
_________________________________________________________
“...look, Aspen, it’s like this,” Willow was saying. “Think of it like... this cave.”
Aspen raised an eyebrow. “This cave?”
“Yeah. Just think about if somepony grew up in the back of his cave, and he’d spent his whole life in here,” Willow said, pointing to dark corner adjacent to them.
“Yeah, so what?” Aspen asked, reclining on a nearby rock. He tried to suppress a groan.
“I’m getting there. So then, think—what if he always faced the back of the cave?” Willow asked.
“Why would he do that?” Aspen sighed. Willow had been trying to explain something to him for the past hour, and couldn’t seem to get anywhere. As with most of his ideas, Willow was convinced he was onto something brilliant, but couldn’t for the life of him communicate exactly what it was.
“He just... does. Okay? It’s not important. He spends his whole life facing the back of the cave, and that’s that.”
“Fine.”
“Alright, so now let’s say there’s a fire behind him.”
“A fire?” Aspen asked.
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Because there has to be a light.”
“Why wouldn’t the sun work?” Aspen asked. Whatever Willow was talking about, it didn’t strike him as particularly practical.
“Because the sun is outside, silly!” Willow said, ruffling Aspen’s mane.
Aspen batted the other pony’s hooves away. “So what if it’s outside?”
“If it’s outside, it ruins the point!” Willow said with a huff. “Okay, so there’s a fire inside, and in between the fire and the pony who grew up in the cave, there are a bunch of other ponies moving things around in front of the fire. So, all the pony who grew up can see are the—”
“—wait!” Aspen interrupted.
“Ugh, do I have to explain it again? It doesn’t work if—”
“No, no. Be quiet, I mean. I think I hear them coming.”
“Who?”
“The Equestrians.”
“Oh.”
The pair sat in silence, ears cocked, as the sound of hoofsteps outside the cave grew louder. Within a moment, the Equestrians burst into the cave, all breathing hard. For a moment, Aspen just stared at them. Chief appeared unharmed, but was splattered with gore, none of which appeared to be his. Summer had lost most of her bandages, and was covered in mud, rainwater, and blood.
But the worst of the three by far was Roads, who was pale and trembling and gasping for breath. His muzzle appeared to now have a slight slant to it, and his entire face was covered in cuts and scrapes. Most of the coat on his chest appeared to be gone, replaced by burns and gashes, the latter of which stretched all the way down his forelegs. His left wing appeared to have been mangled, and the splint on his right had been ripped to shreds.
“Are you—” Aspen started to say, but Summer cut him off.
“We’re great,” she said. “Go tell Catalpa we’re almost ready. Tell her that we’ll be good to go in an hour.”
“Okay,” Aspen replied.
“Are you sure you don’t need any—” Willow started to say.
“Thanks, guys,” Summer said, and with that she rounded and galloped out the door. Chief and Roads wordlessly followed suit.
Aspen shot Willow a worried glance as the three departed. “What d’you think happened to them?” he asked.
The other pony thought for a second. “I’d say... chimeras. Probably.”
“What? What makes you say that?”
“Well—”
“Tell me on the way, actually. We’ve gotta get to town. Catalpa’s probably waiting on us.”
Willow nodded. He stood, helped Aspen up, and trotted out of the cave. Aspen followed, breaking into a gallop as soon as he was outside.
“Okay, so... chimeras?” Aspen called over his shoulder as Willow raced to catch up.
“Yeah.”
Aspen realized the conclusion Willow must have drawn. “Oh! Right. They were on the mountain during breeding season. So they must’ve run into at least one of the packs.”
Willow looked at him curiously. “It’s chimera breeding season right now?”
Aspen blinked. “Yeah. You didn’t know that? Why’d you think they’d been attacked then?”
Willow shrugged. “I just thought they looked like ponies who’d had a run-in with chimeras,” he said as he crashed through a particularly thick patch of underbrush.
“And won,” Aspen said.
“Impressive.”
“If there were ever a match for Princess, it’s them,” Aspen said.
“Speaking of which, what d’you think’s going on in town?” Willow asked.
“No idea,” he replied, breathing hard as he sprinted up a steep hill. “I doubt anything’s happened yet. I bet Catalpa is still meeting for peace talks with Princess.”
“You don’t think Princess might’ve made a move yet?” Willow asked as he leaped over a fallen log.
“Doubt it. I mean, if she made a move without—woah!” Aspen was interrupted as Willow slipped in a puddle of muck and crashed, headfirst, into a nearby bush.
“You okay?”
“Fine,” Willow said as he extricated himself from the underbrush and charged ahead.
“—If she made a move without full control of her magic, she’s in for a world of trouble. Catalpa’s got a lot more of the guard under her hoof than Princess,” he said as the pair raced through a narrow clearing.
“Maybe. But then, can you ever really be sure with Princess?” Willow asked.
“Guess not,” Aspen replied. The pair fell silent, focusing on speeding through the forest without with any further mishaps.
Within a moment, they had reached the riverbed. They flew down the bank, desperate to get to Catalpa in time, but careful not to lose footing on the rain-slicked rocks. It wasn’t long before the city came into view. They both came to a dead stop.
“Oh, no...” Aspen breathed.
“Is that—”
“They’re burning Southwest Bank...” Aspen turned to Willow, horrified. “That’s where Catalpa said she was keeping the civilians!”
Willow’s jaw dropped. “She wouldn’t—even Princess wouldn’t—”
Aspen just shook his head.
“Let’s go...”
“Aspen, I don’t know if I can...”
“Let’s go,” Aspen repeated.
With that, he turned, and sprinted down the bank towards the town. Willow swallowed hard and followed him. The two galloped in absolute silence, both dreading what they might find when they got to town.
Before long, they reached the outskirts of the city. They trotted through the shacks and huts of South Bank, on the lookout for other ponies. There were none to be found. There was only the roar of distant fighting and the faint smell of homes burning to cinders.
Aspen glanced around at the empty huts. “If anypony made it out of Southwest Bank, you’d think they would come here.”
“Maybe they headed into the forest...” Willow suggested.
“Maybe...”
Aspen trotted on, Willow trailing behind him. He moved at an easy pace at first, wary of running into anypony still loyal to Princess, but he sped up as they got closer to the fighting. He grimaced at the surroundings, his scowl growing deeper as the smoke in the air grew thicker. Finally, they reached the edge of South Bank, where the river cut once through the town.
On the other side of the water, Princess’ stallions were razing the houses on the edge of the bank. Before them was a retreating line of guards, each with a strip of linen tied around his or her forehoof, to show allegiance to the Council. They backed between the houses, harried by the invaders, slowing only for brief, unsuccessful counterattacks.
They’re out of formation, Aspen realized. They should be grouping around the choke points between the houses, not retreating between them. Who’s leading them? Where is Redbud?
A revelation hit him with a cold shock. They killed him.
They killed him so they could massacre civilians.
“How could she...?” he growled to nopony in particular. Willow noticed he was shaking.
“Aspen...?”
“How could she!?” he roared. Slinging his pack to the ground and taking his spear in his mouth, he charged into the water, leaving Willow standing on the banks, staring.
“Aspen!” he called.
Aspen wasn’t listening. Within a few seconds, he reached the other bank, and charged the loyal guards busy burning the houses. Before any of them could look up, he was upon them. One fell instantly, struck through the neck by his spear. His two companions glanced up, spotted Aspen, and rushed him.
Aspen ripped the fallen guard’s torch from the ground, whipping it into the face of one of his attackers. The other gave a wild flail with his spear, which met nothing but air. He was on the ground in a flash, body-checked by Aspen. He tried to bring his spear around, but the bigger pony caught it by the shaft, forcing it to his throat.
A hoof raised and fell. The guard’s head smacked against the rocky ground. Then he lay still.
Aspen tore his spear from his hooves, and spun to face the third attacker, who was clawing at his face, trying desperately to get the embers from the torch out of his eyes. His weapon lay on the ground before him. Aspen jabbed him with the point of his spear, and he lowered his hooves from his face.
His eyes were red and running. His face had been badly scalded.
“Please don’t...” he begged, eying the spear.
Is that what the ponies who burned to death in those homes asked? Aspen bellowed in his head. “Please don’t?!”
But when he tried to speak, all that came out was a feral growl.
“Please—” he repeated.
The guard was cut short as Aspen’s spear passed through his windpipe.
Pulling the spear from his enemy’s throat, Aspen turned to see other guards advancing on him warily, having heard the shouts behind them. He took a second to size them up.
Four? he thought. Can I handle—
Two more emerged from between the remains of a smouldering house.
Nope.
Grabbing his spear with his mouth, Aspen turned and fled, sprinting down the bank. The guards chased after him, looking to trap him at the water’s edge. Before they could catch up though, he took a hard turn and sprinted between two houses. He glanced behind him to see his pursuers round the corner. One hurled a spear at him; it impaled the home to his left.
Aspen looked forwards again to see a house speeding up to him. He tried to slow down, but it was too late. Closing his eyes, he slammed into the flame-warped wall, crashing right through it into the burning building. Gathering himself, he got to his hooves once again.
Peering around the room, he searched for an exit. He found none. Only smoke and flame. He appeared to be in somepony’s living room—a broken table rested against the wall, a faded linen carpet, died with some indistinct pattern, adorned the floor.
Steeling himself, he dashed sightlessly forward, smoke burning his lungs. Before long, he collided with another wall. This one didn’t give. Shuddering with the impact, he coughed heavily and turned to see that the guard had followed him into the house. He glanced from one to another, leveling his spear at them. Only two had managed to climb into the house—the others were presumably circling it in case he escaped.
He leveled his spear at the one on his left.
“Give it up, Aspen,” said the other.
Aspen peered at him, glaring through the smoke. “Almus?”
“Yep.”
“You killed innocents, Almus—”
“They were traitors. And you don’t have to die like them,” Almus said. “Come on. Put down the spear. Otherwise, if we don’t get you, the smoke will.”
Aspen glanced down at his spear. He stared at it for a second, hard in thought, still backing away from the guards. His flanks hit a wall, and he turned to see that he had backed into a corner.
“Come on,” Almus said again. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Almus?” Aspen said quietly.
“Yep?”
“You’re not leaving this house,” Aspen said.
And with that, he struck. Almus deflected the blow easily, but Aspen let the momentum of his thrust carry him into the other pony. The blow forced Almus back into a patch of flame, where one of his rear hooves slipped through a weakened floorboard. Pushing against the other pony, Aspen rolled aside as the other guard sent his mace smashing into the floor where he had just been.
Pulling out of the roll onto his hooves, Aspen rounded on the other pony.
“Better help Almus,” he said.
The other pony glanced away from him to where his comrade was stuck by his leg to a growing pool of flame. As soon as he saw the guard’s eyes flash away from him, Aspen moved. Before the guard could react, Aspen was already too close. He fell to the floor, a spear through his chest.
Aspen left Almus and the spear. His vision was growing hazy; he felt choked by the thick smoke. Wheezing, he trotted over to a wall that looked thoroughly burned, backed up to it, and bucked it. Hard. It splintered, but didn’t give. Aspen coughed again. The haze in his vision was growing thicker. Another kick.
A tiny gap appeared between two wooden boards. Aspen fought to stay conscious.
Another kick. The gap widened.
Another kick.
And another.
Aspen was sure he wasn’t getting any more air. He could barely see through the smoke.
One more, he promised himself. One more.
He reared back, drawing his hooves almost to his chest, and kicked with every last ounce of strength. The wall gave way.
“Thank you,” he breathed.
He crawled out of the burning house and collapsed, panting. From somewhere beside him, he heard hoofsteps.
Oh no...
He closed his eyes, trying desperately to get more air. If he could just breathe, maybe he could get to his feet, maybe he could get away. Or maybe he couldn’t. He felt a spear point jab against his throat. He opened his eyes, and turned to look up at the pony who would kill him.
For a second, all he saw was the spear. Then his eyes adjusted, and he saw the dark grey, linen-wrapped forehoof gripping it.
“Wait... Aspen?”
He forced his eyes to focus. “Buckthorn?”
The mare stooped, grabbed him by the foreleg, and helped him to his hooves. “Come on!” she said, pulling him away from the house.
“What are you—”
“Shh! Not here. Let’s go!” she said, pointing down the road to where the group of guards who had followed Aspen were gathered.
Turning, she led him away from the burned houses, headed for the center of town. The two made their way through a series of alleyways between houses, until they came to the Southwest Bank avenue. Crouching beside one of the buildings, Buckthorn thrust her head out into the alley.
She withdrew it swiftly, then turned to Aspen.
“Good,” she said.
“What?”
“The main line hasn’t moved since I left,” she replied.
“What do you—”
“Just... peek out into the road.”
Aspen did as he was told. A few meters down the road, a line of Princess’ guards stood, weapons bared. Past the, just in front of the Southwest Bank bazaar, a few of the Council’s troops milled anxiously around the edges of the buildings.
“Most of our troops are lined up along the edge of the bazaar,” Buckthorn told him. “We’re trying to keep Princess’ stallions from moving any further north. You need to talk to Catalpa, right?”
“Yeah.”
“She’s holed up in the center of town, just past the bazaar. You wanna get to her, this is the quickest way,” she said.
“What, down the road?” Aspen asked.
“Yep. Just make a break for it. They’ve got their backs turned to you right now—you can probably pass them before they realize what’s going on,” she said.
“And you?”
“I’m going back to scouting for survivors in the town. We got most of ‘em, but Catalpa wants to be sure,” Buckthorn said.
“What about all the soldiers?”
Buckthorn laughed. “I’m the fastest pony on this island. They couldn’t catch me if their lives depended on it. That’s why Catalpa sent me out behind the line in the first place.” Then she stood, and turned to walk away. “Good luck, Aspen,” she said as she galloped away.
“Thanks,” he said, only half-realizing she was already too far away to hear him.
Aspen peaked around the house again, eyeing the pack of guards that stood in the middle of the road. Buckthorn was right. They were focused intently on the rebels in the bazaar. He swallowed hard. He was unarmed, and up against a small horde of ponies who wanted him dead.
Better run fast, he thought as he walked out into the road. He moved slowly and cautiously, trying not to make any noise.
Eight meters...
They were still facing away.
Seven...
How could they not hear him?
Six...
Surely they heard him now.
Five...
A twitch. Was one of them turning around?
Four...
He was definitely turning around. Aspen froze. The other pony saw him, and cocked his head, confused.
“What’re you doing back there? Line’s up here—come on. Never know if the rebels are gonna charge, or something,” the guard said.
Aspen blinked. He realized the guard didn’t recognize him. And behind the lines, without a cloth around his forehoof...
They think I’m one of them!
He swallowed again and tried to look confident. Wiping a bead of sweat from his brow, he walked towards the group of guards.
“Wait,” the one guard said as he approached. “Where’s your weapon?”
“Lost it,” Aspen replied.
“Ah. ‘Ay, Cypress, ‘ave we got any more spears left?” he asked.
A tall, heavily built pony to his left turned around. “No, why? Who needs a—” His eyes narrowed as he caught sight of the other pony. “Aspen?!”
Time to go!
Aspen was only a few feet from the pack of guards. Before any of them could react, he broke into a sprint, charging right between two of them. He slammed one out of the way, dodged another, and broke through the group. By the time one of them hefted a spear at him, he was halfway down the road. Within a moment, he passed the traitor guards, charging into the bazaar.
Without slowing, he followed the central avenue through the market, into the center of town. There, standing under a granite statue of Princess and surrounded by a cadre of guards, was Catalpa, who was busy conversing with a very badly wounded Redbud. He was lying in a cot, heavily bandaged, and looking absolutely ecstatic. She appeared tired and worn, her usual stiff posture lost to the struggles of directing a war. As soon as he approached, she stood, looking eager to meet him.
“Aspen!” she said excitedly, unable to keep the glimmer of anxious hope out of her voice. “Are the Equestrians ready? What happened?”
“They’re almost ready. They said they needed an hour. That was about thirty minutes ago. What’s going on here?” he asked.
“Cowards,” Redbud coughed. “Dirty, rotten cowards. One of ‘em hit me when Ah had mah my back turned, an’ all the rest turned when they saw me go down.”
“When Princess sent troops down here to flush us out of the Southwest Bank, nearly a third of our stallions defected as soon as they attacked,” Catalpa explained. “They started fighting us from within. We lost a lot of ponies, and had to retreat to the northern side of Southwest Bank. We managed to get most of the civilians out with us, but not all of them. I’ve sent scouts through the areas we lost control of. But that’s not important right now. We’ve got to get to Princess.”
“You think you can make her teleport to the nexus?” Aspen asked.
“She will if she thinks she’s about to lose this fight,” Catalpa said.
“But she’s winning,” Aspen pointed out.
“She doesn’t know that. Right now, she’s hiding in her quarters with a full division of the guard barricading the hall,” Catalpa said.
“How do you know?”
“One’a ours is workin’ as one’a her personal guards right now. He’s sent word that she’s still in there, waitin’ this whole thing out from the keep. Oh, an’ this pony just so happens to be killin’ all the messengers who get sent from the front before they can deliver any news,” Redbud said.
“So she’s holed up in there, thinking we’re crushing her troops badly enough that they can’t even send word back that they’re losing?” Aspen said.
“Yep,” Redbud replied.
“So how do we get her out of there?” Aspen asked.
“We storm the keep,” Catalpa said. “We take every stallion we can spare and charge right through the defenses.”
“You don’t have enough ponies to hold Southwest Bank and launch an assault on Princess.”
“We don’t intend to hold the Bank much longer. We’re takin’ everypony who’s willin’ an’ able to fight and handin’ ‘em somethin’ pointy, and sendin’ the rest of the civilians out into the forest with a small detachment. An’ then we’re headin’ up to give Princess a talkin’ to, an’ after that, it’s all up to the Equestrians,” Redbud said. A wide smile crossed his face.
“Yuh up for one last battle?”
_________________________________________________________
“It should be just through these bushes,” Roads called over his shoulder to Summer and Chief.
He stepped over a fallen log as he pushed himself through the dense foliage of the forest. Ducking under a branch and through a thick clump of underbrush, he stepped out into the clearing around the nexus. Before he could go any further, a massive hoof grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and dragged him back into the bushes.
Struggling against Chief’s hoof, he glared up at the earth pony. “What’re you—”
“Guards,” he interrupted. Pushing aside a bit of the bush before them, he let go of Roads so that the other pony could peek out through the opening. Roads groaned.
They weren’t the only ones who had realize that staging an attack here would be easiest. The thought had occurred to Princess as well. Now, a detachment of guards filled the clearing around the giant stump, facing outwards, forming a protective ring around the nexus.
“What do we do about them?” Roads asked.
Summer looked over to Chief. “Remember that time we found that pack of manticores on Guadeloupony?”
Chief’s only answer was a smirk. With a contented grunt, he dashed off into the forest with Roads in tow. The two moved as quickly and quietly as they could, using the underbrush as cover, not wanting to alert the attention of the soldiers.
“Where are we going?” Roads whispered.
“Around,” Chief whispered back, as the two came to a small stream.
Chief crept down the embankment, careful not to lose his footing. Roads followed him down, then waded stealthily through the water with him. The pair pulled themselves up the other bank, then kept moving. After a moment, Chief stopped, pressing a hoof against Roads’ chest. He pointed to a nearby tree, thick branched and covered in massive leaves.
“Climb up. Stay there, I’ll be back,” he said.
Roads did as he was told, climbing until he could see out over the clearing. He perched against a thick branch, careful not to move too much, lest one of the soldiers notice the tree shaking. Below him, a bird gave a shrill screech. Across the field, a blast of light burst through the trees, striking one of the guards in the head. His entire body went limp, and he sagged to the ground.
It was only as the rest of the guards turned to face their fallen companion that Roads realized the “bird” wasn’t a bird at all. It was Chief, who had charged out of the underbrush, angling for the guards furthest from the pack moving towards Summer. Roads watched in quiet awe as Chief caught the nearest one before he could turn around, sending him to the ground with a hoof strike to the neck.
The earth pony continued to the next guard without so much as a break in his stride. He tackled the soldier just as he was turning and, before Roads could even blink, silenced him. As Chief rose to his hooves, a cry rang out among the rest of Princess’ stallions. They whipped around, and charged him en masse. Chief turned and fled, headed for the dense underbrush at the edge of the clearing.
As the guards chased him, Summer emerged from the woods behind them, firing off bolts of magic at the stallions closest to her. Three fell before anypony realized she was even there. Finally realizing their assailants were coming from both directions, the remaining guards stopped charging and once more formed a pack, half of which faced Summer, the other half staring down Chief. The ponies in the clearing froze, staring at each other.
Then, without warning, Chief broke into a sprint, tearing off to his left and diving into the forest. Summer retreated into the woods.
One of the guards broke rank to chase after Chief among the underbrush. He pushed his way into the woods, and out of Roads’ view. For a moment, Roads could hear him tearing through the foliage.
Suddenly, the hoofsteps stopped. A bloodcurdling scream echoed through the forest.
Then all was still.
There were only five guards left. They backed against the stump, weapons drawn, anxiously peering out into the forest. A bush shook suddenly, and they all jumped, leveling their weapons at it. Then, a tree just beside the one Roads was perched in began to heave and shake. He peered down at it, noticing the blue aura around its base. Back in the clearing, the guards had jumped again, and were now looking nervously from one bush to the other.
Directly behind them, the underbrush burst into flame. As soon as their attention was shifted to it, though, Summer darted out into the open to their left, striking down one of the guards. Two more advanced on her, leaving a pair behind to tend to their fallen companion. Before they could get anywhere near Summer, Chief charged out at them, dodging a spear thrust to clobber one over the head with a gargantuan hoof.
As he ripped the spear from the fallen guards’ hooves, the other three closed in on him. He was surrounded. A booming echoed through the clearing.
He was surrounded. And he was laughing.
A guard behind him took a step forward, then a telekinetic glow burst from beneath him. He fell to the ground as his hooves were ripped out from under him.
Two left, Roads thought.
The pony on Chief’s right lashed out with his spear. Ducking under the weapon, the earth pony pivoted on a forehoof, whipping his body around and catching the guard under the chin with one of his rear hooves. The islander fell to the ground, gagging on his own trachea.
One more.
Chief and Summer stalked towards the last guard like lions on the prowl. He backed away until his flank rapped against the stump. Looking from Summer to Chief with an expression of pure fear across his face, he swallowed heavily. He glanced down to the spear in his hooves, apparently thinking.
The last guard dropped his spear and sprinted off into the woods, the sounds of Summer’s chortling chasing after him.
Lowering himself from branch to branch, Roads carefully climbed down the tree. He walked out into the clearing to meet his friends. The two exchanged a nonchalant hoof bump.
“Enjoy the show?” Summer asked.
“I loved it,” Roads replied.
Summer held out a hoof and Roads tossed her the gem. “Good,” she said. “Then you’ll love the main act.”
_________________________________________________________
“This is insane,” Aspen said, glancing down at a grinning, heavily bandaged Redbud.
“Ah beg to differ. Princess’ll never see it comin’,” he replied.
The pair were standing at the top of a hill just outside the city, bracing against the rain and peering down into Princess’ throne room through the oculus in the ceiling. A few guards milled about below, with Princess’ nowhere in sight.
“So, let me get this straight... you want me to rappel down into the throne room—”
“You, backed by the shock troop we’ve assembled,” Redbud said. He gestured over his shoulder to a group of determined looking ponies fixing anchor points around the oculus and readying coils of rope for their descent.
“Okay, so we rappel down, somehow make our way past Princess’ guards—”
“Somehow?” Redbud objected. “Ain’t no somehow about it. You’re goin’ in with some’a the best ponies Ah’ve ever trained. Princess’ got maybe two or three detachments between you an’ the door—the rest’re all holed up with Princess in her quarters, back behind the throne room.”
“Okay, so we get past the guards, get all the way down the hall to the main doors, and then... what? Just open them up? And just wait for the rest of the guards to come find us?” Aspen asked.
“Well...” Redbud said. “From what we’ve heard, there’re a bunch’a soldiers down by the main door, so yuh can’t just open it.”
“Great.”
“Instead, you’re gonna burn it down,” Redbud said. He handed Aspen a small earthenware pot with a cap solidly fastened onto the top, and a length of cloth sticking out of the cap.
“This here’s tar mixed with wood alcohol. When yuh get close enough to the door, just light the cloth and toss it. We haven’t had much time down at the tar kiln, though, so we don’t have many more of those, which means yuh can’t afford to miss,” he said.
Aspen shoved the jar into his pack, picked up a rope, and wound it around his chest and forelegs. “And how is that better than just opening the doors?” he asked.
“Because then yuh don’t have’ta fight off the guards. Just toss it an’ run like hell, and our stallions on the outside of the door’ll start batterin’ it down as soon as they see smoke. An’ as soon as they’re in, they’ll storm Princess’ quarters and force her out inta the nexis, or nexum, or whatever it is. An’ then we just hope the Equestrians are as good at followin’ through as we are,” Redbud explained.
Aspen nodded. “Alright then.”
He looked around at the other rebels, who were now long finished setting up for the descent. Aspen tied one end of his rope around a nearby wooden stake that one of them had planted, and wound the other end around his thigh. He backed up the the edge of the oculus, eyeing the others as they mirrored his movements.
Redbud limped up to him. “An’ by the way—”
“Aspen!” somepony interrupted.
Aspen peered around, searching for the source of the voice. To his left, he saw Willow come charging up the hill. The other pony dashed up to him, and threw his forelegs around him.
“I thought I’d never find you!” he exclaimed. “What happened? Are you okay? What’s going on?”
“How’d you know we were up here?” Redbud asked.
Willow turned to look at Redbud. “I saw Princess’ guards on their way up here, so I figured there had to be somepony around,” he replied.
Rebud paled. “What?! They know we’re up here? They’re on their way?”
Willow shrugged. “Sure looked like it.”
Redbud’s jaw tightened. He took a step back and looked around him at the shock troop. They were staring at him, having sensed something was wrong.
“Alright, stallions,” he called. “Looks like the timetable’s been accelerated. Move out, fellas.”
A few “yessirs” arose from the guard, then they each began to back over the edge, holding tightly to the ropes. Redbud gave Aspen a quick salute, then turned and hobbled away, trying to leave before Princess’ stallions showed up. Aspen turned to follow the rest of the rebels, but a hoof on his shoulder stopped him. He turned to face a wide-eyed, frowning Willow.
“Don’t leave again,” he said. “Please.”
Apsen pulled the other pony into a tight embrace. “I’ll be back.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
And with that, he stepped away from Willow, and over the edge of the oculus.
He dropped fast, faster than he expected. Clamping down on the ropes, he slowed himself down, wincing as they burned his legs. He came to a halt, loosened his grasp, and began to slid down the rope again. As soon as he felt he was moving fast enough, he tightened down again, slowing to a stop once more.
He glanced below him. Most of the rest of the rebels had made it to the ground already. They sprinted across the throne room, quickly dispatching most of the guards. He sped up his descent, trying to catch up.
By the time he hit the ground, the shock troop had cleared most of the throne room, with only one casualty. One of the rebels had taken a spear thrust to the chest, and as more of Princess’ guards poured into the room, two more rebels caught him by the forehooves and dragged him behind Princess’ throne as they wound bandages around the injury.
Meanwhile, the rest of the shock troop grouped together near the open entrance to the the throne room, trying to cut off any more guards from entering. Fortunately, the entrance to Princess’ quarters, where the main contingent of guards were waiting, was still closed up.
Taking his spear from his pack, Aspen dashed across the throne room to meet with the other rebels, who had dragged Princess’ massive table to the door and were using it as a barricade.
“We need to get down this hall, now!” he shouted.
The rebels gave him a nod, and leapt the table, charging into the pack of guards at the other side of the door. Aspen followed them into the hallway, which he found lined with Princess’ stallions. They converged on the rebels, who formed a clump stretching across the hallway, spears leveled, a wall of ponies the guards couldn’t out-maneuver in such close quarters.
The rebels moved slowly forwards, lashing out with spears and maces, driving the loyalists back into the hall. Aspen followed behind them cautiously, protecting his pack. If the pot inside it shattered on his back, not only would he lose his chance to burn down the door, but he would also end up covered in the highly flammable mixture it contained.
All around Aspen, ponies from both sides fell, covering the floor in blood and corpses. Still, the rebels pressed on, holding a tight formation, with Aspen trailing behind them. The lines on both sides thinned, and at one point on of Princess’ stallions splintered the rebel formation. Aspen dashed up to gore him with a spear thrust before he could devastate the rebel line from behind.
Ripping his spear from the neck of the other pony, Aspen stepped up to replace on of the slain rebels, re-establishing the line. He found himself face to face with a veritable wall of guards, and he jabbed at them blindly as around him the skirmish raged.
Finally, his spear caught against something soft, and Aspen looked up to see a pony fall, leaving a gap in the line of guards. Grabbing his weapon, he dashed through the line, sprinting down the hallway, leaving the skirmish behind. Hoofsteps behind him told him he had pursuers, though.
Aspen glanced back to see three guards trailing him, weapons drawn. Looking forward once more, he saw that the hallway narrowed and forked in two directions. He took the right fork, and found himself in a wide room filled with lounging guards. Before they could react, he charged through the room, burst through the door on the other side, and dashed away.
Down the next hallway, he was met with two more guards, who stood on each side of a thin door at the end. He hurled his spear on the run. The stallion on the left fell as it ripped through his face. The other advanced on him, mace drawn. Aspen ducked under his first blow, then let his momentum carry him into the other pony.
The two went flying through the air, coming to a stop when the guard smashed into the hard granite wall of the hallway. Getting quickly to his hooves, Aspen grabbed the mace from the other pony, kicked open the door, and sprinted through it.
He found himself in the wide main hallway once more—and only ten meters from the massive wooden door to the outside terrace. A large cadre of soldiers were scrambling about the door, trying to barricade the hallway against an invasion they feared was imminent. They hadn’t seen him yet.
Aspen slipped into the shadows at the edge of the hallway, where a line of pillars supported the high ceiling. Dug into each of the pillars was an indention, out of which torches hung, providing light to the center of the room. Aspen slipped one of the torches from a pillar, and crept slowly towards the door.
As soon as he was close enough, he sat down against a pillar—hiding from the guards—and pulled the pot out of his pack. He lit the end of the cloth with the torch, stood, stepped out from behind the pillar, and threw it as hard as he could.
The jar collided with the door, cracked open, and spilled its foul smelling mixture across the wood. And then it burst into flame. Cries and shouts erupted from the guards as they realized what had happened. Several rounded on Aspen and charged him, leaving the rest to tend to the door. Not that there was much they could do. According to Redbud, Princess had stockpiled all of her water in her private quarters.
Whipping around, Aspen sprinted down the hallway. He headed back towards the throne room, hoping there were still enough rebels left to save him from the soldiers who were now hell-bent on killing him for setting the door on fire. He sprinted towards safety, chest heaving, growing more tired by the second. His muscles were sore and aching; it seemed he’d been running all day. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep this up.
Fortunately, it seemed he didn’t have to. Within a few moments, he burst into the throne room.
And found it empty.
Both the rebels and the loyalists were gone, leaving only slew of bodies in their wake. Aspen trod carefully through the throneroom, heart racing as he heard hoofsteps approaching from out in the hall. He made his way to the side of the room that was furthest away from the open door, drew his spear, backed against the wall, and waited.
The hoofsteps grew louder. Aspen could hear shouting out in the hall. He swallowed hard. This was it. The end. Alone, in Princess’ throne room.
I’m sorry, Willow, he thought. You know I hate to break a promise.
The hoofsteps grew still louder. A large group of guards burst into the room, weapons drawn, glancing around anxiously. Aspen tensed. There were far too many for him to fight on his own. As he had expected.
He gritted his teeth and leveled his spear at them. He didn’t plan on dying without taking at least one of his attackers with him. Maybe two.
The group of guards scanned the room. One of them locked eyes with him, then looked away, still searching for something. Aspen blinked. They didn’t seem to care that he was here. In fact, they seemed... anxious. Fearful.
In the hall, he heard more hoofsteps. Clamorous shouts echoed through the throneroom as another group of ponies drew closer. The guards in the throne room dropped their weapons. Aspen’s jaw slackened in surprise. A few of them glanced at him, but most kept their attention fixed on the doorway.
A moment passed, and then a massive group of rebels burst into the throne room. Relief surged through Aspen’s chest. They had broken through the door! Every pony on the island ready and willing to fight Princess was now pouring into the throne room.
Before long, the room was filled with rebels. A group of them swept away the cadre of loyalists, picking up their weapons for themselves. The rebels milled about for a moment, before a voice cut through the chaos.
“Alright, everypony, bring out the ram!”
Aspen turned, seeking out the source of the voice. Catalpa. She was standing on Princess’ tall throne, directing a group of rebels holding a massive battering ram fashioned from a tree trunk. Into the sides of the trunk, they had carved a number of hoofholds, and one end had been honed down to a slightly blunted point. The rebels moved the ram over to the entrance to Princess’ quarters, set it down, and waited for Catalpa’s orders.
In the meantime, Aspen galloped over to the throne, eyeing Catalpa.
“What happened?” he asked.
“After somepony lit the door, it gave pretty quickly. We overwhelmed most of the guards around the entrance pretty quickly. And now we just have to get through this one last barricade,” she replied.
Before Aspen could respond, she reared onto her hind legs, placing her forehooves against the tall back of the throne.
“First Contingent, you ready on that ram?” she called.
“Yes’m,” someone called out from among the group of ponies huddled around the tree trunk.
“Okay, then! Heave up!” she called.
The stallions hefted the ram by the hoofholds.
“Rear back!”
The rebels pulled the ram away from the door.
“Ram!”
They swung the trunk forward, bashing it against the door. A loud boom filled the throne room as the door shook and splintered, but held firm.
“Once more!”
They repeated the motion, and once again the door rocked and shook with the impact, breaking slightly, but not get giving. From somewhere behind the it there came the sound of snapping wood.
“Once more!”
The door gave.
Dozens upon dozens of rebels swarmed into the room, colliding with the remnants of Princess’ guard. Aspen followed them into Princess’ quarters, walking alongside Catalpa, sticking to the back end of the line. He’d had enough fighting for today. He had a promise to keep.
Before long, the rebels had pushed through the room, into a narrow hallway. The screams and shouts of ponies on both sides filled the air, as rebels and loyalists alike fell, dying, to the floor. As Aspen and Catalpa advanced with the traitor guard, they found themselves stepping over more and more bodies. Every so often, a group of ponies would drag one of the wounded, screaming and bloodied, from the front lines into the throne room.
Aspen turned and glanced at Catalpa. Her jaw was clenched and her face was pale. Even in the dim light, Aspen could see that she was shaking with rage and apprehension.
“The Equestrians,” she said to him through gritted teeth, “better make her pay for this. For their own sake, they better not screw this up.”
“For everyone’s sake, they’d better not,” Aspen replied.
Catalpa nodded stiffly. Finally, the fighting around them stopped. The last of the guard in Princess’ quarters had either died or surrendered. Catalpa strode down the hallway, Aspen by her side, and the rebels parted in deference. As they moved aside, Aspen caught sight of one last door at the end of the hallway. Princess’ room.
This was it.
Catalpa made her way up to the door. She stood stock still for a second, breathing hard. Lifting a forehoof, she pressed against the handle. It was locked. Catalpa swallowed hard, collected herself, and turned to face the rebels. She paused for a second, staring at them.
“Stallions,” she said finally. “Have at her.”
And with that, she bucked hard against the thin wooden door. It gave easily. Catalpa turned around and found herself face to face with Princess. The air around them seemed to freeze as the unicorn sized up Aspen, Catalpa, and the rebels. She nodded sagely.
“Hello, Catalpa,” she said.
“Hello, Princess. We’re here to kill you,” she said simply.
Princess cocked an eyebrow. “Oh? Interesting. I was just leaving.”
And with that, her horn lit, and a bolt of green light smashed into Catalpa, sending her flying down the hallway. As the rebels swarmed towards her, her horn lit again, and with a flash of green light, she disappeared.
Aspen galloped over to Catalpa, who was lying on the ground, clutching her chest, gasping for air.
“You alright?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said. Reaching up, she took his hoof, and he pulled her to his hooves.
“So,” she said, between gasps. “That’s it, then. It’s all up to the Equestrians now.”
_________________________________________________________
All was still.
Around him, the storm raged. The wind howled, the rain fell heavy against the stump, thunder boomed in the sky, but in Chief’s head, all was quiet.
Quiet, and perfectly still. There was a feeling in the pit of his stomach. A feeling something was about to happen. Something big. A kill. A plan coming together. Something.
He was used to the feeling. He’d first experienced it shortly after joining the investigative unit of the Royal Guard. Back then, it had filled him with apprehension and worry. Now it brought nothing but calm. Peace. Stillness.
He was ready. She was coming. He could feel it.
Chief sat back against the tree stump, taking slow, measured breaths. The gem Summer had handed him was warm in his hooves. He had requested to be the one to do it. She had obliged. He had the most at stake, after all.
His life. His vengeance. His daughter.
He was ready.
A ways away, hiding in the bushes at the edge of the clearing, Roads and Summer were huddled together, trying to keep dry and warm. Unprofessional. But even that couldn’t bother him now.
All was still.
A flash of green light somewhere behind him. His pulse quickened. His muscles tightened. He rose, and crept around the base of the tree, head low, pace measured, trying to keep quiet. He moved quickly.
Hoofsteps moving up the steps. Into the nexus.
He came to the front of the stump. Leaned out into the open, around the edge of the steps.
Princess.
Before he could suppress it, a low growl rose in his throat, feral and menacing. Princess turned. She was already at the top of the stairs, already standing in the nexus. He could see her broken leg mending, the cuts and scrapes on her sides and face healing. She squinted, peering at him through the rain.
“What the hell?”
Her horn began to light. Chief threw the gem. Everything slowed.
The bolt of light hit him in the chest, sending him to his knees. The gem hurtled through the air, emitting a slight glow. Princess saw it too late. It clattered to the ground, between her hooves.
All was still.
Chief’s eyes widened. It hadn’t worked? Roads had told him there would be—
The explosion sent him flying backwards, into the mud. Chief got to his hooves quickly, wiping the water out of his face. When he looked up, his jaw dropped.
The stump was aflame. A massive fireball raged at the heart of the nexus, walls of fire erupting from around the center, a pillar of flame extending high into the sky. Smoke billowed from the massive stump, the acrid smell of burning wood filling the air. Chief lifted a hoof, shading his eyes. The nexus was too bright to look at directly.
From somewhere within the inferno, he could barely make out the sound of screams.
Something moved to his left. Roads. Galloping out to meet him. Yelling something. Chief couldn’t tell what; his ears were ringing from the sound of the blast. As he got closer, Chief could just make out what he was saying.
“—still alive!” he was screaming. “The nexus is keeping her alive!”
For the third time that day, Chief’s eyes widened in shock. As long as she was in the nexus, Princess couldn’t die... and nor could anypony else who stood in the nexus. The flames couldn’t kill anypony.
They couldn’t kill him.
Chief knew what he had to do. Gritting his teeth, he reared back onto his hind legs, then charged towards the steps at the base of the stump. Roads caught him before he could make it into the flames.
“What are you doing?!”
“Getting her out. Gotta kill her.”
Roads’ jaw dropped. Chief pushed him aside.
“Wait!”
Chief turned and stared at the other pony.
“What?”
“The fire won’t die until either the gem runs out of energy, or you toss it out of the nexus. You won’t be able to leave the nexus if you don’t. You’ll be burned too badly.”
“Get Princess and the gem out of the nexus. Got it.”
Chief brushed past Roads, and scurried up the steps. This is gonna hurt, he thought as he plunged into the nexus.
He was right. The pain was immediate and searing. The fire burned away his coat and his flesh, which withered for a moment, only to surge back into being as the nexus steadily healed him. He understood Princess’ screams of pain.
He understood them, and he needed to find them. The flames were too bright, too intense; Chief couldn’t see. He couldn’t feel around, either. His nerves were on end, every inch of him exploding with pain. He could barely even feel the floor.
Chief moved on instinct and sound alone, seeking out Princess’ bloodcurdling shrieks. They seemed to be coming from the center of the nexus, where the flames burned the hottest. Clenching his jaw, Chief stumbled blindly towards Princess. Suddenly, his right foreleg gave way.
The fire had eaten through the muscle. Chief peered down at it, squinting. He could barely make out the muscles as they grew back again. Repressing the urge to grunt with the pain, he rose and pressed on.
The flames were getting more intense. He was moving into the center of the inferno. A detached part of his mind realized that this must be where the gem was. He remembered to come back this way once he had dealt with Princess. If he got rid of the gem now, he would survive—but so would she.
Fighting the growing urge to turn back—or fall to the ground—or lose consciousness—or do whatever else he had to to end the pain, there and now, he pressed on, barely moving now. It was hard to get his legs to work. His mind was barely functioning anymore, overwhelmed by the agony. Still, he pressed on. Moving towards the source of the screams.
The other screams. He realized he was screaming, too. He hadn’t noticed. He hadn’t been trying. He wanted to stop, but couldn’t. He couldn’t even close his mouth. Most of the muscles in his jaw had been burned away. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a dim realization rang.
His tongue was gone.
Never mind, don’t need it. He was getting close. The screeching rang in his ears. Before long, he spotted a darkened mass in the flames.
Princess.
He reached down, and grabbed the screaming ball of seared ponyflesh. Hefting it onto his back, he crawled away from the center of the inferno. The edge of the stump was close. He knew it. It had to be.
He would die otherwise.
He dragged himself and Princess as far as he could, before the leg he was using to pull it was seared away. He bent down and grabbed her in his mouth, dragging himself along on three hooves. He felt an eerie, twisting sensation in his shoulder, and looked down to watch his leg grow back before his eyes. Within seconds, he could walk again.
Within a few more, he reached the edge of the stump. Had most of his lungs not been melted away, he would have heaved a sigh of relief. He took her in both forelegs and reared. For a second, he hung still in the air. It was hard for him to keep his balance. Hard for him to move. His brain was shutting down.
What was he doing again?
Throwing Princess. Right. Seemingly of their own accord, his rear legs jerked, springing forwards, and he thrust it away from him. It barely made it over the edge of the stump. But it was good enough.
Chief let himself fall onto his back. His chest heaved, trying to draw air into seared lungs. He tried to close his eyes, then found he no longer had eyelids. He wasn’t going to make it. But it didn’t matter. Princess was dead. Summer could take care of his daughter.
“But I thought you wanted to see me again?”
Chief looked up. There she was. His daughter, standing in the flames. Frowning at him.
I do... he thought.
“Take my hoof, then.”
She looked down at him and stretched out a foreleg. He stared at it.
I cant... move...
“You can.”
It burns.
“I know. But you have to keep going.”
Why?
“Because you can’t let her win.”
I don’t care anymore. I just want it to stop hurting.
“You’re not talking about the fire, are you?”
No...
“Dad?”
She was crying now.
Yes?
“Don’t go.”
I have to...
“But I love you.”
Something rose in his chest. The fire stopped burning. Chief wasn’t sure if it was a trick of the nexus, or if something in his brain had finally stopped working, but he knew he didn’t care. He reached up, and took her hoof.
I love you too.
Chief got to his hooves. He began to shamble once more into the heart of the inferno. He had to hurry. He knew he didn’t have long. The nexus was healing him more and more slowly. It was beginning to run out of energy. It no longer even healed his skin all the way, leaving his muscles bared to the flames. Every time he took a step, he could feel his leg brush against his ribcage.
Yet it didn’t hurt.
He pressed on. His left foreleg gave. The fire had seared it down all the way to the bone. Dragging it beside him, he crawled on, pushing with his rear legs. Something wet and slimy was pressing against the fronts of his thigh, but he didn’t care what it was. He just knew he had to keep going.
The flames grew hotter. He was getting closer. One of his rear legs gave, and his lower body came crashing into the ground.
I don’t know if I’m going to make it.
“Will you try?”
Yes. For you, I’ll try.
He pulled himself forward a few inches at a time by his foreleg. He desperately hoped it wouldn’t give, too. He stared at it intensely. The flesh was mostly gone. Here and there, some of the bone poked through. He didn’t have long.
He tried to speed up, but found he couldn’t. Blackness was closing in around the edges of his vision. His head swam, and the image of his daughter flickered before him. His face fell, smacking into the floor. His foreleg gave. He came to a halt.
That’s it. I’m sorry.
“Dad—”
I tried. I swear I tried. He realized he was crying. I tried so hard...
“Look up!”
I... can’t...
“Look up, daddy!”
He did. When his head moved, his nose brushed against the gem.
He glanced at his foreleg. It had just barely healed. Just enough. He strained, pulling at his shoulder with all his might. His foreleg seemed to weigh hundreds of pounds, he found he could barely move it. He kept trying. The foreleg twitched, brushing against the ground. He pulled again, focusing hard. The foreleg moved, swinging forwards slightly.
“Just a little more. Please.”
Desperately, he swung his foreleg again. It came to rest on top of the gem. He grasped the gem, twisted, and rolled onto his back, his forehoof laying on the ground over his head.
Almost there.
He summoned every ounce of strength he had left, pulled his torso upward, and jerked his hoof in an arc over his head. And then he let go. The gem went flying.
As the fire around him slowly died, he slumped back against the ground. Chief closed his eyes.
“Thank you.”
His consciousness began to fade.
I love you.
He slipped into the blackness. The pain stopped.
All was still.
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Looks interesting, putting this on my to-read list
This chapter felt epic. Well done sir, well done.
Wonderful work as usual.
Thou I am curious if the story will continue beyond this arc. I sincerely hope it does, Roads has a lot of clever characterization and I look forward to the conclusion of this adventure and beyond.
1582791
It will. I have two more major arcs planned out, and estimate the story as a whole will hit about 400k words--if I manage to finish it, that is. There may be a bit of a wait between this arc and the next one though--my editor and I have a special project we're going to be working on for a month or two after I put up the next chapter (which will end this arc).
1586523
They will be finished. I mean that threateningly. With a tire iron.
1587566
Relax. The only reason I would ever drop "Stories" is if I started working on something far better. I'm not going to just stop writing.
Based on what has been said about lay theory in your rendition of Equestrian physics, I thought of something after [spoilers] willow senses aspen coming [/spoilers] while eating some delicious warm cheddar. Pinkie sense could be explained if Pinkie Pie had a natural affinity for lay lines. It would also explain Twilight's inability to figure out why Pinkie's pinkie sense worked because she, at the time, would not have considered lay magic as a major field of study. I think it fits well enough.
1717106
Interesting. If I ever have the opportunity to address that, I'll be sure to remember your theory.
Great chapter as usual. Suddenly realized that I had 4 unread chapters of this with no clue why. Guess I've just had a lot of updates from the stories that I'm following.
Also; come on Aspen! I wanted to hear Willow talk more about Plato!
-Glassed
2008176
I was wondering where you went! Hope you enjoyed!