A Fresh Start: Tales of an Equestrian Ranger

by TheAndyMac

Chapter 3

I stood at the edge of a pool. Behind me the land was dark and foreboding. Beside me the shoreline stretched on to eternity. My destination was in front of me, beyond the fog that shrouded the far shore. Steeling myself, I took my first step. The water was thick and warm, lapping greedily at my bare foot.

In my right hand I clasped a sword, a plain thing with a bare hilt and a notched, jagged edge. At first, I let it hang by my side. but as I drew further from the shore the water grew deeper, until it reached my thighs. By then I was forced to turn the blade upwards.

A few sluggish steps beyond that, and I had reached the fog. I paused, reaching out with one hand, half expecting it to be solid. But the wisps gave way to me, swirling around my outstretched arm. One hesitant step, then another, and I was enveloped.

It was dark. Like walking into a room with no windows. I walked on, eyes alert, ears perked. For a moment I was convinced I heard something splashing about in the water away to my left, but there was nothing when I paused to listen. The sound was still there, though, echoing in the back of my mind, so strong I wasn't sure if it was my imagination.

With every step, I had to resist the temptation to turn to investigate each imagined splash. It was hard to imagine I was walking straight as it was. In this dark fog there was no reference. No direction. I could be walking in circles, and I'd never know.

There! I heard it! Something ahead of me, disturbing the water. Like a fish's fin slapping against the surface. I readied my sword, pacing forward slowly. Something was out there, and friendly or otherwise I was ready to meet it.

Suddenly the fog swept back. I stood in a clearing, a hole about twenty feet across where the light could shine in. In the glare, I saw that I wasn't standing in water. I was standing in blood.

My breath caught in my throat. A lake of blood. Thick and warm. I might have panicked then but I knew I was close. I knew my destination was near. On the other side of this bowl, beyond that far wall of mist. I had to keep moving.

I tightened my grip on my sword and moved.

Before I had taken more than a few steps, though, something caught my eye. Ripples on my right. Then more over to the left. And the front. All around me, pale shapes broke the red surface.

They were fists. No, more than that. Dead arms, rising out of the blood, hands unclenching and opening out like grotesque flowers. Some were fresh and whole, others rent and broken, and a few so rotten they were little more than bones. The hands of the dead, reaching up for heaven. As the last one blossomed, they went still.

In that moment of stillness I advanced. As my first step touched the floor, the hands closest to me jerked. They started twitching, then grasping, their motions getting more and more violent with each step that I took. The blood around them was churned into a pale froth. My stomach rolled at the sight, but I couldn't stop. My legs kept moving, even without conscious thought.

The nearest was now close enough to touch me. I felt its cold fingers brush my leg, and lashed out with the sword. A few fingertips flew away, trailing fine beads of blood.

I kept swinging as I moved through the bizarre gauntlet, the blade biting deep into the thrashing hands. But no matter how many fingers they lost, they kept grasping at me, feeling no pain. Even one whose whole hand had been severed at the wrist would not give up. The bloodied stump slapped against my leg.

That was too much. I kicked out, knocking the arm away. It was a mistake. As I stopped, a hand gripped the fabric of a trouser leg and pulled.

I fell to one knee, dropping my sword. The blood swirled and frothed around my chest and dead fingers clutched my arms, my legs, my face...

My mind went wild, and I thrashed with the arms, clawing my way upward. But there were too many. Too strong... Even as my struggles knocked them away or broke their brittle bones they forced my head down under the surface.

I choked on the wave of blood that came surging into my open mouth. It tasted like iron and salt, rushing down my throat and into my lungs. Coughing only made me gasp for air, air that wasn't there. I spasmed, breaking more of the bones holding me down. They withdrew, and I felt air around me.

The blood had receded until it was only a puddle pooling about my hands. I crouched on hands and knees, sucking down air desperately. The sound of rattling chains filled the air. A shadow passed over the ground in front of me.

I looked up.

Dartilia stood over me, his axe in hand. A wicked grin crossed his face. Fangs glinted from beneath pale lips. He raised his axe high, but before he could strike I awoke.

The shady rafters of Applejack's barn loomed overhead. Despite the cool air, I was covered in a thin layer of sweat that was turning cold. The sheets were sticking to my legs and I shivered, feeling like a man just recovering from a fever.

This was not an unfamiliar feeling. Dreams like this had been my bane once before, but they had been far less frequent recently. Far less...disturbing. Reluctantly, I thought back on this one. The memories were already hazy, but I knew this was a particularly brutal one.

Something was bringing them back. It wasn't exactly a mystery as to what that something might be, though. No, the real question was whether this was a single occurrence, or if they'd be a regular struggle again. I wasn't sure I could take that anymore.

I was tempted to just give up on sleep there and then, but there was little else for me to do. Besides, I knew from experience that even a restless night's sleep was better than none at all. I imagined it was a long time till dawn. Rolling over, I tossed a quick but futile prayer to any gods that might be listening, waited for the shivering to die down, and closed my eyes.

* * * * *

I stood in my home. A thatch-and-timber longhouse that I haven't seen in years. The wind howled outside, but the warmth of the flickering blue fire pit kept the chill of winter at bay. As shutters banged against closed windows, I wander around the fire, looking for something. Whatever I wanted, I knew it was here somewhere. But the blue light of the fire cast strange shadows, and it was damn near impossible to make sense of the shapes they made.

This was getting me nowhere. I called out to the vampire to help me. His eyes are far better than mine, even in a weird gloom like this. There was no reply. I was about to call again, but I realised he couldn't be here; I left this house long before I ever met him. Had I not met him yet? I was sure I had, but then how could I be standing in this house?

Too confusing... I put my head in my hands, trying to ease the headache I knew was about to arrive. As if in sympathy with it, the wind knocked the shutters about even more violently. The din alone was enough to split my head in two, even if I weren't trying to make sense of a senseless situation.

Then I realised the banging at my windows weren't the shutters. They were fists. A hundred or more angry hands trying to beat down the walls. They were at my door, on the roof, even beneath my feet! I could hear them scrabbling up through the dirt and scraping at the floorboards.

I went for my sword, realised I didn't have it, and...

"You are not of this world."

I spun, looking for the source of the voice. It was feminine, commanding, and echoed with power. But it came from nowhere. The longhouse was gone, and in its place, all I saw was a featureless expanse and a wall of fog surrounding me.

"Your dreams speak of much pain, and of a violence that is not welcome in this land. Tell me, stranger, why are you here?"

"Who are you?" I called into the mist. "Show yourself!"

"As you wish."

At the corner of my eye the mist swirled, and a shape began to form. For a moment it was transparent and indistinct, then it slowly became solid.

It was a pony as tall as me, with a coat of dark blue, and a mane that seemed to be made out of the night sky. Tiny starbursts flickered within it as it floated in an imaginary breeze. A horn sat on her forehead, much longer and more threatening than that of any other pony I'd seen here. And despite what I'd been told about the races here, a pair of wings flared menacingly from her sides. She advanced, her gaze cold, radiating a presence of power and menace.

"I am Princess Luna, co-ruler of Equestria and Guardian of the Night."

Almost instantly I dropped to one knee and bowed my head. My time spent on the Plains had impressed a healthy respect for the protocols of royalty, no matter how much I might otherwise disdain them. It tends to be best not to insult those who hold power above your head.

"Forgive me, your Highness, I did not know you. My... hosts told me of Celestia, but said nothing of you."

"Is that so?" she said slowly. I thought I caught a hint of sadness in her voice, but couldn't be sure. "No matter, it is no fault of yours. Please, rise. You are not one of my subjects. I would talk face to face with you."

I stood, watching her cautiously. Her wings had folded to her sides, and she looked a little less threatening, but her eyes were still hard and fixed on me.

"You know who I am now. Tell me, who are you, and why have you come to Equestria?" she asked.

"I'm Ranger, your Highness. A mercenary from... well, from somewhere that isn't here. I wish I could tell you why I was in this place, but I truly have no idea why or how I came to be here." I glanced about, taking in the odd scenery. "Though I'm not sure where we are, exactly."

"You are wherever you were when you fell asleep. This," she gestured around us, "is a dream."

"Is that right? Then how are you here? Or are you a dream, too?" Because if so, I have to wonder where you came from, I thought to myself.

Her mouth twitched into an amused smile. "I am perfectly real, I assure you. As Princess of the Night, it is my duty to guard the dreams of my subjects. This is how I knew you were here. I saw your dreams, saw that they were strange, and decided to investigate. I hope you will forgive the intrusion, but as I said before your dreams speak of much violence. Violence that I wish to shield my subjects from."

"Entering dreams... That's quite the gift. Does Celestia have as much power?"

"It seems you have not been told much about my sister. She is at least as powerful as I am, if not more so. As I raise the Moon and bring the night, so she raises the Sun and brings the day. Though I admit, dream-walking itself is a talent unique to me."

Oh. As I digested this revelation, I fought the urge to drop to my knees again. Instead, I bowed my head and took a surreptitious step backwards. Maybe my prayer had been answered after all.

"I suppose I should be honoured, then, to have a god deign to enter my dreams."

I smiled to myself as I spoke; I could almost hear the elf berating me for parleying too casually with gods. I was a touch irreverent, true, but this Luna didn't seem to be the smiting kind of god.

She didn't punish my irreverence, but nor did she react as I thought she would. Rather than show perhaps some amusement, she raised an eyebrow and said in a voice of surprise, "God? We are not gods, Ranger."

"But..." My mouth flapped open. "But you said your sister raised the Sun! How could you not be gods?"

"Gods are being of supreme power. My sister and I are not. We are just as fallible as any other pony in these lands, and we have both made...mistakes."

Her gaze slipped momentarily to the floor. It recovered almost immediately, but I caught it. For the second time, I saw vulnerability though a crack in the stone-hard exterior she presented me with. There was no time to think on it, though; her resolve had hardened, and she spoke again.

"Our gifts do not make us any better than the ponies in our care. Instead, they give us a responsibility to them. To protect them when they might otherwise be incapable of protecting themselves. And in return, they keep us grounded to the joys of this world."

"So you think they need protecting from me. Your subjects, that is. That's why you're here."

She nodded. "I came to investigate such a probability, yes. You have seen much violence in your land, if your dreams are to be believed, and we have no wish to see it spread here. So I must ask you, would you bring this violence to our borders?"

There was a moment of silence as I locked my eyes with hers. "No." Then my eyes dropped down a little, gazing into the middle distance. "I think I'm finished with fighting."

Her eyes softened. "You have seen many things, Ranger, and not all of them pleasant. You might do well to find one that you can share them with."

"Why? What does it matter to you?"

"You may not be a subject of mine, but you are in our lands. My sister and I are sworn to aid and defend all who dwell here, pony or otherwise."

She smiled gently. "If you truly wish to leave the violence of your past behind you, I will help if I can."

"That's generous of you, your highness, but I doubt you could be of much help. Not with the dreams I've had," I muttered.

"Perhaps," she said, inclining her head. "Most ponies face more mundane fears in their lives than you. Most of their dreams can be saved with a few words of advice and a little courage. Your dreams are more complicated, true, but they are not something unfamiliar to me. Though I confess, I have not seen somepony with troubles like yours in a long time."

I stayed silent. This Princess' power might have been great, but she was still a stranger to me. And despite the thousand-and-one things screaming for release, I wasn't one to spill all to an outsider to the pack.

After the silence dragged out for more than a few minutes, Luna nodded slightly.

"If you do not wish to speak, I will not force you, but I bid you to think on your silen-"

"I died," I said.

The silence that followed was somehow far heavier and more deafening than any other I can remember. Finally, after a few false starts, Luna was able to speak again.

"What are you saying? You are alive, I am sure of that."

"No, I... Before I was here, I was in a dungeon. With my companions. We were about to be killed by a madman we had been sent to stop. One of my companions managed to bargain with him for two of our lives, but he couldn't save us all. One of us still had to stay and die. The madman chose me. After that..."

I gestured uselessly around me. "I was here. I woke up in Sweet Apple Acres with no idea how I got there. I thought that maybe this was the life after, but I seem to be alive enough."

Luna reached out with a hoof, perhaps to comfort me, but I backed away. "I don't want to say any more."

"Very well. I thank you for telling me that much."

She looked me up and down. "You have a foul past, but a good heart. I see you yourself are nothing to fear, Ranger. But I fear for you. If you do not seek the help of those around you, your nightmares may last a long time."

"I can deal with the nightmares," I said softly. I had dealt with them for long enough already.

Luna gave me a final nod. "I imagine I shall meet you in person soon. Until then, I ask you to think on what I've said. Farewell, Ranger."

She blinked out of existence, and I opened my eyes.

Comments

[X 865]

You have earned my interest. Take this.
http://i.imgur.com/1r2P0.gif

[TheAndyMac]

2207382

Why thank you, my good man