My hooves skidded against the slick hardwood floors as I ran around the corner then stopped. My heart sank as I beheld what was in front of me.
A split. Great.
Both halls were identical to the one I had been following: Polished hardwood floors, a tidy little trim along the bottom of the rose red walls, and a high white ceiling. Lamps were hung in a fairly regular pattern, and every once in awhile a painting broke the monotony. They offered no clues as to who ran this estate; they were usually of a simple landscape, featuring mountains or cliffs or an open plain. Boring. I had been closely observing my surroundings since I had entered here. Well, as close as I could observe while running at a breakneck pace. My wife was somewhere in here, being held captive by some mad pony, and though I didn't know who or why, I was here to get her back.
Let's just say that I wasn't in a negotiating mood.
I growled quietly as I studied the paths before me. They were identical, and both split off at a perfect forty-five degree angle. They both led perfectly straight for a ways, then went down, presumably a staircase. Maybe a pit of death. Hell, I don't know. Whoever had taken my wife was certainly a sadistic bastard, so I wouldn't rule anything out.
I squinted at the floor, trying to find a hoofprint, a smudge, any indication that a pony had passed this way previously. Predictably, there was nothing. I growled again, and nervously shifted my weight back and forth on my front hooves. This was wasting precious time. My wife, my beautiful wife, was down there somewhere, in the bowls of this miserable mansion. Who knows what grievous torture was being enacted on her? She was pretty tough, but some things no pony should have to endure.
I snarled and pawed at the floor with a hoof, eyes flicking back and forth between the passages. I had to make a decision soon, I was wasting time. I hesitated, though. What if I chose the wrong path? Best case scenario, I would waste a lot of precious time. Worst case scenario, I would trip some trip and fall to my gruesome death, or maybe get eaten alive by spiders. Scenes of my decaying body raced through my mind, followed by sights of my wife, bleeding and crying for a savior.
I know, I'm incredibly morbid. Sometimes I wonder if I'm sane, but I digress.
"Princesses damn this infernal place!"
My shout echoed down the apathetic halls, fading into the darkness, just as I could feel my hope doing. My irritation had boiled over into quiet rage as I stared at this deceptively simple but infinitely irritating puzzle. I closed my eyes and tried to think of something, anything, that could potentially give me a clue. I had studied a decent bit of psychology in my spare time, and it was time to see if that paid off. Most ponies tend be asymmetrically balanced, tending to use one hoof more than the other. They often will tend to use that direction subconsciously, or just as often the opposite direction. If presented with a left or right option, it has been proven that a pony will choose one over the other the majority of the time. I tried to think if I had gone down more leftward or right leading passages. After I failed to figure that out, I compromised and reached out, bucking the closest wall in fierce agitation. The lantern hanging above rattled and swung around, but didn't fall. I glared at it for a moment, then turned back to the choice in front of me. I wished I had something flat, like a coin, to flip and make this decision for me. I know it sounds silly, to potentially leave the fate of my dear wife to something like a coin toss, but I was running out of options.
I narrowed my eyes, and prepared to force myself to take a step forward. I had a fifty percent chance of making the right decision. I wanted to walk forward, but my hooves refused to move. I glared at them now. I knew what glued them in place. Fifty percent was not a passing grade, and before now I refused to place anything on a bet that was any less sure than a sixty percent chance of success. It had done me well in life, until now. I was going to have to accept the fact I had just as good of a chance of making the wrong decision as the right one, and live with it.
No matter what happens...
My ears flicked as I heard a new noise. It was faint, but in the caustic silence that seemed to rule this mansion, it was an earthquake. It sounded like hoofsteps. As I listened, they seemed to come closer. They were fast paced, and irregular, sliding around on the smooth floors, much like I had done. I shuffled my hooves in agitation. I had no idea who was coming, but there was a chance I did have pursuers. I had seen nopony since leaving Ponyville early this morning, but that doesn't mean they hadn't seen me. A place like this was sure to have some sort of security. I listened some more. It was definitely just one pony, and in a hurry. I was a fairly competent unicorn, and had always tested somewhat above normal in magical testing, as well as taking a few combat classes in my more active youth. I was fairly confident in my ability to handle one attacker, or at least hold delay them enough to run away.
On the other hoof, what if they were friendly? Maybe they knew something I didn't and was on their way to help me. However, I knew the chances of that were far slimmer than it being somepony after me. I had to consider everything in this kind of situation.
The hoofsteps were coming closer. Now I could hear them skidding and sliding around the corners I had negotiated just a few minutes ago. Should I run, or stay? If they were unfriendly, maybe I could pull some of the ceiling down on them or something, trapping them and trying to interrogate them. Or I could just choose a passage and run.
Should I go left, right, or wait and face my pursuer?
The hoofteps sounded like they were right behind me, and I decided that the chance of them being helpful were far to low for my taste. I panicked and made a snap decision. Left it was. I took off running, full tilt down a dimly lit hallway. The lanterns were spaced out quite a bit, so it wasn't so surprising when I nearly fell down a flight of stairs that I swear wasn't there a second before. I had to improvise at the last moment and ended up just jumping, flying over the entire staircase. Thankfully, they were short, so the impact wasn't as bad as it could have been. When I finally skidded to a halt at the bottom of the stairs I paused, completely still, listening for any sounds of the pursuer. None could be heard, but maybe they had just decided to be quiet. Either way, no reason for me to just stand here, so I turned and tried to continue running. The adrenaline still coursing through my system made me a bit wobbly, but I had expected that.
Funny thing, adrenaline. No matter how many times it gets you, every time is new. The trembling legs, the hyperactive mind, the nervous, twitchy vision. Every action becomes a reaction, and every sound becomes your worst nightmare, coming to eat you. You expect the worst at every moment, and every moment it doesn't come you get even more nervous. The shadows are wretched, the light is the harbinger of every evil thing to find you, expose you, make you tremble with fear. I can't count the times that I had felt true adrenaline, but I knew it was few. As I stood, my hooves were quaking something awesome, and I couldn't get my ears to sit still.
I finally regained enough of my motor skills to continue down the desolate hallway at my previous pace. It was much like the rest, with it's slick floors and numbingly plain walls. The corridor was thankfully straight, as I wasn't so sure how well I could handle a corner right now. I don't know why, but sometime during my leap of fate, my mind decided I was in a total crisis, releasing all the adrenaline on tap. After nearly a minute of a dead sprint, I reached a turn. Perfectly ninety degrees to the right. I hit it at nearly full speed, fairly bouncing off the opposite wall, bruising my side nicely, but I didn't care. My wife could be down here, leaving no room for me to whine about bruises.
Ahead, a sudden change in the lighting made me skid to a halt. I couldn't put a hoof on it, but something about the hallway ahead scared me. The light from one of the lanterns was a bit dimmer than the others. I wondered why this would alarm me, so of course I stared at it, mentally demanding it reveal it's secrets. It took longer than I had hoped, but after a few hard seconds of vicious deliberation, I found it. The lamp was just as bright as the rest. The candle inside was tall and thick, and the wick was bright. So why less light?
More intense staring, but this time it was easy: The lampshade was tilted just ever so barely up. Just enough to shield part of the floor from it's grace. I turned my gaze back to the darkened floor, looking for what I wasn't supposed to see. It wasn't too hard, which I found a bit insulting. I suppose years of squinting at a canvas had sharpened my eye for detail, but isn't a pressure plate supposed to be the same color as the wood around it? It was a decent job, but sloppy in placement. There was easily room on either side for a pony to cross, if he was careful. Of course I was, but it still can't shake those little thoughts of falling, tripping and getting blown up, set on fire, impaled, whatever would happen to the poor sod who wasn't as perceptive.
As soon as I reached the other side of the bad booby trap, I set off again, at a far more cautious pace, of course. I didn't have far to go when I found something I had been looking for.
A door.
It wasn't much, but somehow I knew that behind it was exactly what I wanted. It had that kind of feel to it; when a pony is so full of his own hubris that he demands only the best will do for his precious treasures. It was large, obviously thick, and studded with only the finest iron. A smooth ring was set in one side, for the door to be opened and reveal it's prize inside. Of course I ignored this and just grabbed the door in pinkish white magic, which reminded me of my wife, so I might have yanked a bit harder than absolutely necessary. I carefully stepped over the splintered remains into what was surely the ugliest room I had ever had the fortune of seeing. Large, wide, filled with shiny bits and pieces, and far too well lit for my tastes, but that's not what I was looking at.
There she was.
"Maybelline!"
I saw her head turn towards me, and her lips moved, but no sound reached me. Her hooves were all strapped down, flat against the table she was reclined on. Her usually flowing and gracious pink mane was knotted and coarse. Her glorious white coat was matted and dirty. I felt an insurmountable rage boiling inside me, a crude and animalistic force. I held it down for the moment, though. No interloper had yet shown his grimy face. It was not yet time. All I wanted was to rush to the aid of my clearly sickly wife, but I still had one last booby trap to spring. I stood where I was on the edge of the room, waiting.
Thankfully, I didn't have to wait long. Clanking hoofsteps, slow and steady, from somewhere above. I looked up, and noticed for the first time the extremely high ceiling, and the metal catwalk above. He was a handsome unicorn, ever so suave and debonair. A steel grey coat, a slick black mane, silver spectacles, an elegant, polished horn, and a red bow tie around his neck. I hated him instantly, of course. "I must admit, I was not fully expecting you to come here," he purred.
"Oh, really? Why's that?" An instant after I closed my mouth, a loud clank followed by a terrified scream and a sickeningly loud and wet squelch came from somewhere behind me. I could only guess that it was the pressure plate I evaded. The pony above continued walking across the catwalk.
An irresponsibly smug grin crossed his face. "That."
I had to resist the urge to roll my eyes. "If that's your idea of a clever trap, somepony fooled you proper."
"Then explain why I'm up here, she's there, and you're over there."
"Enlighten me."
"You think that little trap back there was guarding this, my most sacred room. I can tell you, that's false. I have nothing in here to guard, because there's nothing in here to take."
My eyes went from the mysterious stallion to my wife. "I can argue that point."
"I expect you to! But I merely desire the opportunity to debate in return."
My eyes once again changed direction, this time to the stallion. He had finally reached the end of the catwalk, and had descended the stairs there, coming down to my level. He began to walk in the direction of my wife, so I did the same. "Now, now, don't you go thinking you're going to get between me and my wife. Why don't you stop there and tell me why you did this?"
He stopped in his tracks, looking troubled. I took a few more steps forward. I was now between him and my wife, and he was still several paces away. He smiled now, showing me his perfectly even and pearly white teeth.
"I desired her. Plain and simple. I saw her flowing mane, her curvaceous form, her open, gleeful eyes." He closed his eyes, apparently reliving some fantastic memory. "And then I learned who she was and how she spent her days-"
My blast caught him in mid-sentence, interrupting what was sure to be a well rehearsed and elegant speech. He had made the mistake I had desired, the most simple mistake every children's book villain made. He looked away, his attention elsewhere momentarily. It was too easy. I watched his body fall, turning back to my wife the moment he was still. She smiled at me weakly, her eyes only half open. Her lips moved again, but this time I was close enough to hear her words, barely above whispers. "Is he dead?"
I smiled grimly as I began to undo the buckles holding her hooves down. "For his sake, I hope so."
As I finished taking the restraints off of Maybelline, she closed her eyes and sighed. I tried to take her hoof in mine, to hold her close, but the second I touched her, she pulled away. "Wait. Let me try to stand on my own."
I smiled again. This was the Maybelline I knew so well. Stubborn to the last. I watched stoically as she turned from the table, gently lowering her hooves to the floor. As they touched the wooden floors, she gasped inaudibly, but kept pressing. After a moment, I looked into her sparkling blue eyes as she stood in front of me, unassisted. Regardless, I went to her side and supported her as we slowly made our way out of this torture chamber. I knew there would undoubtedly be an easier way back, but I knew it not, so we went the way I had entered. The only time I took my eyes off her was to look down as we passed the pressure plate, hugging the wall. The only hint that somepony had walked into their final fate here was a small puddle of smeared blood, just on the leading edge of the pressure plate. As soon as we were passed it, I never looked back, never looking away from her again as I led her to safety.
I only hesitated a moment longer before diving down the right passage and running like my tail was on fire and my mane was catching. My hooves were skidding and slipping, but I managed to dig in enough to get a decent pace going. I was going so fast that I never saw the flight of stairs until I was tumbling down them. Luckily they were short, so it wasn't long before I landed at the bottom, a pile of hooves and bruises. I perked up my ears as I lay, listening for any sign of persuit. I couldn't hear any, but that didn't mean they weren't coming. I hesitated another moment, just to be sure, before clumsily climbing to my feet and continuing down this hallway I had found myself ungracefully in. I walked some steps, joints popping in an unnatural way, then trotted, before finally regained my purposeful gallop. I kept more of an eye out this time, more wary of anything in my way that could potentially be detrimental to my health.
It's kind of funny how adrenaline affects how you see the world. No matter how often you get an adrenaline rush, each time it's a little different. Every time, you learn something about life that seems so obvious, but you never saw before. You notice how you can suddenly smell your own sweat, and from then on you can never ignore it. You realize the way you walk, the way every single muscle pulls in such a perfect way to create a unique gait. You realize how weak you are, how tender, how soft. How something no larger than a pebble can kill you, if given the proper application of force. Ponies are so squishy.
Perhaps I am too morbid for my own good.
I kept running down this incurably desolate hallway at a heavy pace, keeping an eye out for dangerous stairs and the like. After a time with no harm, I grew more confident in my hectic run, until I was going nearly as fast as I was before the stairs. I had grown nearly confident enough that I was barely keeping my eyes on my surroundings, but I still somehow managed to catch a glimpse of the line of shiny spikes, barely protruding from the ceiling. A split second later I saw the trip line across the floor, barely a hoofwidth's high. Even so, that doesn't mean I noticed it in time to avoid hitting it. I felt the tiniest bit of resistance as it broke against my leg, then a loud grinding that I presumed was the spikes sliding down with deadly force from their vantage point on high. I knew I couldn't stop, so I did the opposite, and jumped for all I was worth. I heard a loud clank, and was suddenly arrested from my flight and slammed to the floor.
A thought flew through my mind that I had been impaled and was now bleeding to death on the apathetic floor, but then I realized I felt no pain. Opening my eyes, I looked back and saw that my body was intact, and the spikes were now a wall of bars across the hall behind me. I smiled weakly, at least glad that they would halt any pursuers, however there was still the problem of my abrupt and painful midair halt. Looking a bit past my side, I saw that my tail had been impaled near the end by one of the spikes, and was now firmly pinned against the floor. A quick tug informed me that it was not going to come free anytime soon. I felt a brief twinge of remorse; my tail was long and graceful, and I was quite proud of it. I groomed it and my mane often, and they were long and soft. My wife often enjoyed playing with them, wrapping the fine brown hair around her hooves for hours while I slept under her care. However, that didn't stop me from immediately summoning a burst of pinkish white magic, crudely severing it about halfway up and freeing my hindquarters. It will grow back.
I resumed my travels along the hallways, at a much more cautious pace than before, barely a trot. I knew now that whoever inhabited this place had some dark secrets, and was willing to kill to keep them.
At length I found myself at the end of the hallway. A small door blocked my path, not much more than a hatch made of wood. I cautiously crept forward and placed a hoof on it, gently pushing it open. The hinges turned without protest, and the door silently opened a small amount, which was all well and good, for if it had made noise I would have interrupted the soft yet unmistakable voice I had been craving.
"He'll come for me, I know he will."
Maybelline! She's alright!
Before I could burst through the door to save my imprisoned wife, a soft male voice growled from somewhere directly on the other side of the door.
"You seem so sure, but I am getting impatient. He may be clever, but how clever exactly? No, my dear, I'm afraid it seems your fate is my decision now."
I tenderly pushed the door wide, and took a moment to observe the chamber. It was large indeed, and filled wall to wall with glittering objects I'm sure were all beyond the wealth of most mortals. I had a splendid view from my location, as I had emerged on a narrow metal walkway suspended from the high ceiling. I looked about for my wife, but didn't immediately see her. What I did see, however, was a pony standing barely a stone's throw away, leaning over the guardrail and looking down to my left. It took him almost a moment to notice me, framed in the small doorway. He smiled, perfect teeth gleaming in the low light. He spoke in an oily voice. "Well! Looks like I spoke a moment too soon. You might just yet be saved, Maybelline. Come, stranger, let us talk."
Before I could take a moment to ponder his words, he enveloped himself in an aura of grey magic and levitated over the guardrail, floating down and out of sight to the floor below. I had never been the best at levitation, but this was not the time for doubt. I grabbed myself in a rough embrace of pink, and followed suit.
As soon as I touched the ground again, I looked about, searching for this evil genius. A voice slithered from behind me.
"Over here, savior."
I spun about, simultaneously lowering my head and pointing my horn forward, coming to rest pointing straight at this fellow, who was now standing beside a large table. I was so intent on my target, it took me a moment to distinguish the pink and white mound atop it was my wife, chained my all four legs, flat on her back. It infuriated me to no end at her compromising position. It was another charge on this mysterious villain's tab, and I was hoping that I was the one to finally collect in full. I tore my eyes away from her, not wanting to look away from my quarry too long. My voice echoed in the wretched hall. "Just hold still Maybelline, I'll be there in just a second."
The stallion laughed lightly, and I narrowed my eyes at him. I hated him purely. I hated his steel grey coat, his slick black mane, his silver spectacles, his shiny horn, and especially that stupid red bow tie around his neck. I wanted to tear him limb from limb for the trouble he caused me and my beloved. My voice quivered with rage so much, I think he actually thought I was scared. "Let her go. Now. Then start running," I growled.
His light laughter infuriated me further, something I thought was impossible. He moved his beady little eyes from me to Maybelline. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid that's practically out of the question. She's mine now."
He turned his vicious smile back to me, reaching out a leg to caress her leg at the same time. A terrified whimper came from the table along with the rattle of chains as she tried in vain to avoid his touch. I thought I was going to explode, and a few sparks sizzled along my horn. The stallion saw this, and his smile grew faint. "Now, I didn't say it was impossible. I am willing to negotiate," he purred.
I snorted angrily. "That's inconvenient, because I just so happen to not be in a negotiating mood!" I stamped a hoof as a few more sparks fizzed and popped around my horn. I took a step forward, but so did he. His smile returned. "Don't get too cocky. It is I who am in control here."
I decided I had had enough with his nonsense. A rope of pink jumped from my horn, and bound his legs together. Another followed quickly, wrapping one end around his horn and the other the base of his tail, pulling him backwards into a crescent. A little pulling and I could snap his spine like a dry twig. I stood above him, leaning over so I could stare into his eyes. "Do you feel in control?"
He didn't have to answer, as the screams from the table did the job for him. I looked over to see the chains around Maybelline enthralled in grey and writhing like snakes, ensnaring her tightly. I began to panic when I saw one stretch around her throat and squeeze, cutting off her screams, then her breathing. She squirmed, but the chains could not be fought. I looked back at my enemy in near hysterics. "Let her go!" I shouted. Dissolving the ropes around him, I dashed to the table, pulling in vain at the chains. He stood, far too slowly for my liking. I ran back over to him, wrapping my hooves around his neck and shaking him. "If she dies, then so do you!"
He kicked my in the chest, knocking me onto the floor, gasping for air. He took his turn to lean over me. "I am in control," he hissed. "You are too headstrong. You don't even know what I want or who I am, yet you attack. You and yours shall suffer for your insolence."
"All I need to know is that she's in trouble!" I yelled. Bypassing him, I climbed to my feet and ran to the table, where Maybelline's struggling was growing weaker. I looked into her eyes, those beautiful blue eyes, and saw no fear, just sorrow. I pulled at the chain around her neck with all my strength, but to no avail. The blue eyes rolled back and closed, and the struggling slowly dissolved into twitches, then stillness. I pulled at the chain for a few more seconds, even though I knew I was fighting a lost battle. Once she was completely still, I lay my hoof ever so tenderly against her face, savoring her last warmth. I had a few seconds, precious seconds left of her fire inside, and I wanted to be there for those seconds, but another fire was building. It was a fire inside me, one that demanded feeding, and only blood would suffice.
I turned, slowly. He still stood where he was when I ran past him, simply watching. My horn began to sputter and spark. His horn began to glow in return, but mine was brighter. Pink flames were soon licking across my forehead, burning my flesh, but I didn't feel them. All I could feel was the inferno inside. He turned and tried to run, but I knew he was mine. "You can run, but you'll only die tired!" I shouted, my voice raw, layered with undertones granted by the unbelievable magic gathering around me. He turned back to see if I was following, but it was his detriment. He tripped over some useless piece of treasure, sprawling on the floor. He began to stand, but by then I was ready.
A pink wave of ensorcelled flames burst forth from my horn, creating a wall of fire before me. It rushed forward, turning him to ash instantly, and catching everything around me on fire. Uncountable priceless treasures burning to worthless dust around me, I fell to one knee, nearly blacking out from the exhaustion that accompanies extreme magic. I turned my head and looked at Maybelline, reeling. She was lit from many angles by my unstoppable inferno, and never had she looked so beautiful. The flames around us grew higher, but I disregarded them. I crawled over to the table, taking her hoof in mine, wanting nothing more than to die with her by my side. As I took her hoof, she began to slide off the table, no longer bound by her restraints. I caught her weakly, the pair of us tumbling to the floor. As we lay in the awkward pile, I saw her eyes open and she poke to me hoarsely, her whisper barely audible above the roar of the blaze around us.
"Please... Escape. I love.... "
I held her close, begging for the last word, but none was forthcoming. Her head went limp, falling against my chest. Tears fell from my eyes, evaporating almost instantly in the heat. As much as I wanted to hear it, I knew it would never come. I carefully lifted her off of me and stood. A small amount of logic was returning to my tortured mind. As much as it pained me, I knew I could never hope to take her with me and escape alive. All I had left now was her dying wish, which was for me to escape.
I looked about, but any doors were blocked by the fires, which were encroaching on me quickly. A sudden thought had me look up, and an idea formed. I levitated up to the catwalk where I had came from. The heat was more intense, but the flames weren't surrounding me anymore. Limping towards the door, I tumbled through it, then down the hallway beyond. When I came to the iron bars blocking my path, I paused. Looking behind me, I could faintly see the pink glow from the fire. It had escaped the dungeon below, and was slowly burning it's way through the mansion. I knew I had minutes, if not seconds, so I had to do something quick. Turning back to the bars, I cast a thin pink shred at the bottom of one. Where my magic hit, it left a small scar on the metal, biting into it a little. Encouraged, I cast another, and another, and another, until finally I had broken through. Readjusting my aim, I began the process again further up, the roaring of the fire growing louder the whole time. Sweat dripping into my eyes, I began to despair, thoughts of failure and being burned to a crisp haunting me. Finally, when I could feel the heat against my back again, the bar toppled over, leaving a gap just big enough for me to wriggle though.
Running down the hallways in reverse as fast as my brutalized body would let me, I eventually emerged from the mansion, strength fading as I fell into the grass. The cool night air kissed me, and new tears joined the old ones as I was reminded of my wife. It was a haunting memory, one that I savored, like every other memory of her.
Opening my eyes, I looked back to the mansion, now devoured by the pink fire. Shadows flickered in the light, jumping as if trying to escape their bonds. I lay there and watched the mansion burn down until the moon was low in the sky, and the horizon was lightening. Finding that I had the strength to stand again, I did so, and without another look back, walked away to begin my life alone. I knew I could never go back to our home on Ponyville, as there was too much of her everywhere, in the furnishings and decorations, in the rooms and walls.
A vision of a lonely cabin the woods came to me as I wandered, an old stallion living out his days in peace and finally dying, lonely and broken. His body and home would be slowly overtaken by the forest as it reclaimed it's property. The flesh would rot away and become sustenance for grass and bushes, while vines crawled over the house, eventually bringing it down. The bones would become a home for insects and small critters for a few years, before finally turning to dust. Eventually, nothing would be left, not even a memory.
I made my decision, snapping my attention right around to the hallway I had just came down. I glared at the corner, expecting the owner of the running hoofsteps any second now. Why do I always have to do things the hard way? I could run; I probably should. Yet, there in my head, in that creepy little dark corner few dare tread, I know why: If I run, they might follow. I don't want to end up down a dead end with some crazy pony trying to put a knife in my back. I'd rather go ahead and face them now, on MY terms, while the adrenaline is in full force.
Such a fascinating chemical, adrenaline. The effects are most invigorating. Each time you experience that wonderful rush as the neuroreceptors in your brain are flooded with adrenaline, you change. Not a change as in 'I think I like apple juice more than orange,' or some junk like that, something more fundamental. You never emerge the same. You suddenly realize how fleeting life is, how pointless and futile it is, how death might be a wondrous release from this drawn-out agony that is survival.
I am far too morbid for my own good.
Yet in beautiful irony, adrenaline is your mind's way of defense. Heart rate escalates, increasing that blood flow throughout your body. Respiratory action in your muscles maximizes, allowing incredible feats of strength for a short time. Sensory input is more finely tuned. Every smell, sight, sound and scent is overwhelming, and you better believe I was about to put it good use on whoever was silly enough to chase me.
I was so focused on the hallway in front of me, so caught up in the tension of waiting, that I actually paused when that pony finally came flying around the corner. Good thing too, as it turns out that it would have been regrettable if I had unleashed a magical barrage without first identifying my target, who let out a shout as he careened to a halt a few paces from me, gasping for breath. "I thought I would never catch you!"
"Beam? What are you doing here?" I glared at my relatively new friend from Ponyville as he panted, wings hanging limply by his sides. "Hurry up, you have any idea why I'm here?"
"I know exactly why you're here, and I'm telling you it's a lie!"
I'm not going to lie, when he said that, I completely missed the point. I stomped a hoof and shook my head. "My wife is in here somewhere, and I'm trying to find her! Either help me, or go home!"
I give him credit, Beaming Light is a persistent bastard when he needs to be. "I told you, it's all a lie!" He shouted again, reaching back to a small saddle bag and removing a sheaf of papers, throwing them in my general direction. "Those are letters, from your wife to some scumbag in Canterlot. Here, this one," he growled lowly, walking forward to stuff a certain piece of paper in front of me. I glared at him again, before beginning to read. It was definitely my wife's writing, I could tell. The letter was short and lacking any preamble, leaving the recipient's name unknown.
"Everything is going fine. We have lived in Ponyville for a few weeks now, and he is fairly easy to live with. I think we might be able to succeed, given a few months. The only problem is that he has been estranged from his father for a time now, and has no idea the wealth his family name now carries. I think he should be educated, less our ruse fail. I can promise your patience will be rewarded.
- Maybelline."
I blinked and shook my head. "What in hellfire is this all about?" I stared at Beam, expecting him to stutter something about snooping about while working at the mail room, as he does when bored, but instead he grew more agitated.
"It's a scheme! Your father, you mentioned a few weeks ago that you spoke with him for the first time in years. You said that he had started a freight company, and is now one of the most successful business ponies on the western coast. You see now?"
I did in fact remember telling him about that. Maybelline had told me that I should try to contact my parents again, after several years of no contact. I shook my head again, dropping the letter and grabbing other from the floor in front of me, reading each in a growing frenzy. Here I was, in the middle of a desperate rescue mission, and now some pony just comes along and messes it all up with evidence that it was fallacy.
"No, no, nonono, this is impossible," I mumbled as I scanned the letters. Each was some sort of progress update, letters from Maybelline to some anonymous pony, usually about how "Everything is going as planned." A few had more details, but they were almost always about my father, or how easy it would or wouldn't be to convince me to go to unspecified locations. I felt a burning in my cheeks, and realized that for some idiotic reason, I was blushing.
After another moment of frantic reading, I realized why I was blushing. I was embarrassed at being played a fool. The more I read, the more I understood, or so I hoped. The past several months had been lies, possibly even more. I shuddered at the possibility that two years of my life had been spent in vain, devoting all my time and bits to a false cause. I sat among the papers, staring blankly. Beam walked up to me and placed a hoof on my shoulder.
"See, my friend? All a scheme. She's pretending to be kidnapped, and they're hoping you'll pay some obnoxious amount of bits to get her free. She'd probably divorce you after that, and run off with this other stallion, rich for the rest of their days. I have not much more to give you than these letters, but if you want my help, I'm here."
I sat silently for a few more moments, overcome by indecision. I couldn't believe this, I didn't want to accept what these papers told me. I stared at the writing for a short time, trying to find any evidence that these were not in Maybelline's writing, but they positively were. There was even the familiar faint oval impression on some of the papers, left by the small oval indention of the writing desk in our bedroom. I remember walking in on her writing something that she quickly hid, claiming it was "girl talk" with some of her mare friends and it wasn't for stallion eyes. Such glorious bullshit.
I sighed and leaned my head back, looking at the ceiling. Beam smiled at me encouragingly. I met his gaze evenly. "Take these, and go back to Ponyville," I said. "If I'm not back by morning, take them to the authorities." Beam's smile faltered a bit. "Are you sure? I'm already here, you might could use a second set of hooves in case things get rough." I had to smile at that. Beam, loyal to the last. "I'm sure. I'll help you gather them."
We began to collect the letters from the floor in silence, which turned out to be a good idea. Not a second after the last letter was reunited with its brethren in Beam's bag, hoofsteps could be heard coming from down one of the halls I had been so panicked in choosing between a few minutes ago. Shushing Beam once more, I motioned for him to leave silently, which he thankfully did. A moment later it was just me, the shadows, and the echoes of steps on the hardwood floor.
Picking a position in the dead center of the hall, I sat down and did my best to appear nonchalant. I waited as patiently as I could for the approaching pony to come into view, but the past few days had stretched my nerves to the absolute limit, and I found myself almost calling out for them to hurry up and let's get this over with.
At length, I saw a shape, a vague silhouette as a pony passed near to one of the candles mounted on the wall. He was still a ways down, coming form the right passage, so I sat tight. I could tell when he noticed me by when the hoofsteps faltered for a moment, then resumed. I waited for him to walk in front of another lamp, but he must have been hugging the far wall, as the candles didn't quite illuminate the entire width of the floor. Finally, he emerged from the darkness and I got a good look at him.
He looked like a thousand other boring Canterlot snobs I used to know. A steel grey coat, a slick black mane, silver spectacles, a pretty polished horn, and a red bow tie around his neck. I could have seen him a hundred times and never remembered him, but he seemed to remember me.
"Ah, the savior has arrived at last. Tell me, how goes your heroic rescue?" He giggled a bit, finding his quip incredibly humorous. His voice was the exact oily tone I grew far too accustomed to in Canterlot. I decided to be frank, if nothing else.
"I know about the scheme. You'll get no bits from me."
He was good, I give him that. That irritating smirk barely shrunk as he eyed me. "So, it would seem we are at an impasse." he hissed. "Wouldn't you like to see your lovely wife again?"
Now it was my turn to smirk, and I could tell that caught him off guard. "Oh, I know about all her involvement as well," I growled. His smirk all but gone, I saw him try and fail to swallow the lump in his throat. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it. Opening it again, he managed to get some words out this time. "Well, I must admit I did not expect that," he choked out.
I thought about talking some more, but I decided on an alternate course of action. Dipping my head in his direction, I turned and began walking back down the hallway I had been frantically skidding down minutes before. I felt strange melancholy, the kind you feel when you know your life fell apart but you couldn't care any less. As I left the mansion, I held my head high, as I felt I was the victor in this circumstance.
One last thing....
My smirk grew into a demented grin as one last idea popped into my head. Turning, I approached the front door, a large wood affair. Igniting my horn, I set a patch of fire at the base. Stepping back, I fueled the fire with magic until it engulfed the whole door, then let it loose. The blaze was now large enough to continue on its own, and it grew with a magnificent appetite. Before too long, I was sitting a fair distance back as to not lose any hair from the heat. The entire place was burning pleasantly. All I could think about was that I hoped that the two scheming fools could not escape, and were now roasting, leaving naught but ash.
Sometimes, I think I'm too morbid for my own good.
