> The Mark of Eran
>  by Tofazz
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Prologue: Mera
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Mera


Moxie sighed lightly, careful not to show her irritation to her husband.

They both sat still on their pillows within the dark room, waiting for the sage that reads the future of all Ghazath family members; it was now her turn as the newest. While Athaal held a rigid posture (he seemed unfazed by the darkness within the room), she just sat there, imagining the walls falling upon her, and the muscles in her legs tingled with a numbing sensation.

She tried her best to mimic Athaal’s stoic posture, but each little sound within the room pierced her ears like a chilled shriek, making her shiver. The blackened walls closed all light away, save a few slivers passing through the red sheets draped over the few windows there were. The minimal furnishing added to the guise, there being only coffers and a table with animal bones, skulls and runestones placed upon them. She swore some of the skulls were watching her. The incense smelled like fresh rain, mixing in the air with the smell of burnt wick, giving it a certain toxic edge that stung in her nostrils. She wanted to leave, but she did not wish to add insult upon the sage. Sensing her distress, Athaal moved close to her and reassured her in ways only he could, offering his warmth and humming softly into her ear.

After what seemed like hours a pony emerged from behind the black drapes in the back of the room. He stopped for a brief moment and turned his head towards them, as if he was assessing the two. He then cleared his throat and made his way over.

He had a long, beige hood covering most of his face, casting a deep shadow over his eyes. Only strands of white beard could be seen on his wrinkled muzzle. The cloak covered his whole body except for the tip of his graying hoofs. As he sat down, he slowly placed his hoofs on the center of the table.

“Please, put your hoofs in front of me and relax, Lady of Ghazath.” He reassured in a raspy voice. 

Moxie let a sigh escape her lips and placed her hoofs on the table. The sage quickly rested his hoofs on top of hers and took a deep, audible breath. As they touched, an unknowing pull grew inside of her, tightening her chest uncomfortably. She quickly withdrew her hoofs and glared at the sage. She had only agreed to this for Athaal’s sake, and viewed the whole ordeal as a charade. Yet, what she had just felt was new, and it vanished the moment their hoofs parted.

“You doubt my abilities...” the Sage said quickly.

“I am sorry, Sage.” Moxie bowed her head slightly, letting her mane fall over her eyes. “I do not mean to disrespect your abilities with my thoughts,” trying her best to keep the light tremble in her voice in check.

“I take no payment for my services, I gain nothing from what I do; you may lessen your concern with that knowledge. You have nothing to fear within this room. No harm will come to you,” he reassured.

The sage withdrew his hoofs. He sat completely still, eyes closed, deep in thought. He then pulled his hood back and looked at Moxie, causing her to inhale sharply. Her heart raced as she looked upon him in the meek light casted by the candles. The orange light from the flame barely touched upon the azure irises that covered his pupils, with deep, white scars surrounding them. His ears were clipped off, leaving only deep pits and giving his head a round shape. He had a thin, white mane, splitting into small strands over his forehead. His face seemed hollow as he looked at her, deep grooves showing under his protruding cheekbones, only hollowed more by the shadows. The blank eyes staring past her sent shivers down her spine. She had to call upon all her mental strength to not jerk back in in a mix of disgust and surprise. As her mother had taught her, she remained rigid in her posture. 

He smiled comfortingly at her, revealing a mouth lacking teeth. “Everyone reacts like you the first time I take off my hood. You have no need to worry. In this room, we are free from all traditions. We are all equal. So speak any questions you may have. I can assure you, I have heard them all.”

“What... happened to you?” 

“A spitter-scorpion doused my face in toxin when I was hiking for mushrooms. Hitting my eyes first, this is what I lost completely. My ears needed to be cut, or else the toxin would rot the flesh and kill me. I’m lucky to still live. Each day, my body struggles with the effects of the toxin that remain in me. Each day I conquer it, and each night I prepare myself to meet it the day after.” The sage spoke solemnly and without bitterness for his fate.

Moxie stared into his blank, azure eyes. Even if he was blind, she had the feeling he still watched her. “Can you see me?” She immediately rolled her eyes over her own stupid question.

He smacked his lips, then said, “Not in your sense, no. I cannot see the vibrant color of your mane, nor can I see the slight red tone you get in your cheeks when you talk to your husband.” He shook his head. “No, I cannot see. I have seen many things in my life, things I wish I had never seen. But once the clear colors of this world left me, I realized how much it meant to me, no matter how harsh. Even the orphan foals running through our streets searching for something they have lost, for they were a truth no one could change. I would lie if I said I didn’t miss it. After I healed from the toxin I was blessed with another sight. Perhaps a blessing from Eran himself, or maybe a curse? My eyes now reveal the truth about others, their future if you want. Sometimes I see things on those paths I take joy in telling, other times I wish my eyes would betray me... just like now...” He smiled ruefully at her, “Shall we begin?”

Her eyes still resting at the wicked forms of his face, she nodded slowly while burning his image in her mind. Her cheeks flushed at her own forgetfulness before she audibly answered. “Yes, let’s begin.”

“You have trials ahead of you, trials you will need the support of others to overcome. Your spirit is strong; it radiates of youth... and from within you I sense the beginning of a life not yet ready for this world, or your future...”

“What are you—” Moxie interrupted.

“She’s pregnant?!” Athaal asked hastily.

She turned her orange eyes towards Athaal, at first annoyed by his sudden interruption. A smile curled over her lips as she saw the glimmer of joy in his eyes over the possibility of becoming a father. She giggled before she started again. “What my eager husband just said—are you saying I’m pregnant?”

He nodded in confirmation and continued. “Yes, but its future is not decided by you. Your path is covered in an unclear fog; it clouds my vision. It splits into two roads, none which you can decide to take. Not too long from now you will meet a pony, an old friend, or perhaps an enemy; the bond between you is unclear. Where you will meet is uncertain, but know this—once you meet, your life and your unborn foal is in that pony's hoofs.”

The gimpy-winged pegasus stifled a snort. “My life and my foal’s, if I even am pregnant, is mine and Athaal’s decision, not somepony else’s.”

The sage’s iris filled eyes stared blankly at her. “Do not doubt my words, young one. My words ring only of truth. When the time comes, you need to realize that, or else your story stops by this year’s end. I wish my eyes would betray me, but so far, they have not.”
Moxie snarled. “Your eyes are wrong this time, Sage. Whatever you think you see in my future, it is wrong. I will prove that to you.” She spoke with a tone slightly harsher than intended.

Athaal put a hoof upon hers, and shook his head before she said anything further. She had crossed a line. He turned towards the sage. “How will we know when we meet this pony?” 

The sage shook his head regretfully. “I do not know. It is up for both of you to figure out together.”

Athaal rose, and motioned for Moxie to do the same. “Thank you for your wisdom.”

Her eyes met Athaal’s when she took his hoof, even if he smiled at her she saw a hint of regret in them. She knew the sages in Saddle-Arabia were highly respected by nobles and peasants alike, almost as much as the priests of Eran. They were above the law and could do as they wished. She turned and looked at the monstrosity that was the sage. The scars on him burned into her memory. Relief came as he showed no malice towards them, his eyes stared as they walked, but as before it was like he looked at something around her. 

The morning sun and the fresh breeze offered a pleasant change from the thick air inside, and her eyes stung a from the quick transition from dark to light. She stopped and closed her eyes, letting it warm her ivory fur. She unfurled her wings, allowing them to gain some warmth as well. She quickly withdrew her left wing. The deformations in it made it hurt if it stretched out too far. A smile came to her, feeling the tip of her ears become slightly warmer than the rest of her body due to the light blue color on them. 

Moxie shot her eyes up at hearing a low thud in front of her. Her watanï, Saif Tham, landed close to her, appearing from wherever he had stood watch. Saif’s light brown leather armor covered most of his body except his forehoofs; where he had metal plating with nails on it. Over his chest he had a belt with small canteens of liquid. He wore a black hood and a band over his mouth and nose that covered most of his face, but left his emerald green eyes clear as day. His hoofs were covered in light brown leather. He always appeared quickly in front of Athaal and Moxie, getting her to jolt every time.

“Saif!” Moxie shrieked, “I have told you not to do that!”

“My pardons, my lady.” Saif apologized.

Athaal jumped between them and embraced Saif. “I’m going to be a father, Saif! Can you believe it?!”

Saif bowed his head slightly. “Congratulations, my Lord.” from under his mask, a small grin appeared. “But it is rather easy to believe, you are quite loud at night... my Lord.”

Moxie glared at them, her cheeks becoming warmer by the second. A comment like that from a watanï to a lord would normally be punished severely, but Saif was Athaal’s adoptive brother. Even if he was their guard, brotherly jokes were often passed between them; sometimes they came at her expense.

She had never learnt to trust Saif completely. He was her brother in law, and her guardian, but she had never seen his face. At times, she also caught him glaring at her. It made her uneasy, but she trusted Athaal’s judgment. She also reasoned that having his brother around was good for Athaal. It made him feel less on the edge about being a husband, and now possibly a father.

Athaal tried to jab at Saif for his comment, but only succeeded in striking the air. Out of the two brothers, Athaal had the strength, but Saif had a light body, making him agile like a cat when he wanted to. While watching the scene unfold in front of her, a worrying thought echoed in her mind. What if the Sage was right? What if she indeed was pregnant, and had no control over her or her foal’s life. No matter how much she denied anypony’s ability to look into the future, she could not put aside the thought of ‘what if’.

Athaal came over to Moxie and nuzzled her softly on the cheek. “Everything alright?”

A sigh escaped her lips before she gathered her thoughts. “What if he’s right? I mean... do we really want to bring a foal into the world if my future is so unclear?”

“Don’t worry about that, dear. Whatever the sage saw, we will come through it. I will protect you no matter what.” Athaal embraced her. He let her go and held her at hoofs length. “Come, let’s go home and spend the rest of the day on the couch.”

She giggled. When not having anything to do, her husband was incredibly lazy. Even so, he spent most of his time either training with his sword or working with his father at the Ministry of Border Control. She couldn’t blame him when he wanted to relax on occasion.

As they began to move through the crowded streets, her eyes quickly landed on her husband; he looked like a mighty knight in the sun. His dark brown mane danced in the wind as they walked. In the light, she saw his muscular body move under his light brown fur. His eyes were emerald green, just like his adoptive brother Saif, but he had a ring of pure black around his iris; it was the mark of a great warrior.

“I guess you’re right...” She said quietly. But what if you can’t? She thought as she trained her eyes to the sky.
> Chapter 1: Hob wa Hayat
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Hob wa Hayat

        
        Moxie walked through the white rooms of her house. The sun barely peaked over the mountains, but was quickly rising. Light slowly brought an end to the morning and forth an impeccably clear skies and calm wind. As her hoofs hit the floor near the windows, she smiled in delight over the warmth it gave over her ocean blue faded hoofs. Her red and white gown rested neatly over her ivory fur, barely moving when she did. She pushed away a strand of cherry colored mane from her bright orange eyes. She made sure the golden bracelet with an orange Ghazath opal sat properly on her right leg.

        “Athaal, would you hurry up?” she shouted, shifting her ears to and fro in an attempt to locate her husband.

        Hearing faint rummaging above her, she smiled and sat down at the living room table, allowing her eyes to wander over the garden. Despite her lack of sleep, she felt a sense of vigor today; the day somehow filled her with energy. She rubbed a hoof over her stomach, her state of mind matching the beauty of the gardens. Clear green leaves looked almost prismatic as the sun shone through them, and the manticore-roses bloomed with life with a beautiful deep red color. A soft wind blew over, rustling the leaves and grass and causing small critters within the bushes to skitter away.

She saw how the white, black-tipped swallow landed in the tree near the balcony that overlooked the city. It skipped happily over to a nest it had built on a branch, greeted by its mate and children. The bird gave away its food and chirped happily before it flew off again; a tiny black dot swallowed by the blue yonder.

“Is this good enough?” asked a calm voice behind her.

She turned and greeted her husband, which gave a slight smile at the corner of his lips. He rarely stepped out of his armor or common clothes for anything, but today she convinced him to wear some of his finer clothing. A pure white jacket contained an embroidery with a bright orange thread at the edges; and around his neck he had tightened the band holding the Ghazath opal in place, burning with a fiery glow. She rose and pulled at his collar, straightening it out, while he shifted in place with obvious unease. She had brushed his dark brown mane and tail this morning, trying her best to make the braids look nicer than normal by exchanging his silver rings with golden ones. She let a hoof touch the large neck muscles under his light brown fur, and turned her gaze to his eyes. They looked back at her with a clear green color, the ring of his irises a dull gray. Gray and calm, just the way she loved them. 

Athaal blushed. “Is it not good enough, do you want me to change?”

She shook her head and kissed him lovingly on the lips, “No, it’s perfect... I’m just happy.” She said and thought back to the bird nest outside, how there soon would be two families in their home.

Athaal lifted her from the ground and held her up. “I hope they will take the news well.” He twirled her around and chuckled.  “If they are even half as excited as I am, it will turn out fine,” he said, and put her back down. He ran his hoof over her cheek. 

She leaned her cheek into his hoof. “I’m sure they’ll be overjoyed.” 

Athaal pressed a hoof to her stomach and smiled. “She has grown lately.”

She smacked his hoof away. “Stop that!” she giggled, and headed for the door. “What makes you so sure it is a filly?” she asked.

“I don’t know, I just got a feeling.” 

Closing the door after them, she turned and asked, “Would you want to raise a daughter in Saddle-Arabia though?” 

He paced forward and opened his hoofs to the sky. “With you I would do anything, Moxie, even if the country itself is not the best for a filly; we would give her the life she deserves.” He turned and pulled her close, raising her to her hind legs and arched her down while holding her firmly. He looked at her, saying nothing, saying not a word before kissing her deeply. Their lips parted and he smiled as he parted a strand of her mane to the side. “I love you, Moxie. I meant it when I said it on our wedding night.” He stopped, as he remembered their wedding. Even if she had forgiven him a long time ago, he had not forgiven himself for the anger he had held that night. No matter how many times she told him to let it go, he refused. It remained as a mental scar within him, somehow so easily showing upon his face. “And my love grows more each passing day I spend together with you. Together we can do anything we set our minds to and I believe that with all my heart.” 

She felt her cheeks heat up, taken completely by surprise by the sudden outburst from him. Her mane fell down behind her as she returned his gaze and kissed him. She wanted to do more.  She wanted to say what he had just said to he, but something stopped her. She loved him, she had no doubt about it, she couldn’t imagine any other life than the one they had now. Just being with him filled her with a soothing warmth, and made her feel like she could let go of all her worries. She couldn’t figure out why it was so hard for her to convey her feelings to him. It sounded so simple and natural in her head, but it stopped somewhere on the way out. It seemed like Athaal didn’t mind, but she knew it mattered to him and she could always see a hint of sadness in his eyes when she didn’t reciprocate.

She kissed him again. “Let’s go, you know how my father hates to wait.” With a little support from her husband she managed to get back on her hoofs.

Athaal’s smile shifted to a slight frown. “He will probably take me to the side and talk about customs again.” He pulled a hoof down his face. “And with the news of him becoming a grandfather, he will probably want to teach me how to raise a foal as well.”

        Moxie giggled as they began to walk. “I’m sure you’ll be fine,” 

        He raised an eyebrow. “That’s easy for you to say, since you’re not the one who has to sit and listen to his constant pampering of old customs.”

        She rolled her eyes but remained silent, it seemed Athaal had completely forgotten that he was talking about her father. Anything he needed to sit through now, she had already received more of over many, many years growing up in her father’s house. She found her husband’s poorly hidden dislike of her father amusing; she knew just how Ghalib could come off. At the same time, she remembered how he had hurt Athaal on their wedding day, so she could understand his dislike to some degree. At least he bore no ill will towards anypony.

        They reached the end of their road and strafed left towards her parent’s summer house. She loved walking on days like this, where the sun beamed, blessing the country with its warmth. The fountains built in the park glimmered as the water trickled through its cycle. Caretakers were out, watering the ground so that the green carpet of grass stayed fresh and lovely, for both eye and hoof. Trees cast long shadows down the sandy road they traversed, making her shudder just a little bit from the cold as they passed through them. On a day like this it was easy for her to forget whatever problems she had with the country and instead be reminded of all the things that made her love it.

        She was happy that they could meet at her parents’ summer house rather than at residence down in the merchant quarter. Even with her wedding bracelet on she felt uneasy going there.  The constant judging eyes towards her, and now that her pregnancy was beginning to show more clearly. The judgment for her gimpy wing would become even more severe. For some reason they thought physical imperfections made her unfit to be a parent. 

‘Like they would know,’ she thought, venomously.  

She shook her dark thoughts away and decided to focus on something else, not wanting to spoil her mood before delivering the good news to her parents.

        A chill went through her spine as they approached. The house seemed to grow taller and taller the closer they came. It had been a long time since she had seen her parents, mostly due to her feelings about the wedding and how her father had hurt Athaal and her. After half a year she had decided to let it go. As her mother had said: they did what they did in the belief that it had been the best for her. She looked quickly at Athaal walking beside her, catching her looking he smiled back at her. 

‘It could have been worse,’ she thought, and smiled back.

        Servants greeted them warmly as they reached the property, before quickly returning back to their work. Many of them she had fond memories of and was glad they still were around.  When her father had been out of town and her mother had been caught up elsewhere, it was the servants that kept her company. During her foal hood, it was most often at times like those that she was able to see those she would call friends. Rather than playing like how those with no noble blood did, they would remain idle and seated while talking about marriage and their future, which are subjects that bored her to death even today. There was one memory from this place that had pleasantly stuck with her, for it was also here she had met Athaal for the first time. Between the irritations of those trying to become adult too fast, his visits always gave her room to play around, and she quickly began looking forward to his visits over anypony else’s.

        It was before the marriage of them had been announced. Until that point, they had been just friends. Marriage and such things had been the last thing on their mind, why wouldn’t it have been? They were only foals, playing without purpose and full of innocence. Then, like a bolt of lightning from the clear sky, they needed to have a purpose together, with no say in the matter themselves. Play was changed to practices on how to behave, and how to show diligence and affection; a sudden end to both their foal hoods.

        Moxie turned her gaze over to Athaal, his gentle form walking beside her, not as a superior in social rank, but as an equal to her. His voice never called out to her in demand, but rather in tender tones, as her’s to him. It was mutual respect built up by their respective actions. She often wondered how it would have been if it had been somepony else. She shook the thought away, and nuzzled her head lovingly at the side of his neck, gaining a warm smile in return.

The sand colored mansion stretched far to the sides, completely covering their vision as they walked in between the pillars leading to the door. The roof was emblazoned in a bright red color, and windows placed every few hoofs apart. Carefully tended brushes grew upon the walls, and the gravel remained a perfect white. As they came closer to the door, she could feel her heart  beating faster, fearing what Ghalib might say. Fearing how he perhaps might demand that they name their foal after him. It was common, but was not such a strict code like many other things, and she constantly chided herself for thinking the worst of her father.

        A stallion stood by the door, addressing them formally as they came close. “Welcome to the Fayah family estate, please state your business,” he bayed, and bowed deep in respect.

        She looked at him. The doorstallion had to be a new addition as she didn’t recognize him. his thin build made him little useful for anything else than greeting visitors. Even if he did his job aptly, and greeted them respectfully, as he would any noble, it annoyed her that she was not addressed as the daughter of Fayah.

        She bowed back, but only just enough for it not to be considered an insult. “Moxie and Athaal Ghazath, we’re supposed to meet my mother and father today, are they not in?”

        The stallion’s eyes grew wide and he fumbled over his words. “Yes, of course, Lady Fayah is waiting for you. Please enter.”

        “Not father?” she asked curiously. 

        “Master is out conducting some last minute business –emergencies,” the skinny brown stallion said.

        Moxie sighed and entered. She wasn’t surprised, for her father always put family second to his noble status and business. “It doesn’t matter what it is, it can always wait,” he would say. Her mother had told her that Ghalib almost came in late for her birth, blaming it on some orders from the king. While they all knew that wasn’t the case, nopony brought it up, deciding it was best to forget it.

        A smile crossed her lips again as they walked through the large red hallways. Pictures of her foalhood hung neatly up on the wall, everything from her first steps to her wedding preparations. She stopped at a picture of her mother and father during their wedding, completely mesmerized by it.

        Athaal stopped next to her and looked upon it as well, both taking note that it was unusual to see Ghalib like that. Neither had seen him smile since their foal hood, not even at their wedding. 

        Moxie’s throat dried up. Was it her that had caused Ghalib’s heart to harden? Perhaps she was an unwanted filly, or was it the fact that she could not fly like other pegasi, or that she was imperfect. It was a question that often bothered her, but now, seeing this picture, it came back, stronger in her mind than ever. Had she been the reason he had delved so deep into business, neglecting both her mother and herself? 

        Athaal nuzzled her neck carefully as her eyes remained fixated upon the picture. He knew her thoughts, almost as well as she herself did. While he could not help her get rid of those thoughts, just his presence helped her. It made her feel safe and cared for, and he knew that it was all she needed at times. She smiled, grateful for him, and they continued walking to the living room.

        The living room had a dark color to it, compared to all other rooms. A large window allowed a view out to the garden, kept in pristine condition and almost glowing in the sun. In the center of the room stood a small glass table,  on it a pitcher of ice cold water already waiting for them. Around the table, seating pillows were placed evenly.

        Both Athaal and Moxie turned their heads as they heard hoof steps approaching from behind. A white elderly mare smiled warmly; the tip of her ears had a faint shade of yellow. Her velvet black mane hung down her side in an elegant braid, complemented by a white bow at the end of it. Afraa’s ice blue eyes looked at them with a faint glimmer.

        Moxie felt her lower lip tremble slightly, and she realized how much she had missed her mother. “Mother,” she squeaked as she stepped forward and embraced her. It had been far too long since she had felt the loving embrace of her mother.

        “My little girl…” her mother whispered soothingly.

        They stood in each other’s embrace for a moment before they let go and looked to each other. "I missed you,” Moxie chimed.

        At her side, she saw Athaal standing completely frozen, almost gawking at them. She knew he held no joy towards Ghalib, but he respected Afraa, perhaps a little too much. He had instantly straightened out his back as they had seen her, and he stood in an almost salute as Afraa looked at him.

        Her mother walked over to Athaal, “Come here, I haven’t forgotten you,” she said and hugged him before taking him on hoofs length, and grinned slightly. “Have you been treating my daughter well?”

        Athaal’s neck muscles tensed. “I have, ma’am,” he mumbled.

        “Good,” Afraa said and patted him on his cheek.

        They sat down near the table and remained silent as a servant rushed forward and poured water in their glasses from the pitcher. It was always a little odd at the start, but without Ghalib here they allowed themselves to relax a little bit more. Not worrying about how to act, or whom would start the conversation.

        “It has been too long, how are you?” Afraa inquired.

        “We’re great, we’ve finally finished our house, so there’s no more construction around us, and our garden is finally blooming with life.” Athaal reached a hoof around Moxie. “We also have some good news.” He didn’t continue and stroke Moxie over her shoulder, encouraging her to continue.

        First taken a little by surprise, she halted and cleared her throat. “Athaal and I have been married for over half a year now, as you know.” She tried, struggling horribly with finding the right words, it’s not like she had done this before. Athaal had just blurted it out to his parents, but then again, their relationship was very different.

        “Yes, I’m aware of that.” Afraa said in a light wondering tone.

        As if an iron carpet had laid itself over her muzzle, her mind froze, and she gave Athaal a quick jab to his side; making him almost jump off his pillow. He looked at her with a frown, before he understood that she needed some help to continue.

        He cleared his throat. “Not too long ago, we found out that we’re getting a new addition to our family,” he said and beckoned Moxie to continue once more.

        Taking a deep breath, she smiled and looked at Afraa. “I’m with foal, mother, father and you will become grandparents.”

        “How wonderful!” Afraa beamed. “I’m so glad!” She rose and walked around the table, quickly embracing Moxie in a warm hug. With tears trickling down her cheek, she looked to Athaal. “Come here…” she ordered calmly and took both of them in her warm grasp. “I’m so very happy for the two of you.” 

        She let them go, and winked at Athaal. “I knew you were treating her well.”

        Moxie giggled seeing how quickly her husband’s cheeks turned red. And a sense of wonder struck her, just how much freer her mother was when in her own home, without her father. Every time no pony else was around, Afraa let her shackles go, turning into a completely different mare. When it happened it felt like she had to get to know her mother all over again. It saddened her that her mother had to live as the mare who bent to Ghalib’s every whim, she much preferred the happy mare in front of her now.

        For now she was happy that the news was so well received. With her mother this happy, there’s no way Ghalib would think any different, would he?

        Her mother beckoned them to sit again, “I’m so glad…” A faint squeak was in her voice. She shook her head, “Oh, silly me, crying at a time like this.” She shook her head and chuckled, taking a napkin to her wet eyes “Have you thought of a name yet? I know your father would swell with pride if you name a son after him.” She turned to Athaal. “That is up to you.” 

        Moxie said nothing, listening to Athaal reassuring Afraa that they had agreed to decide on names together. Ghalib would perhaps become displeased if they didn’t name it after him, but for the life of her she couldn’t get herself doing so. A name should be given lovingly, and a stallion more worried about status and money was not that; it was quite the opposite. She hoped intensely that Athaal was right about the gender, if only to avoid her father’s adherence to custom.

        “We have some ideas,” she interjected, “father will be disappointed, but we have not taken a name from Athaal’s parents either, so there’s that.” 

        Her mother looked at her with sadness in her eyes, yet with acceptance. She knew the reason for her choice, “I’m sure your father will learn to understand in time.” Afraa lastly muttered as a weary sigh escaped her lips.

        Moxie nodded. “If it’s a filly, we are thinking of Junah.”

        “Named after the sun… what a fantastic name for a filly; especially considering that its mother has the eyes touched by the sun-goddess herself. And if it is a colt?” she inquired.

        “We’re thinking of Badin then.” Moxie looked over to her husband, pride swelling her heart

        Afraa tried the names, letting them roll over her tongue as she spoke, and Moxie slowly saw that the meaning of the names finally struck her. “Badin, in honor of the moon! What a wonderful idea, either you’ll have a colt blessed by the night, or a filly blessed by the day; prosperity will surely fall on either.”

        “Thank you,” she said and nuzzled her husband’s shoulder, “it was Athaal’s idea, and seeing as I liked it as well it quickly fell to those two.”

        Their conversation turned to idle chatter, speaking far and wide what they planned to do from this point on. To Moxie’s odd relief, her father had not returned; it would probably be easier if Afraa brought him the news, both for Athaal and her sake. Afraa recognized their concern and seemed to make a point not to take it up any further.

Moxie felt her lack of sleep finally catching up to her, and her felt her eyelids grow heavier. Even as the food was brought in, a delicious assortment, she did not wake up, nor did her appetite come to her. She watched as Athaal and Afraa nibbled small bites, and decided to force an attempt herself. Trying a small bite of a roasted soy steak, she chewed, feeling the piece grow inside of her mouth. As it traveled down her throat, it felt like a disgusting bile tickling her insides, and she struggled not to let her disgust show. She knew the food was good, delicious in fact. Even if it was just her mother here, there was a certain level of respect she felt she needed to maintain. 

        “Is everything well, Moxie?” Afraa asked cautiously.

        She nodded, feeling her throat and stomach clench tight. “Yes, it’s just… I’ve not been sleeping well lately, and my appetite is not the best. Sorry, Mother.” 

        “Should we leave?” Athaal asked worriedly, carefully stroking her back.

        Taking deep breaths, she looked ruefully over at him. “Yes, I think that would be for the best.” She turned to her mother, “I’m terribly sorry to cut our day short.” 

        Afraa rose, “Think nothing of it, Moxie, your wellbeing comes before any unnecessary decorum.” 

        Athaal helped her to her hoofs, and they were both lead to the door by Afraa. After a quick goodbye they began to walk home, and she hoped with all her heart that they would not meet Ghalib on their way, for he would surely not accept anybody to leave before he was satisfied with the length of their visit; regardless of her wellbeing.

        Her head began to swim as they reached the end of the park, “Athaal, could we rest for a bit?” she asked.

        He touched her forehead. “You’re warm, come, let’s sit down in the shadows.” 

        He guided her to a secluded area, hidden slightly away from the sight of others and sat down, beckoning her to rest her head upon his lap. The moment she lay down and let her head rest, he ran a hoof through her mane, carefully massaging her head and neck. Her dizziness got replaced with a sense of calm. The grass, cool from the shadow, gently hugged her back and flank.

        Before she knew it, she dozed off. Just for a tiny second, barely enough for her to let go of a short snore. Meeting the smile of Athaal, she blushed and let her head fall to the side; while holding onto his hoof. Clutching onto it, wishing it to be like this forever.

        Seeing a foal walk together with its family, she smiled. How she longed for them to be complete, just like them. She would learn from what Afraa had done, both good and bad, and make sure she did it right. Then her mind fell to her father, and she turned her gaze to Athaal.

        “Athaal,” she whispered.

        “Anything wrong?” he asked still running his hoof through her mane.

        “It’s just, promise me that we won’t end up like my parents, mother afraid of being who she truly is when father is around, and him… more focused on business and noble duties than his own foal.” She arched her back and peered deep into his eyes, “Promise me that!”she demanded, knowing full well she had overstepped her rights as a wife. Any other stallion would surely have reprimanded her.

        Athaal smiled and placed his hoof gently under her jaw. “I fell in love with the mare I’m looking at now, and I will continue to love you till days end. I would never wish for you to be any pony other than you, for I don’t want to love nopony but you,” he answered and kissed her deeply before he gazed at her lovingly. “I promise you that,”

        “Thank you,” she cooed, letting her head fall to his lap again.

She let out a satisfied sigh and closed her eyes. This moment was almost perfect, there was only one more thing that would make it better. Without turning to him she spoke. “Athaal, could you say it again? The oath you learned from your father?”

He laughed at her request, and as he did she felt the muscles in his stomach work, rolling together with his gentle laughter. He grabbed her and placed her so her head nestled upon his neck. 

With a hoof gently placed on her stomach and mouth kissing her mane, he began, the vibration of his voice teasing her ears. “When day becomes dawn and falls to night, I’ll be here for you. When your first tear falls, I’ll be there for you. You’re brought into this world under my wing bearing the name of Ghazath. No matter the struggles, no matter the cost, I will be there for you, settled next to your mother. By your life, our hearts bound together, a bond only to be broken by death. Wear the name with pride, and we’ll be there for you when struggle arise. Ghazath is whole, and as a family, no one will be forgotten or left behind.” He recited his oath with confidence, his voice controlled, making the oath sound like the finest music to her. 

Then they remained silent, letting the words hang in the air being the last thing said. Between the chipper of birds around them and the sound of gravel beneath hoofs from around them she only had ears for the heartbeat coming from Athaal. She smiled contently again and let her hoof rest upon his that held her growing stomach.

        Athaal spoke up, breaking the silence. “Let me carry you home.”

        The pegasus blinked quizzically. “What? Why?”

        He got up and lifted her with surprising ease, and she was reminded just how strong he was. “Because I want to,” he replied.
        “Bu—“

        Before she managed to object he had put her on his back and began to walk with a small canter; just enough so that she swayed with every bounce. She grabbed ahold of his neck and held on tight. feeling her cheeks heat up from the stares they got from other ponies. Realizing just how out of the social norm this was; a noble doing the work of servants, carrying somepony else. Within the stares, she found herself thankful that Athaal did not fuss about such things. He had refused to take in any other servants than what was needed to keep the house in order. No servants that bathed them, served them or cooked for them, like so many other nobles couldn’t live without.

        She closed her eyes and buried her muzzle into his mane, ignoring everything around her. His smell burrowed deep in her nose, a few strands tingling over her muzzle, sending a shudder down her back. It felt like with each sway of his body it beckoned her closer to him, the tenderness of how she stroked him; it filled her with joy and serenity. She knew now, more than ever that she loved him. She simply loved him unconditionally. She knew no other way to feel than the way she felt right now, there was no longer him or her. The way he touched her was so careful, so intimate; she knew that no matter what, she could just close her eyes and they’d be together. She knew for certain that they had no need for worry anymore, as long as she could rest her head upon his lap or chest, feeling his heart beat for her, as hers beat for him, they would be okay. 

        She opened her eyes and saw the front of their mansion, and smiled. He carried her through the door and up to their bed, and she continued smiling. She could not do anything but smile and kiss the gentle lips of his as he smiled back. She knew up until now that her heart had sung a song, incomplete, till his finally sung back, cooing in a beautiful symphony. 

        He undressed and nestled in close to her, wrapping the cover tightly around them. She turned around, feeling a tear grow in the corner of her eye, instantly the tender touch of his hoof wiped it away.

        “What’s the matter?” he whispered softly, almost like he didn’t want to wake her.

        She shook her head and sniffled, “Nothing is wrong, I’m just so happy, for I know.”

        “Know what?” he inquired, raising an eyebrow.

        “That it’s going to be okay, that we’re going to be parents and–” She stopped and smiled.

        “And… what?” he asked, his voice still soft as silk.

        Moxie closed her eyes and buried her muzzle in the groove of his neck, “I finally know what it feels like to be in love.” She stroked his cheek, “I love you,” she quickly said and felt a warmth spread through her as she pressed her lips against his and kissed him.

        His eyes lit up with a fire she had never seen the likes of before, he took her close in his embrace and pressed his muzzle to her ear. “I love you too,” he whispered.

It was the last thing she heard before closing her eyes and letting sleep take its embrace, the song of her heart singing loud.

> Chapter 2: Alhaam
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Alhaam



Moxie inhaled sharply as she woke up.

                She sat up in the bed and looked around the dark room. The moon shone through the glass doors, its soft light illuminating the room. From under her silken sheets all she could see was the faint contours of the furniture in the room. The pearl white walls and floor seemed dark grey, except where the light hit directly. There it looked like a beam had struck and left a luminescent mark.

                At her side, Athaal snored heavily. She stroked his mane and a smile curled itself over her lips. She was glad her husband managed a good night’s sleep at last. Her night terrors that had troubled her for the last month had kept him awake as well. She restrained a giggle. He was a strong and respected commander, but whenever something ailed her, he turned into a soft soul. Her smile faded, realizing his daily work and noble obligations exhausted him. Even if he was too proud to admit it, she could see the wear on him and it made her worry

                She leaned over and kissed him before getting out of the bed with a quiet groan. It was soon close to a year since she got pregnant, and all signs said that her gestation was getting close. Her body had become significantly bigger and heavier, making it much harder to move about without making a huge ruckus.

                Next to the bed hung a red nightgown, in which she quickly donned and stopped to look as she passed the mirror. Her fur was glistening as beads of sweat pressed through it. Her eyes had dark bags under them and, as always, her fiery mane was a mess. Her broken wing pained her more and more as time passed; it seemed like she tensed her muscles when she dreamed. Tonight her nightmare had been especially bad and it made her realize just how tired her husband must be. For her shrill screams would normally cause him to wake before her, and he would always wake her up. 

                To stand in front of the mirror during the night had been normal procedure for the last month, but this night, something caught her eye. A black mark had emerged on her forehead. Although miniscule, it seemed to slowly creep towards her eyes, pulsating with its own life. After a close inspection she decided it was nothing to worry about and began to head towards the porch.

She had a newfound love for the desert nights. Often too afraid to fall back asleep, she made a habit of spending her nights outside, where the cold would nip at her and keep her awake. Stars lit up the sky, painting it in a magical pattern. It made her sometimes forget why she was out there, instead she enjoyed the beauty of it.

                Leaning over the white hoofrail, she looked down at Ma’galag’s nightlife. The streets were empty and barely lit by the flickering torches placed at each house. No other light source could be seen except the moon, the town’s bars and nightwatch barracks, where it shone at the ground from the windows. Between the howls of wolves, and hoots of owls, she could also hear laughter. Soldiers and peasants alike, spending their hard earned gold on booze and the cheap thrill of comfort from the town’s escorts. She looked to the edge of the town and gazed upon the horizon, closely watching where the sky merged with the sandy dunes.

                “Enjoying the chill of the night, my Lady?”

                Moxie jolted at the intrusion. “Saif! I’ve told you not to sneak up on me like that! Especially now!” she hissed, turning to face the watanï.

        “My apologies, my Lady.” He slightly bowed his head to her.

        She glared at him. Saif was covered in pitch black cloth, only showing his clear green eyes. His body, barely visible underneath the clothing, was lithe and slim compared to Athaal’s. His brown and feathered wings were neatly folded together on his back. Under both his wings there were blades and on his right hoof he had a metal bracelet, one that followed each watanï upon graduation from the academy, with a hidden blade in it. Over the black clothing on his chest he had a blade sheathed, with it’s hilt suggesting it was not intended for combat use. The intricate designs and gems on it made it a clumsy weapon, despite its sharpness. The aquamarine blade could easily cut skin. Tonight as always, he gazed at her with cold, calculating eyes.

        “Apology accepted,” she answered.

        “If my Lady permits, may I ask what ails her tonight?” Saif inquired with a calm voice.

        At first stumped by the question, but she quickly gathered her thoughts. “Why do you ask? I’m out here almost every night, surely you must have seen me from your spot up on the roof. Yet, you never ask.” 

        The relationship between Saif and her had always been tense. Every time she saw him, she got the feeling that she knew him from somewhere, but always failed to place him. The only thing she knew about him was that he was Athaal’s brother, but not by blood. Saif’s family had been killed many years ago in a linac raid, and after the tragedy the Ghazath family had taken him in as their own. 

        Even if he was of noble blood, he had joined the watanï, a group previously considered the elite of Saddle-Arabian warriors. Now they were mainly used to protect the nobles for various reasons, an effect of the corruption that had slowly grown inside the council of the land. Nobles needed protection, not from threats outside of the land, but from each other, since assassinations had grown to a normality. This gave rise to the band of blood, simply referred to as the legion. A waste of resources many would say, a necessity many nobles would retort. It puzzled her slightly that he had chosen a career within the watanï. He could have, if he had wished for it, rebuilt his mansion with the vast amount of gold he had inherited from his parents upon their death. Instead he chose to stay and protect Athaal and her.

        “Permission to speak freely, my Lady?” he asked, his voice monotone.

        “Permission granted.”

        He nodded and headed to the hoofrail and stood next to her. “Each night for a month I hear your screams, and each night I hear my brother struggle to wake you from your terrors, and each night the both of you come out here so he can soothe you.” He paused and looked at her, measuring her reaction and how he would continue. “Tonight is different, because my brother did not awake to wake you, and so... you continued dreaming. Has it been the same dream every night?”

        She let go of a resigned sigh. “Yes, each night I find myself lying on the ground and unable to move. At the end of a hallway I see the shape of a unicorn. All I can see is its contours, I can’t make out any details or even its color. I yell out to it for help, but it doesn’t react at first. Then it starts moving towards me and I get frightened, I feel like this unicorn means me harm and I begin to scream. No matter how much I struggle I cannot move. Inside me I feel physical pain as the unicorn comes closer, It always feels so real that I have to check myself for wounds once Athaal has awakened me.” Moxie shuddered. “Tonight... the unicorn reached me and the moment it touched me, it felt like I lost a part of my life.”

        Saif nodded. “May I come with an advice, my Lady?” he asked, avoiding eye contact.
        Moxie waved her hoof in a sign to allow him.

        “At first light, you and my brother should go and head to the priest.”

        “Why? It’s nothing but a dream, I’m sure it will be fine.” She scoffed.

        “Do not take my advice lightly, my Lady. I have seen the mark you now bear on your forehead once before, and it did not end well.” Saif warned as he set a stern gaze at her.

        Moxie felt irritation crawl over her. “Why would you even care? The way you look at me? I’m not blind, Saif, yet you want me to take your advice? If it weren’t for my husband, you would not be here. You have crossed the line many times over.” She flinched slightly. It had come out harsher than she had intended, but it remained true. 

        He took a step back and turned to face the spot he had come from. “My own thoughts and affections are not of concern, my Lady. My duty is to protect the members of this house. I will do that without question, no matter if the harm comes from within or from some outer force, know that.” He said coolly before he jumped and flew up to the roof.

        Moxie was left watching the spot where the watanï had just stood, baffled once more over his ability to vanish. She lingered, thinking about what Saif Tham had said. He was right, perhaps. No matter what he thought of her, he would do his duty, and his thoughts was his alone. No matter the social rank, she would not try to learn them unless given a cause.

Her head drooped slightly once more, her lack of sleep catching up to her once more. Reluctantly she headed in with a concentrated look chiseled in her features. She lay down close to Athaal and felt his heat over her cool body, finding comfort in his heavy breath. Refusing to go back to the world where the unknown unicorn waited for her, she remained awake and lost in thought. The mark had some significance, she was now sure of it: Rishad would certainly know what to do. Besides, it had been a long time since she had seen the priest. She nuzzled closer to Athaal, awaiting the turn to day.





        Moxie sat still on the bench as Rishad Whayfan inspected her. The old priest had a face lined with wrinkles showing his advanced age. He was what one would call unhealthily thin; his cheeks were so thin they looked hollow. His eyes, probably once a crystal clear blue, had faded over time to a near grey. Over his eyes he had long, white eyebrows stretching far to the side, and on his chin hung a an equally white beard. She was always baffled over how he never tripped over it when he walked. His horn remained solemn upon his bald scalp. Like every other unicorn in Saddle-Arabia, he lived in the temple, training his mind and spirit. His clothing was simple: a white robe with golden edges. Over his shoulders hung a scarf embroidered with the eye of Eran, the creator god. 

        The room was as she remembered. It was dull and grey, austere except for the sign of the deity and medical supplies. It was common for the priests of Eran to take care of the diseases that were not of the flesh, making it necessary for temples to have a room like this.

In the hallway she could hear Athaal walk back and forth. He had become exceedingly worried when he had seen the mark on her. When she told him about her dream and how it had progressed when he hadn’t woken her, he worried even more. He agreed with Saif’s suggestion and had immediately made arrangements to take the day off and follow her to Rishad. 

Saif had been told to remain home and prepare for their return. He had packed everything they might have needed, and more, for the short trip. On the way over he had acted like a siren for their wagon, yelling a ponies to move out of the way, earning more than one cold stare. 

“How is the married life treating you, Ma’isah? Or do you prefer Moxie, still?”  Rishad asked with a raspy voice, snapping her out of her thoughts.

“Moxie, if you would,” she answered, a slight smile donning her lips. Nopony commonly used her given name.

Rishad had been the priest who had performed the wedlock between Athaal and her. While common in Saddle Arabia, Moxie had not been pleased with having an arranged marriage, at first. The old priest knew how much it had displeased her before the wedding, and she had spent more than one night confining with him. Now, each time they saw each other, he asked the same questions.

“It’s going well,” she began, “I think even without my parent’s insistence on arranging the marriage, I would have happily married Athaal... after a while.”

“That is wonderful, I’m glad. Does he treat you well?” he said in his ever present wondering tone, “Now please hold still while I take a closer look at this mark.” 

His horn slowly lit up with a golden glow, and with a concentrated look he made a link between the mark and the horn. It sent a tingle down her spine, and to the very tip of her feathers. After a bit, she shuddered in an uneasy delight.

“Yes, he treats me well, just listen to him now. He’s so worried about me that he can’t even sit down, and over so little.” She responded while suppressing a giggle. She gazed at her husband waddling in the hallway through the window and giggled. “I told him you know… I finally told him that I love him.” She smiled as her thoughts went to the night they had spent together after she had said it. Athaal had treated her even more tenderly than usual, while she felt there had been a newfound energy in his hoofs. A new fire had burned within them both that night.

“That makes this old pony happy,” he said absently. “Your husband is right to worry though.”

“What do you mean?”

“Look at yourself, Moxie, your fur have lost all its radiance, and you have huge dark patches under your eyes, and the color of your eyes seem to have lost their luster. Athaal would be a fool not to worry about you,” he picked up a wet cloth and ran it over her cheek. When he reached her lower jaw he stopped, his brows gathering in and turning to a pained expression. “And you are a fool to think it is nothing.”

Moxie watched as the priest wandered over to an old medicine cabinet at the back of the room. Scrambling through his drawers he remained quiet and motionless for a while before he returned to her with a spruce of herbs.

Rishad gave them to her and said, “These herbs will help you sleep through the night, but think carefully before using them for they will not stop your nightmares.”

“Thank you, I will.” The pegasus answered with a nod.

“The mark, there’s something familiar with it. I know I have seen it in one of the books down in the library, but I need to look there to be certain…” the priest mumbled.

Her joy of a possible full night of sleep quickly turned to worry as she heard Rishad’s mumble, remembering the words the Sage had told her. “Which mark are you thinking of?” She furrowed her face in concern, the way Rishaad had trailed off told her that there was more to it  Her hoof landed on her stomach. “Will it affect the foal?” A dreadful fear was building inside her.

The features of the old priest turned somber, as if a memory hid long ago came to the surface. His eyes detached from her and stared out into nothing, and he mumbled underneath his breath. Her mouth growing slightly dry, for she knew the priest didn’t tell her everything he knew. She could only wonder what it was, for she could not ask because her status did not allow it. Even if she considered Rishad a friend, and he surely would think nothing of it if she did in fact ask, there were certain rules she did not want to push.

“I’m not sure...” He grew quiet and thought for a moment. “No, it should not affect your unborn foal, worry not about that, you should instead focus on yourself.” He began to pace back and forth, still mumbling. “I’m sorry, Moxie, but I must cut it short here. I need to go down to the library at once. I’ll send a message as soon as I can if I find anything.”

He lead her to the door and opened it for her. He put a hoof on her shoulder. “There’s no need to inform Athaal about this before we know for sure. By the looks of it he doesn’t need any more worry,” Rishad whispered with concern apparent in his features, the wrinkles upon his face constricting with tension as he looked at her.

Her mind was racing over everything she had heard for the last year, of the possibility that the sage was correct, and that her foal would be in danger. Most of all, she wondered what had happened to the pony who had the mark before, the one Saif had mentioned. Athaal rushed over to her as soon as she was out the door. Too stuck in her own worry, she did not react. He broke her absent state with a soft touch on her cheek. She turned to him in surprise, then smiled meekly.

“What did Rishad say?” Athaal inquired, his eyebrows furrowed into a tight knot.

“It’s nothing to worry about, it will soon go away.” She tried her best reassuring him as best she could, a bitter taste of tang growing in her mouth. She hated withholding the truth from Athaal, but Rishad was right. To tell him would only make him worse, and she did not wish to burden him more.

“And…?” he asked holding a hoof to her stomach.

“The foal is fine,” she answered with a strained smile, and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “Come, let us go home.”






Athaal rushed to the door in attempt to stop the infernal knocking, before it would wake Moxie. He mumbled as he forced his sore muscles forward. After staying by Moxie’s side till she had fallen asleep, he needed something to take his mind off things. Doing sword practice often helped; part from this time. Even after an hour of swinging, he couldn’t focus properly. He could perhaps have taken the time while she slept to get some work done over at the barracks, but that would mean he had to leave her side. With her reluctance to take the herbs, leaving her alone was out of the question. 

He wished that he had been inside with Rishad together with her; perhaps some of what had been said then would have calmed his mind. Just to hear it from the priest would make him surer about how to approach this. Each decision he now made was like taking a step out into an open black veil of uncertainty.

With a strong bounce, he flew into the pearl white living room and landed with a thud before cluttering his hoofs forward. Rounding the corner he saw the huge dark wood door and attempted to slow down. The stone tiles gave him less than the desired traction, making him slide forward in an uncontrollable array of hoof work. His path ended with him crashing muzzle first into the door with a thud.

He opened the door swearing silently while stars danced across his vision. Behind the door stood a young stallion outside, who gave him a letter. Athaal noted that the messenger wore the colors of the Fayah clan, meaning that the letter more likely would be addressed to Moxie rather than to him.

To his surprise, the stallion insisted that it was to him, and that he would need a reply from him before he could leave. Athaal opened the letter, stifling his amusement that Ghalib had summoned him for a meeting. His first thought was to give him a rebuttal summon. If Ghalib wanted to talk, it would be on Athaal’s land and on his terms. Reading closer, he saw a post script, mentioning the presence of a priest during the meeting. 

He crumpled the note. He needed to be there, if Ghalib deemed it important enough to involve a priest, it would mean great insult to refuse the summons. No matter how little he liked to admit it, he needed to play the political game the way his situation allowed him to. If Ghalib found reason, he would surely make it harder for him to rise in the ranks. If he was lucky however, the priest could give him a few answers to some of his questions, and even if it meant leaving the house, it could give him some peace of mind.

The stallion awaiting his answer cleared his throat, and then bowed to make sure he did no disrespect with his action. Athaal ended his train of thought and quickly told the mailpony that he would be there before dawn.

Athaal closed the door behind him and ran through the kitchen to Saif’s room, his mind still at disarray over his decision; he hoped that nothing would happen while he was gone.

Arriving at the bedroom door, he knocked quietly three times then entered, being met with a total blackness. For some reason, unknown to himself, Saif insisted on keeping all light out of his room. In the corner he saw a simple bed with a thin, black blanket over it. He had tried to give his brother more comfort, but Saif insisted that simple sleeping solutions kept his mind sharp. Over the window hung an old sack, effectively blocking all light. The floor was damp and felt slippery under his hoofs. He struggled to maneuver forward, and hit a bucket along with a small stool on his way over to the bed. 

“What is it, Athaal? I rarely see you down here... must be important.” Came a chilled voice from behind him.

Athaal’s muscles tensed. He shared his wife’s baffled opinion over how well his brother hid in the shadows. “I thought you’d sleep longer after a night shift,” he said while eyeing his brother, seeing the cold steel gleam in Saif’s hoof.

The watanï slammed his right hoof to his chest, making the gleaming blade retract into its sheath. “I sleep as needed, and I wouldn’t know who would barge into my room at this hour,” he said coolly.

“Anyway, it is important, I’ve gotten summons from the Fayah residence to meet with Ghalib, and I will head there at once. I need you to make sure nothing disturbs Moxie while she sleeps. Doesn’t matter what it is, unless it is about life and death she is not to be disturbed; is that clear?” Athaal ordered.

Saif raised his eyebrow and shook his head in a mock confusion. “Sometimes I think you doubt my ability to do my job.”

“You know I trust you more than anypony, Saif,” Athaal began, “but you know how it has been the last month, she needs this.”

The watanï chuckled. “I know, I know, I’m just having my fun with you.”

“You know that any other lord would have fired you.” 

“I wouldn’t work for any other lord than my own brother, I’m entitled to have a little fun.” Saif grinned. “Relax, go to your meeting, and I will make sure your precious sleeps undisturbed.”

Athaal glared at his brother. “I told you to stop calling her that.”

“The day you take me in a fight, dear Brother.” He retorted

Athaal tightened his jaw in slight frustration, wishing that he had time to give his brother another much needed beating. He left the room, knowing full well that Moxie would be left alone to rest, and he relaxed significantly more with that knowledge. He stopped in the hallway, taking time to find the Ghazath coat. Knowing just how traditional Ghalib was he thought it best to wear the colors of his clan for the meeting. Finally locating it and donning the garment, he looked in the mirror and snarled. He hated wearing this, convinced that the bright green and deep orange coat was designed by a mare on some form of hallucinogen. He thought it hideous.

He carefully locked the door and began the trek down the hilltop his house rested on. Him and Moxie had moved in even before the house had been completed. To their joy, the builders had finished right after they had found out that she was pregnant. There was still some garden work needing to be done, but it wouldn’t disturb them in the same manner. Walking down the path now, it seemed like only the bottom part of the road was left, for at the side of the ivory road manticore brushes were planted and at the brink of bloom. The tiny red sprouts were riddled over the green leaves, and in a month’s time they would bloom into crimson flowers in the shape of a manticore’s mane with a white center. As he passed, a silent hope that his foal would arrive on the day of blooming came to the back of his mind, just like Moxie’s birth.

        Athaal walked through the corridors of the city. He needed to get over to the lower part where the Fayah residence was located. Much to his annoyance, the market place he needed to pass through was buzzing with life. As he passed different booths he saw how each merchant had their different tricks to lure their customers in. He also saw how a few sold illegal goods. He decided to ignore it for now, but took a mental note over which merchant sold what, so that he could come back to it later.

        Most of the merchants knew him, and what he did for a living. At times this made him clash with the Merchant’s Guild in Ma’Galag. This caused many of them to toss a blanket over their goods, or close the shop when he was near. One of the most important jobs in the Border control guild was to make sure no illegal weapons or poisons came into the wrong hoofs. 

        His job was just a small part of stopping the assassinations from the Legion. The tools he took from the streets were merely tools that made it easier, instead of prevent them. If the Legion succeeded or not often came down to how well the watanï and the council worked together. As it was now, it had been two years since the last assassination attempt. One of the few benefits that the political changes had brought, he thought, of course it had only happened because the fat nobles’ lives had been at stake, nothing else.

        He shrugged his cynicism away as he saw the Fayah family house at the end of the street, behind the merchant quarter. It looked like an old fashioned mansion, wide with windows every few feet, and columns holding up the roof over the entrance. The whole building itself didn’t stand out much in color. The crimson roof stood in stark contrast to the pearl white walls, and on top of the arch stood a pole with the banner of the Fayah family, burning orange and red and fluttering in the wind.

        Athaal showed the parchment to the guard at the door. The guard quickly inspected it and gave it back to Athaal. The guard opened the doors for him and stood in salute.

        He headed straight for the study, at this time of day you could not find Ghalib anywhere else. Along his path he passed several servants rushing through the house, performing their different tasks. Some were doing simple things such as mopping the floor or preparing dinner, while a few of them seemed to be preparing for some sort of meeting, rushing past him with scrolls in saddlebags. 

        Reaching the study, he took a breath. He knew Ghalib was an old fashioned stallion. Some would even go so far as to say that he was stuck in the past. While Athaal did not know the reason for his summon, he chose to act as if it was a regular meeting, just to be on the safe side. One wrong step could very well be taken as an insult, and force him away from the residence for a time.

        Ghalib had been like he always was, even at their wedding. He was strict and  focused on traditions rather than anything that was a little different. Their relationship had soured badly ever since he had learned what they intended to name his grandfoal. It made Athaal wonder even more about why he suddenly was summoned, alone. Perhaps Ghalib hoped to change his mind? He welcomed the attempt, he was sure that Ghalib knew he would never go against his wife’s wishes like that, even if it was well within his right.

        Just as he was about to knock on the huge brown doors, he heard someone speaking from inside. Against his better judgment, he put his ear up against to the door and listened. From the voices, he assumed there was only one other pony in there with Ghalib. While he could not hear what was being said, the tone of the other voice sounded grievous. 

        I’m not going to get any wiser standing out here. He thought before knocking sharply on the door.

        He heard some papers being shuffled around before the voice of Ghalbi told him to enter. The study was bland, with yellow walls and huge windows allowing one to gaze over the slums of Ma’Galag and the bathhouses. It also seemed like he had view towards the closest whorehouse. Perhaps he indulged himself in some of the enchantresses when time allowed. While not uncommon for a husband to do as he wished in those regards, it was not always viewed in a postive light. There were some cases, however, where the mistress of a noble had taken the place of a wife if the wife passed away; but it was rare.  In the middle of the room stood a desk riddled with papers. Some were folded, and some neatly rolled up or stacked, ready for delivery. 

        Ghalib looked at him with green eyes set in a stern stare. He had a coat of pitch black, and around his neck he had a ring of fur colored white as his mane. His features were that of a battle hardened pegasus. His girth, wide over the chest and muscles, was still visible over his cannons, even with his advanced age.

On the back wall hung a huge map over Saddle-Arabia, marked with different colored tacks. While Athaal had no insight to what they meant specifically, he quickly came to the conclusion that it was to keep control over trade routes. There were something that caught his eye. In the top right corner of the map, it had been scribbled with red paint, marking something very close to the border of Equestria. Furthermore, Athaal noted, the red scribbles were recent and not in Ghalib’s writing.

To the right of the room he saw the source of the second voice, the priest Moxie and him visited this morning. Rishad. He stood in deep contemplation while staring at the map, not taking notice of his entry.

“Please take a seat, Athaal,” urged Ghalib, and made a slight bow.

Athaal returned the stiff gesture and sat down. Ghalib cleared his throat loudly, gaining him the attention of the priest, who turned to face them with a worried expression.

“You do me great honor with your summons, blessings upon your house,” Athaal said, and bowed once more with eyes closed. They both knew it was nothing but a formality, for neither gave more than what custom demanded.

“Honor’s greeting upon you and your house, Athaal of Ghazath.” Ghalib bowed back, before waving a hoof towards the priest. “Rishad came to me after lunch with some distressing news, concerning my daughter and you. I will let him explain the details to you,” he said before leaning back as to give the priest permission to talk.

Rishad took a step forward and looked at Athaal. “Let me start by asking this, what did Moxie tell you after you left the temple?” 

“Not much, she said there was no need to worry and that there was no need to be alarmed about her pregnancy.” Athaal leaned forward, realizing that some answers would finally be revealed to him.

“Very well, we must take this from the start then,” Rishad said before he sat down on a pillow. “To understand the gravity of the situation, you will need to understand some of the history of the Path of Eran.

“It is believed that Celestia and Luna are the embodiments of the deities Cael and Dia, assumption by their names and marks. Which was why Luna got trapped in the moon and not in a dungeon when she transformed to Nightmare Moon. She needed to be purified once more by the pure form of the deity that created her.”

“You said something about my wife, what does this have to do with that?” Athaal interjected, earning him a cold gaze from Ghalib.

“I will get to that, Athaal, if you just would let me finish.” Rishad responded in his usual calm manner. “The reason Celestia and Luna are down here is because the gods they represent cannot do what is needed without having a catalyst, which is to make sure the celestial objects move accordingly, granting us the lush and varied environment we have.

“Now... while it is safe to say that about Celestia and Luna, there are more subtle embodiments. Take for example Princess Cadence of the Crystal Empire. Her very presence gives the idea that there are more than one deity acting upon our world, and lastly, Twilight Sparkle, an alicorn of pure magic. She didn’t just appear one day, ages ago, no, she was born, and slowly grew into an embodiment. This gives reason to believe that there is a new deity coming into play on our world. Equestria might very well have witnessed the birth of a god taken form in a strong unicorn; but that is not certain.

“There are gods older than those Celestia and Luna represents, they are often not thought of because they don’t have an embodiment on the surface. These are what I like to call the higher gods, they work in the background. The one we know most of is Eran, and he is presumed to be the strongest of them. Unlike the others, he has temples in his name, and priests like me. Eran is the source of all life as we know it, and has taught us many ways to heal sicknesses.

“This brings us to Moxie...” Rishad paused, he looked at Athaal with a pained expression. “Are you familiar with the history of the plague that swept over Saddle-Arabia centuries ago?”

Athaal felt a rush of panic rise inside of him as he added the pieces of the last few days occurrences and this conversation. He took a deep breath before he spoke. “I know a little, I know that it almost brought the kingdom to extinction, no known effective cure was found and after a few years it just… vanished.” He recollected, feeling his heart thunder within him as he finished the sentence. His temples began to throb, and he shifted in place, his mouth drying up. He took a quick look at the door, suppressing the urge to sprint out, to run as fast as he could home, so he could hold Moxie in his arms again, it pained him almost on a physical level.

The priest nodded, “That is for the most part correct, there was a cure, but it was too expensive for common ponies to afford; so only the nobles were able to be cured.

“We believed it to be extinct for a while now, it reappeared every now and then, but not enough to rise a panic state as it did when it first arrived. The last appearance was twenty years ago in the Tham residence--”

“Wait, Tham... as in my brother Saif Tham’s family?!” Athaal blurted out. As the heard the name, his mind shifted focus, from the longing home, to gain more knowledge about the situation.

“Yes, the sickness drove Saif’s father insane and he killed his family, and lastly himself. When we found Saif, he was hiding underneath A table, covered in the blood of his family. We can only begin to imagine what scars he bears on the inside after what he saw. This is the terrifying nature of this disease, it corrupts the mind as well as the heart. What worries me more is that this disease cannot be cured with the normal magic of Eran, which makes me believe that it is of magical origin itself, perhaps another unknown deity... I wouldn’t know for sure.”

“I thought the Tham family got killed in a Linac raid? And what does this have to do with Moxie? Does she have the disease?” Athaal asked, knowing full well where his questions would lead, and he feared the answers.

“The crown decided it was best to hide the fact that a new occurrence of the disease had come, so they blamed it on the linacs; it is disputed whether that was the right call or not, but that is the past.” Rishad rose and made way to the map. “The mark she bears on her forehead is the only known sign of the disease before insanity takes hold, I had to make sure it was the right mark before I made my diagnosis. Luckily for Moxie, we have the cure readily available, we just need one last ingredient.”

Athaal rose, “Then why only summon me here? Moxie has a right to know what’s going on.”

“A mare has no place in a discussion like this, now sit down and let him finish.” Came sharply from Ghalib.

Athaal scowled at Ghalib, the urge to shout him off built inside of him. He found it difficult to believe that Ghalib would value his daughter’s opinion so little, even stuck in the old ways it was harsh. He opened his mouth to protest to the ice cold glare.

Rishad cleared his throat, snapping Athaal out of his rising irritation. “Go on...” the young stallion grumbled and sat down, focusing on why he was here.

The priest nodded, “The reason why I just gave you this history lesson, if you want, is so that you may understand that the magic granted from Eran are no trifle tricks; it is very potent. This brings us back to the disease, normally, our magic would heal the sickness of the mind. Although, it would have taken time, but with this we needed to take extreme measures to find a cure. The origin is not important now, the last ingredient we need is here.” Rishad pointed at the red circle on the map. “We need the bone-marrow of a dragon, the fresher, the more potent the spell will be.”

“A dragon?!” Athaal exclaimed, almost dumbfounded.

The head of the Fayah clan rose and made his way to the map next to Rishad. “I have arranged for a small group of my soldiers to escort you to the dragon graveyard close to the border of Equestria. There is a high possibility that you will find a newly dead dragon there, or close to dead. You will then take a bone back here so Rishad can extract the marrow and use it to heal my daughter.”

“Hold on.” Athaal turned to Rishad, “You said the mark was the only sign before the mind got corrupted, how long will that take?”

“I can’t tell you a time for certain,” the priest responded while he smacked his lips thoughtfully, “but if I remember correctly, one week after the apperance of the mark, that’s when the first signs of insanity start.. But sometimes, there are no signs at all, their mind just goes.”

Athaal rose to his hoofs, well aware that it would only irritate Ghalib, but he no longer cared; he was done humoring this old fool’s expectations. “The journey there will alone take a week, there’s no way I will make it back in time to save Moxie, she will need to come with me.”

“She needs to stay home and rest, a mare will only be in the way on such a mission, she has no place there,” Ghalib retorted sharply.

 “She does!” Athaal bellowed back. “Your daughter has more right to be on that carriage than anypony else, it is her life, not yours. If we do as you say then she is already dead. I would never be able to live with myself if that happened. I will carry her alone to that place on my back if that is what it takes.”

“I am your elder, know your place!” Ghalib hissed in retort.

“Yes, yes, you are, but you know what? I don’t care. Take me before the council if that is what you want, try to strip me of my title. I will save your daughter, as a noble or not, and she will know that you would rather let her die than go against some foolish tradition you so desperately cling to. Her life is worth to me more than rank or title or anything, and she should be just as important to you, she’s your flesh and blood.” Athaal argued as he leaned towards the elder noble, it took a lot of his mental strength to restrain himself from clobbering Ghalib, and as his anger slowly rose to the surface, his iris rings began to burn, now knowing that both of them could see his anger.

“Remember why we’re here,” RIshad quietly said.

“If you want my help you will do as I say. There is no way I will let you take my sick daughter out into the desert across linac territory!” Ghalib growled back, ignoring the priest.

“We can’t do it like that! We need at least two days to prepare, and if the sickness drives her mad a week from now it will be too late by the time I get back!” Athaal shouted in response.

“I won’t allow my resources to be used to bring my daughter into danger, there will be no discussion, now leave!” Ghalib ordered, dismissing him with a wave of his hoof.

Clenching his jaw shut, Athaal left the room. He figured it would do him no good enraging Ghalib further. On his way out of the house he noticed the servants staring at him before quickly returning to their duties. His furious mind debated if he had just doomed Moxie or not. If needed, he knew he could ask his father for help, it would be better than to take orders from someone like Ghalib, he reasoned. No matter the cost, he would prove Ghalib wrong.

Almost at the entrance to the merchant quarter again, he heard Rishad calling from behind. He halted and turned to face the old priest. “What is it, Rishad?” he sighed in resignation.

The old pony grinned, “I got to say, Athaal. You may have poked the bear a little too hard there. It’s a long time since I’ve seen Ghalib so furious.”

Athaal scoffed, “He had it coming, and that genius plan of his will kill Moxie.”

“That might be, I’m not sure making him this mad will do you any good though,” Rishad shrugged. “Walk with me if you may.” He waved his hoof down the road.

“I really should get home.” 

“Do not worry, Athaal, I’m heading the same way. Remember, the temple is on the same path,” the priest chuckled.

Athaal nodded and began to walk at steady pace away from the Fayah house. Walking side by side with Rishad made him uneasy for some odd reason. He knew that his wife trusted him blindly, and confined with Rishad more things than she had with him. Even so, walking next to him made his anger subside, and his mind thought clearly once more.

Rishad mumbled to himself while they passed the merchant quarter. Athaal knew that the priests often took to this form of meditation when they needed to empty their mind and speak with clarity. While Athaal didn’t know how it worked, he silently followed beside him. More than anypony, the high priests remained above all, their word could almost be considered law. While they seldom took use of their social status, Athaal let Rishad speak first.

“You must realize, Athaal,” Rishad started, “we live in a country ruled by politics and traditions. Sadly, at times you must bend to them if you want something done.”

He froze and turned his gaze at the priest. “Are you saying that I should just have followed that plan of his? It would mean certain death for Moxie, I could never allow that, not for anypony.”

“Not at all, I’m saying that you must think more than once before you act, like you just did.” Rishad began to walk again, beckoning Athaal to follow. ”I do agree with you, we need another path of action to make sure Moxie comes through this alive.” 

“Yes, I could ask my father, but that would be a last resort, I know he would gladly help. But I’m afraid he has more than enough on his hoofs trying to figure out where the Legion will strike next. It has been too long since the last attack for us to get comfortable.”

“In that you are right. You have a good tactical mind, Athaal. I’m sure you will be able to make something happen to help Moxie.” 

“There’s only need for the bone marrow, correct?” Athaal inquired, his mind now starting to work desperately for a solution, more than anything, he was grasping for straws in hopes that one of them held something useable.

“Yes, that is the only part we need to perform the spell.” 

“Then... wouldn’t you agree that the best course of action is to take the ritual up there? I’m sure one of your students would be willing to help us out, I will of course make a healthy donation to the temple,” Athaal said, feeling hope rise in his chest once more.

“That is a possibility, although, I’m not sure how many of my students are able to perform this spell, or has the stamina needed for this journey.” Rishad stopped at a crossroad and stared intently down at his church, which rested at the bottom of the street. “We will need to travel through Linac territory to reach our destination. With Moxie being sick, it will be very difficult.”

“You worry about the cure and I will take care of the rest,” Athaal reassured.

Rishad looked at him for a while, a smile drawing on his lips. “Very well, I’ll make the arrangements.” He pressed a hoof up to his cheek. “I think I have something that will buy us some time as well. May I come to your house once I have found it?”

He pressed a hoof onto Rishad’s shoulder. “If you have anything that might help Moxie, you are welcome at any time of the day, or night.”

“Splendid, go home to your wife and inform her of anything you might find necessary.” Rishad was about to leave, but stopped 
himself. “Oh, and one more thing, do not mention to your brother that you know of his past, I will guarantee you that he wishes for it to stay hidden till the day he chooses to tell you.” He then made his way down the buzzing path to his temple, mumbling loudly.

Athaal watched as the old priest vanished before he began to walk home himself. He now knew why Saif had prompted them to seek the priest, and was eternally grateful. Somber thoughts mixed in with those trying to focus on the tactical aspect of what was in front of them. He wondered how Saif would have been if not for what had happened twenty years ago. Did Saif chose to protect him as a consequence of it, a personal fear of losing the new family he had gained? Did he chose to remain alone because of whatever darkness that had taken place within him? Athaal could only guess, and if he were to follow Rishad’s advice, he could not help nor comfort Saif at all.

After the long trek up the hills, he finally saw the welcoming sight of his house. Reaching the door, he halted, wondering what he would tell Moxie. His mind was clouded with thoughts of how he would be able to assemble a group willing to go through enemy territory, just to find and fight a dragon in the end. Even then, he wasn’t sure the journey would be a success.

He ventured through the living room, nodding towards Saif as he passed him. “I’m heading up to Moxie, we are not to be disturbed, not unless Rishad comes.” He said quickly, then stopped. He turned and looked at Saif, before embracing him. “Thank you, we have a chance to save Moxie, and it is all thanks to you.” He simply said, forcing himself to stop there. He wanted to say more. He wanted to let Saif know that he could help, but it remained as a thought only.

Saif broke from the embrace and bowed, “I was only doing my job,” he said, looking ill at place. “I’ll make sure no one disturbs you, may I have my leave?”

He nodded, and the watanï was off, leaving Athaal behind. He cursed the inaction he was forced to take. And he wondered, was Saif’s professional attitude towards him an attempt to distance himself, even when remaining close?

Athaal opened the door to the bedroom as careful as he could, and smiled as he saw the sleeping form of his wife. He removed a strand of hair from her eyes and halted, the mark had grown since this morning. It seemed like it breathed. He sighed and continued down her body with his hoof. Stopping as he reached her stomach, the bulge rose slowly with her breath. Even if Moxie felt at unease every time he touched her growing belly, he found that even the slightest touch of it filled him with a joyous, strange sensation.

He closed the blinds before the window, and took off his garments before he made way to the bed. The warmth of the sheets embraced him as he lied down next to her. Even asleep, she sidled in closer to him, seeking warmth. He embraced her and nuzzled her mane carefully, gaining a loving sigh from her in response. At first, he was uncertain if he had waken her. No more signs were given from her, though. She gave off a short snore, forcing a smiled to cross his lips. Tucking her even closer, he closed his eyes. He felt fatigue finally take hold, and he welcomed the sleep.


> Chapter 3: Tiquah
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Tiquah



        Athaal wandered, a pained expression dominating his features.

        The arrival of Rishad had pulled both him and Moxie out of their sleep. Moxie, having slept all day, was still dazed as they greeted the priest. He, the fool that he was, had forgotten to inform her about Rishad coming over. Then again, it’s not like he had the time for it.

From Rishad’s wishes, he and Moxie had secluded themselves in the garden. Athaal hoped whatever magic the priest used would help, and that he would inform Moxie on what was ahead of them. He looked outwards, through the stained glass that was between them. The form of his wife sat completely still as the priest weaved his magic. Unsure of what might come from that, he sighed in frustration. Desperately trying to force his mind over to something else, he turned to his brother in the doorway watching him.

        “Saif, how many ponies do you predict we will need to make this trip?” He inquired.

        Saif ran his hoof down his chin, a habit he had adapted over time as the only cue he gave when he was thinking or worrying. “I’m not sure, I would assume a small squad from our military along with us would be sufficient. We are moving through Linac territory. Although dangerous, a smaller group would have better success at passing unnoticed.”

        “That would also cut down on the supplies needed.” Athaal agreed.

        The door behind Athaal creaked and Rishad stepped through. “You may see her now, she might be a little tired.” 

        The noble beamed, “Great! Saif, first thing in the morning you will go and gather some ponies from our ranks that are trustworthy, and willing to travel far for some extra gold.” 

        Saif bowed, “As you wish.”

        Athaal turned and started for the gardens, only to be stopped by the firm hoof of the priest. Rishad drew forth a small golden locket from his pouch and gave it to Athaal. It weighed heavy in his hoof, and the brilliant golden color gleamed in the little sunlight that scarcely reached the garden from over the mountain backs. The oval form had engravings of the most pristine quality, with elegant waves reaching out toward the edges. In the very center, a jewel inside looked back at him. It gave a tiny clicking sound as he opened it, revealing fine red silk on the inside with a small canister of luminescent liquid.

        “It is critical that Moxie drinks a small amount of this every night, and mix it with water, a full goblet should be enough.” Rishad explained harshly without leaving his calm tone.

        Athaal nodded, “What is it?” He inquired as he held it up close.

        “It is magic imbued water from the temple, with a hint of poison joke, some cacti juice to dampen the taste, and other valuable ingredients. This will strengthen the opal I just put on her, and hopefully it will dampen the nightmares as well. After you have given her a mouthful of it, stay with her. It will most likely give her heat waves and shakes. Don’t worry though, it is harmless for the foal. The opal is at full strength now, so you shouldn’t need to replenish it before a day or so has passed. You’ll see when there is a need on the opal.” He stopped and smiled, then put a hoof onto the noble’s shoulder and guided him through the door. “I’ll let your wife explain the rest. Now go; she needs you. I’ll see myself out.”

        The door closed behind him. Athaal made his way forward through the brush covered path. She had moved to a secluded place in the garden, past the bushes filled with rosy knops and under the huge tree near the balcony eyeing over Ma’Galag. Once near her, he saw the way her pearl white gown gently hugged her bulging belly, then flowed like a river down her hoofs. He sat down next to her, and she greeted him with a weak smile. The eyes that looked at him were once again burning with the orange fire he loved. It was like they glowed at him. Her coat gained the ivory color, and her adorable tips of ocean blue started to show. Her mane was neatly groomed, catching the last bit of the days light and embracing her in a beautiful cherry halo.

        He sat next to his wife, awestruck once more. He saw how the black mark had expanded a little more, stretching out like arms towards her eyes. Now Athaal also saw the opal Rishad talked about. Nestling in the center of her forehead and covering most of the mark, it pulsed with a strange blue light. He felt his heart skip a beat as the blue like pulse reflected in her eyes, and his breath remained hard to catch, even as his lips parted slightly. Her smile welcomed his presence, with lips red as a rose. Once more, he found himself only wanting to hold her tight and close.

        She looked at him with slight wonder, “What’s wrong? You look like you have seen a ghost.”

        “It’s just... you’re beautiful!” The noble squeaked in an unusually high pitched tone. He felt again the familiar rush of blood and the unusual pressure in his chest, just like when he saw her for the first time after they were to marry.

        Moxie giggled, “How lucky I am, that my husband thinks me beautiful.” She shuddered slightly as a gust swept over the garden.

        Athaal’s cheek heated up, “You’ll always be beautiful to me, Moxie.” He put his hoof around her and pulled her close, allowing his head to rest upon hers. “I was just surprised at how much better you seemed.”

        She sighed, “Yes, I feel wonderful as well. Rishad says that it is only temporarily though.” 

        Athaal nuzzled her, “What did he do?” he asked.

        Moxie shook her head, “I don’t know the details, but the opal on my forehead will hold off the sickness for a while, buying us time and allowing me to rest for a few days.” She took a deep breath, “However, we mustn’t let this make us relax, we still need to travel as fast as possible.”

        “I told Saif to gather some ponies from our military tomorrow morning. If everything goes as planned, we will travel in two days.” Athaal comforted.

        Moxie gave him a nod, and then settled to relax in the groove of his neck. Around them the light was finally giving in to the ever creeping darkness, and the wind started to blow coolly, nipping at their fur. In the distance they saw dark skies roll forward, blackening the desert underneath. The leaves in the tree they sat under rustled, and a few let go of its grip on the branch and set out to dance in the air. Athaal pulled Moxie closer as he felt her shudder, offering his warmth to her. 

        Moxie broke the silence between them, “Athaal...” she said meekly.

        He turned his head downwards, “Yes?” 

        “I’m scared...” She squeaked.

        Athaal put a hoof under her jaw and lifted it. Her eyes arched down, glistening with moisture, letting a single tear fall from them. He embraced her in his hoofs and let his body rock back and forth while comforting her.

        “I’m scared too,” He admitted.

        Moxie pressed her muzzle into his fur, “I don’t want to travel to Equestria, and I don’t want to go through with any dangerous expedition...” She took his hoof and rested it on her stomach. “I just want to become a mother, and have a good life here... is that too much to ask for?”

        “No, it isn’t...” Athaal started, “but it is what it is,” He took her out on hoofs length and wiped a tear from her chin. “And I will do everything in my power to make you better.”

        Moxie smiled softly at him, “Thank you,” she said, placing a warm kiss on his lips.

        He returned the kiss tenderly, “Let us go inside. It’s starting to get cold out here, and you should get some sleep while you can.” He suggested, standing up and offering a hoof for her.

        She took the offered hoof and rose. Together they walked inside, embracing the night for now. Thoughts barely touched what needed to be done in the future; for now, it was enough.

 *~*~*~*~*



        Saif relocated the pouch of gold underneath his clothing, the coins making an awful amount of noise for his liking. The price some of the merchants took for an express delivery was unjust. Had he not been on a tight schedule, he would change their minds fast. However, he had one more place to be at before dawn came. 

        He quickly looked around, then flared his wings and, with a strong bat, he shot heavenwards. The soldiers that were willing to join them gave him an uneasy feeling, especially the one named Morad. But even with a bad reputation, his experience in battle would be needed. Much to his surprise, Arien gladly joined them, saying something about needing to repay Athaal for something in the past. Saif didn’t dwell on it, nor was it his place to ask. He was glad the old general came along, for he could keep anyone in check, and his tactical mind was even more cunning than Athaal’s. 

        Upon the hill behind Ma’galag, he saw the academy growing in size. He welcomed the sight. It had been too long since he saw his old master, and the sun quickly burned upon his wings. He quickly dove down then flared his wings, ending his descent softly and without a sound, taking a good breath he began to make his way forward.

        The building stood as a remnant to the kingdom’s peak of power, no materials spared, and flamboyant details both on the entrance and the walls. Being carved straight out of the mountain, it took decades to complete. Still standing with an impressive height of three stories and finely cut details of wings and crowns, it remained one of the largest projects ever completed. Large patches of grass and sandy pits used for training the recruits needed to be crossed before one could reach the entrance hidden behind pillars and statues. 

        Not long ago, this place allowed only the most elite to graduate, giving the watanï a fearsome reputation. Saif felt a gnarling sense of distress, for he knew the academy had been forced to lower its standards to allow more to graduate. The watanï had gone from being the elite squad to mere bodyguards, protecting corrupt nobles and pitched to their deaths like simple pawns.

        He halted and looked upwards, seeing Kazim still holding the same office as when he graduated. Saif flared his wings once more and leaped, much higher than any pony could without the aid of wings, then he landed with a clack upon the stones outside the office of Kazim.

        Saif’s old master turned his head around and let an amused expression fall over him. Hazel brown eyes flashed in recognition. The fading brown color of his fur showed slight hint of aging as it lost its color and faded into gray. His black mane hung down the side in a braid, white strands making its appearance. He donned multiple scars, some very visible running down the muscular neck, while some smaller ran over his muzzle and eyes. The brown chitin armor creaked as he leaned forward, it covered all his vital spots, while a black clothing covered the rest of him. As Kazim smiled, he revealed the scar Saif had given him from his graduation duel, running from the corner of his mouth all the way back towards the jaw muscle on his right side.

        “Saif Tham,” He said, his voice murky and crass. He rose and bowed deeply, “You bring honor to me with your presence. It has been too long.”

        Saif remained stoic, placing his right hoof over his heart, he bowed equally deep. “It has, Master, I wish it was under more joyous circumstances.”

        Kazim looked at him with a calculating expression. “You have not changed much, Saif.” He waved his hoof to let Saif sit. “Now, what brings you here?”

        Saif bowed once more and sat down, carefully going through what had happened the last three days. Kazim listened intently as Saif explained the Ghazath’s plight, how many soldiers he had managed to hire, and how he needed more ponies around him which knew of other tactics than to smash and hammer. He lastly added the plea of Athaal, of the urgency of the mission. 

        After Saif finished, Kazim scrunched his brows and spoke. “That is a serious situation… it will be hard, but I think you’ve done smart in coming here for some extra power.” He rose and faced the window, looking down on the training grounds. “You will get two students, and it will be taken as a graduation for them; your brother will not need to worry about the cost as long as we get food and water.”

        Saif bowed, “Athaal of Ghazath will be grateful.” He simply responded.

        “There are two conditions…” Kazim turned, “I’ll be coming along to keep an eye on the students.” He approached Saif, “There is one student, Zubair, he shows a lot of potential; aces all of his tasks. Like you, he has a temper which he needs to control. He will come as a test to see if he can indeed do just that on a proper mission. Besides… it will be nice to see Arien again.” He said, and a smile split his lips, enhancing the scar.

        Saif closed his eyes and nodded in agreement, knowing there was little use in objecting. He trusted Kazim’s decision more than his own at times. However, if Zubair was anything like he was when he enlisted to the Watanï, it could mean trouble.

        They exchanged a quick goodbye, along with details as to when and where they would meet, and Saif wandered off again. He stopped for a mere moment to see if he could spot Zubair in the midst of the students training. At first, none of them caught his eye. Then, after a bit, he saw a brutish figure dueling and dealing decisive blows in aggressive motions and little hesitation.

        Saif squinted. If that was indeed Zubair, he would need to be reeled in quickly before any harm would come to anyone. Athaal was merciless when it came to insubordination, and seeing as he himself had trouble taking Athaal one on one, this brute would fall quickly. Saif sighed and headed home, looking forward to a night’s rest.




Saif entered the study of his brother. The desk which Athaal sat behind was riddled with papers and marked maps; and the white wall plastered with information about the area they would travel. Saif placed the pouch with the scant gold that was left on the desk and sat down on a pillow on the opposite side of Athaal.

        “Everything alright?” Saif asked after gaining no response on his entry.

        Athaal shrugged, “No... I can’t say it is. The only thing good about this is the fact that Moxie finally sleeps soundly again. Whatever Rishad did with that opal works, and I’m really glad it does. That does not, however, change the fact that I have decided to take my sick wife out into the desert and through enemy territory, in hopes of finding a recently dead dragon!” Athaal took the pouch and put it in one of the drawers. “How does that sound for a good husband?” Perspiration and distress clear in his features and voice.

        “You’re doing what you think is right, and I’m sure Moxie has no doubt about that; I assume you have informed her about the plan?” He offered.

        “Yes, she agrees that it sounds like the best option for us to take.” Athaal looked at him ruefully, “How’d the trip go?” He inquired.
        “It went as suspected, we now have a mixed squad of military and watanï--”

        “Mixed? I didn’t tell you to do that.” The noble interjected.

        “I’m well aware of that, I took the liberty of bringing a few of my friends from the watanï ranks. I know that they are good ponies, and it will be comforting for me to know that there are people with us not only doing it for the gold.” Saif reasoned.

        “I guess that is reasonable enough. You gave them the same offer of payment as the military, correct?” 

        Saif nodded, “No, they will work for free as long as you provide them with food and water. A carriage will come by the end of the day with food and water enough for two weeks, I also arranged for a small cart, for your wife.”

        “For free?” Athaal leaned back, eyes fixating on the roof, “And Arien, will he come?” 

        “Yes, and one of the watanï I brought along is Kazim, my old master.” Saif confirmed, knowing well why Athaal wanted Arien with them.

        “Your old master?” Athaal started, “Great, he will be of great help. Then we can do nothing more than to wait till tomorrow morning to leave. You told them to meet up here at dawn, correct?” Athaal said, putting aside papers on the desk, revealing a map. 

Saif nodded, “Yes, they should all be here at first light, packed and ready.”

The noble pointed at a mark on the map, “Here, this guard post is where we’ll spend the first night, I haven’t had time to send a message to them just yet, but I assume that they will be fine taking us in for just one night, seeing as we bring our own supplies.”

Saif nodded, noting that it was near the edge of Linac territory. This meant that the first day of travel would be safe. He then drew his attention to a new spot where his brother pointed.

“This is where we will make camp on the second night: the entrance to the Scar of Bak’an. The lush oasis should provide us with some food as well as the ability to stock up on water. Most importantly though, from what I’ve learned, the Linacs don’t go down there very often. We will be relatively safe except from any wildlife that might be residing there. If we find a cave, we can also make a fire so we have the ability to create some warm food.” Athaal said as he tapped on the map.

Saif put his hoof on the map, “Why are we not taking this route? It might be a little more risky, but it will cut a day off our travel time.” 

“That area is frequently patrolled by Linacs, and it is far too close to their settlement to even consider. I’d rather take an extra day than to risk meeting a patrol with only one squad.” Athaal answered.

The watanï nodded in acknowledgement. While he could take out a Linac alone if he got it by surprise, the hulk like beasts were far stronger than any pony. In a battle it would normally take three soldiers to take out one of them. Avoiding that completely would be the best option.

He furrowed his brows, “Taking that other route... I see you have marked the start of the valley for camp, does that mean it will require yet another day to travel through the valley?”

Athaal nodded, “Yes, I need to take into account that Moxie might not feel well. At that point, we will be able to either set camp, or continue a little longer. The trek on the day after will lead us to the other side of the valley, where we will rest regardless and prepare for the march up here...” He said as he tapped his hoof over another marked area of the map. “The intelligence I’ve gained from years of scouting missions tells me that this temple is abandoned, so that should grant us a proper resting place. We may not set up a fire there though, as it is rather close to a settlement.” Athaal bored his hoofs into his temples, “After that it will be a two day trek to the graveyard. If this map is right, we have no places to really set up camp. It will have to be out in the open, an option I am not comfortable with at all. If we are surprised by something we may need to leave fast, and I’m not sure Moxie will be able to do that.”

“Another pony can move ahead with me and scout for suitable places to set up camp.” Saif offered.

“That is a possibility. We also have to keep in mind that we have no information on the area between the temple and the graveyard. It will be one of the more risky places we go through.” He concluded, taking his eyes away from the map. “If all goes without a hitch, we will be performing the spell within a week from now. That being said, I hope the opal will give us some extra time.”

Saif leaned over and looked at the area marked as their destination. “May I come with a suggestion?”

“Feel free,” Athaal responded.

Saif took a hoof to the map and pointed at the border to Equestria. “This point... it is about a four hours travel from the graveyard from what I can see, why not send a messenger to the Sun Princess and ask for permission to travel over their borders? It will save us the time and effort it would take to travel back through Linac territory. It takes no genius to figure out that your wife, and us, will be tired from the trip up there. The possibility to rest in one of their cities before we take the safe route home would be welcome.”

Athaal smiled, “That’s a good idea. I will write up a letter to the princess explaining our situation, and that we will arrive at that point of the border in six days at once, together with the letter to the outpost.” He said and drew forth paper and a quill, dipped the tip in ink and began to write.

“I’m pleased, is there anything else you will need of me at this time?” Saif inquired.

        “No, not at the moment, you’ve been great help. Take till tomorrow off and make sure to be well rested.”

        “As you wish,” He answered before leaving the office.

        He quickly made way through the kitchen and into his room, then lied down on the blankets. He stared intently at the roof, thinking back to his last trip to Equestria. He would never admit so to his brother, but making it easier to travel home was just one of the reasons he suggested the trip over the borders. On his various journeys over there during his vacations, he had grown quite fond of Canterlot mares. Also, there was one in particular that had his interest. He concluded quickly that to see her again would be something he’d welcome, even if they left each other on a bad hoof last time. He shrugged away the thoughts as he caught himself brooding over it. His eyes closed and gave in to sleep’s embrace, and caught himself smiling, which was a rare occurrence.


*~*~*~*~*





        Moxie was awoken by a soft nudge on her shoulder. She turned over and saw Athaal smiling at her. Her mouth felt like someone had stuffed a piece of cotton in it. Her eyes attempted to focus, seeing the dark of night still ever present. From the mountain backs she saw a line of orange fire giving way for the sun.

        She scrunched her brows slightly, quickly figuring out that she had been sleeping for well over a day. She could only wonder why Athaal hadn’t woken her. Whatever the reason, she did appreciate it, finally managing to catch up with her sleep. Be that as it may, it felt like her head had been hammered roughly with pieces of cloth for many hours straight, for it swam in a daze.
“Do you want some water?” Athaal asked in a low voice. 

        She nodded, “Why didn’t you wake me before?” She murmured with a quizzical expression.

        “I figured you needed the sleep, besides, making the preparations for the trip was something I managed with the help of Saif.” Athaal said before exiting the room.

        Moxie stretched her hoofs, rolled over to the side of the bed, and sat up with a slight groan escaping her. She tested her numb joints before carefully stepping down to the floor. She donned the white cowl readily hanging for her next to the bed, and spotted her saddlebags packed for her on a chair. She made way to them and checked what they contained, and a smile grew over her lips. 

        Athaal had clearly packed it, as opposed to the maids. Inside was a red scarf gently rolled up, together with various things he apparently thought she would need. Her own bottle of water, some form of cream which she wasn’t sure where he had gotten from, eyeshade and a brush for her mane. Other than that, it was a whole survival kit inside with lots of high nutrient food and, most importantly, a chalice to drink of.

        “Everything alright in the bags?” Came from a voice behind her.

        She turned and met Athaal’s smile as he offered her a pouch of water. Not having the heart to tell him that he missed a few things, she simply returned the smile and took the offered water. Athaal wore his brown chitin armor, making him bulk even more in mere sight. He had taken white clothing and wrapped it around himself, starting from the neck and going back in a cape-like arrangment. On top of his head he had another piece of cloth wrapped around, with a piece of it dangling down so he easily could take it over his muzzle if sandy winds came too. Her eyes remained focused on him as she took a large gulp of the water, her cheeks flushing slightly. She had to admit; he did look handsome in his gear.

Arresting herself for letting her mind wander, she took a hoof to the opal. “How’s does it look?” she asked.

        “It still looks fine. Seems like it might have lost some of its glow, though. I assume that will come back to some degree when I give you the water Rishad gave us.” he quickly concluded.

        Giving a sigh of relief, she ordered, “Probably. Go on out. I’ll come down in a minute.”          Athaal leaned forward and gave her a soft peck. “Alright, tell me if you need anything,” he said before leaving.

        She made ready a few essential items, swirled the scarf around her neck, donned the saddlebags and tried tightening the strap that went under her stomach. She rolled her eyes slightly as she just now noticed that Athaal had given her the old set, but with her growing stomach, it would never fit. She took them off, placed them at the bed board, drew forth the other pair and strapped it on before placing all the items needed in them. She let a smile emerge as she felt the padded strap embrace her. Taking a final count over her items, she nodded in pleasure and started down the stairs. Outside, she saw the sun barely making its presence known over the horizon. A small carriage with clothing stood ready in between a bundle of saddlebags.

        Near the carriage Athaal was addressing four soldiers wearing light brown scale armor and helmets. On one of their sides rested a small round shield, while the other held a sword. Around each of their crest hung a container with what she presumed was water for the trip. Like Athaal, they all had clothing over their armor, to shield from the heat and cover from the sand. The only thing setting her husband apart from the rest of the soldiers was his size, and the fact that he had one large sword attached to his side, versus a smaller one with a buckler. She recognized the one wearing a red officer plume, Arien. He had lectured Athaal in strategic warfare, and over time they had grown close, according to Athaal.

        Looking at the armor once more, she found that it intrigued her in the way they were fashioned. For a short time, the military had donned leather armor. While the leather was only taken from animals that had died in battle or of sickness, the neighboring countries had taken too harsh critique when they found out. So to please the diplomatic ties that were being built, the military switched over to use the scales of scorpolids. The scales were harder and lighter than the normal leather, but more difficult to obtain as the scorpolids always buried themselves under sand when they were about to die. While the other countries still didn’t like it, they accepted it for the fact that wearing metal armor would be impossible in the heat of Saddle-Arabia.

Closer to the house, Saif talked in hushed tones to three other ponies; she made a quick conclusion that they were all watanï like him. All but Saif had their sand colored hood and cape on them, while having bands around their muzzles and heads that showed nothing but their eyes. All of the watanï had the same bracelet on their right hoof, complete with a hidden blade. Saif had not taken on the hood and muzzle piece yet, and she saw the dark brown fur and the white, messy mane with a stripe of dark green in it clearly. She once again received the feeling she had seen him somewhere else. 

Thinking no more of it, she made to her husband, waited till he was done addressing the soldiers, and then spoke. “Dear... you didn’t tell me we were taking that many with us, and where’s the priest you said would join us?” She asked quietly.

Athaal guided her towards the carriage, “We will stop by the temple to pick the priest up before we leave town.” He answered.
With a little help from Athaal, she placed herself on the cart. It was designed in a simple manner, having a place for her to rest while lying down or sitting. If there was a need for it, there was a possibility to create a makeshift tent, blocking out heat or sand. At the front of it was made a place to store the bigger necessities for the trip: tents, firewood and extra water.

Calling his brother over, they fastened the cart to Athaal. The ponies took the places assigned to them. The soldiers would go in front, house guards would take the back, and Saif would walk in the middle next to the cart. Seeing the preparations, Moxie felt her cheeks burn as she became aware that she would be the only pony not walking, and that everypony would be able to see her loafing around while her husband pulled her.

She cleared her throat, gaining the attention of Athaal. “Do I really have to sit in this cart? I can still walk, you know.”

“Are you sure?” Athaal answered.

Moxie nodded, “Yes, at least let me walk till we’re out of town.”

        He smiled at her and waved his hoof to his side, welcoming her to walk next to him. Her descent was clumsy, but there was nothing else to expect seeing her stomach. She made sure to place herself just behind him. Now, more than ever, they needed to adhere the social conducts of place and respect. Athaal needed to maintain the respect of his soldiers, and her acting out of her way would perhaps sour that. She did however nuzzle the back of his neck in appreciation, earning a slight shiver from him as her wet lips touched his warm fur.

        He smiled barely, and tried his best to remain stoic. He shouted the order to march and they moved instantly. The sound of hoofs hitting gravel, and chitin grinding together with leather penetrated the morning stillness.

        A thought struck her, and she turned to Athaal. “Why are you pulling the cart?” She inquired, knowing full well it was not a noble’s job.

        “Do you really think I would let anypony else be in charge of your cart? Besides, I’m the pony that’s best built for pulling, and to bring another pony just to pull a cart would mean that we would need to bring more supplies and such.” He said with a smile drawn upon his lips.

        She returned the smile and turned her focus down the brick layered path from their house. The traction and angle of the road forced Athaal to take small steps, making sure the cart did not push him into the soldiers walking in front. Once they reached the bottom, the temple was no more than a few blocks away. From this distance, she saw that a few hooded figures were waiting for them in front of the grey towers that pierced the sky. She wondered, perhaps it was an attempt to come closer to what they perceived as the greatness of Eran, or perhaps they wanted the temple to stand above all other buildings. It was a question not even Rishad could answer, for it was built long ago. Long before the plague, and long before they began to record history within the temple.

        The temple was the gathering place for the biggest faith following in Saddle-Arabia. It was also the place where she and Athaal had been joined together as husband and wife. Approaching the structure woke both good and bad feelings within her. The wedding itself had not been happy, and forced upon both of them. The actions of her father had made it all worse. Casting a quick glance at Athaal, she smiled. It had turned out fine in the end, and all in all she wished it no other way, even if the path to this point had been covered with pain and trouble. Still, it was not over.

        At the front gate, they saw Rishad talking intently to an acolyte and then giving the purple scarf that followed the lead priest of the temple. As they came closer, he took notice of them and bowed gently. Next to him on the ground there were multiple bags made ready. 
        They stopped and Athaal looked at the door which the other pony had vanished through. “Was that the acolyte you said you’d have ready for the trip, Rishad?” He inquired.

        Rishad’s gaze rested upon Moxie’s form, dark circles clear underneath his eyes.  The gaze lingered only for a few seconds before he broke it.

        “Oh, the old fool that I am had completely forgotten that the spell would take days for an acolyte to learn, and since there are no other priests that could do the spell, that only leaves the option for me to join in.”

        Moxie opened her mouth to protest, then bit her tongue and gave Athaal a rather sharp nudge to the side. The young noble let off a surprised gasp, and looked confused at her angry stare. She motioned towards Rishad, and shook her head. She knew the priest meant well, but their path was too perilous for someone in his age to join in. And if something happened to him…she shuddered with just the thought of it. 

        Athaal nodded and turned to the priest. “We’re going through Linac territory, and the heat of the desert will be too much for you, are you sure you have nopony else to go in your stead?” he said, and bowed his head deeply to ensure no insult was intended. 

        Rishad smiled warmly at their concern, “Do not worry, Athaal of Ghazath. I have more endurance than you’d think. I can assure you, I’ll be fine. Eran will protect me as I do this task.” He reassured and made way to the carriage, “May I put my bags on this? I’m not going to lie, lesser weight will make it easier to walk.” 

        Athaal nodded, then looked apologetically at her, they both knew they had no say in the matter now. Only the king could go against the decision of the high priest. Even then, it would not always fall in good earth.

        Walking away, she cast one look back and froze. Acolytes gathered in front of the gate, all doing the same motions. They were marking them all with the blessing of Eran by drawing the eye in front of them, moving their hoofs in an oval circle and setting a smaller circle within it. Underneath the hood of the one now donning the purple scarf of the head priest, a dark stare was set at her. She barely saw the ice blue eyes within the shadow. A shudder went down her spine as if a winter wind swept over her. Whatever it was, she felt chilled to the bone. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down as her temples thundered in her skull. The acolytes began to withdraw to the church, and she cast one final glance before she made haste to catch up to Athaal whom stood waiting for her. She swallowed. If she ever believed in superstitions, she would be sure that was a bad omen.

        The quickest way out of town, and closest exit to their destination, made them go through the merchant quarter and passing at the edge of the common district. This excited her more than she liked to admit. The Fayah residence was located at one of the hills overlooking the merchant quarter, along with most of the common places. As a filly, she had often spent the time she had away from her studies on a balcony facing towards those areas. She had however, never been allowed to take a closer look. It was uncouth for a noble foal to mingle and befriend peasants. 

        They took a right down the road from the temple, entering the quarter. A smile drew itself over her lips as she noticed a few merchants shift slightly in their chairs as Athaal passed them, while a selected few waved at them. She was often down here to shop for ingredients for dinner, or just taking a stroll to see if she could get something new to the house. The newfound respect she had gained with the marriage to the Ghazath family made any activity more pleasant. While they still looked upon her gimpy wing, they never mentioned it like they did before. They rather hid away from her, knowing that her rank was higher than them as long as she held the bracelet of Ghazath on her.

        As they passed where the road came close to the common quarters, Moxie let her eyes wander. She stared in fascination at how small and compact the houses were compared to what she was used too. Instead of stones on the ground, the roads were just pressured sand, leaving dust to be whirled up as ponies walked over. She also eyed foals running between the houses, laughing loudly as they either fell over each other, or tossed water between them from the scarce puddles that was left from rain or cleaning. At first Moxie felt sorry for them to live in such conditions, but she also saw how happy most of them were, just focusing on keeping what they had together.

        A set of guards waited for them at the city gate, spearheaded by a black stallion. Athaal unhinged himself from the cart and made to the front of the guards in his own crew. Moxie felt her heart sink in her chest as she recognized her father in front.

        “Ghalib, what is the meaning of this?” Athaal inquired.

        “You will not take my daughter out of this city, Athaal, I will place you under arrest if needed.” Ghalib stated.

        “It’s not something I want to do, but we must bring Moxie up there.” Athaal retorted.

        “Do you really think taking her through Linac territory will do any good?” Ghalib stomped his hoof into the ground, “You will be killed before you’re halfway. This is for your own good.” 

        The young noble stepped forward, “You’re the one who proposed this trip. We need to do this. I know it’s risky, but there’s no other way!”
        “Not with my daughter!” Ghalib did a sweeping motion with hoof, “Guards, he will not pass until he leaves my daughter here.”

        Seeing the guards behind her father exchange confused glances, and Saif stepping up to his brother, Moxie quickly took the place next to Athaal. She swallowed, feeling the eyes of the ponies nearby watching the scene. For once, she did not care what anypony thought. If she was to be bound by conducts and the whim of others, she might as well let her life be forfeit. She was not ready to do that; not for anypony. It was her life they were arguing about, and she of all ponies had a right to say what was best.

        “Father, stop it!” Moxie bellowed.

        In that instant, as if time stood still, all eyes were on her. The guards they had hired muttered nervously between themselves, and the ones at the gate had their spears halfway down, looking at bewilderment at the pregnant mare who purposely interrupted a discussion amongst noble stallions. Ghalib scowled at her, joined in by many other bystanders. She felt her body shiver with a mix of anger and resentment. While the eyes judged her, she took a deep breath and exhaled. Her eyes never moved from her father’s. She waited, as did all. Her heart beat strongly within her chest, and her body rose in temperature. There was no going back; not now. 

        Ghalib leaned forward and hissed, “Moxie, I have taught you better than this, you do not interject when stallions are talking.”

        She shook her head, “I can’t sit idly by watching you discuss my life!” 

        “The subject of the discussion does not matter, Moxie.” Ghalib answered quickly in an attempt to dismiss her.

        “It does, and it should also matter to you. I’m your daughter. My life should mean more to you than some stupid social rule!” She shouted, once more feeling the judgment of those nearby upon her, yet her eyes never broke contact with Ghalib.

        “That’s why I’m trying to stop--” 

        “No! You’re not!” She interrupted, “You’re trying to force your way, as all other times. What would mother say if she saw you now? I trust Athaal with my life, I trust that he has made the best possible decision for the both of us, he would not take me out of the city unless he thought it absolutely necessary. Mother said you chose Athaal to marry me for a reason, so trust the decision you made together with her back then. Your way is not always the best. Please, you have to realize that and let us go...let me go. I’m not your little filly anymore; I’m soon to be a mother, and you a grandfather.” Moxie said, feeling her voice was at a breaking point, struggling to keep her emotions in control. She knew the foal was a bitter point for him, he had avoided all conversations about it ever since he was given the names. She saw how he furrowed his brows towards her, anger rising in his eyes.

        “If I may say something,” came from Rishad as he approached them.

        “Rishad?” Ghalib said as anger slowly got replaced by confusion. “What are you doing here?”

        “I’m joining them up to the graveyard to perform the spell there.” The priest answered calmly.

        Ghalib’s eyes grew wide. “Are you sure? There’s no going back from this, Rishad.” Pointing his hoof forward to make a point.

        Rishad nodded, “Yes. I’m aware that it might sound risky, but I too think that this is the best course of action.” He placed a hoof on Moxie’s back, “Having Moxie stay behind would only secure the sickness free reign over her mind and body, this way I will be able to attend to her as we travel, and we will be able to cure her within a week.”

        “You would be able to do that here as well.” Ghalib reasoned.

        “Indeed I would, but that still leaves us with the time limit, Ghalib. Just my magic is not enough to battle this disease.” Rishad stated.
        Ghalib gazed at her, then to the priest and Athaal, and finally between the murmurs of the ponies walking around them. They could almost hear his mind working to find another way. The silence was broken by an audible sigh from him, he looked ruefully at her with ears flopped back. “Very well...” he waved a dismissive hoof at the guards. “let them pass.”

        She smiled and embraced him, “Thank you,” she said and kissed his cheek, “I’ll be safe, I promise.”

        Her father shook his head, “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, it is a dangerous journey.” He said harshly as he stepped to the side, “No matter what you think of my ways, or if you have agreed with the traditions I follow, you’re still my little princess...I don’t know what I would do if anything happened to you, nor would your mother.” He said in a hushed tone, making sure no one else heard.

        She smiled and felt her heart swell up. It had been a long time she had seen her father show any affection towards her. Her only wish was that it was under different circumstances.

        Athaal nudged her softly on the side, “We need to go if we’re to reach the camp before night.”

        Moxie nodded and turned to Ghalib again. “Don’t worry, Father, I will be back in a couple of weeks.” She said and bowed deeply to him for the first time since the announcement of her wedding. 

        Ghalib smiled, “I’ll wait here for you then.” Turning to Athaal he said. “If anything happens to her I will have your head on a spear, understood?”

        “I welcome you to try, old stallion.” Saif stated, his muscles unmoving and eyes showing only detached emotions.

        “Saif!” Athaal hissed, “Stand down!” He helped Moxie onto the carriage and turned to Ghalib. “You have my word that I will do all that I can to bring her back home safely, Ghalib.”

        Seemingly satisfied, Ghalib approached the carriage and placed a hoof on Moxie’s. “Come see me as soon as you have returned, promise?”

        “Promise,” She answered.

Athaal put himself in the binds of the carriage again and the group moved out through the gates and into the desert. She took a glance back and saw Ghalib watching them leave, growing smaller and smaller till he was completely gone through the masses. She sighed and felt a sudden pang of regret. Perhaps she had been too hard on Ghalib? 

The watanï walked behind the cart in a square formation, at her right side, Saif was walking and gave her a short nod as she looked at him. On her left, Rishad followed the slow pace the traveling squad had taken to in the heat. While the monsoon season was coming soon, the heat was still blistering. The orange sand burned and critters remained in the shadows, burying themselves in deep underneath to cool off. If she looked at the horizon in front of her, she could see how everything distorted within the heat, creating mirages and cluttering the air itself. She glanced up quickly at the sun rising above the mountain, climbing to reach its treacherous peak.

Just now she felt how confronting her father had taken its toll on her mentally. Her body, heart and mind all calmed down, drooping into an exhausted serenity. Perhaps she would take effort in mending the relationship with Ghalib once they returned home? She sighed and took a large sip of water, feeling the liquid cool her insides as it traveled down her throat. Thankful that the cart tent was easily put up, she closed her eyes and relaxed to the rocking motions as they traveled forward.

Hours of wandering followed. Nothing was to be seen, but the orange sand and critters skittering away as they moved past them. They had also passed a few wandering merchants, allowing them to buy a little more water so they could afford to drink more as they wanted instead of supplying it. For Rishad and Moxie, this helped a great deal. 

When the sun stood on its highest peak, they had reached the enormous mountain called Tooth of Wah’sh, the halfway mark. They quickly set up a makeshift tent so they all could rest in the shadow. Rishad gave out small packages containing a carefully made meal, rich in nutrients and energy. As they ate the soldiers settled down into small chatter about previous missions or stories about how they had withstood attacks from the Linacs and survived, also boasting about mares they had been with in different cities. While the houseguards remained mostly silent, or they spoke of tactics. Athaal and Rishad sat with Moxie and discussed how they would further progress.

After some vocal objections from Rishad and Athaal, they finally agreed to let the priest ride the cart for a while. Athaal had suggested to pull both of them, but the idea was quickly shot down because of the strain it would put on him. And while he denied it, they all could see how the sweat pushed through his fur, any more and he might become dehydrated.

As they began to pack and make ready to take on the last bit of travel to reach the guard post, she decided to take a last look at the mountain. It stood like a black and red wall on the red carpet of sand, reaching high enough to almost slice through the clouds drifting by it. The mountain stretched backwards farther than she could see. Old tales told that the mountain was the remains of a giant that roamed the land in ancient times. The giant took too much of the planet to himself, so the gods decided to join together and end its life, giving room for other species to evolve. From this place ponies as a race had begun, and slowly divided into tribes and sub races. As soon as Luna and Celestia made their presence known, the ponies split; those that wished to follow Eran, and those who followed the alicorns, eventually founding the two biggest pony countries.

Athaal shouted at her, signaling that they were ready to go. She took on the white cowl and took place next to her husband. The remaining distance was traversed without any interruptions. They saw how the land slowly turned into a lusher environment. Rocks were replaced with palms and bushes with berries on them. The sandy roads shifted to a cobbled path. Reaching afternoon, winds began to blow, giving a relief from the scorching heat. They passed small gathering of trees, and at times small watering holes, judging from the amount of animals seen around it.

They reached the guard post just before dark. It was a small settlement with tents surrounded by spiked wooden poles in a large confined area. It had a large bonfire at the center where those stationed there gathered at evenings to share a meal. One of the guards standing in front of the gate stopped them. After Athaal quickly surmised their intention and that he had sent a courier with a letter in advance, the guard let them pass and ordered one of the soldiers to guide them to the tent of the commander. 

Athaal unhinged the carriage and told the squad to begin setting up their tents and prepare a warm soup while him and Moxie were talking to the commander. Soldiers looked briefly at them as they passed but paid no more attention to them. They entered a large brown tent and the stallion that lead them bowed quickly and returned to the fireplace.  

        Behind a large white desk a large stallion sat, looking at them with a set of blue eyes. His neck showed strong muscles under the light brown fur, and his jawline was broad. His jet black mane was tied in a braid, falling down to his side. Several scars over his shoulders and neck were visible. On his desk rested a helm glazed with scars of battle, the purple stripe of hair on top of it was tattered, thinning in many places. 

        With a grumbly voice, the commander spoke. “Welcome to my camp. Please, have a seat.” He suggested and bowed.

        Athaal sat down first on a pillow, and indicated for Moxie to sit down next to him. Taking a quick glance around again, she decided to sit down as close to him as possible. The atmosphere made her uneasy. Swords hung from racks with metal gleaming in the flicker of light from candles. On the floor lay a huge bulky armor far too big for a pony, golden in color with a crimson hole in it.

        Seemingly satisfied, the commander smiled. “The name is Mun’taz, and you do me great honor with your visit. I’ve made all the preparations you asked for in the letter to the best of what I could. I hope that is satisfactory.”

        “Excellent, as long as we have a place to set up our tents and fill up on water we’re happy.” Athaal answered.

        “I’ve arranged for you to set camp at the far end of the settlement, near the well, so refilling water will be no issue.” Mun’taz answered, he then turned his gaze to Moxie. “May I offer you anything to eat? You would do me a great honor if you shared a meal with me.” 

        She took a deep breath, uncertain if the question was directed to her or not. She was afraid to speak out of place. The intense eyes and brash manner of Mun’taz scared her, and she could only imagine what scene needed to unfold to give a stallion as this one such scars. It was not for her to turn down an invitation from a stallion of rank; it was all up to Athaal. Her mind remained frozen, unable to respond. She shuddered, feeling the fatigue of the day’s trip slowly creep over her. 

        Athaal looked at her and softly stroked her back. “I would gladly join you for a meal, Mun’taz, but I’m afraid that my wife will not. As I explained in the letter, she is sick and her health will take priority.” He explained.

        Mun’taz nodded, “Understood. I will only prepare for one guest tonight.” He then rose and made way to the entrance of the tent. “I assume you and your wife wish to retreat to your tent for now?”

        Athaal rose and offered a hoof to Moxie, she took it and rose. He turned to Mun’taz, “That would make us very happy. I will join you later on after I have made sure everyone in my crew is ready to travel tomorrow at sunrise.”

        The large stallion bowed and held the entrance open for them. They exited and were met with a complete blackness. As soon as their eyes adjusted, they started for the far end of the camp. Every tent needed to be put up, even their own. Near the well the guards had made a small fireplace and were making a vegetable soup with nicamroots. This root was taken with them specifically due to its high nutrient value. It made one full for a long time and gave energy throughout the day. In this case, it would replenish the energy they had spent on travel.

        Rishad spotted them from his place around the kettle and made his way towards them. “What did the commander say?” Rishad inquired.

        “He just wanted to wish us welcome, and invite me and Moxie to a dinner with him, for the usual honor boasting and such.” Athaal responded with a labored voice.

        The priest chuckled, “From the tone of your voice, I assume you’re not too fond of these things.” then his expression turned grim and he turned to Moxie. “The opal is glowing weaker, you need to take a dose of the serum right about now.” 

        Moxie nodded, “I know. The bottle is in one of my saddlebags.”

        Rishad placed a hoof on her shoulder, “I must warn you, the effects of taking this serum can be rather violent... and painful.”
        She swallowed, “I suspected as much.”

        “I won’t leave for the dinner until you have fallen asleep, Moxie.” Athaal comforted.

        “Thank you...” she responded with a slight smile. “could you excuse us, Rishad? I’m exhausted.”

        “Of course, I will place some soup for you to eat once you wake up.” He responded before trailing off to the fire again.

        Relief washed over her as they entered their tent, each step she took felt like it was depleting her energy. Near the center, they saw Saif readying a makeshift bed out of pillows and leaves he had taken from outside. He quickly stepped to the side and let her lie down.

        Moxie sighed, “Thank you, Saif, this is much appreciated.” she said softly.

        Saif bowed, “All in your best interest, my Lady.”

        Athaal took a hoof to his brother’s shoulder, “Thank you, now make sure that everyone is aware that we need to go tomorrow morning, at sunrise.”

        The watanï made way outside and responded. “Very well.”

        Athaal placed a blanket next to the bed and smiled at her before he made way to her saddlebag that had been placed in the corner of the dark tent together with the supplies that needed shade to stay fresh. He fidgeted slightly with the lock on the bag, swore silently and tried to calm himself down. Eventually he managed to open it and drew forth the chalice together with the locket containing the serum. He opened the small locket and gasped slightly as a brilliant blue glow embraced the room from within it. Regaining his focus again he walked over to her and sat down.

 “I can’t say I’m very fond of the idea of this serum…” He said as he lifted up the vial.

        Moxie nodded, “Neither am I, but the other option is less favorable.” she said in a sullen voice.

        He carefully poured some of the strange content into the chalice, and mixed it with water, then gave it to her. She looked at the blue glowing liquid that swirled around reflecting ripples across her features. Taking a deep breath, she emptied it and swallowed. Almost instantly, her body threatened to rid itself off it. As it ran down her throat it felt like it expanded, adding its disgusting flavor at each spot it passed. She quickly took a hoof over her muzzle, and started to cough violently. She felt Athaal take hold of her and placed her on his lap while letting his hoofs cradle her.

        They sat like that for a short while before she felt heat glow from her stomach, an almost burning sensation. It was a comforting at first, but as it spread to the tips of her limbs it felt like she had a sun inside of her, making her writhe in pain. From her folded ears she felt the sweat begin to drop. As quickly as the heat came, it vanished, leaving her shivering from cold. Then, like a bolt of lightning striking her, she felt immense pain running down her spine and her body began to shake violently and uncontrollably. Her jaw clenched shut with enough force that she heard her teeth crack. 

        Athaal rocked her back and forth, whispering in a meek voice. “Moxie, Moxie, Moxie, hold on... it will pass in a moment, just a little bit longer.” 

        The storm in her body vanished, the shakes stopped and got replaced with a calming wave of heat. As her eyes slowly closed, she saw the room fill itself with a blue light once more, this time from the gem on her forehead. Then the world faded as she rested in the lap of her husband.





        Athaal exited the tent, feeling the unease slowly letting go of its grasp on him. Rishad had prepared him to apply the drink, but the violence of it made him feel physically ill. He took a deep breath and felt a hoof land on his shoulders.

        “I know it may seem harsh, and it is tough on you, but it is for the best, believe me on that.” Comforted Rishad with a careful smile splitting his large beard.

        He sighed, “I know... it’s just... it hurts me to see her like that. There must be another way to give the opal energy.” Athaal inquired.

        Rishad shook his head, “I’m afraid not, the opal draws its energy from within her, therefore the refill must come from there.”

        “How long --” 

        “Mun’taz requests your presence in his tent to share a meal.” Interrupted one of the post guards.

        Athaal bowed, “Tell him that I will honor his wish.” Turning to Rishad and Saif, he said. “Look after her for me, will you?”

        Saif raised his hoof and held it over his crest, “With my life, brother.” 

        Rishad in turn raised a brow at Saif. “Now, now, we’re amongst friends, Saif, calm down.” He said calmly.

        Seeing his brother stumbled by the straightforward comment from the priest, Athaal interjected. “Just guard the entrance, Saif. Rishad, if you could, go into the tent and make sure nothing happens to her.” 

        They both bowed and headed for the tent. Athaal shrugged and headed towards the commander’s tent. These honor pampering sessions always bored him, most of the time the commander would sit and flaunt at his ability in battle; and if his second in command was there as well, he would also boast some. If he was lucky, this commander would be more interested in helping him forward than to try to improve his political position. Some information about the residing Linacs would be welcome as they behaved differently according to the time of the year. 

        He bowed slightly to the guard and stepped inside the tent. The table in front of him was ladened with exotic meals, far too exotic for an outpost, in his opinion. Amongst it was zap apple juice from Equestria, known for its shining rainbow color. Creamed hay from the dock town Manesail, and spiced apple from Ma’galag. He would inquire about where he had gotten hold of this food, but his situation did not allow it at this moment.

        Mun’taz greeted him with a crooked smile, “Welcome. Please, have a seat. Take what you want from the table.”

        Athaal sat down on the offered pillow and took hold of a spiced apple. “Thank you, you do me great honor.”

        The commander bellowed a laugh. “I could say the same about you, Ghazath. Your rise in power in the Council and control over the Borderguild has become quite a fable in Saddle-Arabia, to be so young and get that much power, surely some of it is your father’s work?”

        He smiled in response and hid a sigh, he now knew where this conversation was headed.

        Mun’taz continued, “I myself have had proficient success in the military with my--”

        Athaal held up a hoof, “I don’t mean to insult your honor, but matters of politics is not something I concentrate on now. My wife is sick, and has been for some time, and I’m tired.” He poured himself a glass of juice and drank it. “So please, let us just enjoy a meal. If anything, I would like to hear about the current Linac movements between here and the Scar of Bak’an.”

        Mun’taz chewed slowly on some hay while looking heavenwards, almost as he was judging if he was insulted or not. He then swallowed and looked at the noble. “If you insist. The Linac tribe nearby have become increasingly aggressive. We’re not sure, but we think it has something to do with a few younger males coming of age. Around that time they need to prove themselves great hunters and bring home heads of their enemy, a pegasus being a great trophy at that. Because of that, their patrols are unstable. They have the regular ones, which we keep control of. But lately it has also become some small bands going outside of their usual area in search for us, or a scorpolid matron.”

        Athaal sat back and looked at the map hanging behind the commander, “So there’s no pattern at all?”

        “I’m afraid not, not that we can tell at least.” Mun’taz leaned forward, “You’ve got to ask yourself, is she really worth the risk?”

        Athaal looked at him with a raised brow, “I would choose my next words very carefully if I were you, Mun’taz...” He stated plainly, his muscles tensing up and his eyes turning cold.

        “I’m just offering my thoughts,” Mun’taz explained. “You’re young; you can remarry. You have been with her for a little over a year now? It just seems foolish to risk the lives of a whole squad for one mare. Especially with the Linacs being aggressive.”

Athaal felt his iris rings begin to burn as they went from dull gray to a jet black. “I’ll tolerate that thought only because we are staying in your camp,” he rose and made way towards the door. “but I have no more to say to you, and you would do wise to stay clear of anypony in my crew.” He said, forcing himself to get out before his rising anger would make him say, or do anything he would regret later.

        “Think about it, Athaal, that’s all I’m telling you.” Came from Mun’taz as the blinds closed behind him.

        He quickly crossed the camp towards the place where his group was, meeting more than one curious glance on his path. He had perhaps cut some bonds with Mun’taz now, but he could not care less. If anything, he would make sure the commander would be taken away from his position and imprisoned for corruption; the food alone was enough evidence. As he approached his own tent, Saif stood up and greeted him.

        “What has you so angry, brother?” he inquired.

        Athaal took a deep breath, “Nothing you need to worry about… is everypony ready to leave at first light?” Athaal asked.

        “Yes, we have taken all the supplies we are not using and put it in the saddlebags.” Saif squinted his eyes, “What happened during that dinner? It was incredibly short.”

        “Just drop it!” He snapped.

        Saif raised his hoof in mock defense, “Alright, alright, but I think you need to calm down, your eyes are black like the deepest pits.”
        The door to the tent opened and Rishad stepped out, “I thought it wouldn’t be necessary to tell you to keep your voice down, Athaal.” He said

        He took a hoof to his temple, “You’re right, sorry… how is she?”

        Rishad smiled, “She’s doing fine, still sleeping, even with the… noise.” The priest placed a hoof on Athaal’s shoulder. “Stand still…” He ordered as his horn shone brightly.

        A golden moving layer traveled from the horn and down his hoof, and made the leap over to Athaal. The golden shield that slowly formed over him glowed with a soothing pulse. As it completely enveloped him, he felt it pressuring down on him, hugging him slightly. His emotions stilled like raging water after a storm, giving him an almost euphoric state of mind; and the burning sensation in his eyes vanished.

        “There,” Rishad said as he retracted his hoof, “I can’t allow you to go to her riled up like you were.”

        The noble blinked, “Amazing… what did you do?”

        The old pony chuckled, “I’ve told you, the magic of Eran are no trifle tricks. Now, I think we all need the rest we can get. Let’s put today’s events behind us.”

        He nodded and silently went into the tent, took off his armor, placed it next to the saddlebags and nestled in next to Moxie. He pulled a blanket over them and smiled as his wife let go of a short snore. He ran his hoof down her mane, pulling back the strands of hair fallen down over her muzzle. Seeing the opal pulse, he sighed. He let his hoof wander down her chest and stopped at her stomach, where he let it rest.

        He leaned close to her and kissed her nose softly before whispering, “I would sacrifice anything for you...” He closed his eyes and let sleep take its grasp.



*~*~*~*~*



        Trixie embraced her blue star spangled wizard hat with a magenta glow and placed it on her cart. She twisted her mane, forcing the water out of it. The light blue color glistened in the morning sun. She stretched it so it held its normal pointed form. Her violet eyes wandered over the cart which had been scribbled down while the rest had tossed her in the lake. With a sigh she took off her cape and let the sun bathe her azure coat. 

        Perhaps turning that stallion’s fur into grass wasn’t the best idea, but it was his own fault for having wandering eyes. Like always, the other ponies did not wish to see her side of it.

        She went behind the brown carriage and opened a green hatch. She was surprisingly pleased the ponies had not touched the inside, and quickly located her brush and a map. She absently stroked the brush on her tail while she jotted down a red cross over Fillydelphia. She snarled slightly, she had now been through every city near Canterlot, and nopony had yet appreciated her magic. Tapping a hoof on the edge of the map, she nodded before rolling it together and placed it in the cart again. 

        She took out a salad and began to chew. The only place left for her to visit in the Equestrian kingdom was Manesail, and the fastest way there would be through a small part of the Saddle-Arabian desert. She had heard some things about that place, but concluded that she would just awe her way out of any conflict that would arise. Furthermore, cutting down two days of travel would be worth it. She swallowed her food and strapped herself to the cart, and it would be two days earlier that she could dazzle the Manesail residents with her spectacular magic. Surely they would never have seen such magic, since she had never been there before.

        With a mad cackle, she started down the road, bidding farewell with the city and set eyes on the borders of Saddle-Arabia.


> Chapter 4: HaSheaga
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


HaSheaga


Saif looked behind him. The camp was vanishing in between the sand dunes and large palms. He didn’t dwell much on what happened last night between Athaal and the commander, but whatever it was, Athaal wanted to leave as fast as possible. He looked back, making sure Kazim was still with him. Today’s actions and decisions had been made from rash emotions. Saif didn’t like it, but he was glad there was no danger at all from following the orders.

Much to Saif’s surprise, and especially considering his age, Kazim still kept up with him at this pace. He was glad the one he had developed fighting techniques and fought beside still hadn’t crumbled to old age and aching bones. Even if he mostly did administrative work now, he apparently still trained.

He turned forward. The sun was now slowly creeping up over the sandy hills that rolled forward over the horizon, bathing them in an orange glow.  Crossing over the dunes, they felt how the bitter cold got replaced by a blistering heat. Along the ridges of their vision they saw multiple oases crowning the dull desert with a green speckle of color, along with small dots of richly colored flowers barely visible from their view.

They reached the rock Mun’Taz had told them about, and where they were to wait for Athaal and the rest to catch up. Zubair kneeled in the sand and rose when they came closer, bowing slightly the moment they were within reach. He had shown some displeasure of being sent ahead to scout, thinking it was beneath his abilities to do such a trivial task. However, Kazim had agreed with Saif that it would be a good test for him.

“There’s nothing of importance to report.” Zubair said, his salute as he did so flawless, but his demeanor still showing arrogance.

Saif looked outwards past the rock, “Complete the report,” he ordered after a time of gazing outwards.

Zubair furrowed his brows and looked at him, “I just did, there’s nothing of importance to report.”

Saif sighed and took to his wings to fly up on top of the rock, baffled over how the discipline had fallen in the academy. For Zubair to ignore even the smallest detail was unacceptable, and his attitude needed to change if he ever were to make a good watanï. At first it seemed like Zubair had been correct. Nothing seemed off in the dunes that stretched all the way over the horizon. Another oasis stood at the edge of his vision, larger than the other they had passed he concluded. Straight forward he spotted the Limbs of Bak’an, a gathering of old withering trees leading towards the lush valley.

About to join the others in the shadow, he halted. Seeing something in the glare of the sun, he squinted trying to gain a better view. He leaped down and unfurled his wings, gliding forward and landing soundlessly in the sand next to a large path of trampled prints that were far too large for any pony to have made. Slowly getting covered by the winds, the path headed straight for the oasis.

Kazim followed and landed right next to him, and they both remained silent. They knew that the paws, ending with deep claw marks, belonged to a Linac. By the size of the trail and the cluttering of prints, it was more than three of them. Saif hunched down, touching the path with his hoof, it seemed like they were dragging something with them, but he couldn’t be sure.

“The tracks look about a day old, meaning they either have a camp in that oasis, or just passing through it.”  Kazim noted, breaking the silence.

Saif only nodded in response. His armor quickly absorbed the heat as they remained near the track, turning it into a baker’s oven.  He turned and began to walk for the large rock. While they could easily fly up he preferred not to use his wings during the day, the heat would quickly become unbearable. Kazim agreed with him, and refrained from using his wings unless absolutely necessary.

He sighed as he sat down, mind focused intently on the possibility of a Linac pack interjecting the caravan route. Even a small squad of those beasts would prove almost impossible to stop from getting their target. With an elderly unicorn and a pregnant mare, avoiding that would be top priority.

“Something wrong?” Zubair asked from the corner he had taken rest in.

Saif ran a hoof down his cheek and turned his head slowly. Zubair still gave off an uneasy vibe, making Saif constantly question if it was right to bring him along. The large sweeping motions and flaring nostrils were awaiting a confrontation. His eyes were icy blue and showed calculating behavior from the way he looked at the environment. He was one of the very few pegasi born with a pure white mane in Saddle-Arabia. Clear colors as that were often not preferred in the watanï profession and had been watered out by many years of warfare. Though, every now and then, a foal with clear colors was born. The little of his coat that was visible under the leather armor was hazel brown with spots of black in it.

“There’s possibly a small group of Linac nearby,” Saif started, “I’m not entirely sure what we should do about it. Most likely they will not come this way again, but the off chance that they will is worrying me.” He turned to Zubair and said cooly, “This is why every detail matters, remember that.”

Zubair hesitated slightly, then leaned forward. “Can’t we kill them?” he asked with an aggressive tone in his voice.

“No,” Kazim said, shutting the idea down.

Zubair furrowed his brows, “Why not? We’re three watanï, and from what I’ve heard about what you and Saif have done before, we should easily be able to take them down.”

“Have you ever fought a Linac?” Saif asked, still running a hoof down his cheek.

“No, but I know you’ve killed a few alone, can’t be that hard.” The youngster said, arrogance and excitement weighing his voice.

“Did they ever tell you how I did it?” He said as he narrowed his eyes at Zubair, who shook his head in retort.  Lifting a hoof Saif brought it near his throat, allowing the blade to spring out of its sheath as he talked.“I killed them while they slept, one stab with this right in their vocal cords, simultaneously as the other one goes up under the jaw,” Saif raise his other hoof to the soft spot between his jawbones to show. “so the blade goes straight to their brain and kills them instantly.”

Zubair glared, “The great Saif taking the coward’s way, and why the vocal cords?”

“Their roar can be heard miles away, if you don’t kill them instantly, they will signal every Linac close by.” Kazim added.

“I would imagine a proper fight would be better.”

“Don’t even think about it,” Saif said with a crass tone. “It is the only way to make sure you live through a meeting with them.” Seeing the annoyance grow in the recruit, Saif wondered just how deep into the political mess the academy had fallen. It seemed that any knowledge of the Linacs had been removed from their teaching, and discipline was something of the past. This one began to test his patience.

Zubair rose to protest, and Saif dismissed him with a raised hoof before turning to Kazim. “I want to scout the oasis, to see if there is any immediate threat to our band, and if we need to do something about it. The two of us will go,” He turned to Zubair again, “You will stay here and wait for Athaal and the others to catch up. When they arrive you will join them and head towards the Rift of Bak’an.”

Zubair furrowed his brows, “Why do I need to stay? If it comes down to a fight I’m much better suited than Kazim.” He protested.

Saif stood up, “That is why you won’t join me, the point is to avoid a fight, and for that Kazim is far better suited than you.” seeing Zubair’s features darken, he glared at him. “You will stay here and keep a watch, that’s final.” He held out a hoof, “Give me one of your water pouches, we will need it on the road to the oasis.”

With annoyed movements, Zubair took one of the pouches and tossed it to Saif, then sat down with his back towards the rock. Saif took the pouch and emptied the contents of it into his own and Kazim’s. After making sure the lids were secure they moved towards the end of the large shadow.

Saif turned his head, “If I find out you have abandoned your post, or in any way endangered the expedition or the lives at those in it, including us, I will execute you.” He said as a statement, his coolly voice making sure there was no mistake, and the threat was very much real.

Zubair slinked down in the shadows as he realized he had no say in the matter. Saif saw how the cadet struggled to keep in control of his anger, all while tossing shot glances at him. It would take Saif only a quick second to make sure he would never breathe again, and Zubair knew it.

Sure that the message had been received without any sort of leeway, he began to walk while looking back at Kazim. Was he not allowed to deal discipline to the students any more, or had he just gone soft? If he had done anything like that while he was under training he would have gained a beating so severe that he would have trouble walking for a few days. Zubair needed to change attitude fast, or else his life would fall at the hoofs of a less kind lord. Saif shook his head and aimed his focus forward.

The oasis, growing as they approached, was much larger than he thought at first. About halfway from the rock and the lush area he saw the clear green color of trees and bushes. All over the edge, richly colored flowers embraced the path of a large animal trail. It was often discussed why they had such abundance of oases in the desert, for the sun and soil gave little room for it. One theory was that underneath large rivers ran, stretching like veins of life through the barren land. Each of them held a unique ecosystem, depending on size and placement. The larger ones gave life to rancats, a cat with large eyes, two tails and four long thin legs. Their prey, wontak, often followed.  A furry little creature with an elongated swine snout and tiny legs with claws on them, they were completely harmless to all but bugs. Linacs however, seemed to find them tasty enough to hunt for now and then.

Entering the animal trail, Saif brushed away a branch. The oasis offered a welcoming cold and damp change from the sun, which now was climbing upwards in the sky with rapid speed, getting warmer and warmer. The soil felt rich and soft under his hoofs as he trekked forward, carefully avoiding the larger branches that stuck out over the trail by either going over them or under. His ears flickered trying to locate any sound from the large beasts, if they were even here. He always made sure he heard the sound of Kazim’s steps near him.

Wherever he looked, he saw wild life. Near a pond, there was a gathering of gazelles drinking deeply from the water. From the trees around the open area and around the trail they walked on, birds chirped happily. They heard the rattle from a snake, and the lazy flaps of a larger bird.

The trail seemed to stop at a wall of thick vegetation. Saif pointed his hoof forward, indicating that they should cut through as silent as possible. Each step was taken carefully, for the moisture trapped in the forest made for slippery roots and branches. The soil was covered in leaves and broken branches, cracking and giving in from their steps. He took a branch away from his face and halted.

He pointed at his ears and then forward. Sounds that was out of place could be heard, low guttural growls. Saif held his breath and turned to Kazim; they both knew too well what those sounds came from. Taking a deep breath, he carefully stepped forward, prodding the soil with his hoofs and shifting away branches as best as he could. The growls grew in strength, and Saif pushed aside a branch, giving him vision to a camp site.

Right in front of him sat a large Linac. The hulk like beast had bright red scales running down its arms and back, with a golden line on the tips of those on its back. From its broad and muscled neck a wild mane of gray fell down over the scales. The Linac turned its lizardlike head, showing eyes of stark purple and teeth dripping with poisonous saliva. Its hands were larger than half a pony, with each finger housing a serrated claw. The legs looked almost comical in contrast to the large arms. They were tiny, and had paws with tiny hooks instead of feet, but Saif knew the power behind those. Above its belly and underneath its throat, a scale-less beige bag of skin could be seen: the killing spot.

Saif hunkered down again and signaled them to move over to another place so they could get a better overview. Carefully moving forward and around the open area, he constantly kept an eye on the beasts resting in the sun. They stopped, and after a while he was confident that they had not been seen or heard; he leaned forward, barely allowing him to see inside the camp. One of the Linacs focused intently on making a fire ready, while snapping at those sleeping in their guttural language. He saw no more signs of any other than the four around in the camp, most likely it was just a small patrol. Then, he saw something that made his heart skip a beat and his breath escape from his lungs. In a cage behind the largest beast a beaten mare lay, barely moving.

Her hoofs were tied together to a long stick, and over her head was a woolen bag. On her shoulder a gash had remained open, turning into a crater of black coagulated blood with drops of bright red running down the azure fur and leaving a trail down to the ground. The cutie mark on her flank, resembling a blue half-moon and a wand, had a large bruise over it that was fresh from the black color in it. The light blue tail twitched lightly as she took small sharp intakes of breath. The muffled groan she let out was ladened with pain.

Trixie! The name zapped into Saif’s mind like lightning. His muscles tensed and shivered in agitation, He used all of his willpower to stop himself from rushing out in between the Linacs in a futile attempt to free her. Even with his emotional control, he found that the mere sight of her in this position bid an unwelcome pain at the back of his throat. He forced his eyes away and beckoned Kazim to follow him. They reached a secluded spot under a large branch, just far enough away to allow them to talk in hushed tones. He sat down on his tail, preventing the damp earth from hitting his armor. With closed eyes he took a long outdrawn sigh and arched his brows. 

“Anything the matter?” Kazim inquired after a long silence.

“Yes… and I’m not sure how to address it.” Saif said plainly.

“You’ve seen things much more severe than that, Saif…” The old stallion reasoned.

“Not with… her…” He whispered in response.

Kazim put a hoof on Saif’s shoulder, “Do you know the mare that lies there?”

Saif rose, “Come, we need to head back and meet my brother.” He said quickly and bolted forward, his mind focused on one thing alone.

He swore to himself. Of all the things he could see when checking out that camp, this was what he least expected. Convincing Athaal would be difficult. It wouldn’t have been a problem under normal conditions, but with time restraints hanging over them, leaving the course, even just for a little bit, would be out of the question. Especially if Athaal found out the mare lying there was the one Moxie spent the night with in Canterlot. No, introducing her as his lover would be the best course of action; as a last effort.

Kazim caught up with him, “What’s the matter, Saif!”

“The plans have changed!” Was all he said before he exited the thick brush and ran as fast as the heat allowed him over the scorching desert sand. If he judged it right by the equipment and preparations he saw, the Linacs would camp there at least another day. He hoped so with all of his heart, for he would not be able to chase after them.

“It’s too risky and time consuming.” Athaal stated.

Saif breathed heavily. The run from the oasis to the large rock had taken all of their stamina, and right now Kazim was showing his advanced age while lying with his eyes closed in the shadows. Even so they returned just before Athaal had decided to leave. Much to his brother’s disliking Saif had spared no time and confronted him about what he thought needed to be done the moment they met.

“We can’t just leave her to die.” Saif retorted, struggling to keep his voice in check under his heavy breathing.

“We’re on a strict schedule. We can’t allow any detours, and you know this.”

Saif clenched his jaws with a resigned frown, “Will you let me go alone then? Release me from my contract; just for a few days.”

“Not a chance! I need you along more than anyone else.” Athaal stated, shooting the idea down as if it came from a madman.

“Kazim is more than capable to fill my position for a few days!”

“Really? From what I’ve seen, you drained him off everything with a reckless dash over the desert…” His brother stated while pointing at the sleeping form in the shadows. “And from what you told me, she will be dead from blood poisoning in a bit. I’m sorry, Saif. I know it sounds harsh, but I got to think about my wife first. That’s the last I’ll say on the matter.”

“Are you really going to let her die, Athaal?” A weak voice came from behind them, Moxie approached her husband, her walk weak. It looked as if the tiniest gust would be enough to topple her. She sat down beside Athaal and looked at him with defeated, tired eyes. Each blink took time and her breathing was shallow. She rested a hoof in the lap of her husband and shrugged her head. “How can you be so blind, Athaal? Not once has Saif done anything other than to protect us. If he feels so strongly about this, there must be a reason.” She said in a light scolding voice to Athaal, before facing Saif. “Tell us, why is she so important to you?”

Saif swallowed, now realizing that all eyes rested on him. Even Kazim was sitting upright, awaiting a reason. He thought intently. There were limits to what he was willing to admit in front of a whole squad. He had put himself in this position. He challenged the commander’s order. For that, there was no going back. Athaal needed to make sure all the social hierarchy rules were followed, lest he would lose the respect of those whom followed him. His face remained a stoic statue of emotion, but inside his heart raced, hammering blood into his skull to feed his racing mind. Then it struck him: Athaal had mentioned something to him before. Hopefully Moxie would pick up on it, and it would pass Athaal. “I…she’s somepony special to me…” He said, and stared directly at Moxie, “her touch is blue…”

“I need a more pro—“ 

“We got time, Athaal.” Moxie quickly interjected, and she stared at Saif with a look of recognition. In that instant, Saif knew all the pieces fell in place for her; and she could now place him. Her face turned from a tired slate, too a face full of panic and worry.

“No, we don’t, you look like a ghost even from half a day’s walk. There’s no way we can postpone it even further.” 

She sighed, then turned to face Rishad. “If we doubled the dosage of the serum, just for one day, would it have any worse side effects, and would it increase the effect itself?”

The old priest blinked, as if pulled out of a trance by the question. “I’m not sure if the effect will be doubled, but it will be greater.” He then looked intently at Athaal and Moxie, “So will the immediate effects of it…”

Moxie looked down into the sand in front of her, then rested a hoof upon her stomach. “Will it have any effect on the foal?” she lastly asked.

“The serum itself does not affect the foal, but the effect it has on you might. Although the chance is slim, it’s still there.” Rishad answered, making sure she understood what she was suggesting.

She closed her eyes, taking deep breaths. Her head seeking the sturdy shoulder of her husband. She barely opened her eyes and looked at him, smiling weak. “It will be fine then.”

Saif pressed his hoofs into the sand and bowed his head towards her, “Thank you, you are most kind, my Lady.”

Athaal rose, eyes glaring at him, his iris rings showing their frightening nature. “Come with me for a bit, Saif.” He ordered as he walked past him and behind the large rock.

Saif followed, knowing full well that he had crossed a line. With any other noble, Saif would risk exclusion from the watanï as well as the city itself. He trusted that Athaal wanted nothing more than a reason. As Saif came to his brother, he shuddered slightly. Whenever Athaal’s anger rose, he became something that frightened Saif. The way his demeanor changed he had seen in one other pony before, and that was in his father before killing his mother. While he knew he could take Athaal in a duel under normal conditions, he would never duel nor fight his brother in this state. He knew that then the swings would be for blood.

 “What are you hiding from us?” Athaal asked harshly.

“Nothing that is your business.” Saif quickly retorted, to his own detriment. He let old habits take hold, talking to Athaal as he would back home. The moment he did, he saw Athaal’s eyes narrow slightly more.

“Do not try me, Saif.” Athaal started, taking one step closer to him. “If you are willing to risk the life of my wife, and our soldiers for this mare, it becomes my business. I know you’re hiding something, now tell me here before I make the call to continue with our original plan.”

Saif swallowed, the gaze he got from Athaal was bone chilling. He knew it far too well; nothing would budge his brother’s mind in this state. Either you followed his word, or you made yourself scarce. “The trips I so often take to Canterlot is to visit her, she would perhaps only say that we are lovers, but I know there’s something more.” He paused and looked at his brother, watching as the harsh, crude features shadowing his face slowly becoming softer. “What you and Moxie have…what I imagine you feel when you lie next to her…is what I feel when I’m with her. Her play hurts me in so many ways, but in the end of the day, the words she say makes whatever demon that haunts me vanish.” He sighed, “She is to me as Moxie is to you, Athaal. I would do the same for her as you would for Moxie.” 

“So it’s like that?” The noble said with a distant tone in his voice, as if thinking out loud.

“Yes, I would never come with such a request for anything less. You know this, Athaal.” Saif stated after a while.

Athaal nodded after a long painstaking minute. “Very well, that’s reason enough for me. Let’s inform Arien that he is in charge till we get back.” He said and started to walk back to the camp. 

“Thank you, but you shouldn’t leave Moxie’s side, I can handle this on my own.” 

The noble turned, “Either we both go, or none of us go.”

“But…” 

“Besides, if she truly is to you what Moxie is to me, then how could I pass up an opportunity to meet my possibly future sister-in-law?” Athaal smiled, “Come now, we must eat before we go.”

With a few fast leaps Saif caught up to his brother. “We need more than just the two of us. As the Linacs are not nocturnal beasts, we should wait till night to attack.” he stopped in his breath, “Her name is Trixie Lulamoon.” 

Athaal smiled in return, “Agreed. If there are only four Linacs we should take two others with us, another soldier and another watanï. Sound good?” he reasoned, focusing  upon the task at ahead.

“I think Kazim should stay with Moxie and Rishad, together with Arien they will be able to bring the caravan safely to the valley.” Saif paused, “I think Zubair will come with us.”

“The new watanï graduate?” Athaal pondered, “Any particular reason? Why not Namir?” He added, thinking of the second watanï Kazim had brought with him.

“Namir is far more collected because he does not have the same explosive behaviour as Zubair. Kazim convinced me to take Zubair along because he needed the experience in the field. I think Namir came along because we needed to fill a spot. Zubair is supposed to be one of the best in his class. From what I’ve seen, I remain skeptical. It seems like the watanï have fallen so deep into politics that they are not taught about the Linacs at all. They are only taught how to fight opponents of equal size so they can protect the fat nobles better.” Saif took a deep breath of air, “I can’t think of a better time than now to teach him about them. We’re not fighting them; we will just kill them and get out.” 

Athaal stopped and laughed, resting a hoof at the hot surface of the rock. “You make it sound so easy. Just make sure to teach him the proper technique to kill them before we go. I think L’oohm should come as well, he seems to know his way in a battle.” 

Entering the camp behind the rock, Athaal announced loudly their change of plans, starting a murmur in the group. Saif walked next to his brother between the mixed faces of their squad. Zubair and L’oohm smiled, seemingly happy about being able to do something other than escort. The rest settled down, embracing the small breather in the shadow. As they reached the carriage Athaal hurried over to his wife and sat down next to her, softly nuzzling her neck before resting on her stomach. Moxie whispered something to Athaal and they both shared a laugh, before she turned her weary gaze to Saif and smiled meekly. 

He quickly turned away, catching himself staring. He sat down and started to unhinge the blade on his wrist, inspecting it thoroughly while chancing glances over at his brother and Moxie. No matter how much he told himself otherwise, he envied his brother. He found someone in which returned his feelings. The top plate of his wrist blade slipped and fell in the sand. He swore silently to himself for his own absent minded state. He didn’t want to take his brother’s place, not at all. He had no such feelings for Moxie. In part he resented her for what happened between her and Trixie in Canterlot. No, he did not want to take his brother’s place in the hoofs of Moxie, but more than anything he wanted what they had together with Trixie. 

He sighed, knowing full well that he wasn’t sure it even was possible. A mare would never willingly submit to the doctrine of Saddle-Arabia, nor would he want her to do so. Equestria was very strict on granting asylum to anyone from Saddle-Arabia. Their cultures clashed and gave more trouble than help to most. Stallions would forget how different mares were over there and try to pronounce claim over those they liked. A watanï like him would raise suspicion, for they knew he had killed before, and they knew his instincts were honed to do just that. It had been more than once where a watanï had killed in accident in Equestria, to no fault but their instincts. He shook his head, feeling himself getting emotional over the thoughts of his limitations.

He took another glance and saw Athaal walking over towards Arien and Kazim, hunching down while drawing in the sand with a stick. Both of the veterans grew serious features in their aging faces as Athaal explained further until lastly, they both nodded and pointed towards the Rift of Bak’An.

Saif lifted a hoof, signaling that the Linacs started to turn in for the day and they were to make ready. Athaal had informed everyone that they would wait by the Rift of Bak’an till they arrived and to make sure that the camp was setup to take in an injured mare. At the announcement of the two veterans being in charge till that time, the remaining squad had taken to show some disagreement that quickly simmered down. 

They arrived at the oasis again in the afternoon, and since then waited near the camp for twilight to come. The chipper of birds lessened as the light vanished, until only the sound of crickets low buzz of insects remained. The brutish sound of the Linacs finally grew lower, growls being replaced by loud hisses. Saif waited for another hour before he gave the signal to move closer, confident that the increasing insect sounds and looming darkness would cover their entrance. 

The forest illuminated itself with glimmers from sunflies and the inkling light from the moon and stars. Pebbles of water turned to small balls of light rolling down the leaves and hitting the rich soil in a shattering motion. Their breath became a sky of mist as it left their muzzle. The light that danced in the forest slowly turned orange from a flickering bonfire, growing in intensity along with the hiss of slithering throats. On the bare soil the Linacs lay spread out. Two were near the fire and cage, while the two others had laid to rest in the darker and colder area at the outer reach. 

Athaal hunkered down next to him and shared his view, he turned and whispered. “Do you remember what to do, and where to stab?”
Both L’oohm and Zubair nodded and pointed at the two points on their own throat. Saif looked at Zubair. The graduate had been frozen stiff with fear the moment they arrived and he laid eyes on the Linacs. It took several minutes to calm him down, and to convince him that they didn’t really need to fight them as long as they did it right. He began to question his decision to take him along once more, but no matter what happened it was too late to change now.

 “Athaal and I will take care of those two near the cage, you two will make sure to take those two.” Saif added, and pointed towards the reach. “Once we’re done, we will make a hasty retreat, understood? If we do this without any mishaps, we should be able to be at the Rift of Bak’an before sunrise.”

Saif carefully cut down the branches to let them enter without a fear of backlash, and carefully put them down. All four made way to their intended target and kneeled down. He looked down at the Linac and swallowed; they were much bigger than he remembered. The jagged teeth barely hid the blood red tongue that moved in tact with their heavy breaths. The fingerlike claws opened and closed, clacking together. The tail sliced through the air and hit the ground with a dampened thud. It filled him with a sense of wonder and fear. The terrifying power of them remained all too real in his memory from the time he had been out scouting with a squad of soldiers as part of his training. It had taken only one Linac to kill off the whole squad, save three ponies. He often thought, if they had been more intelligent, they could have easily taken out the kingdom by gathering into an army. Knowing this also made him wonder why the king had taken the knowledge of Linacs out of the theoretical classes.

He looked over at Athaal. The Linac in front of him had curled up, hiding the spot of the vocal cords. Athaal’s lips split into a devious grin as he put away the dagger and drew out his broadsword. He took a few steps back and aimed the sword downwards. He looked at Saif and nodded as he placed his right hoof at the back of the hilt and made ready for a charge.

Saif readied his own two blades as he heard the sound of metal slicing through soft skin behind him. A quick glance showed him that one of the beasts was down and that the two soldiers had cooperated, moving quickly to the next one. He took a deep breath and returned to his own target. Almost touching the Linac with the tips, he stepped backwards and unfurled his wings. With a strong bat he flew forward and pierced the skin, piercing both vocal cords and brain. Withdrawing his hoof from the gaping wound from the now twitching Linac, he nodded to Athaal.

Athaal charged forward and let his sword pierce through the skull and scales of the beast in one motion, sending a loud crack echoing through the oasis; quickly followed by a twitch from the Linac, confirming death. As Athaal ducked away from the stream of black blood that shot out through the wound, he took hold of the hilt and pulled it out, earning them another crack from its jawbone. 

From behind they heard a guttural scream, followed by a loud thud. The last Linac stood above L’oohm, crushing him slowly underneath its large hand. The beast snarled, and pressed down harder until a snap that reminded them of a tree breaking in a storm could be heard as the armor gave in and pieces started to protrude L’oohm’s skin. The soldier made a last scream as the ground beneath him slowly turned crimson, before the Linac put his whole weight behind, crushing every bone he could.

Saif and Athaal rushed forward as the Linac growled and turned its attention to Zubair. He stood frozen in shock, eyes wandering from the crushed body of L’oohm to the monster that was slowly getting closer, each step bellowing like thunder to the ground. The beast slowly lifted its arm, making ready for a swipe.

“Move!” Athaal screamed from the top of his lungs, snapping Zubair out of his trance. 

Zubair attempted to dodge, but the swipe came fast enough for the claws to graze through his armor. An arch of blood whipped forward from the end of the swipe, and Zubair screamed in pain. As he landed, his legs wobbled and buckled under him. As he fell down, he clutched his hoof over his chest in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding.

“The tail!” Saif yelled as he flared his wings and shot forward.

Athaal swiped the sword overhead in an arch, landing a solid hit at the tip of the tail. The Linac roared in pain and swung its huge arms around, hitting the wounded watanï on its path. Zubair was sent flying into a tree, the sound of branches and bones breaking alike as he landed. Athaal placed his hind legs deep into the soil and blocked the strike with the sword; scraping backwards as it hit. 

Seeing his chance, Saif jumped up at a tree over the beast, extended his wristblade and dashed forward in a burst of speed. He landed heavily on the large scaly neck and momentarily struck both blades down, one in each eye. The Linac heaved its head backwards, sending Saif crashing into the tree he leaped from. The impact from the crash sent mind numbing pain through his whole body, knocking the air out of his lungs.

The Linac roared, holding both hands over its head as blood seeped down on the ground from the wounds. Then he stopped and let both arms fall to the ground. Slowly a rattling from the throat emerged, filling the loose skin under its jaw with air. 

HaSheaga! Was the thought that echoed through Saif’s mind as stars played over his vision. “Athaal, kill it fast! Befor—“

Before he could complete his sentence, a deafening roar sounded. Him and Athaal to covered their ears. The sound hammered their bodies, effectively paralyzing them both as long as it lasted. The ground beneath them vibrated, and leaves along with small branches got ripped off their trees. It was like they were standing in the making of a hurricane. As quickly as it came, it subsided, leaving only silence behind. An echo from afar occurred, resembling thunder. 

Athaal, gaining his wits first, leaped forward and trusted his sword through its skull, ending its progression with a loud crack as it protruded through the scales on top of the head. The beast wobbled forward, crushing Athaal under its weight.


*~*~*~*~*


        Moxie’s head jolted up and  turned its attention to the sky. She heard thunder, she was sure of it. But no rain followed and the dark, star spangled roof remained unlit by any lighting. Her eyes remained fixated towards the horizon, listening intently as the sound grew in intensity before abruptly ending. 

        She unwillingly shook the uneasy feeling that grew in her and turned and looked at the camp. They had found a secluded fertile area under one of the hillsides to set up. Most impressive, she thought, was that such an area so rich with life, could exist in the middle of the desert. They were like the oases, but this was different in a sense. The walls towered up, arching over them, seemingly letting just enough light in for it to flourish. At night she barely saw a slit of the starry sky. Holes burrowed out from underground rivers filled up small gulps, creating waterholes throughout. Small animals had skittered away as the group arrived. Now and then she still saw them staying barely within their vision between the thick brush, ever wary of the new presence in their home.

        The squad had begun setting up camp and clearing a fireplace the moment they arrived, almost like a well-oiled machine. As soon as the tents were up, they begun replenishing water. Lastly, Rishad held a sermon for Eran in a makeshift, portable chapel. He somehow kept the attention of all of them, no matter how rowdy they were.

She made way towards the camp from the small rock she had perched herself on. Only moments after they had arrived, she felt her body growing numb from exhaustion, she did have the cart available to rest on, but she didn’t want to add more burden to Arien whom pulled it instead of Athaal. Seeking solitude was something Rishad suggested quickly after they arrived. It would help in keeping her mind in order. She didn’t mind it at all, but something was missing. More importantly, someone was.

As she reached the bottom of the steep rock wall, Arien approached her, while behind him stood Kazim talking to the squad. Arien had dark brown eyes, with deep eye sockets. A broad jaw line and strong muscles jarred  over his neck and chest. His mane, tail and beard showed the first sign of aging, where the black was interrupted by strands of grey. A scar ran down his neck, painting a pink wound in his hazel brown coat. His face always showed a mask of resolution, but his actions and words showed a kinder stallion.

“Are you alright, my Lady?” He asked quickly as he reached her, inspecting her with a frown over his forehead.

        Moxie put up a hoof, “Yes, I’m fine, just a little weary from the travel.” She said with a sigh.

        “Excuse my brashness, but does the roar not worry you?” He asked, looking at her with a quizzical expression.

        “Roar? That wasn’t thunder?” Moxie answered, feeling her heart beat faster.

        “No, that sound was from a Linac, its roar can be heard for miles in the forest. In the desert it will probably be heard all the way to the border.” 

        She swallowed, “Does that mean… that Athaal…” The words stopped in her throat. She turned to face the horizon again, feeling strength drain from her legs. Her heart sunk in her chest while the worst possible scenario played out in her mind.

        “I know Athaal and Saif, they are able to handle one of those monsters, they will be fine, I’m sure. Linacs only roar like that when they feel like they won’t survive. We will wait here till your husband returns, worry not.” Arien said and put a reassuring hoof on her shoulder, then withdrew it fast, knowing that to touch a housemare led to dishonor unless given permission.

        Again feeling the fatigue slowly rearing its ugly head, she nodded, a little comforted by his words, but worry still lingered within her. “Thank you…my tent?” she quickly asked.

        “In the shadowy corner, as instructed by the priest.” He answered, and pointed at the back of the camp.

        “Then I will withdraw for the night,” She said and started past the veteran.

        “Very well. Shall I ask one of the soldiers to come with a bowl of the food once it is done?” He asked.

        “No…” Moxie halted, feeling a sudden urge to say something, a hazy thought that played over her mind. Malice, spite,and the prime urges rose within her. She thought how easy it would be to take a life out in the desert, and no one would know. Then her mind wandered unknowingly. A night together with Athaal; a night of raw instincts; a thought she never had had before. As her mind went on, dark brooding thoughts along with those sensual, her mouth was left open and her breathing slightly heavier. Her heart began to race, thundering within her. These thoughts scared her, and she didn’t know how to stop them. The haze over her eyes vanished, and seeing the confused look upon Arien, she gained the need to retreat hastily. “I wish to be alone, only Rishad is to disturb me, and once my husband comes into view by one of our soldiers I want to be awoken at once.” She ordered, a slight vibration in her voice.

        “As you wish,” Arien said as he bowed lightly, his question remaining unanswered.

        She hastily made way to her tent. Within her burned something, and whatever it was she did not wish others to see it if it was released. The tent was placed near one of the mountain walls, secluded within the branches of a couple of trees. The shadows created a cool sleeping area. Pushing aside the blanket used as a door, she quickly took off the gown she had traveled in and laid down on the bed of leaves prepared for her while wrapping a blanket around her.

                    The insides of the tent were bare apart from a few items. Mostly water tanks and provisions were stored up inside, away from the heat. At one of the sides she spotted Athaal’s saddlebags and pulled them close, packing them tightly up under her nose and relaxing in the welcoming smell of him. A sense of relief manifested itself, and her mind quickly cooled down, swaying away from the thoughts earlier.

                    She shuddered as she felt a tear roll down her cheek. Ever since their marriage, she had never had a night alone. The pressuring fear that something might have happened to him made her want to scream, from the top of her lungs. Feeling panic tighten her chest, she burrowed her nose in the saddlebags and wept as silently as she could. The fear from her uncontrollable thoughts together with her worry over Athaal became too much for her. Her body trembled while trying to keep her sobs under control. It was getting harder due to the disgusting feeling growing in the back of her throat.

                    She jolted together by the sound of the door flaps being pulled aside, quickly wiped away moisture and turned to see Rishad looking in with a warm smile. The old priest stepped inside and sat down next to the bed and placed a bowl of food on the grass covered floor. “Everything alright, Moxie?” He asked.

                    “Yes, thank you.” She answered with a nod.

                    He looked at her, a recognizing frown coming over him. She knew that her eyes showed signs of crying, and that he saw it. He looked at her as she imagined a worried father would look at his daughter. The old wise eyes landed on the saddlebags she held close, he closed them and remained still. A feeling of shame crept over her, and she hid the bags underneath the blanket.

                    Rishad opened his eyes again and tried a smile, but a strained smile full of regret appeared. “You should eat this before you take the medicine, I’ll be back to help you in a bit.”

                    Feeling panic hold tightly in her chest once more, “No!” she first yelled, then put a hoof to her muzzle, “I mean, no…I want to wait till Athaal has returned, so he can sit with me.”

                    “I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Moxie.” He leaned closer and looked at the opal, “the travel has wearied you out. You need to give more energy to the opal as soon as possible. Right now it seems like the glow is a bit dim.”

                    “Please, I feel fine. I’m just a bit tired and I want Athaal next to me…it feels safer with him.” She said in a sullen voice, boring the ground with her eyes.

                    Rishad hummed softly, then looked at her. “It’s your call, but if you feel any form of strange thoughts, or un-natural exhaustion, tell me at once?” He lastly said with a stern gaze at her. In her mind, she was certain Rishad wanted to tell her that Athaal might not come back. She was certain he needed to remind her. What would she then do? Rishad remained silent, not confirming her thoughts, and she wasn’t sure which she would have preferred.

                    Moxie nodded in response. As the priest rose and made way out, her mind went to the thoughts earlier. “Rishad!” she said.

                    Rishad turned, “Yes?”

                    She stared at his old form. The thought earlier was not normal: thoughts of betrayal, pain and…sex. She shook her head, deciding that it was just a coincidence. “Just…thank you.” She said and smiled towards him.

                    He nodded and left, leaving her once more alone in the dark as the flaps fell down over the entrance. She looked at the bowl of food, the warm smoke invited her to eat; but the lust for food was absent. Packing the blanket around her, she carefully laid down again so that her bulging stomach rested comfortably. Pulling the saddlebags up to her muzzle, she closed her eyes and imagined her husband’s embrace was still there.
 

*~*~*~*~*

 
                Saif groaned and began to move away from his landing spot, his body was tender, but the tree hit had not been too hard. He could not say the same about L’oohm; right at the tail of the beast lay his crushed body. He stepped closer and leaned over, looking for some form of memorabilia to bring with him home to his family. After a quick glance, he concluded that the only item not soaked in blood or crushed was the helm. He took a last look at the body, feeling a sense of responsibility over it. He tried to prepare him as best he could. It would be little comfort for the family; ‘I tried’ helps so little when dealing with grief. He picked up the helm and placed it on his shoulder before he moved around the Linac. If he could only understand what had woken it up; perhaps it was the loud execute from Athaal?
“Athaal, are you alive?” He asked as he came around.

                    From underneath the head of the Linac a cough and groan came. “Yeah, just… get this damn thing off me. Its head is like a giant rock, in weight and form.” Athaal answered in annoyance. “And its oozing blood on me.”

                    He stifled a laugh, “Hold on, I’ll find a branch to jack it up with.” He turned towards a tree with bundles of broken branches, “Don’t move,” he added before walking away.

                    “Like I have much choice!” Athaal yelled in retort. “And check on Zubair as well. I’m afraid there’s no hope for L’oohm!”

                    Saif sighed as he walked over to where Zubair had been flung. He hoped the wounds he had gained were not too severe. If the claws only grazed him, and the branches cushioned the crash, there was still hope. If not, there was not much he could do; he knew that a direct blow from a Linac could easily shatter or break bones.

                    He picked up a suitable branch and flung it towards Athaal, before searching further for Zubair. Under the leaves of the broken branches he saw a hoof sticking out. Feeling a slight rush of relief, he moved the branches away. Moving the final large branch he saw what was before him. Flared wings were broken in twisted angles, with one limb broken; the ribcage was crushed inwards under the large gashes of his coat. Through the right shoulder a large branch had penetrated, dripping of crimson liquid. Saif snarled and quickly took a step back as Zubair moved.

                    “Zubair?” He asked carefully while slowly approaching.

                    “You found him?” Athaal yelled.

                    “Yeah…”

                    “Is he alive?”

                    “Not sure,”

                    “How can you not be sure?!” Athaal grunted.

                    “Hold on!” Saif retorted.

                    Saif placed a hoof over the neck of Zubair; the pulse was so weak it was almost impossible to find. He placed an ear over his chest, hearing sound of oxygen mixing with blood. Saif sat down and looked at the body pinned to the tree in front of him with sad eyes. He knew that Zubair would have no chance to survive the march over the desert, nor would he be able to survive here without any sort of immediate medical attention. Only the shoulder wound would be doable, but a crushed ribcage and at least one punctured lung left Saif with a grim task he did not enjoy.

                    At least he will not suffer any longer. He thought as he drew forth his dagger. He hesitated as he placed the dagger to Zubair’s throat. Saif felt the half-conscious eyes look at him as the blade came to a rest over the large vein. Saif tightened his lips, trying to focus his mind. He had done this many times, but it never got easy. He ended all possibility of what that life could grow into, and now he made sure the suffering at the end was as little as possible. Drops of blood fell from his mouth and onto the dagger’s blade as Saif sliced. It’s my fault… I’m terribly sorry.

                    He sheathed the dagger and began unhinging the wristblade on Zubair. Custom said that a watanï’s family would retrieve the blade if he ever fell in duty. Saif promised himself that on their return he would make it first priority to deliver this one. Telling the family that he died while saving the life of another pony would soften the blow for them. But no matter how he twisted it, their son would still be dead and it would still be his fault.

With a resigned sigh, he made way towards Athaal again, only to find his brother standing in the clearing, looking down upon the Linac and the body of L’oohm. Athaal shook his head and withdrew his sword from the Linac’s head. He dragged the blade through the grass, cleaning its blood before sheathing it in the hilt that ran down his side. They both headed towards the cage.

                    As they both looked down upon the bruised body of the blue mare, Athaal said. “I hope she’s worth it, Saif.”

                    Saif leaned down and cut the rope keeping the door shut, “I know she is, just you wait and see.”

                    “Yeah…wait and see…I wonder what they have done to her, I mean, being able to sleep through that? My ears are still ringing.”

                    Saif pulled the cage open and entered, carefully touching the bruise upon her shoulder. Hope lit up within him as she reacted to his touch; all had not been in vain. “I don’t know, but she’s alive, and that’s the important part.” He said as he took hold of one of her hoofs and attempted to pull her up on his back; legs quickly buckling under the weight.

                    Athaal hunched forward and took hold of them, “You’re hurt, let me carry her.” He calmly said, more a statement and an order than anything else.

                    Saif nodded and placed her down before looking towards Zubair. “What do we do with them? We can’t leave them here out in the open.”

                    “We bury them in shallow graves, and then leave as soon as possible, that shout is bound to have been heard by any nearby Linacs, and I’m not freely staying anywhere near this place when they come to check it out.”

                    Saif nodded, “Agreed,” he picked up a branch suitable for digging and tossed it to Athaal before he found another for himself. With resigned sighs, they dug.
 


> Chapter 5: Najmah Sate'a
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Najmah Sate’a


Relief washed over Athaal as he spotted the Rift of Bak’An in the distance. He hated the desert nights. Blistering cold air nipped into his already aching muscles. With his cape he could cover himself properly. However, the mare resting unconscious upon his back needed it more. Her body already cold from blood loss when they rescued her, blue overcame the lips of her matching blue face, even with his cape wrapped tightly around her. He was grateful that his armor gave warmth over the vital organs.

To his side Saif followed, breathing heavily. They needed to stop multiple times for Saif to rest; he had most likely bruised a rib from the fight. Athaal trained his eyes over the hill, speculating over how the trip would fare now. They would need to rest at least one day to let Trixie recover. With Saif hurt as well, it risked of becoming longer. This worried him greatly; Moxie’s condition was already worsening yesterday when they left the camp. Perhaps he could persuade Rishad to use a more powerful spell to help her relax. The priest would probably turn the idea down unless it was absolutely needed. Athaal wasn’t familiar with magic, but he knew it tired the user to extreme lengths.

He paced forward absently, his mind brooding with worrying thoughts and trying to forget how exhausted his limbs felt. His eyelids were growing heavy, slowly limiting his vision as they drooped down. In an instant they shot up again as he got flung forward over a rock he had not seen. He felt Trixie’s body leave his back and weightlessness coming to him, before he crashed into the cold sand. It was at least warmer than the air, heat from the day remaining in it. He wished to fall asleep right there, drowning in the sound of his own heavy breathing that whirled up the sand.

Saif ran over to Trixie, a slight limp visible in his canter. He pulled the cape over her again and made sure there were no additional injuries. He approached Athaal and stretched out a hoof to help him up.

Athaal sighed as he rose, pushing the offered hoof aside. There was a constant thought going through him: did he sacrifice the safety of Moxie for this? While Saif felt guilty about the deaths of the two soldiers, he as the commander needed to bring the news. There was no room for pleasantries for him. He wanted this over with and to continue as soon as possible. He knew Saif would suggest carrying her the rest of the way, even if they both knew he couldn’t without adding extra injuries to himself. Approaching her, he took a good grip and rested her on his back again, his jaw clenching together as she landed.

They made forward again, Athaal’s mind still refusing to focus. After a night with cold winds and aching muscles, he cared for little else than to lie down next to Moxie and share the warmth of a blanket. He longed for her soft touch, her gentle smile and caring words. Even if they only had been a part for this night, he missed her greatly.

Athaal smiled meekly at the thought, and trained his eyes to the distance. The first signs of a more vegetated area showed itself with dry grass and dead trees, before slowly turning to a greener, soft and mild ground to step over. They turned into a crag leading down into the valley, barren desert instantly turning into a lush valley with warm and humid air.

Glowing eyes watched them as they got deeper into the valley, skittering away from their presence. In the distance they saw a brooding fire and shouts declaring their arrival, followed by soldiers rushing towards them. Arien greeted them first, then shouted orders for Rishad to be woken up so he could tend the wounded. Trixie was quickly taken from Athaal’s back and carried hurriedly towards the bonfire; Saif followed, refusing to leave her side.

Athaal let his weary hoofs slink forward, barely having the energy to stand. He sat down next to his brother and let a hoof fall on his shoulder, not saying anything but just acknowledging that he was there. In the hazy orange light, he watched as the squad tended her wounds the best they could, cleaning the oozing wound with water and applying new bandages. In the corner of his vision he saw Rishad crawling out of his tent, a face showing a dazed priest trying to regain his composure. Upon seeing what the cause of the ruckus was, he quickly withdrew to his tent and emerged shortly after with a medical kit and a book of spells before rushing over to the wounded mare. Saif instantly rose and sat down next to the priest, making sure he was near if it was needed.

A light voice called his name. Even if he heard it every day, it still made his stomach flutter. He turned and saw Moxie exit their tent, slowly making way towards him. Her expression showed relief, and it looked like a thousand worries had been lifted off her shoulders. She smiled, even though Athaal saw how bleak her fur was, and the opal shimmered in a faded light. He tried the effort of rising to greet her, but his hoofs buckled halfway through; and he crashed down to the ground once more.

She ran over to him and took his head, placing it onto her lap. Small droplets hit his cheek, falling from her eyes. At first, he worried if something had happened, but the reassuring smile, beaming with relief and love settled him and allowed him to breathe calmly once more. Athaal closed his eyes, feeling her tender hoof run over his mane, and her voice giving air to her worry. Finally, he allowed himself to relax.

Moxie asked about why he was covered in black tar, bringing his attention to it. In their rush to get away from the oasis he had completely forgotten to wash off the linac blood. He had to admit, once it had dried up it did look like tar. The stench crawled up into his nostrils, smelling of rotten flesh. Snarling his nose, he explained what it was and made an attempt to rise. For more than ever, he wished to bathe.

Moxie pulled him back down, “No. I don’t mind, as long as you’re here... I don’t mind.” She said and kissed him warmly on the lips.

Rishad ordered the soldiers to carry Trixie in to his tent, where he could perform the magic in peace. Saif followed closely, not leaving the side of the blue mare, even forcing himself to join the priest in his tent. For him to ignore their social hierarchy to such a degree, she must be important for him, thought Athaal. A head priest could order him beheaded, and most of the time it would be followed without question. One could see the frustration in Rishad’s face, the slight scrunch of his muzzle, or the heavy sigh. Still, the priest allowed the watanï to follow.

“I’ve never seen my brother like that.” Athaal remarked as he watched the three of them vanish into the tent.

“She obviously means a lot to him, that mare…” Moxie answered, her voice hiding a slight worry or sorrow.

“It’s odd, really. I’ve never heard of her before yesterday; I knew Saif liked to keep his private life, well…private, but not this much. I’m his brother…” He answered with a small frown, a tangle of uncertainty brooding in him.

“Is she well?” Moxie asked carefully, softly running a hoof through his mane.

“She’s surprisingly well. It seems like the only thing is the wound on her shoulder. It looks severe, but there’s no lasting damages to her from what I’ve seen.” He answered thoughtfully.

She fidgeted with one of his braids, “I’m glad…”she lastly said.

Arien approached them and bowed, “Excuse me, but if you wouldn’t mind…” He halted his sentence, looking down on Athaal’s blood drenched body. “It can wait till morning.”

Athaal shook his head, “No, it’s fine…” He turned his head towards the general, “I’m sorry to say that Zubair and L’oohm fell in battle. They failed to execute the last linac before it woke. I do not know the exact details but, as you can see, Saif and I made it here with the reason for the mission.”

Arien bowed, “Very well, I will add the names to the roster as you requested before you left. I will get more details from your brother tomorrow.” He quickly saluted and left.

“Arien!” Athaal shouted, “Set up a night shift…”

The general turned “As you wish.” He answered.

“Roster?” Moxie inquired.

Athaal sighed and began to rise, “I told Arien to make a roster for us before we left, if anypony died, I would look at the roster to find their names and contact their families, so I could deliver their belongings and the payment.” He offered a hoof to his wife, “Come, it seems like the camp is settling down, I wish to sleep as well.”

Moxie turned her eyes away, “I need to take the medicine before we may rest, “

“How come? I thought Rishad would help you take it?!” Athaal answered brashly, feeling his insides start to boil as he looked around.

Moxie rose, “Don’t be angry with him,”

“I told them—“

“It was my wish, Athaal.” She interjected.

“Why? Why would you wait?” Athaal said in a softer voice as he turned to her.

“I don’t know, I just don’t feel comfortable in that position with anypony else,” She turned pleading eyes toward him, “Please don’t be angry with them; they only did it cause I asked.” 

He pushed aside a strand of hair fallen down over her muzzle, “I won’t, but we can’t wait much longer, we need to do it right away, come.” He said and guided her towards the tent she had emerged from.

Athaal rummaged through the saddlebags and hesitated slightly, feeling the moist fabric. Quickly shrugging it off, he withdrew the chalice and the blue glowing liquid and faced Moxie who had taken a seat on the bed. As he poured her eyes watched with a deep chiseled worry, and she shifted lightly from side to side.

He pushed the cup forward and looked at her, “I think I should lie down behind you before you take it.” She looked at him with confusion, “With the larger dose I want to be able to support you properly.” He quickly reasoned, feeling his cheeks warm up from the look of endearment from her.

She leaned forward and kissed him softly on his cheek. “Thank you…” she said and moved to make place for him behind her.
Athaal quickly lay down and rested his head over her shoulder, letting his hoof lay on the top of her stomach. She took a deep breath and picked up the goblet, emptying it in two large gulps. She quickly rested on her side, eyes closed and both hoofs over her muzzle, struggling to keep the content down.

He moved his hoofs and placed them over her chest, locking them together. He felt how her muscles worked in an attempt to rid itself of the serum, contracting in pulleys until lastly it rested. Moxie let go of a hacking sound and closed her eyes, letting the gathered up moisture trickle down. He locked his hind legs over hers and tightened his muscles as much as he could without adding pressure to her body.
All her muscles tightened, like a thunderbolt struck her, and her head heaved backwards. She remained like this for only a few seconds, then shot forward like a releasing spring; he felt the muscles in her abdomen contract. She whimpered, her whole body shaking violently. Athaal’s weary muscles were rekindled with new strength, and he pushed them to the limit to hold her down.

The tremors faded slowly, and he felt how her body began to heat up. She cried in pain as the heat grew until she felt like a scalding towel to his stomach. Beads of sweat pushed through her fur, making a slippery surface between them. She began to breathe heavily, almost like a dog would in the heat of a midday sun. Her eyes remained barely open, focusing on the nothingness in the air.

“It hurts…” She whimpered, voice breaking from the strain.

“I know, I know… you’re doing great; just a little bit longer.” He comforted the best he could.

As quickly as it started, it ended; the blue light shone just as strong as before. Athaal quickly moved a hoof up to her neck and checked the pulse. It slowed down little by little, until it rested comfortably. He sighed heavily, feeling the night’s adventure finally catching up with him again, and the cold air slowly cooled them down. He let a weak smile draw itself over his lips as he sidled closer to his wife and pulled a warm blanket over them.

Even under the circumstances it were, he longed for this. Lying next to her, letting her comforting scent dance melodically over his nose; feeling her heart beat as he rested his head over her neck. The way her body radiated with warmth, comforting his sore body; how her tiny wing fluttered lightly as she slept. He nuzzled her and closed his eyes. Hopefully they would be able to enjoy moments like these in the near future without the looming fear of her life being at risk.

 
* * * *


Athaal opened his eyes, the daze of sleep still lingering over him. In his hoofs Moxie still rested comfortably, and the opal pulsed with her heartbeat. He gently pulled his hoof away from under her and rose slowly, making way to the door. He barely lifted the veil and slipped out.
He took a deep breath, the air down in the valley was rich with scents and moisture, and sounds of critters and birds could be heard from every direction. By the look of the sun barely peeking through the slit over them, he had slept until late morning. Between the chippers he heard the sound of a river clunking at stones as it traveled its path. It was only broke by the crackling of fire and the low chattering of ponies. Anywhere else, at any other time, this morning would have been welcomed.

The smell of warm food caught his attention. Nearing the center of the camp he greeted the soldiers huddling together around the steaming pot and helped himself to large bowl. Noticing that soldiers looked at him with slight worry, he bid them morning and wandered off again. He knew that any concerns they would have would be heard from Arien and Kazim. He was certain there were some, for the soldier named Morad glanced over him with a dark stare. He did not dare to voice his opinion out loudly, much to Athaal’s relief. Spying the two sitting near a low table beneath the shadows of a large palm tree, he made way to them, bowing deeply before he sat down with them to enjoy his meal.

He sat idly and listened to the both of them discussing the differences in fighting form, tactics and discipline in their respective squad. This went on for some time, and Athaal observed there was no aggression in either. It was more a discussion between two whom held mutual respect for each other. Not wanting to interrupt the conversation, Athaal settled down to focus on his meal, taking rich gulps at a time.
Abruptly they stopped and looked at him, as if just noticing his presence. Then they both bowed their heads in mutual greeting. Arien came quickly to the point and spoke about his concern of the Linacs. While Kazim agreed, it seemed like he held the situation in a little more stagnant perspective. Both wanted to answers which Athaal was unsure of.

He stroked one of his sore muscles while he thought loudly, “I think Saif and I covered our tracks well when we left the camp, it was perhaps not needed, considering their bad night vision, but rather do that than to have them come to us in anger. We tried to hide the bodies of L’oohm and Zubair as well, giving them the most honourable funeral possible. There was no way we could move away the Linac bodies, so they will be found anyway.” He placed down the bowl and rubbed his chin, “It depends on whether the Linac whom will find them will go on a vengeful hunt after us or not. Perhaps it will be glad to get rid of competition as well. I don’t really know. If it is one from the same clan they will come after us, I’m certain of that. They care little for outsiders, but will avenge their fallen family if they can.”

“Considering how erratic the movements of Linacs has been lately, I suggest that we move with caution no matter what.” The old watanï suggested.

Athaal nodded, “Agreed, we move to the next camp site as soon as our guest has recovered well enough, with the help of Rishad it shouldn’t take more than a day.” He looked over the camp, “Where are they anyway?”

Kazim pointed to a white tent secluded in the shadows opposite of his own, “All three of them should be inside of that tent. Your brother has not been seen since you arrived with her last night.”

Arien cleared his throat, “There’s one more thing…”

Athaal knew that gaze far too well, and sighed. “Yeah, there’s that… from the looks that are being shot over here, I assume they are wondering what happened to L’oohm and Zubair?” He asked while trying to catch the stare of one of the soldiers around the camp.

“Yes, we’ve heard some hushed murmurs and wonderment about what happened, as well as what will happen.” Kazim added.

“There’s not really any mystery to what happened. They died in duty, with their honor intact.” Athaal said, and halted to think. “However…it is upon my shoulders, you’re right in that. It may have been my brother’s request, but it was under my command. I should address the rest…” He thought out loud before he rose and turned to face the camp.

He cleared his throat loudly and gained the attention of the squad. “Many of you might wonder what happened last night, seeing as we are now two less in our squad.” He saw multiple soldiers turn to each other and whisper. “Know that L’oohm and Zubair died with honor, protecting the life of another. In their path through the endless walkway, Eran will judge them with the greatest favor.

“I know some of you may have been close friends, and I will ask Rishad if he will hold a ceremony for them once the mare is in stable condition. As for our mission, it goes on as planned. We will rest for another day, so relish in it and use this time to pay your respect for the fallen as they would for you.” Athaal bowed, and the valley erupted into a loud cheer. To mourn those who had passed with honor was disrespectful, rather one celebrated their life and achievements.

He turned to Arien, “I’m going to see my brother, please use this time to relax.” Athaal walked over the short path to the tent, receiving respectful nods from the soldiers as he passed them.

Inside the tent, it reeked of sweat and incense; a small bonfire was secluded in the center and crackled to life as fresh oxygen came in with him. In the left part of the tent Rishad sat with his nose buried in a book, and to the right he saw Saif sitting with his back resting to a bundle of cloth, snoring lightly with a dagger close by his hoofs. Coming closer, he saw white bandages had been wrapped around the base of his wings, and the armor rested next to him on the ground; parts of it were cracked from the blow. Seeing the damage to the incredibly hard chitin, he was sure Saif would have died without it. To crack the shell of a scorpolid like that, one needed to hit it with almost the same force as a cannonball.

Whimpering next to Saif, the blue mare lay tucked in under a blanket. A damp cloth had been placed over her eyes, and the wound no longer reminded him of decaying flesh, fresh bandages had been given recently it seemed.

Athaal turned to Rishad, “How are they?” he inquired with a whisper and bowed his head.

The priest slowly closed the book and looked at him, “Your brother is fine, just a bruised rib and some beaten tendons in his wings. Her health, Trixie as your brother refers to her, is surprisingly good. A slight concussion it seems and apart from the wound on her shoulder, no other damages. It was however in good time that she got here, much longer and the wound would have been infected, and likely it would have meant her death; she is truly indebted to the two of you.”

“She cost Zubair and L’oohm their life, part with their own inexperience and my decision, of course, but nonetheless…” Athaal said absently.

Rishad rose and put a hoof on Athaal’s shoulder, “Don’t take all the blame upon yourself, you could not have seen this coming.”

“Perhaps not, but it could have been avoided if I had taken more experienced ponies with me. I thought L’oohm was experienced enough, at least that’s the impression he gave me…” Athaal noted with a bitter taste in his mouth.

“Not even the old and wise can see all ends, Athaal. You are still young, and inexperience clings to your decisions like a virus. You as a commander can only make decisions based on what information you have. If that information is altered, it is not your fault. You merely wanted to help your brother; no one can blame you for that wish. Such is the life that has been dealt to you.” Rishad quickly reasoned.

“I don’t know if their families will agree to that.”

“I’ll help you bring the news to them once we…you get home. Now, I think it would be best if you left, I’ll call you once they wake up.” The old priest almost ordered and seemingly pushed Athaal out.

“One more thing, Rishad,” He started, “I was wondering if you could hold a sermon for the fallen, we may not have the bodies, but I think it would help the soldiers to get some closure.”

“That’s no problem, Athaal, I’ll make sure to do it right away, there’s nothing more I can do for her right now. She only needs her rest.” He answered.

Athaal wandered over to his own tent, happy that the friends of the fallen would get a little closure. If not perfect, it was a something. He carefully opened the flap, by the looks of it, there was nothing more to do than to wait for their recovery. He approached Moxie, who was still sleeping and snoring lightly. He gently kissed her and donned his armor and sword before heading out. He decided that a stroll to clear his head would be welcome now, and he was curious about the wildlife in the valley.

Quickly reaching the river he heard earlier, he filled up his canteen and took fresh gulps of water before moving deeper into the forest. Looping over crags and fallen trees and pushing aside branches threatening to whip him as he passed, he enjoyed the serenity. The sun barely glinted through the damp leaf roof, leaving the forest itself like a moist cave. Colorful creatures could be spotted at each corner if one bothered to look.

The river ended into a small lake, perfectly covered by an encirclement of trees. From the cracked stone wall, water ran down into a small waterfall. Athaal had the feeling he arrived at the right time, for the sun now hit the fall of water and embraced it in a perfect rainbow. He felt the water with the tip of his hoof, and decided to try a swim. As he unhooked his armor and sword he spotted a doe carefully following him with a curious stare; it finally decided he was not a threat, and returned its attention to the water.

Athaal submerged himself and pushed from the edge and floated on his back, the chilly water soothing his muscles. He closed his eyes and hummed. Something bothered him greatly, and it wasn’t the fact that they had taken at least a day detour to save someone he had never heard about before. What boggled him most was that the Trixie mare was still alive, with minimum damage done to her. It was well known that Linacs often indulged in fresh pony meat if they came over it. So why not this time? Why keep her locked up in a cage for transportation?

He dove underwater and set for the edge again, quickly climbing up, and started donning his armor. His wife and brother knew something more about this mare, something in the way Saif addressed Moxie. The mention of blue changed it. Athaal grumbled, remembering what Moxie had said at their wedding night. Could it be the same mare as back in Canterlot? No, for her to be here would be more than a coincidence. If that was the case, Moxie would have told him; he was sure of that.

He strafed deeper into the woods, keeping close to a make-believe path near the rocky walls. Instead of letting the thoughts of the unknown mare fill his head, he focused on finding a suitable path towards the other side of the valley. From what he saw, staying near the walls would be the better solution. The lack of light seemed to affect the growth, leaving it simple to cut a path for a cart. The valley seemed to have been untouched by civilization for eons, wildlife roaming free here which he would only believe in fairy tales. The further into the shadows he came, the more he felt the need to preserve this area. If they managed to expand their territory a little further, trips could be arranged here and scientists could map out the large variety of life it seemed to have. The colorful plants, in forms unknown to him, were surely viable to be used in potions and medicine.

At the edge of his vision he saw a cave and he stopped. His mind jumped again towards the imminent threat of Linacs. He began a long climb up the rocky slope of wall to investigate. Shafts of light that beamed down began to grow and merge together as he made his way closer to the canopy. The green vegetation that clung to the rocks he mounted began to fade the higher he climbed, vines hanging from the treetops becoming fewer. Once he reached above the trees little of green was left to be seen upwards. Finally above the leafy roof, Athaal neared the mouth of the cave. Panting slightly from the climb, he turned to see the lay of the land; he almost lost his breath. What could only be seen as a scar in the sand from above, hid something mysterious and beautiful. He saw above the trees, and they grew so tight that it looked like a compact floor which separated the ecosystem underneath from the one above. Far away he saw large lizards with wings letting out powerful screeches as they flew onwards. At first glance, they looked like dragons, but much smaller. His eyes wandered the teetered walls and he saw dozens of them protecting their large nests from others. Along the sides, the rivers rumored to run underneath the desert supplied water to the valley in large waterfalls, some all the way from the top, and another from the middle. As light hit them, makeshift rainbows appeared. He marveled as he took in the sight. It seemed like the middle of the valley lived in a certain bubble, where everything was unique. At the other side he saw it turning smaller and encroaching upwards, much like the path they entered. Turning his attention to the lower part of the valley, he saw it riddled with caves as far as his eyes could see. Some were smaller than others, but all seemed big enough to hide within. Standing for an uncertain amount of time, he began the climb down. If the Linacs decided to come after them, these caves would become invaluable.

Looking up at the sky, signs that it neared afternoon came too. The sun stood at its highest peak, scorching the smaller areas in the lower valley. For now, till Saif and Trixie woke up, there was nothing more to do than to wait and take the small time they had to spare and relax. He took a large sip of water and headed back to the camp, pleased that his muscles now finally began to lessen their soreness.

Encroaching closer to the camp, he halted as he saw the form of Morad sitting near the edge of it waiting patiently for him. The stallion had jet black hair, dark brown eyes, strong jawline and a strong physique. His mane was hidden well underneath his helmet, but a few strands of blonde hair poked down his forehead. He looked up as a few branches broke underneath Athaal, and at that moment a smile crossed the soldiers lips, a smile which made Athaal frighteningly uneasy for some reason.

Morad bowed, “Athaal, honor be with you, may I take some of your time?” he asked in a dark voice.

Athaal squinted slightly at him before he bowed, “Honor be with you, Morad, what do you require?” he returned with a question, bowing only slightly, for his rank was much greater than the one he talked with.

Recognizing the bow only as a formality, Morad’s smile turned into a half, tugging far back on his right cheek. “I wish to speak of the payment of Sati and I.”

Furrowing his brows slightly, Athaal cocked his head. The last soldier, Sati was a thin stallion, but knew his way in combat. He was apparently a good friend of Morad from the way he spoke. “We have our agreed price. I promised to pay more to you all, but nothing more than that.” He lastly said and dismissed further talk.

“Ah, I understand.” The soldier laughed, then his features turned dark as he turned his eyes to Athaal. “I can however not agree, both Sati and I feel we are entitled to more, perhaps the pay that were to go to Zubair and L’oohm, as well as ours.”

Athaal’s throat clenched slightly, “That is already promised to their families left behind. It’s out of the question.”

“Figure something out then,” Morad rose and bowed again, only slightly this time. “If not, Sati and I will leave for home, no matter the consequences.”

        Immediately reaching for his sword, Athaal pulled it out halfway and stopped. Morad remained unmoving, his eyes fixed at him. This soldier knew that Athaal couldn’t afford to go back for a new squad. Every muscle tensed as he considered killing this soldier where he stood for his blatant lack of respect, thinking nothing more of it than that. But even more his heart screamed for him to stop, to not risk any more for the sake of Moxie. His hoof nearly vibrated upon the hilt of his blade. He did not know how long he stood like that, but in the end he sheathed his blade with a resigned sigh. Not even then did Morad flinch.

        “Very well, you’ll have it your way...” He lastly said, and the moment he did, Morad smiled at him, then ventured back into the camp as nothing had happened.

        Athaal remained still till he saw Morad had taken a place next to Sati. He wondered how the soldier had planned to get out of this. Once they returned to Ma’galag it would be easy for Athaal to get him hanged for this grossly overstep of duty and honor. Morad was bound to have something else planned. Athaal decided, under no circumstances would he be allowed near Moxie again.

A familiar voice pulled him out of his anger filled thoughts. He instantly began to walk again, leaping over stubs and puddles that were on the short way he had left to the camp. Saif sat together with Arien and Kazim, happily eating while looking at the map and nodding as the two veterans discussed loudly. Kazim pointed towards him as he entered the clearing, and Saif looked up. The moment he saw his brother on his feet he pushed aside all worries, for now was a short time of joy.

        Athaal hurried over and embraced his brother, earning him a shallow whimper. “Still that bad?” He inquired.

        Saif rubbed his chest, “Yeah. Nothing’s broken, but sure feels like it when you do that.”

        “How about Trixie, is she awake? I want to leave as soon as possible.” Athaal wondered.

        “She slept last I checked,” his brother shook his head.

        Athaal sat down, “We’ll wait then…” he looked around, “The soldiers seems happier, has the sermon been done while I was away?” He asked.

        “Yes, it was not anything of what you’d see in the temple, but it helped. Some of the soldiers even offered donations to Rishad after he was done.” Arien chuckled. “The priest quickly returned to his tent once it was over.”

 Athaal smiled, “I’m glad,” he turned to Kazim, “I saw some caves while I was in the forest. I think we should keep those in mind. In case we’re pursued, they will make a nice hiding place.”

        Arien turned his head towards the forest, “That is a good idea, but do you remember where you saw them?” he asked while Kazim nodded in agreement.

        Athaal scrunched his forehead and looked at the map. “If we follow the left wall two paces, we will be able to see them.” He placed a hoof on a part of the map. “From what I saw, the valley is riddled with such caves. The only thing we need to worry about is what kind of wildlife those caves hide. I would prefer not stumbling upon a dune alligator while hiding.” He also explained the marvel he just had witnessed, and how they needed to come back here with an expedition.

        Kazim nodded and rose, “I’ll go take a look, I prefer to see it myself before I lay tactics based upon it.” He picked up his weapon and turned to Athaal, “If that is fine by you?” he asked, and bowed deeply to make sure no insult was added.

        “Yeah, the more eyes that have seen it, the better we can plan forward.” Athaal agreed.

        “I’ll join you,” Arien said and rose.

        Athaal beckoned Saif to join him, wanting no more casualties like the one they just had, he figured it would be best to train the soldiers with what little time they had to spare. Saif reluctantly agreed, and from the way he kept looking over towards the white tent, it became obvious for Athaal that his brother much rather would want to stay closer to her than anything else. 

        The two veterans left quickly, leaving the two brothers back to round up the squad and prepare them for any future confrontations. At first, it was difficult getting them to focus. They chattered between themselves and laughed in the unexpected day rest they had gotten. It was not until Saif mentioned what had happened to Zubair and L’oohm they became quiet. Death was normal on expeditions, and most of the time it passed without many noticing their absence, but in a small squad like this, every life counted. Most had thought themselves finished with the matter after the sermon it seemed, though. The details of the two’s death had not been told before now, and Athaal saw some of the morale vanishing from the soldiers at the thought of facing these beasts.

        Time passed quickly as they showed them what to aim for and what to watch for. To much of his joy, Athaal saw Moxie emerging from the tent and smiling towards him. He smiled warmly back and watched as she sat down in the shadows, watching them from afar. Reluctantly, he returned his attention to the squad once more and continued their training.

        “Athaal!” A shout from Rishad interrupted them. “She’s coming ‘round!” 

        Both Athaal and Saif hurried along to the tent and entered, stopping only once they reached Rishad. Athaal stepped to the side, letting his brother near the bedside. The blue form stirred, and her eyes, violet in color, shot open and looked straight at them. She let a bone shrilling screech echo through the tent. It was loud enough for their ears to begin ringing and the flak of birds nearby as they took off in panic could be heard.

        While Athaal covered his ears, Saif put a hoof over her mouth. “It’s okay, Trixie; you’re safe.”

        Her eyes, filled with terror, flacked over the room before they landed on Saif. “S- Spectrum…?” she lastly squeaked in a raspy, dry voice.

        “Spectrum?” Athaal asked out loud, struggling to understand her Equestrian words with his limited knowledge of the language.

          Saif’s cheeks turned slightly red, “I’ll explain later, just let it go for now.” he replied quickly in their mother tongue.

        “What’s going on? Who are you ponies?” she inquired carefully.

        “You don’t remember?” Saif asked.

        She shook her head and flinched, taking a hoof to her wounded shoulder. “Trixie…” her expression changed from confusion to horror as the recent events seemingly dawned on her. Her jaw hung open as she turned to Saif. Her lower lip quivered and her eyes turned moist, and slowly her body began to shiver.

        Saif quickly leaned forward and embraced her, “They’re gone now, you’re safe.” He whispered. 

        Trixie burrowed her muzzle into Saif’s mane and let out low sobs. Seeing his brother flinch at her touch, yet remaining for her to cling onto, he almost forgot what he wanted to do. Athaal quickly glanced over at Rishad, who shook his head. They reached a silent agreement. Whatever she was doing outside in the desert could not be answered tonight. Most of all, she would need help to recover, in solitude with Saif. Athaal bowed to Saif, declaring his departure. Tomorrow would bring another day, and tomorrow would give them time to plan ahead.

        Athaal squinted as the sun hit his eyes, and he approached Moxie. She was sitting upon a pillow, still in the shadow she placed herself earlier. He nuzzled her, receiving a smile as he sat down. Just able to take his breath, he noticed the worried glanced that came from the soldiers and Moxie. 

        “How is she?” she asked hesitantly.

        “She’s in shock. We won’t figure out what she was doing out there until tomorrow.” He informed.

        “That’s not so bad,” Moxie answered with a brave smile.

        “Every day counts, even hours…” he said, and looked at her with a deep frown, scrunching his brows slightly.

        She put a hoof on the side of his cheek and kissed him gently. “I’m fine for another day, as long as we have the serum I’ll manage.” She said.

        “But what of the day after that? Or once we get closer to the graveyard? Will you be fine then? Or will we be late?” He blurted out, frustration and worry manifesting itself as a turning stomach, which at times threatened to rid him of whatever food he had.

        She pushed him down, laying him on his back and lying down beside him, nuzzling the groove of his neck. “It will be fine, I’m sure of it. Please, don’t worry so much.” She whispered in a soft voice.

        Pressure left his head, and he decided to enjoy the moment now, instead of worrying of what might come ahead. They lay like that, letting unknown amount of time pass. It was not until the cold winds nipped in them that they decided to go inside the tent to rest. Saif was still with Trixie and Kazim and Arien had not returned yet.


*~*~*~*~*


        Moxie’s eyes slowly opened to adjust for the dark of night, but the pulsing blue from her forehead interrupted her. She stretched and snuggled a little closer to Athaal, who slept heavily behind her. His breath tingled her ears, causing her to shudder slightly. After a short while she felt her body slowly waking to life, and hearing the crackle of fire from outside she decided to get up before she woke him. He had spent the day training the squad, and dealt with all the turbulence with Trixie, so she concluded he needed the rest.

        Exiting, she saw a single figure near the bonfire shifting through the embers with a stick. The silver helm gleamed in the light as she approached. She cleared her throat, making the figure turn. The old, battle worn face of Arien greeted her with a smile.

        “I thought the night watch was supposed to be at a vantage point.” She curiously asked.

        He pointed up towards the hill, “They are, my Lady.” He answered in a calm voice.

        She let her eyes wander up the walls toward where he pointed. In the grossly incandescent form of the moon she saw a silhouette of a pony sitting lonesome up on a rock, embraced by the twinkles of stars upon a pitch black screen. As she watched, a pang of guilt hit her chest. If not for her, that pony would have possibly been sitting at home with his beloved one.

        She turned to Arien, “Would you mind if I joined you?” she carefully asked.

        The old pony shook his head and smiled, “No, not at all.”

        She sat down opposite of him, grunting slightly as she shifted her position more comfortably, and let out a sigh of relief once it was found.

        Arien looked at her, “How’s the foal doing, if you don’t mind me asking?” he said while prodding the fire with his stick.

        She smiled and let a hoof rest on her stomach, “I don’t mind at all. It’s doing fine, though still kicking now and then.”

        “I’m glad to hear it.” He answered, and silence quickly fell between them.

        She sat still for a moment, gazing into the hypnotizing cinders; their warmth caressed her cheeks. She turned and looked upwards, momentarily blinded by the light of the flames. Hearing him shift the coal around, she turned to him. 

        “Why do you sit out here, when it’s clearly not your shift?” she asked and nodded towards the silhouette.

        “I enjoy the silence; not much more to say.” He turned his gaze at her and smiled, “The night is so different from the day… so sincere, sort of.” 

        “I guess you can look at it like that.” She started, “I’ve always feared the night, something about it makes my skin crawl. I always feel like the unknown is a sinister kind; and it hides in the dark.” 

        Arien looked heavenwards, “I don’t know about that. For some it might be just that, sinister, while for others like me, it may be a place where you can relax and perhaps show the true you. And whatever you do will remain between you and the stars, or perhaps the pony you chose to spend that time with.” 

        “Why would you want to hide? You’re a stallion, you can do more or less anything you want.” The gimpy winged pegasus inquired.

        He looked at her and bowed, “Why does the lady ask?” Arien wondered calmly.

        “I- I… I didn’t mean—“ Moxie fumbled her words, still not used to stallions treating her as one of higher rank.

        The veteran smiled slightly, “I beg pardons if I upset you,” he said and looked at her, uncertain how to respond, she simply shook her head. He sighed, “To answer the lady’s question… I do know how it is to be different in our society. Having… tastes different from what they deem acceptable. Yes, stallions are freer than you, but to act as we wish, or have desires for is not granted.”

        “What do you mean?” 

        Arien looked at her a long time before he turned at the fire again. “You seem like the understanding kin…” He started, “I do not wish for a mare by my side. It is not my desire, but because of our country, what I long for is something I can’t legally have.” He said in a sullen tone, and turned his head upwards again, his stare turning distant. “I guess that’s why I gaze at stars. I don’t know why, but it comforts me.”

        She looked at the old pony in front of her, just seconds ago, she had seen him as a strong resilient leader. But now that she looked at him, she saw only a hurt soul seeking comfort in the solitude that night offered him, when no one could judge him for who he was. 

She swallowed and gazed away, uncertain of what to say. In her short life, she knew what solitude was and how it felt. From the days sitting alone in a room, hidden away from others because of her wing. The ponies around her back then. A mock attempt from her mother to find an acceptable social group. The selected few allowed to see the broken daughter of Fayah. Back then, she had felt the loneliest, sometimes to the brink of tears. She was forced to be together with those who mocked her when she wasn’t around. She saw the feeling from back then perfectly reflected in Arien, a smile without happiness and eyes a portal to the sadness hidden within.

“Does Athaal know?” She lastly squeaked through the silence.

Arien looked at her and smiled, “He knows. He’s not comfortable with the idea that a stallion wishes to be with another stallion. But he ignores it and chooses to look at me as he would with anypony else, and judge me based on my actions.” He said and let his voice fade. 

The sound of pebbles crunching, made both of them turn. The guard stationed upon the rock was making his way down towards them. Arien rose, “It’s time for a change,” He simply stated. He stretched a hoof towards Moxie and helped her up. “It’s my turn to stand guard, so I must bid you good night.” He said and bowed deeper to her than ever before.

“I better get some more sleep as well.” She reasoned and started for her tent.

“Moxie,” Arien called, causing her to turn again, “It was nice having company for once, thank you. I’d welcome your companionship at any time.”

Her lips curled up into a smile, “Yes, it was nice… we should do it again.” She said in a warm voice. As she walked back to her bed, it boggled her that her country allowed itself to choke the diversity that could be found within its citizens. Shrugging away the thoughts for tonight, she lay down and nuzzled closer to Athaal before she let the world disappear.

> Chapter 6 - Ra'am Barak
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Ra’am Barak




Athaal offered Trixie some water before he sat down next to her bed. The azure mare looked around the room with skepticism as she gulped down the contents of the cup. Behind Athaal, Saif sat quietly, watching intently as they went through some questions. It had taken Saif the whole night to calm her down, and, finally, after they had gained some sleep, he could get the answers he longed for. He knew that he had to operate carefully, for he was sure her mind was fragile still.

A thunderstorm had crossed over the valley. While they were protected from the harshest winds, the high rock walls acted like a funnel, sending a focused gust through and easily knocking anypony over if unprepared. And the small trickling rivers had quickly turned into large powerful ones, forcing them to move several tents. Each lighting strike flashing over the sky lit the outside up in a horrific light. Each tree looking like a twisted abomination, and the leaves seeking to hide any danger from them. Between the rolling thunders they heard the shrieks of the flying lizards Athaal had spotted, the still unidentified sound tore through their spine like the sharpest knife. The soldiers, along with Arien, became weary and skeptical of traveling through the valley underneath creatures they were sure were carnivores, and, for all they knew, even more bloodthirsty than the linacs. It served as a constant reminder that the ponies were far from the top of the food chain in Saddle-Arabia, and one was made to wonder how many other valleys hid such dangerous and vast wildlife yet undiscovered.

The inside of the tent was warm, the smell of incense covered the damp hints of sweat. The candles flickered each time the wind outside barely passed through the slits of the tent entrance, threatening to whisk out the little light it gave to them. Athaal was sure that the shadows playing over his face as he talked to the mare made him look angrier than he actually was, and perhaps more threatening. At this point, however, that was good, for the mare responded to each of his questions with an attitude that would have earned her a hanging if she were from Saddle-Arabia. Each time Saif translated her answer, there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice, and he tried his best to deliver her answer in a way most respectful and with tact. Athaal did not, however, need a translation to see her demeanor, and to understand her dislike of her position.

Athaal pressed a hoof to his temples and muttered calming words to himself. He looked her dead in the eye, feeling he was close to losing his temper; if he had known this mare to be so troublesome he would have ignored his brother’s request. Never before had he experienced such little extent of gratitude. As he felt the iris rings burn, he took a deep breath, reminding himself that her culture was different, and her life would prove valuable as they crossed into Equestria.

Her muzzle wrinkled a little at him, and, like the final droplet in a glass before it floods, it pushed his patience over the edge. He was sure, that when he looked at her now, the rings in his eyes would be black like the deepest pits, though if anything it might help him to make his points. He clenched his jaw tight.

He had enough of this.

“Understand this: I hold no debt to you, and I have no duty to keep you alive.” He halted, waiting for Saif to translate it, and he saw her become weary. “And, understand this, I will not hesitate to leave you behind here, where an infection will take hold of you and you will share the same fate as those who died in rescuing you. Perhaps the beasts that you took will return before the infection takes your life. Were you to be torn in pieces, it would not matter to me, so answer my questions, or welcome the other option with an embrace,” Athaal threatened, his voice calm, but an apparent ire within, and he was sure she heard it when he spoke, for her eyes turned worried to Saif.

Saif nodded. If he had any emotional distress to Athaal’s threat, he did not show it; he simply turned to the mare and made sure it was clear she had little choice. Slowly, Athaal could see her arrogance turning to fear. She shook her head and stole a hoof to the wound on her shoulder.

Shortly after, she carefully started talking. “She was on her way to a town called Manesail, and instead of going around the Saddle Arabian borders she decided to cross directly over our desert,” Saif translated.

Athaal shook his head at the answer. The linacs should be an issue in Equestria as well, and most of them should know of the dangers. A question still lingered in the back of his mind: why was she alive? “Ask her if she noticed something odd when she was captured, in their behavior or anything like that,” he finally ordered.

Saif translated, and Trixie became silent, her eyes fixed in a hollow stare. Athaal saw moisture slowly form in her eyes, a tear rolling down her cheek. Her voice crackled when she finally spoke again, her lips quivering once she fell silent.
“She only remember that they tore apart her wagon and quickly subdued her, they wounded her shoulder to stop her from running away before they apparently had an argument between themselves.” 

Athaal sighed, Trixie was now shivering, almost violently. Deciding that it was enough for now, he rose and let a hoof fall on Saif’s shoulder. The watanï acknowledged the gesture and moved to Trixie, taking her close, comforting as best he could. “I’ll leave you two alone; if you need anything, I’ll be nearby,” he said and quickly left and turned towards the veteran’s tent. He would get more information from her, he was certain of that, but unless she was an enemy there was no need to push the answers out more than what he had already done, so he would wait.

Lightning scorched across the sky and crackled before thunder rolled over him. Then the hammering of rain on tents and the forest was all he heard, accompanied by the roars of waterfalls from the valley walls. He shuddered; he was also certain that in-between he heard the shrieks again. He could just hope that the beasts would remain unknowing of their presence. He pushed aside the flap and entered the tent where Moxie sat accompanied by Arien. They both turned as he entered.

Moxie shifted slightly and made room for him next to her, “Arien came looking for you with a concern,” she said with a light tone in her voice.

Athaal shook himself lightly and sat down next to her, and turned to Arien. “I hope my absence was not of any dismay for you; there was something that needed taken care of. Please, voice your concern,” he offered his apology as he helped himself to a rich bowl of the warm soup Moxie had prepared for him.

Arien bowed slightly, “No dismay at all. Your wife gives lovely company, as always,” he said and smiled to both of them, but then his features turned bleak as he leaned forward. “I’m a little worried about being in the valley as it rains. If it continues like this, I’m afraid it might block our path at certain points. There are limits to what we can cross with the amount of baggage we have. And a few in our group have lower mobility than others.” 

“Have you brought it up with Kazim?” Athaal asked.

“Yes, he is out scouting. He should be back any moment now,” Arien confirmed.

“Then we’ll wait with our decision till then. I would rather not travel in weather like this, but if there is no other choice we’ll figure it out,” the young noble mused as he took a large gulp of the soup, welcoming the warmth it offered, and cherished the thought that Moxie was indeed a wonderful cook; it gave so much more taste than when any of the soldiers made it.

“What of the blue one?” 

Athaal felt his wife slowly distance herself a little from him the moment the mare was mentioned. He leaned forward and rested a hoof to the ground. “She stays, for now. The wound is clean and there’s no infection: those beasts haven’t touched her with their teeth.”

“And if we need to move fast? I doubt she’ll be able to move with us…” Arien said, leaving the gruesome detail of the underlying question unspoken. He tilted his head slightly and raised a hoof in greeting of Kazim.

The watanï slipped out of a drenched cloak and hung it on a pike before joining them around the fire. He sighed lightly and bowed for them to continue the conversation, while he made off with whatever water he could from his mane.

“Then she’ll share the cart with Moxie, and I’ll drag both of them,” Athaal suggested, feeling his wife once more shift away from him and turning her gaze away from the fire. Thinking little of it, he turned to Kazim. “What have you to report?”

The old watanï bowed deeply. “It seems like the valley might be suspect to flooding. There are watermarks rather high up on the walls from earlier times, and right now it seems we could move at ease through it, but that might not be the case in a short while,” Kazim said, head still turned down.

Athaal buried a hoof into his forehead, before he turned to Moxie. “How are you feeling, Dear? Have you recovered enough to make that travel in the storm?”

She nodded. “I’m feeling fine, perhaps a little dizzy, but that should be no hindrance.” She let a hoof fall on his lap, “What of you though? You will need to drag twice the weight through a muddy valley…” she asked, as she gazed at him with furrowed brows.

Athaal kissed her lightly on the lips. “It will have to do… no matter what, we’ll find a way.” He turned to the two ponies in the tent with them. “We’ll leave as soon as we can, make the necessary preparations and get the camp packed. I’ll go and inform my brother,” he ordered and rose, knowing full well that the news wouldn’t be taken well by the mare or his brother, but there was little choice.


*~*~*~*~*


        Moxie looked wearily at the one she shared the cart with. Trixie had slept through all their preparations, and was still sleeping as she was carried on top of the wagon. She was glad Trixie still slept. If she woke up when it was just the two of them, Moxie had a chance to make sure she didn’t say anything stupid, or rash. 

        She took a deep breath, her hoof trembling slightly, and for the life of her she couldn’t regain proper control over it. Her muscles ached, and each touch made her stifle a whimper. Her mind had stumbled upon the thought of regret a few times yesterday. Was the pain she now felt and worked to conceal from everyone worth it? Surely she couldn’t continue a life with the pain she now felt? She closed her eyes slightly. She was certain that Athaal knew about it, for he refused to let anyone else touch her, and his touch was even more careful than it had been the other days. Yet he made no obvious signs of knowing it; he respected her wish for it to remain hidden.

        Saif poked his head in. “Are you ready to go?”

        Moxie nodded in reply, seeing Saif pull the blanket tighter around Trixie, she let the churning feeling of guilt and curiosity she had felt yesterday get the best of her. “Saif…”

        “Yes, my Lady?” He responded.

        “Have you told him?” Moxie carefully asked, ever since Saif mentioned why he wanted to save Trixie, she had known where she had seen him before they met after her wedding. He was the stallion that was with Trixie back in Canterlot. The mere fact that somepony other than her knew Trixie, and how their fates had entwined to such an extent, worried her. The glares Saif had sent her throughout his time as their protector now made sense, he was bound to feel some anger towards her since Trixie left him for her back then.

        The watanï shook his head. “It’s not my place to tell her relationship with you to your husband. It is not my place to say anything about it, in fact. But if I may?” he asked, his green eyes looking at her behind the mask covering his muzzle.

        Moxie nodded, feeling a certain weight being lifted off her shoulders. “You may,” 

        “Athaal will figure it out sooner or later, and there is nothing that infuriates him more than being taken for granted, or being played a fool. It might be wise to tell him; he is more understanding than you might think,” he quickly suggested and let a hoof land on Trixie’s thigh. “We’re leaving in a bit, please take care of her.”

        “I will,” she said, and Saif closed the entrance.

        The rain hammered down on the tarp, thundering loudly on the inside. Shouts came from left and right, and the cart started moving with a jolt. Moxie bit her lip, her mind filled with uncertainty about what would be the right course of action. Telling Athaal now would perhaps make him angry, but it would be worse later on.

        Her eyes landed on the sleeping form in front of her. Perhaps there was a way to ensure that the information never got out? Watching the bandages, she thought how easily an infection might come in a damp jungle, and how hard it was to survive without any medical facility. For her, it would be easy: just a little lift on the bandage, and she would be safe…

        Moxie clenched her teeth and shook her head. How could she even think of that possibility? Should she have made the sacrifices of Zubair and L’oohm obsolete, just for a selfish wish to avoid an uncomfortable discussion with Athaal? No. She made a vow on their wedding night, and she would need to put her trust in Athaal again.

        She took a large gulp of water, struggling slightly with the liquid in the rocking motions of the cart. She laid a wet piece of cloth onto Trixie forehead, making sure it rested flatly enough for it not to fall off. Perhaps these were the thoughts Rishad talked about? A disgusting void grew in her chest, just the thought of killing somepony making her stomach churn. At the same time it scared her, these thoughts came uncontrolled and unbidden; how long would it take for them to come into action?

        Trixie tossed back and forth, and let out a small groan before she slowly opened her eyes. For a few seconds she looked around before her eyes landed on Moxie and lit up as the recognition dawned on her. She lifted her chest up, rested on her elbow, and grinned.

        “My, my… this is rich,” the unicorn said in a hovering tone. “To meet you here together with Spectrum. This trip just got interesting.” 

        Moxie furrowed her brows: she had never heard the name Spectrum before. “Who do you mean?” She asked in broken Equestrian.

        Trixie sighed and her horn lit up, her magical aura slowly grasping around her throat and ears, forming some form of link. “Trixie grows annoyed with all these weird sounds your language consists of.” The magic blinked once, then faded. “There, a translation spell should do the trick.” She turned to Moxie again. “I’m talking about Spectrum, the pony who was with me when I met you in Equestria.” She chuckled heartily and flinched. “To think I would meet both of you here; what are you? Brother and sister?” she asked.

        Moxie shrugged. “No, his name is Saif, and he’s my husband and mine’s guardian.”

        The azure mare grinned gloatfully. “Husband? You’ve moved on since our little adventure, then. Shame I didn’t turn you over to my field,” she snickered. “Now, who’s the lucky stallion which got you after I was done with you?”

“Be quiet!” Moxie hissed. “You’re not in Equestria. We do not follow the same customs as you; remember what I said after that night?”

        Trixie ran her hoof up and down her shoulder, looking angrily at her. “Yes, I remember. Trixie won’t bend for simple rules like that.” 

        Moxie glared at her and leaned close. “My husband carried you all night through the desert, because of Saif and mine’s wish, now show some gratitude.” Trixie smiled and pecked her on the lips in response, causing Moxie to flinch back.

        “How’s that for gratitude?” she mocked.

        The gimpy winged pegasus sidled back. “You do not understand the situation you’re in; anyone here would not hesitate to leave you in the jungle if they figured it out, so leave it!” she said through clenched teeth. She let a hoof fall on her stomach and scrunched her eyes together. The stress was starting to affect her.

        “Oh, you’re pregnant as well? What on Equestria are you traveling out here for?” she asked, the tone in her voice milder.

        “That’s not your concern,” Moxie said through deep breaths, as she tried to lessen the strain on her stomach.

        After a short silence, Trixie spoke again. “Yes, you’re right. That is none of Trixie’s concern,” she said with a sullen voice. “Trixie is grateful for the rescue, she really is. Trixie will try to keep this silent.” 

        “Thank you,” Moxie responded.

        “Trixie guesses that a congratulations is in order,” she said and nodded towards Moxie’s stomach.

        Moxie let a strained smile cross her lips. “It is good to see you again.”

        Trixie smiled and they both fell silent, listening to the hammering of rain on the cart tent. An occasional bolt of lightning lit up the sky, followed by the slam of thunder with such force that their bodies shook. Several trees let out loud creaks together with the wagon as the wind took a violent hold. Both of them struggled to keep a sense of balance, and once again Moxie felt her muscles buckle slightly.

        The wagon stopped violently sending Moxie crashing into Trixie. The azure mare flinched and gritted her teeth in pain. Moxie quickly got up again and looked at the shoulder, the crash had caused the wound to open again; the white bandages slowly turned crimson. Outside, loud shouts could be heard, followed by the sound of metal against wood.

        Seeing the blood fill up, she quickly opened the door, squinting as torrent of water hammered her muzzle. She bellowed for Rishad to come to their aid, then moved out of the way as fast as her muscles allowed her. Rishad entered quickly and began tending the wound. 

        Curious about what had happened she looked around at the cart seeing one of the wheels being stuck down in a hole. Around her, soldiers scrambled with branches, stuffing them down in the mud before running for more. At the pace they had there wouldn’t be much of a setback, but as of now, she had no idea how long they had in fact been traveling: it could have been the whole day, or it could have been a few hours; the blackened sky made it impossible to tell. At the front, Athaal stood still, silently watching, taking deep breaths. 

        Moxie moved next to him and nuzzled him in the groove of his neck, then smiled at him, making sure he knew she was there for him just as much as he was there for her. He looked at her with drained eyes, panting heavily while a fog of his breath gathered in front of him. She knew it was no point in asking if he was alright, she knew the answer. Just like with her, it remained a silent conversation between the two, one coming from a slight touch, weary looks or a caring smile. In a sense she was glad for it, that they had no need to speak out loud, yet still it worried her, for there might be signs she missed, or she misplaced. It was yet to happen, but the fear was there.

Rishad exited the cart and moved towards them, dodging the busy soldiers in surprising elegance for his age. “We need to find somewhere dry so I may close the wound properly, a dry cave will do,” he thought out loud.

Athaal groaned. “Another setback?” He flinched slightly as Moxie served him a quick jab to the side. “Fine… there must be a cave around here somewhere. We need to get out of the deep part of the valley, though.” Athaal turned his gaze at the large walls. “We’re not that far away from being out of immediate danger…” He turned to them again. “Saif, go on ahead and take a look, we need some shelter, high and dry.” 

Saif placed a small bundle of twigs in the mud and bowed slightly. “As you wish,” he confirmed and set off.

“That should be enough!” Athaal shouted to the soldiers, before he turned to Moxie again. “Get into the cart, we’re leaving again.”

Her hoof still resting on his chest, she shook her head. “No, I’ll walk beside you.”

“Are you sure?” he inquired, and she knew full well what he thought of.

“Yes, now let me strap you in. It can’t be that far to a cave,” she said and moved towards the cart straps.

Athaal shrugged and moved into position. She lifted the chest strap over his head and locked it, then took the barrel strap and tightened it under his stomach. She looked at him strapped down tight in the harness, his muscles shining as the water ran through the valley they created, and the lightning danced overhead. Her breathing became slightly labored as her hoofs touched the hard surface of him, and his broad neck got her to unconsciously lick her lips. Taking a step back, she smiled, almost as if enjoying a work of art. Her thoughts became disjointed and an uncontrollable barrage of lusty images filled her mind. Her cheeks heated up and she leaned forward, letting her hoof slap his thigh quickly. Seeing the surprised expression on her husband she became aware of what she had done, desperately she her mind, with newfound clarity, searched for something to excuse her action. 

Finding nothing, she winked at him and tried a smile. He smiled back, uncertainty apparent in his face. Pretending like it was planned, she took place next to him and cooed lightly. It seemingly had worked, for he turned his attention to the cart, yelling for the soldiers to push as he pulled. Stepping aside to allow him free room, she saw the cart slowly progressing forward as multiple ponies pushed from behind. The twigs and leaves allowed traction, and as more and more snapped under the strain, the cart got loose and moved forward. 

        They crossed crags and rivers, moving fallen trees out of the way. All of the houseguards and soldiers moved in front, cutting a path for them, sometimes stopping to get an overview around large rocks or chasing a wild animal away. Each time a shriek from one of the flying predators was heard, so was the sound of blades unsheathing along with leather straps straining under pressure. And each time they did, it cost them a little more time.

        As they traveled, Moxie fought to keep up, draining her energy, refusing to become more of a burden than she already was. At the same time, she focused intently on keeping her mind in check, her will would overcome the new erratic nature of her mind. She would no longer allow the thoughts of murder and lustful sex take hold of her. She knew it was futile in the end if they didn’t reach the graveyard, but, for her own sake, she would not give up.

        It did not take long before they saw marks left to them by Saif, anything from a broken branch or a piece of clothing stuck to a tree. The marks seemed to lead to the path easiest traveled as it swerved both left and right, but it always lead up the hill.

        They saw Saif waving at them with a torch from the mouth of a large cave hidden behind large rocks and a formation of trees. Athaal shouted commands and they began to move towards it with increased haste, a last push before they could rest.

        Athaal stopped the cart as close to the rocks as he could, and immediately Saif jumped down and carried Trixie out of the wagon. He put her down on a blanket next to a fire he had set up while waiting for them to catch up.

        Rishad hurried over and kneeled down next to her as he began to unpack his medical supplies. The old priest removed the red clotted bandages and began addressing the wound. His horn lit up, bathing the cave in a golden light, then gave it a focus point at the shoulder. The priest took off his drenched cape and began ordering Saif around for supplies. The watanï quickly found a bottle and other supplies he was asked for. Rishad poured a white and blue liquid over the wound and began to massage it in, gaining him loud groans from Trixie. As if an answer, Rishad began to mutter incantations.

        Curiosity getting the better of her, Moxie moved closer and looked intently. Rishad focused his magic onto his hoofs and let the golden aura embrace the thick liquid. The edges began to expand slightly in slithering motions, then bored down under the blue fur. Right after, it began to harden, the color growing darker and brown; and taking the form like the chitin of a scorpolid scale. At the end of the mesmerizing transformation, it let go of a loud crack as the center was turned like the rest. Rishad let the golden glow falter, and took a deep breath, ending the spell.

        Moxie looked at Saif, who was seemingly just as bewildered as her at what just happened. “What did you do?” she squeaked in question.

        Rishad smiled. “I performed a beykheff, it will help her wound to heal faster, and keeping it safe from infections,” he explained.

        Moxie looked at her sleeping form, still writhing her mouth in pain. “She won’t need bandages?” 

        “No, by using that she won’t be needing any more medical help actually,” he answered. His smile turned tired and he started breathing heavily.

        Saif glared at him. “Why didn’t you do this earlier?” he demanded with an angry grit in his voice. Once Rishad didn’t answer at once, Saif bowed deeply, knowing that he pushed the limits of what disrespect the priest would bother with.

        The old priest sighed. “I’m an old stallion, Saif, and this magic is extremely draining. I didn’t want to use it other than a last resort, and, with the area becoming as damp as this, I needed to do something quick when the wound opened.” He rose and groaned slightly, wobbling as he walked over to his backpack. “I need to regain my strength, please tell her that the chitin is drawing energy from her blood to heal the wound quicker, so some numbness might occur,” he explained as he rolled out his bedroll near the fire.

        Saif looked at Trixie, worry clear in his eyes. He carefully touched the chitin plate with his hoof and sighed, before he rose and headed out towards the forest. Athaal greeted him at the entrance and exchanged a few words before they split, Athaal heading towards Moxie with a large bundle of twigs and logs on his back, which he placed near the fire.

        He fell down on the rocky floor and shouted, “Arien, could you set up the nightwatch?” He closed his eyes and sighed. “I need to… rest.” 
        “Right away!” Arien responded and began relaying orders.

        Moxie didn’t utter a word; she wanted to say something, and it weighed heavily on her shoulders. The state of her husband demanded her silence. She saw how the muscles in his legs trembled, how he instantly fell asleep on top of the rocks, and the strained look he had when he entered the cave. No, she would not bother Athaal with anything like this, now. He needed the rest more than her.

        In a grief of silence, her mind landed on the serum she needed to take. With both Rishad and Athaal recovering, she would need someone else to help her. Her hoof rested on her stomach; with her tremors becoming more violent, it could damage the foal. She looked out to the forest. She could ask Saif, but something in the back of her mind screamed at her for thinking that. She couldn’t understand why she opposed herself to the idea; Saif had been nothing else than supportive of their situation, and hers in particular. 

        Her eyes landed on Arien. Perhaps she could ask the old general? Coming from a past such as his, he would understand her plea. She flopped her ears back; but what if he didn’t? What if he told her that he wouldn’t be comfortable with it? Would she be forced to take the serum alone? Her chest tightened, constricting each breath she took in a small state of panic.

        She waited, watching as Arien discussed orders with Kazim, and barking out commands to the stallions swarming around them. At last he sat down and rested, leaning towards the cave, his stare carefully watching as everything went as he had planned. 

        She took a deep breath and approached him. “Arien…” she started.

        He turned his eyes at her, bowed and smiled slightly. “May I be of any help?” he asked.

        Her mind froze, not knowing how to begin the question, “Athaal… I…” 

        Arien tilted his head slightly. “Anything the matter with Athaal?” he inquired.

        She shook her head, “No, he’s just tired…” she said, and again tried focusing on her question. “I need help!” she blurted out at last.
        Arien jolted back at her outburst. “Please, calm down. What troubles you, my Lady?” 

        Moxie sighed and slowly began to explain her situation, and what she needed help with. Each word struggled to find its place comfortably on her tongue, while Arien listened intently to every word she spoke.

        Lastly, he nodded. “It would be so little, I will gladly help you. I’ll just ask Kazim to look over the rest.”

        Relief washed over her. “Thank you,” she said.

        After Arien had delivered the message to Kazim, they ventured a little back in the cave until hidden from the sight of others. She realized how it might look for those not aware of the serum, but she trusted that Athaal would understand immediately once Arien was mentioned; the others might as well think whatever they like, she decided.

        She explained the procedure to Arien and he sat down as she ordered. She prepared the serum in a goblet and sat down in his lap and drank it. Immediately, she felt his strong hoofs clamp down on her. She swallowed, forcing the liquid to stay down, and this time she felt the trembling start slowly, then, as it began properly, she closed her eyes.

        At the brink of blacking out she barely felt how Arien lifted her carefully onto his back and carried her back to the cave. Uncertainty clinged to her as she was placed down upon a mat on the floor, her haze hindered any actions. Relief came to her; at least she thought it was that, once she heard the voice of Athaal next to her. She heard a short exchange of words between Arien and her husband, before her mind finally gave up any grip of consciousness at the touch of a familiar hoof.


 * * * * 


        She woke and inhaled sharply, eyes inspecting the cave roof. Seeing nothing but a pitch black veil, and hearing nothing other than snores from the cave, she decided to take a walk to clear her mind. Sleep seemed unwilling to return to her; half a night of sleep was enough, it seemed, for she felt full of vigor and energy. She carefully rose, making sure not to wake anypony else. Walking through the camp, looking at the sleeping forms of the squad, she somehow felt superior to them.

        She turned towards the forest, the battering of rain had finally subdued. Replaced by the lonely sounds of night; frog croaks and cricket chirps fought an invisible battle over the forest floor. Above the stone arches she saw the moon beaming through the transparent clouds slowly drifting past. The white light barely reached down to the trees, blinking in a brilliant luster over the water droplets on the tree leaves. Where the light reached the small rivers and the nearby basin, it reflected into a large halo; it was almost as like she could walk over and touch a lake moon.

        She basked in the sight of this forest while she walked through it, completely forgetting why she was awake, or even on this trip at all, her mind led completely astray by the wonder around her. The moist grass tickled her hoofs, and branches crackled under her. The water moon grew bigger and bigger, and she could of sworn she heard the light it reflected as a beautiful symphony.

        She stopped at the edge of the lake and looked at her own reflection; and like a stone in water, her peace of mind was broken. The opal blinked with inkling light and the mark underneath it had grown. It almost seemed like her forehead was painted black in some parts, and the blackness slowly moved towards her eyes. Her reflection looked at her with hopelessness and desperation, the eyes an ashen remnant of what they used to be.

        Moxie turned her gaze away as she heard a loud crack behind her, seeing nothing behind she looked above and froze. She saw a large beast looking down in the valley from the edge of the stone arches, its form looked like a large shadow. The only thing telling her that it looked downwards was the violet eyes moving from side to side.

        She opened her mouth in shock, and instantly felt a hoof grab hold of her from behind, pulling her back. As she began to scramble her hoofs around, her owner of the hoof turned her facing towards him. The green eyes of Saif looked straight at her behind his black mask, his gaze was stern as he put the other hoof over his mouth. The instant she nodded, he let go and turned his head upwards.

        Saif carefully pulled her towards the lake, stepping in and mimicked for her to do the same; still holding a hoof over his muzzle. The water felt cold against her fur, and once it reached above her stomach she shuddered, only to once again feel a hoof over her mouth and an angry glare from Saif. He pushed her into the edge underneath the palm leaves, and then placed himself closer to the center, head always pointing up towards the beast, even as water rose to their necks. 

        Moxie tried a look over his shoulder and saw multiple set of eyes training their eyes down towards them; she slowly put a hoof over her muzzle to stop her clattering teeth. As the eyes and black forms moved back and forth, changing places, she heard guttural sounds, almost like they were growling at each other. One slammed its large fists down to the ground, causing small stones to fall from the arch piece above them and into the water with a small splash. Instantly the violet eyes turned at the lake. 

        One of the shadows leaned forward, looking intently at the water. It growled and began to descend the rocky walls, swinging downwards with ease in its movements. They heard rocks being loosened and falling down into the vegetation rich ground, and shortly after a heavy thump. Trees swayed and moaned, and branches snapped as the large beast moved. 

        She held her breath, and her eyes raced over the tree line. Not a sound could be heard, nor could anything be seen. Her mind raced and her heart threatened to jump out of her chest. She quietly prayed that Saif’s clothing would be sufficient enough to hide them.

        A large claw stretched out on the edge and gripped tightly to the bank, another one quickly followed; a large set of nails slowly boring into the water surface. A large lizard like head protruded through the blackness, its mouth filled with serrated teeth. The dim light made the large red scales running down its neck from the forehead barely visible. The white flesh above its teeth became visible as it snarled, taking deep breaths, as if sniffing at them.

        Moxie felt the blood in her veins freeze, she fought every instinct she had to not scream from the top of her lungs, her jaws clamping down so hard that she heard her teeth crack. She could not revert her gaze, and she felt the panic build up, bidding her to weep. Her heartbeat thrashed in her ears, a new sense of pain becoming apparent for her. For the life of her, she could not remove her eyes from the horrible thing in front of her; they were locked in terror. Even the sound of its saliva hitting the water surface made her want to jump, and her inner muscles jolted together. Eventually her eyes caved and a river flowed down her cheeks, but she forced herself to remain silent.

        Time stood still as the eyes moved back and forth over the pond, the beast grunting as it sniffed the air. Another stone hit the water, and the eyes snapped towards them, slowly leaning forward. It then turned its eyes upwards as rock dust fell down, it growled loudly and quickly vanished. As soon as it climbed up the wall again, they heard the thumping of large paws and the eyes above them were gone.

        Moxie let her hoofs fall from her muzzle, only to find Saif covering it again as soon as her hoofs hit the water. She held her breath and listened, carefully flickering her ears for sounds. Saif looked around over the edges of the stone arches again, and, seemingly satisfied that they were safe, he let go of her muzzle.

        She swallowed hard. “W-what was that?” she asked with a voice at the brink of collapse.

        “That was a linac,” Saif plainly answered without facing her.

        “That’s a linac?!” Moxie yelped, feeling her body begin to tremble again.

        “Yes, and it was from the same tribe as the ones we killed,” Saif said and began to make his way out of the water. “Are you alright, my Lady?” he quickly asked.

        She opened her mouth to respond, but found herself yammering and shaking instead. She realized how quickly her life would have ended if it was not for Saif, and at the same time it came crashing onto her just what Trixie had faced alone. Her eyes landed on him and she nodded with newfound respect for both her husband and him, thinking back to the fact that they had killed a couple of those beasts.

        “Come,” he said, “we must wake the others.”

        She followed promptly as they raced through the woods, quickly covering the short distance to the cave. The moment they got inside, Saif jumped over to Athaal and shook him violently. Her husband jumped up and instinctively drew his sword; quickly putting it down as he saw who it was. Before he could make any remarks about being woken like he just had, Saif filled him in. Athaal swore loudly, and the rest of the soldiers began to stir.

        “They were from the same tribe as the ones we killed?” Athaal asked once he had calmed down a little.

        “Yes, they had the same yellow marks at the tip of their scales,” the watanï stated.

        Athaal opened his mouth to answer, but he just now became aware of Moxie standing hidden in the corner, shivering from her wet clothes and the cold night air. He made his way to her and took her in his embrace, and as he did the strength that had held her up vanished from her legs. She buried her muzzle in his coat and wept, this time not caring if anypony heard her. Athaal sat down with her and cradled her back and forth, humming to her as he did back home. It gave some comfort to her, but more than anything she clung to the comfort of the closeness that Athaal gave her, while she released the emotions that had begged to come out in the lake.

        “Wake the others. From now on, we travel by night,” she heard Athaal order before he burrowed his muzzle in her mane, still humming the soft tune of Ghazath to her.

> Chapter 7: Wadaan, ya Sadiki.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Wadaan, ya Sadiki...


        Athaal hissed the order to shut off all light to the guard nearest to him. His order about the lights had been clear the moment they had left the cave, yet the soldier named Morad tried his patience. To even try to light a flicker of light now was more than foolish. Content that the order now finally was received, he turned his attention forward, but made a mental note to severely cut the pay for the soldier. 

        The cold sand slid aside as they stepped forward, and the chilled air nipped at their fur. In the distance, far beyond their vision in the dark of night, they heard the bone chilling howls of dune-wolves echo over the mountains of sand. High above, the sky was twinkling with small diamonds, looking like millions of eyes gazing upon them, and still the faint clap of thunder could be heard far away. Athaal was glad the horrible cries of the flying lizards were just a memory for now, replaced with sounds he knew of.

        He constantly had to convince himself that he had made the right decision. Even with both Arien and Kazim agreeing with him he wavered in his steadfastness. They had no choice but to travel at night now that the linacs had appeared again, and to wait another night for them to travel would be out of the question; if they just reached the temple they could relax for a while longer. Until that time, however, he could only hope that they would reach it unscathed, and hope that the preparations they had done would be enough. He felt a hoof touch him gently, and turned to see Moxie smile at him beneath the darkened cloth they had put over the opal. As if she sensed his distress, she gave him a labored smile, then turned her eyes forward again.

        They traveled far and the night was seemingly endless. Every one of them jolted at the smallest sound; something as simple as a slithering snake caused them to shift in their armor as they reached for their swords out of sheer reflex. Arien and Kazim tried their best to calm them down, but to little use. None of the soldiers had ever faced a linac before and only held memory of what had been explained of Zubair and L’oohm. 

        Athaal could’ve sworn he saw the contours of the temple in the distance; large spires carved out of the mountain itself finally broke the image of the moon above. He dared himself to a little relief. Perhaps there would be secluded rooms within where they each could sleep on a bed, and even make a fire to regain the warmth robbed from them during the night.

        His wishful thinking got interrupted as Saif pulled up a hoof, ordering them to a standstill. There was a deafening silence as they all froze, listening intently for whatever Saif had seen, or heard. Every one of them had their hoof resting at the hilt of their sword in an instant, preparing to unsheathe it in a flash if needed. Then, somewhere at their side they heard something whip through the air, striking the sand with a distorted echo. It was followed by a low hiss and a growl Athaal knew far too well.

        He reached for his own blade, only to be stopped by the cart strap around him. The locks produced sound even as he was just barely touching them, and, much to his frustration, he could not unhinge himself to reach the sword. But more importantly, he could not get away from the cart as it was now. He could only hope that the linac would ignore them, and hope that Rishad resting in the cart could continue to do so, for the priest’s energy was still on a low after the magic he had performed on Trixie.

        Saif moved backwards, getting to Trixie’s side. He attempted to put a hoof around her shivering form, but she promptly shot his approach down and made to stand alone. Athaal saw how his brother still decided to stand near her, with a disheartened look in his eyes. Again he wondered how deep their relationship went, for, as it was now, Saif was the only one showing affection.

        Around them they heard sand shifting underneath the massive body of the linac. Followed by loud sniffs in the air. The eyes of the soldiers darted around them, all except Arien instilled with terror. The watanï remained stoic, but even in them one could see uncertainty and unease as the sounds grew closer to them. 

        Moxie took hold of Athaal’s hoof, pulling in it hard enough for him to flinch. He turned to see what had caused her to do so, and upon the sight his breath caught in his throat. Slowly the wild mane of the linac rose above the sand hill, revealing more and more of its vastness. As the head was finally revealed the deranged purple eyes glaring at them. The growling became more prominent, and sand flew into the air as it extended it claws, boring them down in the sand as it walked. The scaly lips pulled back, revealing the row of jagged teeth it had, covered in poisonous saliva which glinted as the moon hit it. 

        Time froze as the group stood still, some frozen in terror, others waiting to see if the beast would charge. Athaal felt his temples thunder as blood rushed through him, mixed with adrenaline. His hoof remained just above the buckles, ready to detach the moment something happened. Then it roared, and the massive form charged forward. The roar itself was nothing close to the HaSheaga, but enough to instil a paralyzing fear into anypony not used to it. 

        He fidgeted with the buckles, hearing the thuds approaching him. Seeing the beast aim for the cart it dawned on him that he would not get free in time. The sound of blades being drawn around him, combined with the panic slowly bleeding through him, dulled his thoughts. He remained uncertain till he saw his wife, frozen in place next to him. Then his mind got a target: save her no matter what happened to him. He only hoped that she would forgive him for what he was about to do. He took hold of her shoulders and thigh, then tossed her as hard as he could.

She was out of the way, and he only managed to smile for a split second before his body was removed from underneath him.

        The crash was loud, and the instant he was lifted the padding bored into him, his ribs beginning to give in. In his weightless state, he saw splinters fly over him, together with a large canister of water. He watched as Rishad flew with him, eyes closed and body limp; he feared the worst. He turned his attention towards the linac, seeing it was surrounded by soldiers stabbing it from every side. In the corner of his vision, he saw Moxie looking at him, and heard an echo of her calling his name. The harness shattered and slid off as he landed hard, sending another crack through his ribs. He felt sand and wood rain over him, together with blankets and food supplies. It settled down, and all he heard was metal upon hard material. Through it all, he still heard his name being called out, the source of it uncertain.

        He rose. Consciously, he was almost gone, and he saw only a haze, emotions shifting through him like waves in a storm, not settling for a single moment. The storm within him remained chaotic, then, at the sound of sword hitting flesh, a single thought made it through: he needed to get to her. 

Rishad lay motionless next to him, except the chest barely moving with shallow breaths. There’s still hope… he thought in a hazed clarity, as he began to make way over the hill he had landed past.

        His thought stopped, seeing the vial with Moxie’s medicine shattered upon the sand, painting it with a blue glow. He touched it, carefully picking it up with trembling hoofs, the now gooey sand sliding down his fur. The more he looked, the more he felt his iris rings burn. He held what was left of his wife’s life, and it ran out in front of him, vanishing by seconds. For an instant the storm within him froze, becoming still like a frozen lake. It then exploded, turning violent like a hurricane with a singular focus: the destruction of the beast that attacked them.

        In a still minded focus he drew his sword, in the hope that he could pierce it through the skull of the linac that attacked them. Reaching closer to it, he saw that it was slowly getting overpowered by the ponies he had with him. They had managed to pierce the skinfold underneath its throat, so there were no risk of a HaSheaga from it. Namir had jumped on top of the monster and buried his swords into its skull.

        Halfway through where he landed and the linac, he stopped, feeling a wetness underneath his hoofs. Looking down he saw the twisted mask of a pony, contorted in pain, capturing his very last moment of emotion like a film. The crimson stream of life gushed out from a large hole in his chest, pierced all the way through. It looked like Saif’s mentor, but he wasn’t sure, and at this time he did not care.

        He began to walk again, finally the waves within him settled, forming one singular tsunami of rage and anger. He saw the linac fall down to the ground, finally being taken down by several large gashes in its skin, black blood seeping out. Saif approached him, breathing heavily, wondering where Rishad was. At least that was what Athaal thought he heard. The watanï jumped back as Athaal turned his eyes towards him, and he remained at leg’s length. Free of hindrance, he walked again, stopping only to look down upon the linac.

        It looked at him with defiant eyes, almost smugly. Tendons in its large arms ripped, any of its movements seemingly made impossible by that. Its throat rattled with each breath; it was on the brink of death with or without his help. For a second, Athaal swore he could hear it laugh at him for what it had done.

        He flinched, putting a hoof to one of his eyes. It was not only the iris rings that burned, his whole eye did, and it was almost like they threatened to sear through his skull. It seethed, clouding his vision. It was a damp feeling from his hoof, and he once again saw the blue liquid covering him. He clenched his teeth to the point of where it cracked through his skull, and snapped.

        He lifted his sword high over his head and brought it down, slicing it through the soft skin of the linac. He did so, again and again, getting a rush each time he heard the sound of a whimper from it, or just the sound of his blade biting its flesh. His hoofs slowly grew tired, and each strike sent a jolt of pain from his chest, but he continued to bore his sword into it. The black blood covered him more and more, till the point where he did not feel anything other than his fur filled with it.

        Loud, his name was shouted from behind, a female voice penetrating his trancelike state. He tossed his head around, answering only with an angry growl. Seeing Moxie stand defiantly in front of him, her body shaking. It dawned upon him that it was him she was afraid of, his vision went from clouded blackness to a moist haze. So afraid of him that she trembled with each step she took towards him. 
        She took a hoof and stroked his cheek, “Athaal… you’re crying,” she whispered with a shaking voice.

        Was he? Running a hoof under his own eye, he took it out and looked; clear pearls mixed with the jet black blood. He hadn’t noticed at all. Letting go of his sword, he wobbled and began to fall. Caught by a soft shoulder, his mind began to calm, his eyes lessening their burning. He remained motionless, his strength gone; even if he tried he could not even lift his hoofs to embrace his wife. Yet she stood like the pillar he needed.

        Moxie took his head and held it out in front of her, kissing his lips softly, flinching slightly as the taste of blood was prominent. She leaned her forehead at his and whispered. “It’s okay, Athaal. We’re okay,” she comforted as best as she could. He remained silent, but he was certain their journey would end tonight.


*~*~*~*~*


        Moxie watched intently as they placed Rishad on a blanket near the smoldering cinders. They had made a fire, and then quickly put it out, for fear of more linacs seeing them. Now it barely lit up those sitting closest to it, but the little warmth that radiated from the embers gave a small sense of comfort. With the events of the night, she welcomed anything she could get.

        They had made a hasty push to the abandoned temple, leaving behind Kazim without any kind of sermon, focusing on getting here in time to let Rishad rest. It wasn’t too far from where they were attacked, and after Athaal had calmed down, he had made a makeshift stretcher and tied it to Arien. They had tried to treat his wounds as best they could, but the quality was lacking.

        The temple had truly remained untouched for eons. The air was heavy inside, almost like it was a thick fog, yet it remained clear. They had taken camp just inside the entrance, giving shield for the winds of the night, and the warmth of the day. The room reminded her somewhat of the church she had been married in: large and vast, with pillars stretching down from the roof, much too large for anypony. Her opal shone brighter than the flames, lighting up the gray walls in its blue hue, casting shadows and light in deluded forms. Together with the muffled sound of hoofs upon dusty floor it gave an eerie feeling. Saif had mentioned that the only signs of life he had found was from small rats and scorpions. Nothing of large scale took housing here.

Moxie took a blanket and made a makeshift pillow for her to sit on, she wanted to be by Athaal’s side, the way he had been at hers in the past. Even if all she could do was to change the wet cloth upon his forehead, it was her task to do so. His breathing had become steady, but his color had turned bleak. A thought she didn’t want to think of, but that she couldn’t push away, was prominent. What if it was her, instead? Would she even be able to take the strain in that situation? She swallowed, trying to push the disgusting feeling in the back of her throat down.

        Throughout the whole ordeal, Trixie had stood frozen. She had watched as the beast that captured her came for them all. She had not even tried helping them to treat Rishad, she had just clung behind Saif, hiding; and this was the fruits of her inaction: Rishad fought for his life.

        “I’m sorry…” Athaal said and pressed a hoof onto her shoulder.

        She shook her head. “Don’t be, it’s not your fault… if anything, it’s Trixie’s fault,” she calmly said, feeling a bitter taste in her mouth by saying the name.

        Athaal sat down next to her and pulled her in close, gently stroking her shoulder. She let her head rest on him, never taking her eyes off her old friend, while thinking back on what she had seen earlier that night. It scared her, in a sense, to see Athaal like that. He had hacked away on the linac for several minutes, long after it was dead. His cries had shown nothing but pure rage and hatred towards his target, chilling anypony to the bone. She shuddered when he had turned to face her; it was like the iris rings were taking over, the black from them stretching all over the white in his eyes with long, twisted lines. It had been like looking into the eyes of a demon, but looking at him now, those impressions slowly whisked away from her. His ears flopped back and eyes furrowed in concern. She knew his concern was not for Rishad, but for her; he hummed softly to her as he knew it gave her comfort. Even if he tried to hide it, she heard the small hint of sadness in his voice. She understood him, and she felt it herself, no longer the prospect of being healthy again. They would spend a few nights together, then they would plan ahead, for she would most likely not return home. She nuzzled his neck slightly, thankful that he had the strength for both of them, and the strength to try to comfort her through his own distress.

        They turned as the sound of somepony clearing their throat came from behind. “Saif just returned with this book… Trixie thought she would give it to you personally,” the unicorn said, and she hovered the book close to them.

        Moxie took the book and scowled. “Thank you, you may leave now…” she ordered, eyes not making contact with the unicorn.

        “For what it’s worth, Trixie is sorry for this…” she quickly said.

        “Just leave!” Athaal ordered loudly.

        Only the spark of embers could be heard after the hoof steps faded, and the camp fell into a sense of solitude between each one of those alive. None said a thing, as if the sound of voices would worsen the situation. Athaal rose and made picked up another blanket, which he wrapped around them both. He eventually fell asleep, still holding her close.

        More and more fell asleep around her. No one bothered to put up a guard list; someone just stayed awake. The tension between Saif and Trixie lessened, and she was soon sleeping soundly under the same blanket as him. The more she thought of it, the more she felt it would be okay if Trixie left, or even died. Their past meant nothing anymore to Moxie, and Trixie was the reason for everything that had happened wrongly on this trip. She took a red glowing stick and prodded it into the fire. She was sure no pony would mind if she did something about it. Her mind once more taking control of itself, thinking of gruesome ways to end the reason for her distress. It didn’t take long before she shook the thought away, staring in horror into the cinders of the details she made, and once more she became scared of herself. She sought comfort with the only thing she could and buried her nose in Athaal’s groove, focusing her mind on the snores that came from him.

        She turned as a low groan came from Rishad, and she carefully sidled closer, making sure she was close enough to calm him down if anything happened. He opened his eyes and took a deep breath, before turning around coughing blood onto the floor.

        Moxie pressed her hoof on his shoulder. “Please relax, we’re safe for now,” she whispered.

        He laid down and looked at her. “What happened?” he asked carefully.

        “A linac attacked us. It crushed the cart and killed Kazim…” Moxie informed.

        “My old friend…” He said, his voice labored and weak. Rishad leaned a bit forward and squinted at her. “Are you hurt?”

        She shook her head. “No… Athaal pushed me out of the way before the cart got hit. He might have broken a few ribs.”

        Rishad coughed again, blood dribbling from his mouth. His breath turned shallow and short; the sound of liquid came from within him. He took away the blanket and began running a hoof down his chest. Flinching as he hit certain points. After some time of this procedure, his eyes turned somber.

        “Ma’isah… could you wake up the unicorn?” he asked, his voice calm, with a sad determination in it.

        She froze; he never called her by her noble name, no one did. She slowly rose and made her way towards where Trixie and Saif slept. She cast a glance back, seeing Rishad mumbling a prayer and engulfing his body in a golden color from his magic. She swallowed; something awful was about to happen, she knew it, but she couldn’t say what. And her body reacted to it, her muscles trembled and her eyes flicked over the room constantly, looking for something to justify her concern. 

        Trixie slept near Saif, but they were not together as one would expect. She slept with a blanket wrapped tightly around her, while he slept facing towards her, blanket loose so one would easily slip under it if wished for. 

        Moxie shook her roughly, feeling little need to be gentle. “Trixie, Rishad wants to talk to you.” She whispered.

        Trixie forced her eyes open and looked up. “Now? Trixie needs her sleep, can it wait till tomorrow?”

        “Yes, now!” Moxie hissed and glared at the azure unicorn.

        She sighed and tossed away the blanket, nodding for Moxie to lead the way. “Fine…” Trixie added as a last comment.

        Moxie gritted her teeth together, and turned to head for Rishad. Her mind wandered as they walked the short way, how could she have been seduced by a mare this awful? Was it truly like that or was something else within her building up her short temper? As they had traveled, getting further and further away from home, she had felt urges, good and bad. The thought of killing someone frequently struck her, and Trixie was the cause for all those times. At other times she wanted to do things with Athaal, it didn’t matter where, as long as she stayed close to him, felt his strong hoofs around her. She wouldn’t think much of it, it was normal after all, but when it came, it was so strong that she didn’t care if they would make love in front of the whole squad. This part in particular scared her once the need vanished; the fact that she slowly stopped caring.

        They both sat down, and Trixie yawned. “Yes, what is so important that you needed to wake Trixie?”

        Moxie drove an elbow into Trixie’s ribs, “Show some respect, if it hadn’t been for Rishad you wouldn’t be alive!” Moxie growled in hushed tones.

        Trixie glared angrily at her, before she frowned and flopped her ears slightly. “Yes, yes…” she lastly said.

        “Now, now… no need to become enemies,” Rishad interjected with a raspy voice.

        Trixie turned to him. “Why do you wish to speak to Trixie?” she asked, her tone completely changed from earlier, it was soft and caring in a sense.

        “I want to give you this…” He embraced the book in a golden hue and lifted it, placing it softly in Trixie’s lap, “and I want to ask you a favor.”

        “Trixie can do anything if she wishes,” she retorted, eyes wandering over the book bindings.

        “I wish for you to perform the ritual once you reach the graveyard…” Rishad said calmly.

        “What?!” Moxie blurted out. “W-what about you? What are you thinking about, Rishad?” she asked, the sunken feeling and the way her throat clenched; she feared she might already know the answer, but she refused to believe it.

        “Ma’isah… I’ll explain in a bit, please remain calm.” He answered and turned to face Trixie again. “You must understand, it is a lot I ask of you; the magic we use in Saddle-Arabia is not the same as the one in Equestria. We use incantations to strengthen the magic we wish to use. Some may call it a prayer, but whatever you call it, the magic will not work unless the incantation follows. This book, on the page I’ve marked, holds the spell you need to use once you’ve gained the bonemarrow from the graveyard.” 

        Trixie flipped through the pages and stopped once she reached a page with large drawings and cryptic words. She looked at Rishad. “Trixie does not know Saddle-Arabian very well, much less read it.”

        “Will you do the spell if I grant you knowledge about our language?” Rishad asked.

        Trixie nodded. “Trixie promises. Let no pony say that Trixie isn’t grateful to her saviors.”

        “Rishad, why are you doing this?” Moxie asked, her voice quivering with suppressed emotions; she feared his answer, yet could not stop herself from asking it. She let her hoof touch his and felt the cold, aged body reacting slightly to her warmth.

        “My journey ends here, Ma’isah…” Rishad looked at her and smiled ruefully. “I’m bleeding on the inside, I can feel it. My life will soon be over…”

        “Don’t say that!” Moxie yelled with cracks in her voice. “We can wait a little longer!”

        “No, you can’t. Your life is in danger as well, and you need to leave as soon as time allows. We’re only a little bit over halfway there,” he reasoned.

        Moxie felt her throat swell up, and her heart slowly fell apart, bit by bit, with each word her old friend said. “No… you can’t leave me, Rishad, I don’t know what I’ll do!” She felt tears announce their arrival and slowly begin to trickle down her cheeks. “You’ve been there for me my whole life. You can’t let it end like this!” she said, her voice breaking.

        “Don’t cry for me, Ma’isah, I’ve lived a full life. I’ve seen life blossom, as much as I’ve seen it wither; there comes a time for everyone and everything, and mine is now…” He looked at her, in the same way he always did, with kindness and care; and fond memories. “I know that Jawha will be waiting for me, it has been a long time.”

        “No, no, no… not like this!” she said before taking the old unicorn in her embrace, gripping tightly. “There must be another way… I can’t do this without you. Athaal can carry you up there, I’m sure he will if I ask; I know he will,” she reasoned.

        He took her out at hoofs length and swiped her tears away, “No, he can’t. You know this as well as me.”

        “But…” she started, before putting a hoof over her muzzle. Her throat clenched shut. She tried holding back her gasps, with little success.

        “You’ve done well, Ma’isah. I’m proud to have known you, and watched as you grew from a filly to the wonderful mare you are now. Trust in Athaal, like he trusts you, and there’s nothing that can hold you back.” He turned to Trixie. “Please, place your horn to mine,” he said.

        Trixie looked at him, as if in complete shock, before the words he said finally reached through her and she nodded. She carefully leaned closer and barely touched the tip of his horn with hers. A bolt of yellow lightning struck between the horns, and Rishad said an incantation in whispers. Trixie gritted her teeth together and winced, unable to move her head away as the lightning shot through her. After a few seconds she managed to pull her head back and held her hoofs over her head.

        “What did you do?!” she barked at him.

        Rishad fell down on his back, breathing heavy. “It would take too long to explain exactly what I did, so let’s just say that your understanding of our culture, language and speech became better then what you previously gained with that translation spell of yours…” he explained.

        “Don’t strain yourself, Rishad, please save your energy. We can get through this; I know you can.” Moxie squeaked.

        “I’m the one to die, Ma’isah, it’s my time. So, please, don’t cry for me and let me end it on my own terms.” He took both hoofs and held her cheeks, brushing away the tears flowing down. “I know it’s hard, but it is for the best. My life has been filled with beauty, and if Eran plans for me to leave this night, I’ll gladly accept it, knowing that I will meet all my friends in the hall, and Jawha will greet me after all this time,” he said contently. 

        “No, it doesn’t have to end like this!” Moxie tried once more, her voice shattering into a high pitch.

        Rishad smiled meekly at her and beckoned her to lean forward to him, and he pulled her into a caring embrace. His horn began to glow, and emitted a low hum as the air around it crackled. The grip strengthened, holding her in place. The golden light coming from him lit up the whole room, and they could see that the soldiers began to rummage around, trying to make sense of what had woken them.

        A tingle began to rise in her blood from within. “Rishad, what are you doing?” she asked, frightened as she tried to pry herself from the old pony’s grip.

        The light imploded and shot into her through the opal on her forehead. Her eyes lit up, glowing out in front of her. It must have been blinding for those near her, for no one looked forward, all with hoofs covering their eyes. She saw it all clearly, the insides of the temple lit up like it had a burning sun inside of it; yet, it did not hurt. A cascade of colors danced on the walls, showing everything that made up the light around them, every hue, every particle, she saw it all. As the light vanished, she felt her whole being filling with life and vigor, almost like she had been born anew. Then the grip around her began to weaken.

        “I wish for both of you to live happily. I’m sorry I won’t be allowed to see your foal come to the world, or won’t be able to see the joy in your face as you raise it. This journey is something you must do without me, but you’ll be fine, I know you will …” Rishad said with a faded voice.

        Rishad closed his eyes, never to open them again, and his body, now void of life, fell down to the floor. Moxie sat speechless, holding onto his hoof, shaking her head, refusing to believe what she had witnessed. She knew it was true, for her heart felt hollow, like it had been ripped out of her. It hurt for her in ways she never had felt before. Someone could have plunged a knife through her chest and she wouldn’t know the difference.

        Athaal approached, freezing as he saw Moxie huddled over Rishad. He sat down next to her, saying nothing. Even if he might have questions, he remained silent, knowing it would do no good to speak his mind. 

        Arien approached Trixie. “What happened?” he wondered, speaking in low voices.

        “We don’t know,” Trixie answered with fluency of the language, striking a confused look at her own ability.

        Moxie rose, breaking free from Athaal’s grip. She moved forward, and instantly, her hoof struck Trixie upon the cheek; the loud clap echoing back and forth between the walls. The unicorn lost her balance and faltered backwards. “This is your fault!” she bellowed. Saif, standing on the sidelines watching as the unicorn fell to the ground, flinched slightly but remained unmoved.

        Moxie moved forward to swing at Trixie once more, but Athaal placed a hoof on her shoulder, stopping her. “Let me go, Athaal!” she hissed at him.

        He turned her around and took her in close, forcing her to sit down with him. “I won’t. It’s okay to be angry, to hurt; even turn the anger towards me, but I’ll never let you go, Moxie.” 

        She looked at him and froze. Her rage towards Trixie vanished in an instant, and her mask of anger shattered, revealing the hurt she felt to everypony around. She buried her head in the grove of his neck, and she cried, it was all she could do. The pain in her chest, her heart, hurt her more than anything she had experienced. It felt like a barb wire had been twined around it, and tightened, each spike causing her immeasurable pain. 

        As she was cradled in Athaal’s lap, she thought of how Rishad had been there for her, always. When she had learned that she was to marry, he had been there to comfort her, making sure she knew what was coming. When the struggles had hit her, he had always offered her advice or council. He had never turned her away, never lied to her. Her heart shattered and joined the thousands, for her beloved friend had stopped running. She sobbed and broke her hoofs out of Athaal’s grip, placing them around him instead, pulling herself closer, and seeking comfort in what way she could.

        Athaal nuzzled her mane, “I’m sorry, Moxie, I’m so sorry…” he whispered to her.


* * * *


        Moxie sat still, nuzzling close to Athaal. She watched as the remainder of the squad dug a grave right outside the temple, preparing it in the ways of Eran to the best of their abilities. Dousing the soil at the bottom with incense, and wrapping robes around Rishad’s eyes, showing the blind trust the dead showed Eran as they passed on. Lastly they carefully carried the body over and placed it down in the hole. Beginning to cover it as one of the soldiers recited a scripture.

        In the corner of her eyes, she saw Trixie carefully approaching her, with the book levitating in her aura, which had change colors to white. Moxie felt a sense of shame seeing how red the unicorn’s cheek had become, yet she didn’t regret it. For her outburst had held one thing true: it was Trixie’s fault, all of it.

        Trixie sat down, her demeanor showing hesitance. “I have found the incantation the old one used on you.”

         “And?” Moxie asked.

        “I just wonder… is there really magic so strong that it can take a life from the caster?”

        “Get to the point,” Moxie snapped, wanting nothing more than to remove Trixie from her sight.

        Trixie’s jaw muscles clenched together slightly, but relaxed shortly after. “From what I understand, the old one gave what he had left of his life to you.”

        “What do you mean?” Athaal asked, leaning forward towards the book.

        Trixie took a deep breath put the book down. “Look there, it mentions how a pony has a certain arwah, and how it fades as they grow old, or they die.” She tapped her hoof at the bottom of the page. “See here, this incantation was what he did while holding you Moxie, and if I understand this description correctly, it transferred what was left of his arwah to you, probably giving you two or three days more to live.” She sifted through the pages. “It does not mention what arwah is exactly, though.”  

        Athaal sighed. “Arwah is the link between mind and body, it is consists of two main groups; alaik and jesm. Soldiers have a strong jesm arwah due to their physique, they are well trained and have therefore a strong connection with their body. Priests, scholars and acolytes have a strong alaik arwah, seeing as they worry about training their mind, and thus get a good connection with it…” He stopped and looked at Moxie, a hint of sadness grew over his face.

        Moxie broke his gaze and stared absently in the air. “Which means that Rishad gave his alaik to me, he gave my mind the extra strength it needs to fight of this disease,” she said loudly to no one, with a somber tone in her voice.

        Trixie closed the book loudly, gaining their attention. “There’s something I have been wondering for some time, now; why are you all traveling over the desert in such a dangerous area?” 

        “That information is not for an outsider such as yourself,” Athaal stated before he removed a lock of hair from Moxie’s eyes.

        Moxie saw Trixie snarling at the answer Athaal gave her, and in the back of her mind it screamed something, an important detail of what had happened this night. Exhaustion washed over her, refusing to let her mind focus. Then she remembered. “Trixie will do it…” she said quietly before her mind fell at rest.

        The last she heard was Athaal questioning Trixie with a newfound strength in his voice. Even so, he never moved, he remained completely still so to not disturb her. Moxie decided that she would pay proper tribute to Rishad before they left, but now, her mind was filled. Her exhaustion combined with the images of a long life lived past flashing through her.

        Images of a young stallion, a unicorn with a jet black mane, and strong blue eyes came to her. Rishad, she thought. He danced with a beautiful young mare, golden locks and orange eyes, just like her own. The mare’s lips were red with life, and she had a faint touch of red bloomed cheeks in her pristine white coat. Both of them had fine clothing on, seemingly they were in some kind of gala. 

        The mare said something, impossible to understand, but Rishad nodded and smiled. He turned towards the crowd, speaking loudly to them. There was a piece of serenity in his stance, he held the mare’s hoof tightly, never letting her go. The faces of those within the large hall was clouded, only featureless masks. Everything was like that, Moxie only saw a large hall, not what was in it, but the image of the mare remained pristine; to every little detail.

        She followed them for a while, they both bowed to ponies approaching them, shaking their hoofs. All the while, a feeling rushed though Moxie as the event’s unfolded; happiness. It wasn’t hers; she felt what Rishad felt, and each time he looked at the mare next to him, there was a tingle in their chest; a warmth spreading throughout her.

        The two of them began to move out of the large hall, going down the streets in a chariot, she thought, the form was clouded. The red of the seat blurred, vanishing out in thin air together with the walls of the chariot. The mare smiled, and her image beamed, like a vista of hope and light throughout the blackest night, her form alone remained clear. In the back of her mind, Moxie was taken aback by the beauty this unknown mare portrayed. Then, when Rishad leaned forward to kiss her, and she returned the gesture, it struck Moxie. Rishad had been married, and she had just seen his wedding, this mare was his wife. Then she wondered, why hadn’t she heard about her before?

        Her train of thought stopped. Rishad carried the mare up a small hill towards a small house, a house just big enough to hold a small family; a house granted to a newly made noble. Once the two of them reached their bedroom, they kissed, and the rush of emotion crashed into Moxie; it felt like she was walking on a cloud. The mare lay on her back and gazed up, her eyes soothing, beaming with tenderness, care and love. The moment the mare stretched out and touched Rishad’s cheek, the world turned blurred, all except those two ponies. As they kissed, their forms twisted around, almost like a scene change at a theater.

        They remained in a hollow, empty space, colors of black and white mixed together in unmanageable forms. Then she saw Rishad and the mare again, this time at a hospital bed; both smiling warmly at each other. She held a small foal in her grasp, cradling it carefully, while he rested his head at the grove of her neck, stroking her mane with one hoof, and resting the other one upon the foal. She was clearly tired, but still she smiled, and still they laughed. The image of the foal was even clearer than the mare, and for some reason, Moxie felt a connection, or a tug towards it, like they belonged in eternity together.

        Then the surrounding became violent, red and yellow mixed in hazy walls. The mare now held the foal within her hoofs, but this time, there was no love, only anger and hate. The mare looked at Rishad, her coat turned gray and a black mark donned her forehead, much like the one on Moxie’s forehead. Blood dripped from the foal, and the mare took a knife, ending her own life with a thrust to her throat. She saw Rishad scream, she couldn’t hear it, but she felt it together with the same pain she had felt earlier today. Then he cradled both the mare and foal within his own hoofs. At that moment, Moxie felt nothing, almost like she was hurled down in to a pit of absolute blackness. Then it erupted around her, black and red conjoined, sprouting up from the ground she stood on in twisted spears, jagged thorns protruding 
everywhere. She felt nothing but despair and hopelessness, she screamed for Athaal, but no sound came from her, just more anger and pain.

        Quickly, it grew silent, leaving no trace of what just was. She saw Rishad again, joining the temple of Eran. He was now bald, but still young. She felt a sense of determination and purpose beaming from him again, but nothing akin to happiness; like it was void from his heart. He argued with the head priest, pushing the temple into researching something. His ideas were shot down, one by one, and each time his resentment grew. 

        He aged quickly, now he was but a bit younger than from when she knew him. Wrinkles beginning to show under his eyes, and a beard showing itself. His resentment was replaced with something else, and so was the anger. He once again held a foal in his hoofs and smiled. The mare in front of him looked familiar, as did the stallion. Mom, dad… her mind echoed as the faces slowly got features and she recognized them. And from within, she teared up, seeing the smile on her parent’s faces, they both beamed with care. She looked closer at the foal, recognizing the orange eyes and the blue tipped ears, she was seeing herself through the eyes of Rishad. And her image was clear as the mare before and the foal. Again, she felt a spark of happiness come to life, as if something painful had finally been buried, and replaced with something new.

        Then she saw herself, not more than a week ago, sitting on the bench in Rishad’s office. Then a pang of sorrow hit her, and she saw the image of the mare before next to her own. Jawha sat where she did, on the same bench, and the mark was the same. Jawha looked like herself, stuck in an older echo of time, only small differences split them apart. Rishad turned again, and a determination beamed from him, mixed with a level of regret. She knew that it was at this moment Rishad had decided to help her, no matter the cost. She saw herself leave, leaving Rishad behind alone. He pulled forth an image of Jawha and the foal, and once more the sadness she felt in the black void grew like a storm within her.

        Goodbye, my Friend… she thought as the images blurred out and let her mind fall to rest.

> Chapter 8: Fasad
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Fasad


        Silence had at last fallen within the group. The sermon they held took time, and it was normally much louder. Chants and bells should have been performed. A priest passing on by battle was harsh, and everypony knew they were untouchable by the politics and murders within. If a noble as much as tried to hire an assassin to kill somepony in the temple, he would be executed promptly. When one did pass, they celebrated a long life in the service of Eran with kindness and benevolence. Rishad had been an object of wonder, his actions ringing true to all that which made a priest.

        It saddened Saif that Kazim would not get the proper burial he so much deserved as well for his service, nor would he get a shrine at which the ritual was performed at. Secluding himself in one of the temple bedchambers, he meditated in silence; only the faint spark of the small fire he had made in front of him broke his reverence. The flicker of light painted the gray walls, showing the mold and age on it. Small embers flew up in the air and joined black fragments that lingered there; they were almost impossible to see with the naked eye, but each time the ember hissed with contact.

Saif finally drew his aquamarine blade out of its sheath and placed it with care on the ground. It was all he had left from his father, and it came only fitting that it would be used to say goodbye to someone like Kazim. He lifted the blade and let the flames lick the green edge till it was glowing. With trained motions and careful pressure, he ran it down his now exposed wrist and cut slightly. Blood began to drip and he held his hoof over the flames, first letting drops fall down in a hiss, then he brought it down so the flames licked the wound, closing it quickly. The smell of burnt fur and boiling blood came from it and quickly vanished.

        He placed both his hoofs firmly to the ground and bowed, thanking his master for the service he had done, and asked for a last gift of strength to deliver the message to his remaining pupils. He felt no anger, no contempt or anything akin towards the linacs. It was their nature, as much as it was his nature to fight; there was only regret of not being able to take his council once more.

        He heard hoofs striking the ground behind him; he was sure that it was Athaal, for the slight limp after the fight was prominent in his step. His brother remained stoic next to him, watching intently with a certain pique curiosity. Saif knew there was no need to explain to him what he was doing, even if it was the first time he had seen him do this. When it came to grief, they handled it differently, but none would speak till the other was ready. After a few more bows, Saif picked up his wrist blade and hid the new wound. He blew on the blade, seeing the shining green color glow less till it faded to the normality that allow it to be returned to its sheath.

        Saif turned to Athaal and bowed, “Is there anything the matter?” he asked.

        “We need to talk about what we’ll do now.” Athaal said and nodded his head towards the larger fireplace.

        “I’ll be there soon.” Saif said, returning his attention to the fire again.

        Athaal placed a hoof on his shoulder, pinching it slightly. He wanted to offer his condolences, but to speak of the dead was to call forth bad luck. Those passed on needed peace to walk the endless halls till they reached their destination, if their name was mentioned it would only increase the time it took for the soul of the fallen to come at peace.

        Athaal sat down next to him and looked at his wristblade, wonder and amazement obvious in his eyes. Saif smiled at his brother’s curiosity. The moments they shared growing up were both good and bad. Petty squabbles and sibling rivalry lead to fights and angry scolding from their mother became both of their punishments. Together, after their time had been served in their rooms, they would come together and plot their next move, everything from earlier forgotten between them. As they grew, those moments became rare, and as Saif entered the watanï academy, it vanished completely. He closed his eyes. It was not because of Athaal it stopped, for he tried to learn as much as he could about what Saif went through. No. It was all on him; a fear of pain looming over him from his foal hood. The pain he would feel if they became separated scared him more than any horde of linac did. So he did the only thing he knew, pushed his brother away and remained close to protect him. At the time, he did what he thought was best, even if he saw how it hurt Athaal. But now, was there much point to push him further away?

Saif unhinged his wristblade again, and rolled up his other sleeve to expose two wounds; he pointed at the left one. “When you join the academy, you’re given a mentor together with other recruits. We create a unified bond between the mentor and ourselves. ‘We are not family by blood, but we are family by choice; the bond given shall not be broken until death.’ That’s the general idea, and the words we use to close the sermon. To signify our bond, we cut open a wound over our artery. It’s our lifeline, so it shows our dedication; and that we always have the mentor with us.” He pointed at the newly made wound, “After our mentor dies, we need to release part of the spirit we carry with us. If not, he will never be able to pass to the other side. Letting the blood fall on the flames send the remnant of the soul to its host, thus ending our contract.” Saif said and put on his wristblade, his face returning to its stoic form.

        Athaal looked at his own wrists and remained silent for a long time. “It’s odd… we live in the same country, yet it is like there are two vastly different cultures within it.” He said after time, reflecting on his own training and relationship within the guard.

        Saif rose, “It is what makes us the best at what we do. Now, what did you have in mind?” He said and walked alongside his brother to where Arien waited for them.

        They had purposely made a separate fire near the chamber which Moxie now slept in. Athaal did not want anyone too close to his wife after what had happened earlier. Namir relaxed in a corner in solitude, shied away from the light of the fire. The watanï barely looked up as they passed, but gave a nod of respect towards Saif. Kazim had not been Namir’s mentor as he had with Saif, but from the reaction his death brought to the recruit Saif was sure his mentor was well respected within the academy. Saif was unsure if the solitude Namir sought now was his way of grieving, or if it was because he preferred to remain alone; it was often a common trait with the watanï. In a sense he was glad it was Zubair that had fallen to the linacs, for the explosive personality of him would have made the group even more fragile than it already was. 

The remaining soldiers, Morad and Sati, huddled together near the other bonfire, talking in hushed voices and scowling towards them as they passed. Merely the fact that Morad had demanded more pay to continue their trip left a bad taste with Saif. A soldier could put forth a request for a higher price than what was agreed upon if the challenges became more severe than planned. To even try to demand something from somepony that much higher up on the social ladder showed not only a lack of social integrity, but most likely also a cunning mind that saw the weakness within the group and exploited it knowing that Athaal could not risk losing them. At least that is what Athaal had told him after Moxie collapsed last night.

        Athaal sat down near the entrance of the door leading to Moxie, and beckoned his brother to do the same. “In regards of what happened last night… I thought we would be able to escape that tribe of linacs by traveling at night, but it seems like they are determined to not let us get away from them.” 

        Saif nodded, a turmoil in his chest slowly growing, while his stomach knotted itself. It was by his request they had gone to save Trixie, and it was by his request they had died. And it was by his request Moxie might have fallen too ill to make the journey, and in that instant he knew that if it came to that, he would never be able to return home, whether his brother forgave him or not didn’t matter, he as a watanï would have failed. By putting his own needs and wants before the needs those he were to protect. His spirit would wander the halls endlessly in search for peace, which it would never find. 

        “We’ve lost four ponies to the linacs, two which were an inspiration. The morale of the rest are getting lower by the hour; if they desert us, I wouldn’t be surprised. Even if it means dishonor to them.” Arien added, his features reflected the distress he felt over losing Kazim, an old friend from when they had been younger.

        It was understandable, Saif thought. It wouldn’t be surprising at all if he was taken to trial when they got home upon the request of any of the survivors. The lives of a high priest and a veteran watanï would need to be investigated. Much to Saif’s distress, he had taken his brother down the spiraling chain of events. He looked over at Athaal, who noticed his own poorly hidden distress and offered a smile. Athaal might have known what went on inside of Saif, but he chose not to bring it up. It seemed that he had settled to any consequence that might come for them. 

        “We also need to do something about Trixie.” Athaal rose a hoof at Saif. “Before you say anything. I think it is best that Moxie and her stay away from each other, at least until Moxie’s mind has settled. She blames the unicorn for what happened…I can’t say I blame her for doing just that. I’m afraid that any unnecessary confrontation will take precious energy from Moxie.” He quickly looked around, “Where is she anyway?”

        “She mentioned something about wanting to be in peace while she read through the book Rishad gave her.” Arien said and pointed towards a large stone door leading further into the temple.

        “Good, let her be alone for a while, but it will be your job to keep Trixie safe, Saif. That’s your one and only assignment for now, she’s the only way for Moxie to be cured. It might also be that you will need to defend her from our own if they decide to blame her for all that has happened on this trip, and that goes for yourself as well…” Athaal ordered.

        Saif bowed deeply, grateful for Athaal’s understanding and care, “As you wish, my Lord.” He responded, and flinched slightly at the formality he had developed for his brother. “Is that all?” he said, wanting to get some time alone so he could meditate.

        Athaal’s face turned into a pensive adagio, not for more than a second before he focused again. “Arien has some thoughts.” He said and waved permission to the general to speak, but eyes never leaving Saif.

        “In short: we need help.” Arien stated and looked hard at Saif. “If the linacs continue to pursue us, and it’s likely they will do just that, we need to get the attention from the Equestrian border post. They know our distress signals, and in agreement to our political ties, they will respond to it if they hear it. We had a horn with us, but it was in the cart, I don’t think anypony took it with them when we fled the scene. We need to go back no matter what, for the medicine needed for Moxie was dropped as well.” 

        “I would go and pick it up myself, but I need to rest until my ribs get somewhat better at least.” Athaal frowned and pointed at the bandages around his chest. “Any suggestions?” 

        He leaned back. It would be natural for him to go, as was his duty. As was his duty to now keep Trixie safe from harm. Arien could go, but it was probably better if he stayed and tried to keep the soldiers morale and spirit up as best as he could. Another option would be to take Trixie with him, but she would probably be less willing to do that. All things considered, Moxie was in the least amount of danger from anything, she was not to blame for any of it. The only option not acceptable was to wait for Athaal’s ribs to heal, it would take too long.

        After a long silent minute, Saif leaned forward again. “If you take watch over the two mares for a few hours tonight, I’ll be able to get out, get the horn and ingredients, and be back before anything happens. I would try to take Trixie with me, but she would refuse. I think the events of the last few days have scarred her more than she lets on.”

        Athaal shifted slightly in place, seemingly not liking the idea much. “I assume that’s the best way to do it, are you sure you want to do it alone?” He lastly asked.

        “Yes, I prefer solitary work, then I’d have no one else to worry about; remember what happened last time.” Saif said, thinking back and L’oohm and Zubair. He rose, “Now, if you will excuse me, I have ponies to keep separated.” He added, trying his best to add light humor to their situation.

        Athaal nodded, “Notify me before you leave.” He said before he dismissed him and returned his attention to caring for his wife.

        Morad and Sati stopped their chatter as he passed by them, fixing him with an angry glare. He halted and returned the stare and the two quickly returned to going over the details of their armor. Saif sighed and walked through the large stone door. He was in no position to judge them, his actions had killed four ponies, and endangered everypony else. The backlash of this when he got home did not worry him, what worried him was that the soldiers might leave, or worse, try to kill them. 

        Amongst the wall of the room he enteres there was letters chiseled into the stone, each word seemed to have their own meaning, or giving name to a place within the room itself. The one closest to the door was almost unreadable from the dust that had gathered over the years. Saif quickly brushed over the letter and read out loud, ‘Path of the Righteous’. Turning, he marveled at the architecture of it. It spread out into the mountains, far to the sides, with pylons stretched out to the very end of it just a few hoofs a part. At certain instances there were large gaps between them, marking walkways towards different parts of the temple, and each door had the eye of Eran chiseled over it; watching down at anyone which would pass under it. The air inside was thick with stone dust, whirling up as he walked, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth with each breath. The dust lay like fog behind him, and it almost danced like tiny fairies in the light that came from the slits near the roof. 

        At the end of each small pathway, it seemed to be some a shrine of some sort. Wax from burnt down candles, covered in cobs of web and dust; the crimson color barely shining through the layer. On each one there was a wooden stand to hold books, seemingly untouched for eons. Saif wondered as he passed how life in here was, and why they left so abruptly.

He stopped, near the shrine a bundle of clothing caught his attention. He got near and carefully pulled the brown fabric to the side, revealing a skeleton of a unicorn; clutching tightly to a book. Saif leaned closer, the bones having large black crystal growths, seemingly leaving it brittle and weak; for where the crystals were bigger, the bones had shattered.

He carefully took hold of the book and pulled in it, smoldering the bones holding it with a small movement. He backed away holding a hoof over his muzzle, not wanting to breathe in the bone dust. Once away, he sat down and started to remove layer upon layer of old dust upon the book. What greeted him was runes in old Saddle-Arabian, together with an eye looking at him, both in faded golden color. 

He looked up, knowing that he should go and find Trixie, but curiosity was getting the better of him and he opened the book. The text was too old and cryptic for him to understand, but there was certain illustrations that piqued him. It seemed like the book itself was holding information about a special condition involving unicorns. It morphed their horns, it went from a short swirled horn to a large sharp horn with a red tip. From what he could understand, the addition of this to a unicorn greatly increased its powers, giving it access to magic normally only the demigods had access too, the normal auras went from light in color to a deep purple. 

In the middle of the book, there was a segment showing the different effects on the pony races. From what he understood of the drawings, the unicorns had a chance of maintaining the empowered magic, while the rest died gruesome deaths, the drawings showed ponies with jagged black crystals growing out of them. While the pegasi and normal ponies merely died; notes seemed to hint at the lack of horn and basic magic capabilities was the cause.

He shut the book and rose. There was a limit to what he would be able to understand from this book alone while he was unable to read it. His mind began to work, the marks in the drawings reminded him of the one upon Moxie’s forehead, and the one his father had before he died. He knew the plague that swept over the kingdom decades ago, but it was never mentioned in the history earlier than that, perhaps the first outbreak had forced them to move from the temple and build a city? Athaal would be very interested in this find, but Rishad being the only one whom might have been able to read it; it was a limit to what they would understand until they got back home.

His ears flickered as he heard the sound of a page being flicked, the echo in the empty room made it hard to locate the origin. He crossed to the far edge, sure that he was getting closer to the sound; confirmed by the small flicker of lights he saw. The moment he crossed the door leading out of the large hall, he saw the azure unicorn sitting secluded in a corner of the stone gray room. Her horn being the source of light, she looked slightly up from the book as he approached her, remaining motionless, her face a mask of still determination.

He sat down next to her, remaining quiet for a while, his eyes wandering over her form. “How are you faring?” he lastly asked in a slightly awkward Equestrian voice, uncertain if she had used the translation spell yet.

“There’s no need for you to speak in the horrid accent of yours, I understand Saddle-Arabian perfectly well. As for your question, yes, I am faring rather well.” She responded sharply, then looked at him. “Thank you for asking, I’m grateful for it.”

At first slightly irritated by the brashness in her response, his attention shifted towards her slight smile. Even as it vanished in a second, it was enough for him to feel a slight tingle within him. His stomach grew to a pit, but rather than painful, it sent a delightful shudder and warmth to his very limbs. He tried thinking of a response, but his mind remained a blank slate.

She raised a brow at him, seeing him remaining dumbfounded, and again her lips tugged into a careful smile which she tried to hide from him. She flicked another page, “Ever since the old one touched me, I’ve had a need to read this book, I’ve yet to understand why.” She said, a tone of wonder apparent in her voice.

“Rishad…” Saif interjected, knowing he shouldn’t say the name, but it was important for him that Trixie understood.

“What?”

“His name was Rishad,” He stated.

“I assume you’d know that better than me,” she responded, slightly annoyed over being corrected.

Saif looked sternly at her, “I don’t know how you do it in Equestria, but here we pay respects to our fallen, especially those whom died for a noble cause.”

“Just because you give your life for somepony, or something, does not mean it was the right thing to do.” She retorted.

“Perhaps not for you, but it was for him, and we respect him for it. You should also respect him, and honor his memory for saving your life…” He stated with a harsh tone in his voice.

She fell silent for a while, staring at nothing, her brows furrowed in thoughtfulness. “You’re right...” she said, breaking the silence. “What are you doing here anyway? I wanted some peace.” She asked and turned a skeptical look his way.

“Orders from Athaal, I’m keeping you safe, and keeping you away from Moxie. I could think of worse ponies to protect.” He said and tried a smile at her.

“Protect me? Like you could stop one of those beasts if it came for me, and why should I stay away from Moxie?” she asked with a curious expression.

“In short, she blames you for what happened, and her mind is fragile, so we think it best not to upset her more than necessary.” Saif summarized quickly.

Trixie opened her mouth to say something in protest, but withdrew herself, a sullen shadow cast itself over her. They said nothing for a while, Saif knew that in time she would speak and when she did, he would listen intently to her. There was something special about this, it was almost like he had imagined a few times. Just sitting silently together, he wouldn’t trade moments like this for anything in the world, he began to understand how Athaal felt towards Moxie the more he spent time with Trixie. Yet, there was something odd about her exquisite beauty, the way she held him at length, a strangeness in proportion. 

Any other would perhaps move on after what happened between them in Canterlot. To give up on something just because of that was an unbelievable tragedy for him. Parts of him imagined a future, perhaps not in Saddle-Arabia, not even in Canterlot; but the future he imagined was with her. A house, together, laughter as they spent long days in bed; in time, perhaps also a foal. These thoughts made him happy and no other mare managed to bring those to life within him than her. He snuck a view of her, feeling a warm smile split his lips as he did. He knew how he felt, but how to tell her remained a mystery to him. 

“She’s right, isn’t she?” Trixie asked loudly and broke his daydreaming thoughts, her eyes still fixating out in the empty.

“Right about what?” he responded, feeling his cheek warm up slightly as he addressed her directly.

“That it is my fault… all of this.” She said cooly.

“No, it’s not… if anything, it is my fault.” He reasoned and sidled in closer to her.

“What?” Trixie looked at him with slight confusion.

Saif looked back, unsure how to approach her. He was trained to kill ponies, to defend those who needed, and to gather information. He faced all of those almost daily, but for the life of him, he could not manage to understand the mind of a mare. Sometimes, no matter what he said, they got angry. As alluring they might be at times, there was always a shrewd wickedness underneath, how often had he not been asked to save some noble from the complete delusion that beauty was akin to goodness. Time and time he had convinced himself that Trixie wasn’t like that, but his nature made him thread carefully; even if they had shared bedchambers multiple times.

He leaned slightly forward, taking time before he spoke, choosing his words carefully. “I persuaded my brother take the detour and help me to save you after we stumbled upon the linac camp where you were captured.” He explained.

“Why would you do that?!” Trixie growled at him.

Saif jerked back, almost striking the back of his head at the pillar. “Would you rather that I had left you to die?” he asked, feeling silly over even needing to ask it.

“No… I,” she stammered.

“Then what? I couldn’t just have let you be there.” 

“I know… I am grateful for it...” 

“Then what’s the matter?” he repeated.

“I don’t want ponies to die because of me! Is that so hard to understand?! I have nothing to offer them, I have no pony that would miss me at home! I am alone, no family, no special somepony! They probably had that, those who died trying to rescue me, they surely have someone waiting for them back home now, perhaps even a foal waiting for its father to come home again! They’re dead, because of me, an easily forgotten pony, I don’t want that, I don’t want to know that I’m the cause of some foal growing up without a father like I did!!” she barked at him, her eyes set an angry glare. A stone cold mask of anger directed at him, only to be betrayed by her lower lip, trembling slightly.

“I would miss you…” he responded, and to him it was the like the simplest fact that could be said. It remained truer to him than any sort of ritual.

She looked at him, a sad frown growing over her muzzle. “Why?” she simply asked.

“I don’t know, I honestly don’t.” he started, and slowly moved a bit closer to her. “It’s just… whenever you’re not around, I keep thinking about you, and I look forward to every single trip to Canterlot, because I get to be with you again. The way you talk, with confidence and passion, about anything; it makes me believe you can do anything you want to. You might not think you have anything to offer, but you offer a lot to me by just being you, and I know I would miss every part of it.” He confessed, his heart beat faster, threatening to jump out of his chest, he felt more vulnerable than he would in a hive of scorpolids. Even with each single word remaining true to him, they all were heavy and difficult for him to speak.

        Her frown remained, but her hard stare softened slightly. Saif hoped he didn’t cross the line, he normally didn’t care much about what mares thought of him, he needed release, and they gave it; but with Trixie it was something else. She turned her gaze away, remaining silent; and he remained stoic, admiring her in the edge of his vision.

        “You should save yourself the heartache…” she said, breaking the silence, she closed her eyes and took a deep, pained breath. “There’s nothing more I can give you, what we had in Canterlot was without commitment, and that is what made it work.”

        “I don’t want to let it go just like that, I want to try, and I’m sure that you would as well. I can ask my brother to release me from my duty as a watanï, and I can claim my noble land again. There would be no more life threatening tasks, it would just be you and me; Athaal would not oppose it.” Saif explained.

        Her eyes turned hard again, “Stop it!” she said loudly and slammed the book shut. “Just drop it… I prefer being alone, that’s the way it has always been, and it is for the best.” She snapped at him, if she had any qualms about what she said, she hid it well, not even her eyes gave away her inner turmoil. “That way no one gets hurt.” She lastly whispered and averted her gaze from him.

        He sighed, he expected a response like this, but it didn’t stop him from getting a faint tug in his chest. He considered leaving, but until dawn his orders were to remain with her, no matter what. He saw her form shift slightly away from him, tighter into the wall. He rose and sat down further away from her, near one of the pillars. He leaned back and closed his eyes.

        “Why are you still here?” Trixie asked after a bit.

        “As I said, orders, they don’t change with our feelings.” He plainly answered.

        “Fine, but remain quiet, I need to figure this spell out.” She ordered.

        “If that’s what you want…”

        He figured that he might get some sleep, the soothing sound of her aura, a soft hum. Occasionally interrupted by the flick of a page, and the sound of her clearing her throat. The way those sounds came together within this room made him relax, and he enjoyed every bounce off the walls. 

        He opened his eyes, a thought crawled up his mind, and he quickly took out the book he found earlier. If Rishad had given Trixie the knowledge he had over the Saddle-Arabian language, perhaps he also gave her the knowledge over some other language he might have known. He quickly got up and walked over to her again. He wanted to know what was in this book for more than one reason, it could perhaps shed some light to what was happening to Moxie, as well as his parents.

        “Trixie,” He said, gaining her attention. “Do you have any problems with the text in that book?” 

        “No, it all goes by fluently, I already told you this.” She answered with a quizzical expression.

        “Have you tried reading any other text?”

        She raised a brow at him, “There are so many books I can read out in this desert…” she answered in mockery of the question.
        Ignoring his irritation he placed the book in front of her, “Can you try reading this?” 

        She carefully flicked through a few pages, scrunching her muzzle as she mouthed the words. “Yes, but it’s harder.” She eventually said.

        He quickly flicked through the pages and found the part he had been looking through earlier. “Can you tell me what this text says?”

        She sighed and closed the other book, “Yes, give me a moment…” she flicked through the book, “these illustrations are gruesome.” She commented before she read out loud.

        “By letting the mixture of a goron’s heart, the stinger of a manticore, the bonemarrow from each of the races boil over the pureflame heart for weeks, we have managed to create the mixture we sought. Now all we need is to administer it to different subjects and watch over the effects.

        “The unicorn is showing promise, but the pegasi and earthen ponies are lacking the magical strength the let the serum work. They all die it seems, some slower than normal, but they all succumb: Their bones are turning black, and the moment they’re eyes are filled with blackness, they die.

        “The unicorns show different effects, they don’t get the black marks all over them, but rather getting black crystallization on their horns over long time. Their magical abilities are increasing day by day. 

        “It seems that the crystals on the horn of the unicorns have different effects, some of the unicorns had the black crystals grow on their bones, killing them as the crystals hit internal organs. One subject had the crystals completely avoiding anything vital, so he survived, if you could call it that… the crystal grew large enough to be visible without cutting them open, the unicorn became unable to move, or use magic, but he was alive.

        “There is one unicorn left, all others have died, the one with the crystals growing out of him finally succumbed The last one left shows potential, his horn is slowly changing into a more powerful catalyst, taking the color of the crystals, seemingly having a red tip. Perhaps in time this unicorn will be able to use the black magic we’ve only seen alicorns use. If he will be able to do so, our research will be a success. 

        “The unicorn finally managed to master the alicorn magic, but he used it to escape his chains, so our research have been in vain, we have nothing to show for all those lives we lost. 

        “It seems like the mixture has evolved into an airborne disease, perhaps this is the work of the unicorn, a last lesson before he vanished? Without crystals he will die soon enough, his body will be eaten by the power; that is at least some comfort. It does seem however that he has managed to punish us all, the disease is impossible to cure so far. Pegasi and earth ponies die with blackened eyes, together with the loss of their senses. While unicorns suffer horribly as the crystallization of their bones eats them up from within.

        “It seems like Eran has forgiven us, for we have found a cure. It is costly, but—“  Trixie stopped and squinted down. “The rest is covered up with blood.” She stated, her nose scrunching slightly in disgust.

        Saif mumbled, “They dabbled with the power of gods, and almost killed an entire nation… and we still suffer for it.” His mind in complete disarray over the new discovery. As his mind worked over the new information he shot his head upwards, the unicorn had an uncanny resemblance to the old tale of Sombra, could it be that these priests caused the fall of an empire?

        “What are you talking about?” Trixie said, still sitting relatively calm in her place, she did not share his concern of the identity of the unicorn from how she sat.

        “What you just read is a research journal, or a diary, that’s not important. But it seems that this temple is the origin of the disease that almost wiped out Saddle-Arabia as a nation a few hundred years ago. Is there any date in there?” he asked, pushing his mind over to something else for now, he needed to talk to Athaal and Arien about this information.

        Trixie flipped through the pages, and stopped. “The latest entry is a little bit over a thousand years old.”  She froze and looked at him, “Is Moxie afflicted by this, is this why you’re traveling over the desert?” she asked with a sudden tone of worry in her voice.

        “Yes, Rishad was supposed to cast the spell once we got the bone marrow of a dragon from the nearby graveyard.” He looked at her, “That task has fallen upon you now.” He stated, badly hiding his surprise that Athaal hadn’t filled her in.

        He looked up, seeing the light losing its strength through the slits in the roof. Had he dozed off that long? He forced his mind to focus, he knew that he would need to get to the wreckage again soon. Once he had returned from it he could discuss the findings with Arien and Athaal. He took the book from Trixie and offered her a hoof, to his surprise she took it and rose, all with a slight smile crossing her lips. 

        Her magic aura picked up the book Rishad had given her, and she walked next to him through the temple. He was so focused now at the task ahead that he barely noticed how her aura shifted his cowl slightly. But she didn’t touch him, and whenever he looked backwards at her, her eyes lingered at the structures they passed. He chose not to let his mind wander too much, it could mean nothing. 


 * ~* 


        Saif skulked forward, his ears rotating around, picking up any sound in the night. He had been sitting for a long time with his eyes closed to avoid using any light as he ventured back to where the cart was. He was almost certain that the linacs would try finding them somewhere else, and them heading to the temple was unlikely, they weren’t known for comprehensive thinking, part from killing. 

        He looked up, seeing the clear sky glimmer with stars, and the moon beaming like a torch. He lifted a hoof upwards, aiming it at the stars, judging that he was on the right path he continued. He finally found the tracks they had left, right where they had turned to the temple. 

        Feeling the chill, he wrapped his cloak tighter around him, both to conserve warmth, and to stop it from making any sounds. It did not take long from where the tracks began till where the cart was. More and more splintered wood began to stick in the sand, marking towards the impact point. He stopped and saw where Athaal had crashed, a deep mark in the sand. A little further he also saw the blue sand that had caused Athaal to enrage. He shuddered slightly from the thought, he had never seen something like that in any pony before. He respected the iris rings before, they let everypony around know when they crossed the line, but seeing their true nature, he feared them.

        He finally spied the linac corpse, lying in a pool of its own, black blood. He carefully maneuvered through the splinters and cloth scattered around, it had not been able to move far away before it had been killed. He ignored the piles of supplies and headed straight for one of the sandy hills.

        Finding what he searched for, he kneeled down and withdrew the wristblade from his mentor and tucked it in under his cloak. He concidered burying the corpse, but he did not have the tools needed for it, and he had no time to bury him with only his hoofs. He remained still, unmoving as he looked upon the corpse. He wasn’t sad, it was something else he felt as his eyes wandered over the gruesome details of Kazim. Perhaps it was guilt, the guilt that his actions caused the death of so many, and lastly his mentor. Uncertainty tugged within him, for there hadn’t been a death close to him ever since his parents died so many years ago. He had completely forgotten how it felt, the withering from within.

        He sighed and turned towards the linac corpse again, starting to look through the bundles after the horn and the satchel. He quickly found the saddlebag and opened it, feeling a certain relief as he saw the content still whole; it would have been impossible to replace any of the ingredients. Certain the horn had not fallen in this area, he began to make his way to the other side, and he stopped.

        Leaning closer to the linac, he saw the blood was clotting; and it formed an eerie shape of a crystal. It was not a single large crystal in there, but he was certain the small jagged forms was it. He dropped the saddlebag and approached the area on its neck where Athaal had gone berserk. Releasing the wristblade, he began to cut in the flesh, tearing off large chunks of it until the bone was visible. The large slab of flesh hit the sand with a thud and he moved away to let the moon light it up. He expected to see the white ebony color, but instead he saw a gray and blackened collarbone. 

        Before his mind managed to formulate any coherent thought about what this meant, he got interrupted by a snarl coming from behind him. He quickly jumped up and ran forward without looking back, from the thumps behind, he knew it had seen him, and taking to his wings would endanger him more. Then, it stopped, any sound of it chasing for him vanished. Saif didn’t stop until he reached behind one of the sand dunes and hid. 

        Taking a deep breath, he attempted to calm his heart which was threatening to jump out of his chest. His ears flicked, hearing crunching sounds together with growls, but still far away, they gave no indication that it made any attempt to locate him. Saif quickly leaned forward and took two steps before he remembered a very important piece, he still needed the horn and ingredients.

        He began to crawl up the dune, careful not to make any sound, while listening to any change in the demeanor of the grunts near the wagon. Just over the top he saw a linac hunkering over the corpse of its own kin, gnawing and crushing the bones, and lapping heartily what it could of the black blood. 

        He tried to move in closer, constantly keeping an eye on the linac, baffled over how it rather went for the dead linac over Kazim’s body. He froze as it lifted its head and looked at him, it hissed and returned its attention to the dead body again; tearing off large chunks of flesh with serrated claws. Saif began to go through the pieces of the wagon as he got closer, piece by piece, making sure never to let the linac out of his sight; and all the muscles in his wings ready to make a dash.

        Finally spotting the horn, he felt relieved, then seconds after; weary. The horn was poking out of a red clothing near the beast. Getting closer, the beast looked at him again, growling, but showing no signs of any further aggression. Saif quickly took the horn and leaped out to a safe distance.

        Looking back, a thought struck him. The book had mentioned that the unicorn needed crystals to survive, but nothing about where those crystals needed to come from. If these linacs were a product of the experiments done a thousand years ago, it was possible that they looked for other creatures for the crystals they need. It also would explain why they stayed away from the temple, if it was their origin, they would have a primal fear for it.

        Confident that there were no more of them around, he took to his wings and flew to the temple with haste. He needed to get Trixie to look further into the book, to see if they tried other creatures as well. If animals infected with the brew would roam around and gorge on each other, one could only imagine what mutations would come if it was left unattended for thousands of years.

        The red mountains and sandy dunes flashed underneath him as he flew, and soon the temple rise taller as he got closer. He landed soundlessly in front of the pylons covering the entrance, and snuck in. once more amazed of how big it all was, not to mention just how well kept it was. In the corner of his eyes he saw Arien rise and head towards him.

        “How did it go?” the old general quickly asked.

        “It went fine, I have the horn and the ingredients. Where’s Athaal?” Saif wondered.

        “He’s further back in the temple guarding Trixie.” Arien responded and pointed towards the door furthest away.

        “And Moxie, she’s sleeping?” He asked.

        “Yes, it seems the death has hit her hard, she refuses to speak to anyone but Athaal, and she quickly falls asleep again.” 

        “Hold onto these while I get Athaal and Trixie. We need to talk about something important.” Saif said and gave the horn and saddlebags to a bemused Arien.

        He quickly crossed over the room towards the door, carefully taking each step so he made little to no sound. He went through the door and instantly meet a glinting blade at his throat. He recognized the large blade as Athaal’s and relaxed again once the blade hesitantly slid away from him. 

        Athaal scowled at him, “Damn it, I almost took your head off! Didn’t Arien tell you to thump the entrance before you entered?” he huffed, both knowing there was no lie in the statement.

        “He didn’t have time, wake Trixie, we need to talk, now. And tell her to bring the book, and be quiet.” Saif ordered and quickly turned around, barely glinting the slightly annoyed frown upon Athaal’s face.

        As he walked towards Arien again he saw the guards situated at the far end of the large entrance hall. He assumed Moxie was in the tent Arien was sitting nearby and decided it was far enough away from the soldiers that they could talk in hushed voices. He sat down and took hold of a canteen of water and drank richly from it. 

        Arien sat idly waiting for him to explain what was going on. He turned and saw Athaal coming out of the room, annoyance smeared over his features, while Trixie followed close, equally annoyed it seemed.

        Athaal sat down, “I don’t know what you even see in her, Saif.” He said loudly, earning snarl from Trixie behind him.

        Saif smiled slightly, knowing Trixie, she had not told Athaal about what Rishad had done to her. “She understand us perfectly now.” He simply said, and watched as the realization dawned upon Athaal, and his features went from annoyance to anger.

        “Please, let us focus on what’s going on, your little squabble can rest till later, my Lord.” Arien interjected before any of them managed to say more. He bowed to Athaal and then turned to Saif, “What is it that got you so worked up?” He asked.

        “Keep your voices down, we don’t need more attention, could you please give me the book, Trixie?” he said, stretching out a hoof.

        Trixie gave it to him and he began to shift through the pages, carefully looking for anything that might confirm his suspicion. Near the first entry, he found the image of a scorpolid, together with other different animals. He gave the book to Trixie again, and pointed at the text. “Can you read this?”

        “Of course I can, it’s is a simple matter.” She said, first giving Athaal a hovering glare then turning her focus downwards to the text.

        “We started testing on animals, they either die or become dangerously violent, we quickly kill those. It seems the animals with a hard exoskeleton can sustain much more of the serum before they turn violent or die. 

        “After weeks of trials, we finally figured out what’s missing within the animals, intelligence, the serum seems to empower their need to act upon the base instinct. With a creature of intellect, a pony or a drake, we might see different results, rather a boost of intellect and power over a primal instinct increase.” She stopped reading and turned to Saif, “Why is this important? It’s only natural that they tried it out on animals before they turned to ponies.”

        “What are you guys talking about?” Athaal asked with a skeptical stare.

        Saif leaned forward, explaining carefully where he found the book, and what Trixie read for him about what had passed within the walls of this temple. He took a deep breath, and suggested the origin of Sombra was here. All of them looked at him with skepticism. The story of Sombra and how he got defeated was never taught in school, but it was passed down through generations. It had grown to become legend which no one knew was true or not until the black unicorn once again came back in the Crystal empire, giving new life to the stories being told. He was always an object of evil, something otherworldly, and his name always spoken with respect. Saif let what he had surmised sink in before he quickly recapped what he had discovered with the dead linac and how the blood coagulated, he also mentioned the crystallization of the bones on the unicorn. He asked Trixie to show Athaal the entry about the unicorn escape. 

        Then, as Athaal listened to Trixie, Saif turned silent. He knew what he would need to say must come with carefully selected words. He placed a hoof upon his brother’s shoulder and gained his attention. The moment he mentioned his thoughts about Moxie and the sickness he saw Athaal’s features darken, his iris rings once more growing jet black.

        “This is insane!” Athaal retorted.

        “Think about it, Athaal, nopony but the Temple of Eran knows of the cure, and they are very secretive with it. I think that they are afraid this secret will come out.” Saif explained.

        Athaal slammed his hoof hard into the ground, causing Trixie to jump behind him. “It can’t be right, we have to do something!” He hissed.
        “I don’t think you can do anything, Athaal.” Arien simply stated.

        “Why? Once this information comes out the temples will surely be torn apart.” Athaal retorted.

        “I don’t think so… I think the crown already know of this, but lets it slide, the ponies are drawn to the temple, and the warfare against the linacs are good business for the nobles.” Arien suggested calmly.

        “Then we’ll take this information to the Equestrian crown.” Athaal said.

        Saif rose, “Think before you act, if you do that you will never be able to go back to Saddle-Arabia.” He tried.

        “Nor do I want to, I refuse to let my foal grow up in a country where the crown benefits from the death of its subjects.” He stated with steel determination in his eyes.

        “You’re talking of treachery!” Arien interjected.

        “No, if the goddesses of Equestria wills it, I will help them cleanse the corruption that has manifested itself in this land, if they wish to let it be, so will I, but I will not remain here with my family.” Athaal barked, he turned to Saif. “But I cannot do it without the support of my watanï and brother.” He said and bowed deeply.

        Saif halted, he had not even considered what Athaal was suggesting, it was a drastic step. For him, it was perhaps the best, he had no ties in Saddle-Arabia except his brother. The cost could be dire. He looked over at Trixie and smiled faintly, she met his gaze and scrunched her eyebrows, she knew exactly what he was thinking; and by the looks of it, she didn’t like it much. He was certain that if he moved to Equestria, they would be able to spend more time together, and perhaps become something… more.

        “I’ll be at your side, Athaal.” Saif simply answered and turned to Arien.

        The old general rose, “I need to think about it, I think the consequences might become much more than what you anticipate.” He said and left for his tent.

        “First things first, we need to get to the graveyard, then we’ll head straight for Equestria.” Athaal said and rose, “I’ll leave you to watch over Trixie now, Saif.” 

        “As you wish,” Saif said and smiled towards her, and to his surprise, she returned it.

> Chapter 9: Taanok
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Taanok





        “Are you certain?” Moxie asked Athaal.



        “Yes, this is the only option for us.” He answered.



        She pulled her blanket tighter around her as she thought. She let her eyes wander slightly. The light from the flame outside bathed her husband in its glow from behind. It then split away from him and touched the gray walls of the small room she slept in. Athaal had awoken her and informed her about what Saif had discovered last night, and what his plans were. Moxie was still uncertain if it was the right choice for either. Once more she would be outside of the culture, feeling hidden away as she was as a foal. If she left, who would take care of her mother? She knew Ghalib was skeptical of any visitors, and to just mingle with the servants… what life was that for an old mare? 



        He took hold of her hoof and stroked it. “Look, I’m not going to decide for both of us, and I never would. But if the crown knows about this, and willingly lets them roam around for the profit of nobles, we will get executed the moment we bring up this evidence. It’s better to let the goddesses use their political ties and confront him, then we will be safer from any harm that might come our way.” He explained carefully.



        “Can’t we just ignore it?” she carefully asked.



        “No, I will not do that, I rather live homeless in Equestria than to let the lives of my fellow Saddle-Arabians fall because of greed.” He stated with a stern gaze fixated at her. 



        “If you think that is the best option for us, I’ll support your decision. If it comes to it, I’m sure we will be able to make a life in Equestria.” She said and smiled disheartened at him and found her once more trusting Athaal with a decision that would change her life forever.



        He nodded, “Then that’s our decision,” 



        She stared out in thin air. Perhaps she could convince her mother to come along? That would most likely cause Ghalib to join as well, she could be without that. Now that she thought about it, there was only Afraa she didn’t want to leave behind, her friends had stopped seeing her the moment they’d come of age. Her only companionship was with Athaal and Saif. Not that she did mind, she often liked being alone. Her husband gave her all the company she needed. As for Saif…she wondered if their relationship would ever come to what they call friends?



        A quick flash played over her eyes, and she saw a glimpse of Rishad’s memory again. It was rarely anything coherent and solid anymore, just a few seconds at a time. Even then, it was enough to remind her, and the stabs in her chest pained her to an almost physical level. She slowly pulled herself out of the trance, feeling the gentle touch of her husband stroking her cheek. As if sensing her distress, however slight, he smiled warmly at her. It was apparent that he worried, wondering when the memories of Rishad caused her harm and if there was anything he could do for her. It was all unsaid between them, but he didn’t need to say more for her to know that he was there for her. 



        She wanted to tell him how much she missed her old friend, how much it pained her. She wanted to tell him about the flashes that came to her, shattering her already broken heart anew. She wanted to tell him that she only needed him to stay with her just enough for the images to go away. She needed to tell him everything, from how she craved him at times when she lost control over her thoughts, to the thoughts about malice and murder, and finally her ties with Trixie. She feared what he would think of it. A deep voice within her told her to trust no pony, not even him. She knew it wasn’t true, yet she listened to it.



        At his inquire of her comfort, she shook her head. She wasn’t okay, and he knew it. Everything that had happened the last week strained her, and her mind was not her own. However, she reassured him that she would be fine, even if her heart screamed otherwise.



        He slowly rose, “We will travel again this coming night, so try to get some sleep. We don’t have a cart for you anymore.” His hoof touched her mane lightly, “I need to make everything ready, unless you want me to stay for a bit while you fall asleep?” he asked.



        She shook her head in response and smiled proudly at him. He squinted slightly at that, as if he saw through her guise. She looked at him with half lidded eyes and kissed him deeply. As she did, her body warmed up again, her heart fluttered together with her small wing. A tingling sensation washed through her. Their lips left each other’s touch, and her cheeks got slightly warmer. She caught herself gazing lustfully at him, and he gazed in return. Then his ears flopped back. There was no time for it, no matter how much they wanted it. He smiled at her again and lifted her up from the floor, carrying her as he had the day they announced her pregnancy to Afraa. Placing her upon the bed, he pulled the blanket around her and pushed a strand of her hair to the side before he kissed her goodbye for now.



        She furrowed her brows trying to force her thoughts away. Lying like that, she saw how the opal lit up weakly, barely touching the wall with its normally vibrant color. She sighed and closed her eyes, she knew that she didn’t have much longer to live, and she felt it to the core of her body. Each minute that passed, her mind let more of itself go, and together with it, the loss of her being. What pained her most was that she was fully aware of the changes, but no matter how much she screamed, the black thoughts controlled her, and stopped her from doing what she wanted. She was certain, if it had not been for Rishad’s serum, and lastly his sacrifice, she would already been gone. Never again be able to see her mother again, nor would she be able to see the smile of Athaal every time he got home, she would never have a chance to experience the feeling of becoming a mother. She would never be able to repay Rishad for it, and even with his sacrifice, it all stood at risk to fall apart. 



        The thoughts distressed her, she quickly peeled off the blanket and rose. It was almost like something within the temple called out for her to approach it. She donned the gown lying on the floor and wrapped it around herself. Exiting the sleeping quarter she resided in, she stopped and took a hoof to her stomach, feeling a faint tumble and a kick from within her. That feeling alone was enough for her to draw a slight smile. If not for herself, it was for the life that rested inside of her she had to continue to try. Breathing deep she continued, seeing the soldiers packing what equipment they had. The one called Sati barely offered her a thought as she sidled past, but the one called Morad stopped what he was doing and looked at her. His gaze reminded her somewhat of Athaal’s upon their wedding, dark eyes built up from anger and frustration. She averted her own eyes and shuddered as she focused her mind forward. No matter what, she would try to keep the brooding thoughts at bay.



        She walked down the halls, marveling their size. She shook her head in an attempt to clear her mind, for between the pillars and hallways she swore she could see remnants of the ponies whom lived here so many years ago. She was certain it was a hallucination, but perhaps it was an effect of being in the place where the disease was created, like a connection. Wandering the halls, she saw acolytes talking to each other, discussing something in a foreign tongue, before vanishing. Each room she passed was different. In the rooms with cauldrons, she saw the ghost carefully mix the serum. While in the rooms with cages and other unspeakable devices, she saw ghosts tying down subjects for their experiments. She could not hear those being tied down, but she could imagine the screams echoing through the vast halls. They screamed for mercy, screamed for an end to their suffering, with faces twisting as immeasurable pain rushed through their veins. The further in she walked, the more atrocious things she saw. Ponies being killed before they turned mad, or held in place as black crystals bored through their bodies. And almost as she could feel the pain of the subjects, tears rolled down her chin. To think that the temple, filled with ponies such as Rishad could originate from a place such as this.



        Reaching a large room, almost at the very end, she froze, feeling a shivering sense of terror crawl up her spine. Between a hazy fog she saw a large black unicorn standing over a dead acolyte. Crystals protruded through his skin, but he was still alive. The unicorn’s horn glowed, and the crystals over his body began to shrink, slowly creeping up towards the horn. Out came a black flame from its eyes, and in a flash, the crystals vanished and the tip of the horn glowed with crimson. The unicorn stomped the last speck of life out of the acolyte and began to walk towards the exit of the temple. Black jolts of lighting shot out as he walked, laying a cover of dark mist behind him. The moment the unicorn passed where Moxie stood, he stopped, almost like he knew she was there. All reasoning told her that that was impossible, but still her whole body trembled in fear. The unicorn stared intensely, right through her. She saw how the white of its eyes slowly became green, the iris turned red like a snake. His mouth gained fangs, only visible when he growled and snarled his teeth like an animal. She saw his face shift slightly then set a mask where all the pain he had experienced turned into hatred. He whispered something and snarled before leaving, the image of him vanishing with the fog.



        She screamed, her voice echoing throughout the stone walls. It felt like her mind was exploding, pushing out through her skull. Her bones began to ache, expanding underneath her skin. Her eyes slowly began to burn, and her vision covered by a green tint with blackness at the edges. Falling to the floor, she clasped her hoofs over her head. She writhed in pain, letting go of howls as jolts went through her. She felt things grab hold of her, forcing her down to the ground. She didn’t recognize any of them, seeing only shadows with white glowing eyes manifesting over her. The form of a unicorn came at the end of the hall she lied in, and it moved towards her as her pain increased. Recognizing how the scene played out, she panicked and screamed, remembering the pain she felt each time the unicorn came close to her in her dreams. The more she struggled, the more it hurt. But seeing how it approached her panic took hold, only increasing as it came all the way to her. As the unicorn touched her with its horn, the pain sliced through her like thousands of serrated knives. Then, as quickly as the pain had come, it vanished, and she felt an uncomfortable pull in her core. She quivered and her bones ached no more. 



        The green fog over her eyes vanished and she gained clarity, seeing the worried eyes of Athaal hovering over her. To her husband’s side, she saw that the unicorn finally gained a form, an azure color together with violet eyes looking at her with certain worry. She still saw specks of black dust on the floor, and she knew what had happened.



        “We must get away, it’s still here...” She croaked before passing out.






        Moxie opened her eyes, slowly letting them adjust to the bright light that shone through the hole in the roof. She inhaled deeply and sat up with a jolt, panic striking her again as she saw the grey walls. Athaal quickly grabbed her shoulders from where he sat next to her bed. A brave smile, but saddened eyes looked at her.



        “Relax, it’s fine.” He comforted.



        “Why are we still here?” she quickly asked.



        “We couldn’t leave with you being like you were, it’s soon night, we will leave then.” He answered, gently stroking her shoulder.



        She opened her mouth to speak, freezing as she saw Trixie sitting in the corner of the room. In the back of her head, she almost screamed at herself to lunge at the unicorn and take everything wrong out on her, but she shook it off. She knew it wasn’t right because Trixie was not to blame for everything. She looked at Athaal, feeling a warm tug in her chest. It was best for him to stay here when Trixie was near she reasoned with herself.



        “We need to leave, right away.” Moxie stated harshly.



        Athaal looked at her with slight bewilderment over him. “We’ll leave as soon as night arrives, it’s better to travel then.” He answered.



        Shaking her head, “No, we need to get out of here as fast as possible.” She objected and pushed Athaal away to rise up.



        “What did you see, Moxie?” Trixie asked, training her eyes on the pegasus.



        “There’s something here, I don’t know what.” Moxie tried.



        Trixie rose and walked towards her, “No, what did you see?” 



        Moxie gritted her teeth together and glared towards the unicorn. Dark thoughts enveloped her like a blanket, clouding her vision. The more she was pushed, the harder she needed to fight to not act upon them.



        Athaal stepped between them and turned to Trixie. “Do not approach my wife with disrespect.” He calmly warned, the tone and demeanor making clear it was no empty threat.



        Trixie looked at him and sighed, “Could you please tell us what you saw back there?” she asked her.



        At first hesitant, she managed to press away the black thoughts, “I saw ponies and animals being tortured, experimented on, and dying in the most horrible way I could imagine.” She began to shake as her mind went to the black unicorn, the feeling of despair and helplessness came to her again. “And… there was this black unicorn that survived it all, it killed every acolyte it could and left the temple in agonized rage. I only remember how the green eyes stiffened its stare to me.”



        “Sombra,” Athaal plainly stated.



        She turned her eyes on him, as a filly she had heard the stories of Sombra, how he emerged from nowhere and enslaved a whole kingdom, overthrowing the alicorn that resided there with overwhelming power. The story was used as a scare tactic to remind the mares that divulging too deep into greed and jewelry would corrupt one. The story never spoke of the Sombra’s origin, but the temples always shunned the name; like it was the bane of evil itself.



        “I don’t know what he did when he left, but he left something in these walls, something we can’t see. I know for certain that it’s still here.” Moxie explained quickly, waving her hoof towards the door.



        Athaal turned to Trixie, “Do you think…?” 



        Trixie shook her head, “I wouldn’t know; there’s limits to what I can obtain of knowledge from just one day of reading.” 


        They stood silently for a long while before Athaal spoke. “I’m not taking the chance, I don’t know how you’ve seen this, Moxie, but if you’re certain, we leave at once!” He loudly stated and marched out, barking commands to the ponies outside.



        A hint of relief washed over her, instantly replaced by worry as her eyes landed on the unicorn in front of her. Trixie smiled the same presumptuous half-smile from when they first met back in Canterlot. Seeing it again tugged Moxie’s chest, the faint memory of their night together and how it had led to a rather disastrous wedding resurfacing. To have shared the intimacy she now only gives to Athaal to someone like Trixie confused her. But for what it was worth, she didn’t regret it.



        Trixie took the few steps left between them and stopped muzzle to muzzle. They gazed at each other, one with a confused mind and the other with a certain adoration. Moxie took a step away and put a hoof up between them, and the smile upon the unicorn vanished. The violet eyes turned slightly away and they gave to a certain sad recognition.



        “We’ve struck upon a sad fate, haven’t we?” she said.



        “What do you mean?” Moxie asked, curious about the sudden change in demeanor.



        “Isn’t it strange, our night at Canterlot was supposed to end it, none of us would see each other again, yet, here I am, indebted to you and your husband; almost like a trick of fate.” Trixie said and chuckled lightly.



        “You are, just don’t tell Athaal anything about what happened between us.” Moxie retorted, weary about where the unicorn was going.



        “I guess that’s for the best, if I were to believe what you’ve told me about your culture.” Trixie shook her head, then looked forward again. “Why are you so afraid of Athaal, you never mention anypony else, it is him you are afraid will figure it out, how come?” she asked.



        She froze momentarily, “I’m not afraid of him. I just don’t want him to get hurt. I love him, and to see him hurt by my past…no, I would rather take it to my grave. And you yourself saw what he did to that monster when it attacked us.” Moxie explained and shuddered, “I never want to see that again, not aimed at anypony, and definitely not caused by my actions. It’s so far from the pony I know.”



        An awkward silence fell between them, Moxie shifting her hoofs back and forth on the gray rock and scattering bits of dust. Eventually they broke the gaze, and Moxie wondered what had changed in the unicorn. Her demeanor and attitude had changed drastically since Rishad died; she knew something she wasn’t telling them.



        “Listen…I know you blame me for your friend’s death, and…I can’t say I can blame you for that.”  Trixie took a hoof to her shoulder, feeling the material over her wound. “For what it is worth, I’m sorry for what happened to him, and I’m grateful to what he did for me, what you did for me.” She fell silent, her eyes boring hole into the stone floor they stood upon. “The lives it has cost to save me…if I could chose, I would not be alive today. Deaths for me is not something I admire; know that.”



        Moxie’s hardened features softened, feeling her anger let go, bit by bit. “Trixie…”



        The unicorn shook her head. “No, I’m grateful, I really am… at the end of this journey you will realize that. It might not seem so at times, but I wish the best for you, even if we actually don’t know each other that well.” She began to walk, stopping in the doorway. “Your husband, Athaal was it?”



        Moxie nodded in response, looking towards Trixie with skepticism.



        “I think you should trust him a bit more, I’ve read what the disease you have does to you, I think he has the right to know.” Trixie halted her sentence, a longing sadness emerging as she spoke. “You mean the world to him, the fact that you won’t tell him hurts him more than you think.” She said and quickly left the room.



* * * *



        Wrapping the cloak tighter around her, she turned her gaze up to the sky. It was another cloudless night and the stars shone brightly together with the large white moon. Around them it became clearer and clearer that they were getting closer to the border between Equestria and Saddle-Arabia. Flowers began to show their beautiful colors, even during the night standing out like red and yellow beacons. The grass slowly turned green instead of the gray cutting kind they occasionally passed near the temple, and became more frequent. The sandy dunes became less evident, replaced by trees and cacti. 



        Saif returned to them as they left the temple. He found a place which they could set up camp and guided them towards it by retracing his steps. The path they walked seemed untouched by any form of hoofs for centuries, the loose sand slipping underneath her hoofs as she walked making each step draining. She wanted to stop to rest, but she refrained from speaking up to avoid delaying them even more. She pressed her body forward, struggling with each breath to stay next to Athaal.



        Saif lunged forward and took to the air. He flew forward and stopped near the entrance of an oasis. His black clothing made it almost impossible to see him against the black night. Saif landed without a sound as they reached the edge.



        “This will grant us shelter from the harshest winds and cool us during the day. It also has a water hole so we can fill up on that, along with some berries and other things.” Saif said to Athaal.



        “Great! Let’s find a place near the water to set up camp, we will try to leave at noon tomorrow, then we should reach the graveyard right before morning.” Athaal reasoned.



        As he barked out orders to the soldiers, Moxie saw how some glared towards her and Trixie before fulfilling the order. What little resources they had left was easily carried by only two ponies, and most of it was water. She began to understand the mind of the soldiers. With nothing to eat for two days, it was easy to put the blame onto those whom made the decision to get out of their original path. She sidled closer to Athaal, an unnerving feeling crept up on her. She did no longer fear for her own life, but the life of Athaal, Saif and Trixie if the soldiers decided to leave them.



        She looked towards Arien, silently hoping he would be able to keep the others in check just for another day. It was uncertain though. If the others knew he was a stallion stuffer, they would rather kill him than to take orders from him. She flinched, not liking the term at all, but they had no other words for those kind of ponies back home. It didn’t exist in their vocabulary in any other meaning than an insult.



        Taking a deep breath, she sat down and scratched her eyes. They slowly began to burn, together with a numbness on her forehead. The sound of stone upon stone came as she scratched, and a jolt went through her spine down from her neck. The opal, drained of all color, almost as it was dead, had fallen from her forehead. She quickly picked it up and pressed it against her forehead, only to have it fall again.



        Her eyes scurried over the ground and her chest tightened. “Athaal!” she croaked, feeling panic slowly encroaching upon her as the opal vanished from her sight.



        Athaal quickly slipped down next to her, “What is it?” he asked.



        She looked at him, “The opal, it won’t stick, and my eyes, they hurt.” 



        Athaal flinched back as she turned her face towards him, “Trixie!” He yelled.



        “What is it?” Trixie responded.



        “Help her!” Athaal barked in retort.






*~*~*~*~*


        



        Saif carefully placed a log onto the campfire and prodded it with a large stick he had fashioned for it. At the other side of the fire Athaal was tucking the unconscious Moxie underneath a blanket. The orange light flickered, remaining the only light source they had this night. The moon was covered by black clouds, threatening to unleash heavy thunder upon them. A little away he saw Arien setting up camp for the soldiers. They sliced through thin branches with their swords and tied them up to create a light roof over them; just in case. 



        Trixie was sleeping next to him. The spell she had used to calm Moxie had drained her. At first she had wished to sleep alone, but upon Athaal’s request she stayed near Moxie. Saif leaned a bit closer to her, taking in the sound of her breath mixed with the crackle from the fire. He removed a strand of blue hair from her muzzle and smiled slightly as her snout wiggled slightly from side to side.



        “I’ve been meaning to ask you, Saif.” Athaal said in hushed tones as he sat down. “What’s so special about her, and why did she call you Spectrum when she spotted you?”



        “You wouldn’t understand,” Saif answered, not removing his eyes from her.



        “Try me, we’ve gotten into a lot of trouble for saving her. The lives of those soldiers goes on my neck, as well as yours.” Athaal stated in a firm tone.



        He sighed, “I introduced myself as Spectrum to her the first time we met, thinking it was best to not reveal my true name in Equestria.” Making sure she was a sleep, Saif turned to face his brother again. “I don’t know how to explain it; she’s got something I relish. She works hard for what she has in her life. She never lets anypony tell her what she can and cannot do. She sets her mind to something, and does it. It’s a trait I see so rarely in mares.”  Saif looked back at her form, making sure once more. “Most of all, I think her hard shell is to keep others out, from the way she smiles shows passion, but if you look close, there’s sadness in her eyes. It's a sadness that intrigues me. I don’t know what pulls me to it, but I want that sadness gone. More than anything, I want to see her smile sincere, just like Moxie does towards you.” Saif smiled meekly, then his heart skipped a beat as he thought Trixie moved. He breathed deeply when no more movement came.



        “Why don’t you tell her that? She seems less inclined to answer your approaches every day. I think you got to come clean to her if you’re going to have any chance to get what you want.” Athaal suggested.



        “I’m afraid it will scare her off.” He answered.



        “Then it’s not meant to be. Tomorrow night we will reach the graveyard, and this will all be over.” Athaal sighed, “Then we’ll need to figure out what to do with this book for certain. I think it would be wise for you to come clean to her before we leave tomorrow, then you’ll know better where to stand.” He suggested.



        “It’s easier said than done…I’ve killed ponies, I’ve killed linacs, and I have no qualms about doing it again. But opening myself up that much to anypony? It’s hard…” he said and shrugged lightly.



        Athaal pulled himself underneath Moxie’s blanket and sidled closer to her. “Well, whatever you do, I’ll support you. Try to get some sleep. Arien keeps a watch this night, and tomorrow you’ll need to scout ahead before we travel.”



        He turned his head and looked around, seeing the form of Arien guarding between them and the other soldiers. Saif knew that the general was doing his best to keep the morale of the other soldiers up, and strived to keep any conflict down. He also knew that Arien struggled with his decision towards what they had discovered in the temple. Saif knew that it strained the general, but he also knew having somepony with the reputation of Arien at their side would help their cause greatly.



        Checking that the horn was close to him one last time, he began to make ready for sleep. He considered getting closer to Trixie but decided it would be an invasion of her privacy. He rather found himself comfortable enough to sleep resting his back towards a few branches that drooped down onto the ground. He took off his hood for the first time since they had left Ma’Galag, and felt a relished breeze touch upon him. Making sure his wristblade functioned properly, he rested his head upon the bundle and closed his eyes.



        He heard some faint shifting close to him, and began looking around, wristblade half out. Satisfied that the sound came from nothing but a small critter nearby, he relaxed again and sighed. He stole another glance over to where Trixie slept, and froze as he saw the violet eyes look straight at him. He shifted uncomfortably to the side and tried a smile, then slowly looked away.



        “Why are you trying to sleep like that?” Trixie asked.



        “It keeps me alert, not allowing me to sleep comfortably.” Saif answered, looking into the dark night, almost afraid to look towards her.



        “Isn’t Arien keeping watch?” she wondered.



        “Yes…” he mumbled in retort, “but you sort of have my bed blanket.” 



        “I guess I do… we lost the rest before the temple, didn’t we?” 



        “Yeah, I couldn’t get any of those supplies with me when I traveled back to get the horn.” Saif answered and sighed lightly.



        Saif’s heart skipped a beat as the unicorn pulled aside the blanket. Her cheeks hit a slight tint of red as she nodded for him to lie down. He rose slowly, and took a step forward. They had shared a bed before, but to him it felt somewhat different this time. She didn’t have her brash demeanor, she didn’t quip retorts to him. Rather, it seemed like she was seeking something. He wasn’t certain, so he treaded carefully. The events in the temple had changed all of them, and the course of their lives. But the mares had changed the most. Moxie had grown worse, the black mark fully embracing her forehead, and Trixie…he wasn’t sure what had happened.



        He lowered himself down next to her and wrapped the cloth around him, turning his back to her. He felt a hoof touch gently on his shoulder and his heart threatenend to jump out of his chest. Not daring to turn around, he remained stiff as a board and silently cursed himself for his insecurity. It was never like this earlier or with any other mare he had been with, so why this time?



        “Did you really mean what you said earlier?” Trixie asked meekly.



        Saif’s chest constricted, “You heard that?”



        “Yes…” she answered.



        Saif carefully turned, swallowing hard as he met her hard gaze. He opened his mouth to say something, but no matter how much he tried, his mouth opening and closing like a goldfish on land



        “Why do you strive to change what worked so well between us?” she asked cooly.



        “Things have changed, I have changed… you have changed, why should we keep pretending nothing has?” He tried



        “It hasn’t changed between us. You just happened to stumble upon me. That doesn’t mean everything magically changes.” 



        “It does for m—“ 



        “Stop it. You’re better off not getting further involved with me, you all are. You’ll just get hurt, and so will I.” Trixie turned her back to him. “We’re better off alone…both of us.” She lastly said in a tone signaling that it was nothing more to talk about.



        Saif sighed, turning his back to her. He looked towards where he had sat before creeping in under the blanket. Sitting there alone, guarding, watching...he didn’t want that for the rest of his life. He thought he did before, but he knew he could have another life, and perhaps a family in the future. He also knew that it wouldn't matter unless it was with Trixie. With an unexpected flush of bravery, he rolled over to face her. He took a deep breath and placed a hoof onto her shoulder, pulling her around.



        “I to—“ She began to say before he pressed his lips against hers, her head jolted back and she glared at him. “What’s gotten into you?”



        “I don’t care what you think, you’re wrong. We’re not better off alone.” He said and gazed at her, feeling each fiber of his body yelling at him to stop what he was about to do. “Why do you think I continued to return to Canterlot? What you heard me say earlier, I meant every word of it, and I wouldn’t take a bit of it back. When I saw you lying in that cage, it changed. I realized that you wouldn’t always be there when I came to Canterlot, that one day you might be gone and I don’t want that. Something has changed in you to and I can tell. Why are you so afraid of it?” 



        Her eyes shied away from him, “I don’t want any more ponies to be hurt because of me, it’s enough.”



        “I don’t care if I get hurt,” 



        “You will, there’s no if,”



        “Then let me be hurt!” He quickly responded and kissed her deeply.



        At first, she didn’t return his approach, taken aback by his sudden action. Then her hoof pressed his chin, pulling him as close as she could. Upon her touch small electrical sparks fluttered down his body, sending his stomach into a joyful dance. He let a hoof wander over her body, stopping at her mane, stroking through it. His lips began to move down to the groove of her neck, nibbling playfully as she arched her head back. She gasped slightly, and pressed him away.



        Saif froze and looked at her, hoping to see what was wrong. She held a hoof over her muzzle and looked away from him up against the black sky, and he saw how she struggled to keep something at bay. He wondered if he had done something wrong. Perhaps he was too brash. Her eyes showed the same longing as he had seen before, a sadness he couldn’t describe. He carefully placed a hoof on her chin and turned her head. Over the last days it was like something had cracked inside of her, leaving her broken and scarred in ways he could never truly understand. And the way she looked back at him made him wonder, was there something she knew about the future she wasn’t telling him?



        “What’s wrong?” He tried, running his hoof down her cheek.



        “It’s just…I left you for Moxie back in Canterlot…just to avoid this. I can’t really say I didn’t want to hurt you, because I did, it would stop you from trying, I thought.” She shook her head, “Why aren’t you giving up?”



        “I did, at first. I blamed Moxie for it, then I moved on, deciding to see what would happen next time I went to Canterlot. I knew there was more than coy tricks of fate that made me decide to go to the oasis and check. I just can’t ignore it.” He answered.



        She remained silent, gazing at him with solemn eyes. Then, without any words, she stood up and pulled the blanket with her. She offered him a hoof to rise up with, and began to walk towards the thicker brush. She guided him forward, her hoof outstretched to him. The deeper they went, the more he shuddered as the cold water upon the petals struck him. When he thought it would be impossible for the brushes to get any thicker, it cleared.



	Like most oases, there was a gathering of water in the middle; and the trees stretched out like a halo around it. The clouds slowly began to clear, allowing the moon to grace them with its presence, reflecting almost perfectly in the midst of the lake and only broken slightly by the ripples of waterbugs that traversed over the surface. At the very edge of the water, a flower rarely seen anywhere in the desert bloomed. The bright blue petals were barely visible from afar, but the golden orb within them shone brightly in a magical luminescent light. Together, they made the lake look like a portal to what one would call heaven, a prismatic beauty with a sincere stillness and peace over it.



	Trixie made way towards a gathering of grass, close to the inkling light of the Januflowers; it was almost like she had been here before. Her magical aura, almost vanishing within the other lights, arranged the blanket. She took hold of his neck and pulled him close, kissing him passionately.



	He set her carefully down upon the blanket, beginning to undress as he watched her. He did not bother to check where the clothes landed, he could not care less at this moment, he crouched forward to her. Placing a hoof on each of her sides, he leaned over her, doing nothing else than to take in the sight of how her mane flowed like water out on the blanket. The light reflected gracefully in her violet eyes, and her cheeks slowly turned red. He kissed her neck at first, then he let his lips wander, exploring her body. Her breath became labored, heavy and deep.



	He extended his hoofs, rising over her again. The color of her tender lips beckoned him closer, and her slight smile became his. They had done this before, but yet it was different. There was something in the way it was; many things felt new. Everything was different from how she gently touched him, carefully running her hoofs through his mane; how her chest slowly rose with her breath; how her lips curled slightly different, just barely splitting open revealing the smile he so wished for. Everything felt new and exciting, except her eyes. No matter how much the rest of her said otherwise, he saw sadness in them; he couldn’t figure out why.



	Saif wanted to wonder, but the way she gently touched his fur pulled him away from the thoughts. Their lips met once more, and a sensation filled him as he joined in a careful dance with their bodies. He found the moment perfect, and he wished for it to last forever. If he could freeze time, he would. He would lay beside this mare under a wicked sky, and through the black of night. The feeling never escaped him, somehow feeling a sense of gratitude with each whimper that escaped her rose colored lips. A sense of excitement revelled as her scent played in his nose as he explored her through the late night.



	How much time passed as their bodies joined together was uncertain. He only knew he didn’t care for much else. He blocked out everything but her, bathed in the light of night, gently curving around her forms, making her shine slightly as beads of sweat pushed through her fur. He listened to her every subtle swoon, making sure he never lost it. 



	She took him in her embrace, saying nothing as they lay there, both breathing heavily while gazing into each other’s eyes and lips gently touching. He felt how her heart beat together with his for just this moment. He pulled her closer and wrapped the blanket tightly around them, wanting to feel every inch of her body press against his own. 



	She buried her muzzle into the groove of his neck and whispered, “I’m sorry, I truly am.”



	“For what?” Saif whispered in retort as he nuzzled her mane.



	“For everything I’ve done to you, and for what will happen…” she answered and closed her eyes again.



	“What do you mean?” he asked quietly.



	No answer came but the sound of her breathing together with insects flying around them. He felt the uncertainty fill up within him again. Loss of the knowledge to act properly stunned him. Wrapping his hoofs around her, he pulled her in even closer, afraid of letting go. Saif closed his eyes and did something he’d never done before: a silent prayer of safety to Eran.


> Chapter 10 - Khiyana
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Khiyana


        Athaal carefully crawled out of the linen sheet, then gently wrapped it around Moxie again. The night had been silent, apart from a few whimpers from her while asleep. There had been little point for him to share the bed with her. The sickness now had a complete hold of her, fever coming and going throughout the night. Even with the cold night winds, he had woken by the heat radiating from her at times. She breathed heavily, and the mark had grown even further during the night, now it grasped entirely around her eyes. Her ivory fur began greying to near blackness, giving her a colorless mask which was void of life and joy.

        He looked up to the sky. The clouds had vanished during the night, and as the sun began to rise he knew it would become a warm day. The light glimmered in the dew left behind from the night, and already he felt the heat even as early as it was. They needed to plan carefully and travel as soon as the heat allowed for it. Every minute could mean the difference between life and death for Moxie and their unborn foal.

        The soldiers still slept underneath the shadow of the makeshift roof they had made last night. Athaal squinted slightly, fending the glare away with his hoof. At the edge of the camp, watching over the desert they needed to traverse, he saw Arien. He approached the general, shifting through loose stone and wet grass on his path. He cleared his throat and gained Arien’s attention before bowing slightly, waiting for permission to sit next to him.

        Arien turned to face him, and there were large patches of dark fur growing underneath his eyes. His facial lines were drawn, each wrinkle coming with his advanced age growing in strength. He smiled slightly and bowed in turn, allowing the company in his solitude. 

        Athaal sat down, but remained quiet. He joined in on watching the desert, if it could be called that anymore. The orange sand they had traveled over till now, only interrupted by a select few oases and rocks, almost completely gave way now for the green grass and trees. The horizon showed a lush color different from the unforgiving desert. And even farther, he saw mountains where he assumed waterfalls gave life to the surrounding animals and environment.  The distant mountains rose high above the highest buildings in Ma’Galag,.  The presence of birds, only tiny black dots in the distance,  supported his speculation as they circled around the mountain itself. 

He finally turned to Arien. “Have you thought about it?” he asked, knowing full and well that there was no need to elaborate. 

        “I have…” Arien said, not removing his eyes from the shifting land in front of him, “I don’t know if I can join you.”

        Athaal sighed. He was aware of this possibility, but deep down he had sincerely hoped that the general would join them. “I understand,” he simply answered.

        “No, you really don’t.” Arien turned his green eyes at Athaal. “Not even I understand it.”

        At first stumbled by the brashness of the general, it quickly turned to curiosity. “What do you mean?”

        “I’ve heard stories about Equestria, and I’ve seen those stories when I’ve visited. They don’t care whom you choose to take to your bed, they don’t mind if you prefer the soft lips of a mare or the rigid touch of a stallion. For me, it would be a dream come true to live there, free to not hide who I am.” Arien stopped, his lips unmoving as his whole body reflected the hint of sadness he had in his voice in the way his back was slightly more hunched forward than normal and hoofs rested on top of his thighs. Most of all, he looked at Athaal with a forlorn gaze, truly lost in his decision. “I’ve lived in Saddle-Arabia my whole life, and it is my home for good and bad. How can I just turn my back to it?”

        Athaal remained silent. He tried his best to understand the old general, but it was all so illogical for him. He knew about Arien’s preferences, and while he struggled slightly with them, it was not his choice and it did not affect him. To be able to be whom you are, without the fear of any judgment from society is something everypony wants. He also knew that he was the only one in Ma’Galag who knew about it, having stumbled across Arien with one of his lovers during one of his patrols. If it had been anyone else, Arien would most likely have been hanged. “What will you do then?” He wondered.

        “You asked me to get you to the graveyard and over the border of Equestria, I will do that. Once we reach the border, I will leave you and report back to the throne about our findings and your plans.” Arien sighed, and Athaal was almost certain he heard a faint crack in the general’s voice. “For so is my duty, when next we meet after this it might be as either enemies or friends; that’s all up to the political powers we unleash. I would prefer the latter…”

        Athaal furrowed his brows. He still had a hard time understanding this decision, but his respect for Arien made him stop any further attempts to change his mind. “It is what it is, Arien, my view of you will not change based upon this decision. You will remain my friend, no matter what,” Athaal stated.

        “Thank you, I’m glad you view it as such.” Arien tried a smile, “How does Moxie fare? Good all things considered?”

        Athaal nodded, “Yeah, she’s still sleeping. I’m just waiting for Trixie to come back then I’ll wake her so we can attempt to soothe her mind.”

        “Comes back?” Arien asked curiously.

        Athaal’s lips curled into a deep, almost devious, grin. “Not everypony prefers the rod, Arien, and my brother finally got brave.” Athaal said, and laughed heartily as Arien’s cheeks turned red.

        “So, Trixie and he…?”

        Athaal chuckled, “Yes, this night my brother confessed his feelings for Trixie. Everypony knew from the way he danced around her.” Athaal leaned forward and whispered, “They left in the middle of the night, once everypony was asleep, or so they thought.” He said and winked coyly.

        Arien laughed, “That’s quite a turn of events; who’d imagine that? I’m glad something good has come from this trip, not just… death and misery.” 

        Athaal put a hoof onto Arien’s shoulder. “We will not forget the sacrifices of those who have fallen. Whether in Equestria, or home, we will pay our respects,” he said in a sullen tone, then smiled again to lighten the mood. “Keep an eye out for when they exit the forest; if I know my brother they will not arrive at the same time. Saif might have been with mares before, but never has he confessed his feelings for one.” 

        Arien’s smile almost matched his own, and they both broke out in laughter. He hadn’t laughed like this in a long time; his mind was constantly occupied by the well being of his wife. Now that they were getting close to their destination and a cure, it was like the knots inside of him finally loosened, allowing his mind to focus on other matters. They were not very important matters, but the small joys that made life better.

He put a hoof over his muzzle as the rummaging of soldiers waking up came from behind them. Arien did the same, but the guilt of laughing sat over his facial features like a ghost, yet they both still shared a stifled laugh. 

        Athaal shook his head and patted the general on the back before he rose and made way to Moxie again. With the soldiers waking up he had the need to remain next to her, no matter the cost. For even with the sudden outburst of laughter, he still knew the morale was low within the group, and he knew what soldiers could do if given the opportunity. He also knew that Saif would come towards their part of the camp pretty soon, and he wished to be there when he finally got to greet this wicked mare as his sister-in-law.

        He sat down next to the cinders left of the fire and turned to Moxie. He shook her slightly in an attempt to wake her, putting on his best smile as her eyes fluttered open. It took everything he had not to flinch back. Not only had the black mark grown drastically over the night, it also had begun to grow within her eye: black lines stretched towards her orange iris. 

        Moxie barely moved her head. “What happened?” she wondered in a hoarse voice.

        Athaal leaned down and kissed her forehead. “You fell sick again…” he said and pushed aside a strand of hazel hair lying over her muzzle.

        “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean too,” she whimpered.

        Athaal took hold of her and placed her on his stomach, allowing her to rest slightly elevated. He nuzzled her mane near her ear. “Don’t be, it happens. We’re almost there, this night we will reach it,” he comforted.

        “What if I fall sick again? Like last night?” she asked, her eyes staring out into the thin air.

        “Then I will carry you. Even if I need to carry you all the way from here, we’ll reach it,” he said plainly as if there was nothing to it, both of them knew there was no lie in his voice; he was prepared for it.

        She turned and kissed him softly, “Thank you…” she said, her voice weak.

        “How are you feeling now?” 

        She stretched out her hoof and tried bending it back and forth, then flinched. “My bones hurt, and my mind is hazy…” she answered as her eyes began to shimmer with moisture; they both knew that this meant they were running out of time.

        He lay a hoof to rest upon Moxie’s stomach, feeling how her heartbeat, together with the foal’s, pulsed through his hoof. Moxie let her muzzle fall into the groove of his neck, and sighed warmly. Athaal cradled them both, forcing his mind to focus on what lied ahead afterwards.

        Out of the corner of his eye he saw Saif approaching Trixie was nowhere to be seen yet. As the brown pegasus sat down Athaal grinned at him, gaining a blush in return. Saif put down a blanket near the cinders and hastily began to clean his wristblade, avoiding all eye contact.

        Moxie turner her head slightly and looked at Saif, then turned curiously towards Athaal. “What’s the matter with him?” she whispered in question.

        Athaal smiled, “He came from the forest, and Trixie is nowhere to be found. Just wait and see where she comes from.”

        Almost on cue, the azure unicorn exited the edge of the forest, making her way towards them. She sat down close to Saif, her magic aura wrapping her messy mane, pulling and dragging it to straighten it out. Trixie as well avoided eye contact to the best of her abilities.

        Moxie giggled, earning a harsh glare from Trixie. “They finally got together?” she asked.

        Athaal nodded, “All evidence points to that direction.” He whispered, then turned his attention to Trixie. “Trixie, could you attend to Moxie after you’re done freshening up?”

        Trixie blushed, then looked at him. “I could try, but I’m not sure what good it would do. The book contains no immediate ways of providing relief for Moxie if we had all the ingredients I could help her properly.”

        Athaal fell silent; his mind raced over the possibilities. They could push on now and walk the rest of path in daylight, but there was no way Moxie would be able to make the trip in her condition; he would need to carry her. The other option, waiting for the sun to fall enough for them to travel with ease, was also not desirable. With Trixie not being able to do anything at this moment, it was risky. Athaal swallowed hard, the sudden lump in his throat threatening to explode, just the thought of losing Moxie made it hard for him to think straight.

        He watched the desert, seeing the heat bend the air in front of them more and more as the sun rose higher, climbing closer to its peak. Through the haze he could see the highest spires of the graveyard. They seemed so close, yet he knew it was a long way; it would take most of the day to get there. They would need to leave all supplies here and only take as much water they could if they were to travel at day, along with the bag of ingredients for the spell. Tonight they would be reliant on the hospitality of the Equestrian guards to get food.

        “We need to travel right away,” he said, immediately feeling the eyes of those sitting around him as they halted whatever they were doing.

        “That’s not a good idea,” Saif said, and bowed slightly.

        “It’s not, but we have no other choice.” Athaal stated.

        “With the morale as low as it is, I doubt we could persuade the others to travel over the desert in the blistering heat.” 

        “I’m sure we can with enough gold.” 

        “What about Moxie?” Saif said and turned his gaze at her. “In her condition?”

        “Do you really think it will be better tonight? No, we need to leave as soon as possible.” Athaal responded, his eyes betraying his cold demeanor. He was afraid, the relief of being close to their target had been replaced with the fear of losing everything he held dear to him. Even with calm and secure motions, his insides thrashed, threatening to break him down into tears where he sat.

        “Saif, Trixie, leave us.” Moxie said loudly with an authority in her voice that no one expected from her.

        Saif and Trixie looked at each other, as if uncertain how to react. Saif quickly rose and offered the unicorn a hoof. She took it and joined him, and they both left. They headed towards the edge of the forest again, where they settled down close to each other. From the side of the soldiers they saw Arien wave his hoof at Saif, giving him a mocking smile, again leaving the watanï flustered.

        Athaal looked on as Moxie slowly rose from her position in his lap. She looked at him with a caring gaze. “How are you?” she simply asked with a labored voice.

        “I’m fine?” he answered skeptically.

        “No, you’re not. You, more than anypony, have struggled through these days. You don’t have to be strong for me anymore, Athaal. We’re close, and if we wait till the worst of the sun has given away, I won’t mind.” She leaned forward and kissed him softly, before embracing him. “I’ll be fine, I promise,” she said as her body lost the strength to hold her up.

Athaal caught Moxie as she fell. She breathed heavily, and the strain was showing clearly on her face. She was right, he wasn’t okay. Sometimes he wanted to lie down next to her, making sure he was with her till the very end. He never wanted to give up, but he wanted it to be over. His mind was strained; the constant worrying, the on and off battles with his own rage fueled by whatever happened to his eyes. He admitted to it, he wasn’t okay, but no matter what she said he couldn’t show it, for she needed him and he knew that as well. “What about you? Everypony can see how you struggle.”

        Moxie laughed, took a deep rattling breath, and closed her eyes. “Yes, you’re right, but a little longer won’t hurt.” She buried her muzzle into his fur. “After all, how could I give up now? We’re going to become parents; I need to be there with you for that.” 

        He felt the lump in his throat swell up again, this time cracking his voice as he spoke. “That’s true, there’s no way you could leave me this close, is there?”

        Her eyes remained closed, giving no answer. It had taken the last of her strength to talk, and now she breathed heavily. Athaal kissed her softly, and remained completely still, gazing upon her. There was a certainty in him that they would make it, but yet, seeing the mark upon the face of the mare he loved so, he couldn’t help but to fear for them both. He had long since admitted to himself that he had no wish to live without her, and he would fall into despair; this prospect terrified him.

        He turned and looked over at Saif. The relationship between Trixie and his brother was still tense. They sat close, making small idle chatter but nothing more. It almost seemed like Trixie had regrets about what had happened, for she did not smile, nor did she offer Saif much of her focus. Rather, she remained deeply indulged in the book they found in the temple. Saif tried to embrace her, only to be pushed away, gently compared to the other times he had tried it. His show of affection got rewarded with a loving kiss upon his lips. A certain mirth came over the unicorn as Saif blushed from it.

Athaal beckoned them both over. “Saif, we’re leaving after the worst of the sun has breezed over. I want you to leave an hour ahead of us to scout, be it linacs or a patrol of Equestrian soldiers, I want to know before we meet them; you will head out and meet us at the entrance of the graveyard. Trixie, could you stay close to Moxie? I’m going to make something so Moxie can rest while I pull her. The book might not say anything about an immediate relief, but I’m sure there are some things in there that might help if it is needed.” Athaal ordered.

Saif quickly bowed and started for Arien, taking the order without question. The watanï knew that he would need to leave immediately as the heat would prevent him from flying. He took multiple canteens of water and flung them around his neck before wrapping himself in a white cowl on top of the dark armor. He returned and shifted through the little belongings he had left near their fire; finding the horn he hung it around his neck. He leaned forward and kissed Trixie on the cheek before he whispered something in her ear, and then he left.


* * * * *


        Athaal looked down upon his work, pleased with the result. The bamboo tied together with the white fabric made for a good and wide stretcher, with enough room for both Moxie and provisions. He tried to adjust the straps onto himself and pulled forward a little bit. It scraped heavily against the soil; right now it was easy to pull, but he reckoned that it would become significantly heavier with weight upon it. Sadly, there was no time left for him to fix it because they needed to leave soon.

        Trixie was left tending to Moxie as best as she could. She might have healing magic from Equestria that could help soothe the pain his wife was going through, but Athaal didn’t know with any certainty. He was unsure how long it was that he had been away, but the sun was at its peak, making it unbearably hot even within the normally cool forest. Stopping by the lake, he made his way to the edge and filled up on water. He felt the weight upon him increase with each filled canteen. Satisfied that he had enough for all of them to use on the next leg of the journey, he took a deep breath and began heading back to the camp. As he crossed over the still damp and rich soil, it slightly gave away underneath him as he stepped forward. He pushed aside branches and traversed over logs as he pushed through the forest encircling the water.

        He froze as the sound of fighting reached his ears through the twines and thick brush in front of him. He left both the stretcher and the water and began to run, his throat constricting as his thoughts raced over what could have happened. Perhaps the linacs had found them, or some other beast. The ever present danger of a scorpolid matron defending its nest was there, being as large as four ponies it was a dangerous encounter for anypony. He pushed the thought away, if they had somehow put up camp near a scorpolid nest it would have attacked sooner.

        At the edge of the main camp the remaining soldiers, Sati and Morad, stood eye to eye against Arien and a watanï. Behind them Trixie stood with the book closed and held up to her chest. Her horn glowed brightly, ready to blast magic at any target that approached her. Athaal ran, leaping over rocks and crags in hopes of getting there as fast as possible. Getting closer, he saw Namir’s neck oozing with blood, still he remained defiant to whatever had happened.

        Athaal yelled loudly, ordering them to stop. His breath grew heavier with each leap taken. He stopped between the two forces and took a deep breath. Gazing over at the soldiers, he saw the tip of the sword belonging to Morad painted in red, dripping down on the sand. The stab had been deep, and most likely intended to kill, as the blood covered half of the blade. The soldier had most likely struck Namir while the other distracted him: the most dishonorable way to strike.

        “Put down your blades! What’s going on?!” Athaal commanded, his stare fixating with an ice cold rage towards Morad. Deep down, he knew that the watanï most likely would not make it because of the wound inflicted to him.

        Morad raised his blade, pointing it at Athaal, “You… you have led us to our death. We are taking our chances at surviving the trip back rather than going up to the graveyard,” the soldier snarled in retort, his voice deep and angered.

        “We’re this close to our destination, and you wish to desert?” Athaal hissed, moving forward as he pushed away the blade pointed at him.

        “There are linacs up there, we’ll never make it.” Sati said in a calm voice behind Morad.

        “What gives you that idea?”

        “It’s simple logic; if the linacs seek fresh blood to sate their hunger, of course they would wait for a dragon. With a full squad we might have made it, but not only with us.” Morad quipped.

        “Then leave! The crown will have your heads for breaching this contract.” Arien growled.

        Morad took a step forward, grinning deviously. “Oh, do you think so, Stallionstuffer? Yes, we know all about how the great general Arien prefers the company of stallions. Don’t you think the crown would rather reward me to rid his kingdom of one such as you and a betrayer as well?” The soldier gloated, his vision so focused on the general that he had seemingly forgotten Athaal as he walked forward.

        Athaal unsheathed his sword and held it out in the path of Morad. Annoyed, the soldier looked over at Athaal as he bumped into the flat edge of the sword. Athaal set his eyes into Morad, feeling how they slowly began to burn.

        The two soldiers had had taken a path from which there was no redemption. Athaal would be in his full right to kill them, even to hold a public execution to show their shame and dishonor. He glanced quickly towards Moxie; she still remained unmoving apart from her stomach going up and down with small breaths. This time Athaal could not risk giving out the judgment; if he got hurt in any way during a fight it bode badly for everything they worked for.

        “If you, or your friend attempts to take one more step, I will engage you,” he said calmly, but his voice vibrated with anger and fear. “You may leave, now, but you will do no more harm here, nor will you get any provisions. The life I grant you is more than what filth like you deserve.”

        Namir groaned, then collapsed to the ground and remained unmoving. Arien hunched down over him and removed his mask, revealing a face drained of all color. Arien quickly moved his ear to Namir’s chest and attempted to feel a pulse with a hoof. He looked up and shook his head at Athaal.

        “He trusted you like a soldier, and you treated him like a beggar!” Athaal snarled. “You sicken me, Morad. Leave before anypony else gets hurt.”

        “Not yet. First, we’re going to claim our reward.” Morad stated.

        “Reward…?” 

        “You see, the unicorn we have saved, she’s already given her body to your brother as a thank you, and it’s only fair that we get the same treatment, isn’t it?” The soldier’s lips split into an ugly smile. “Whether she wants to or not, it’s not like you and an old general can stop us.”

        “Arien, stay with Trixie. Do not move under any circumstances!” Athaal ordered, not removing his eyes from Morad.

        “And after we’re done with that pretty little unicorn, we’ll move over to your wife… it’s not like she would mind, is it? After all, it’s only fair that she pays us as well.” Morad leered.

        Athaal felt his heart stop, and his insides began to burn, exploding from his chest out to the very tip of his limbs. His vision grew darker, and the pain in his eyes grew in intensity. The muscles in his jaw tightened, and his teeth cracked loudly. Remaining stoically in place, his muscles began to tremble. Slowly the colors of what was in front of him faded, and the two stallions became two grey silhouettes mocking his existence. It reminded him of what happened near the linac, but something was different. Slowly losing his ability to think straight, the neck muscles twitched slightly and clamped down on his throat. The sounds around him became hollow and dampened, as if he was under water; only his rasping breath broke it.

        “Move aside, Athaal, and we won’t touch Moxie,” came from Sati in a weak attempt to negotiate.

        He only hesitated for a moment, thoughts came screaming through to protect her, above all else; nothing would touch her. The void that had built up within him exploded, and his vision blacked out along with his reason. Only hearing his own scream, he lashed out blindly towards the gray figures in front of him. Only sparks and loud clinks told him that his sword found its mark.

        He struck out against the shadows he saw, just waiting for the time he would feel the sword bite into the flesh of his opponent. Each swing flew easily, strafing both the body and mane of his opponent. In a moment of clarity, he saw his sword strike upon the shield of Morad, effectively splitting the carapace husk in pieces and sinking deep into the hoof underneath. Morad howled in pain as Athaal yanked his sword back, preparing it for another swing. He swung as hard as he could, striking for the neck. When the swing was halted by another sword, Athaal trusted forward, piercing the bare throat of the soldier. 

Morad fell down, instantly losing strength in his body, and Athaal skewered his blade around, getting a satisfying loud crack as the eyes of his opponent rolled up into his skull. With his opponent beaten, the fog over his mind began to fade. The surge that had shot through him earlier retracted, and he almost felt it settling down into a void in his chest again, waiting for next time to erupt. Before he could gather his wits, his shoulder flared with an intense pain. Sati had taken the advantage and managed to land a deep cut. Athaal jumped back and clutched himself over the wound, letting out a groan as the pain pierced through the adrenaline. 

        Sati scowled at him as he circled around, trying to get a stab in with every few steps. With each dodge Athaal made, he felt his strength dwindle. His rage had strained his body to its maximum, and right now it was almost as if he could feel his muscles breaking down from the inside. Even in the midst of the fight he struggled to keep eyes focused. As he circled he chanced a look over at Morad; the body looked like it had been stricken by an enraged linac, so severe were the wounds Athaal had caused with his large blade. It worried him that he had no control over himself, but he could not allow himself to focus on that while his life was at risk.

Athaal dodged and his hoofs buckled underneath him. Sati instantly seized the opportunity and managed to land a thrust into Athaal’s wounded shoulder. Clenching his teeth together, Athaal grabbed hold of Sati’s hoof and held him in place. Athaal roared in pain as he thrusted himself and his sword forward with a last effort of strength, effectively piercing through the couplings on Sati’s armor. His large blade hit with such force that it lifted the lesser soldier off the ground, and as Athaal let go of it. The pierced body continued its path, landing upon the rock with a clank.

Athaal collapsed and hit the ground along with his blade, and adrenaline seeped out of his system. He felt the small cuts all over his body together with the now large gash at his shoulder. Trying to pull the sword out, he flinched, feeling it tug at his very bones.

        Trixie and Arien quickly huddled over him, both looking at him with concern chiseled in their features. “Hold still,” Arien said, before he quickly pulled the blade out without warning. Athaal cried out in both surprise and pain. Instantly, Arien put pressure upon the wound, and ordered Trixie to run and fetch some leaves and some fabric. 

        “How’s Moxie? Did they touch her? I don’t remember.” Athaal croaked as Arien tended his wound. 

        “You didn’t give them the chance,” Arien reassured.

        Athaal closed his eyes, “Good…” he said, barely flinching as more pressure was added to his shoulder.

        The general tied a last knot and turned to Trixie, “Stay with him. If you find anything in that book that might help, please use it. We need a lot of water if we’re going to make it.” he said and left.

        “Hold on, I’ll try to find something.” Trixie said and dove her nose down into the book.

Athaal closed his eyes again, listening to the calm sounds around him; it was all so serene right now. He heard the sound of wind striking the leaves, riling up the birds within the forest, as well as the occasional flip of paper. The sun warmed him with comfort. It was around the time that they were supposed to leave and the sun no longer burned, rather it soothed.

        Suddenly he felt a jolt of pain shooting through his shoulder, making him gasp for air. He turned and saw Trixie’s hoof putting pressure on the bandages. He looked at her with a mix of anger and confusion, uncertain of what was going on.

        “Don’t fall asleep,” she simply ordered.

Athaal sighed; she was probably right. He needed to stay awake, ready to move as soon as possible. He figured they could begin to move as soon as Arien returned. He flinched, feeling the wound pulse; it wasn’t lethal, but it could quickly become so as they traveled. The touch of the unicorn softened, slowly.

        “Thank you…” she said softly.

He looked at her, momentarily stunned by how vulnerable she looked when she said it. It became clear for him that she was not used to relying on others, nor being used to showing gratitude. Perhaps a life of struggles unknown to himself was what caused her to push everything away from her. He was inclined to ask more. He hated to admit it, but she had gained his curiosity and gratefulness. Perhaps what Saif saw in her was true, he wondered silently.

        “Just help my wife, and we’ll call it even.” Athaal responded and tried a laugh.

        “I will…” she responded quickly before falling silent again, returning her attention to the book.

Trixie’s mirth was barely concealed as she found what she needed. She turned to Athaal and began to remove the bandages. He almost protested as blood began to drip down his fur, but seeing the determined gaze upon the mare he decided to wait and see what she was planning. As the wrappings were removed from him, she halted and took a deep breath. With closed eyes as she focused, her horn began to glow and magic embraced the white tissue on her own shoulder where the wound had been. It cracked loudly, slowly becoming liquid again. She winced as she pulled it off her own wound, revealing a bare, pink skin underneath; Athaal marveled at how effective it had been.

        “Hold still, I’ve not done this before.” She said and slowly lowered the white mass towards him and began to recite words taken from the book.

        Athaal gnawed his teeth shut, feeling how the white mass buried underneath his skin, pressing the wound shut. Almost as if it had a painkilling effect, the stings dissipated slowly while the liquid grew to a hard shell. Soon his whole shoulder grew numb, and the rush of adrenaline went to his head, causing him to become slightly light-headed. He remained still as magic flowed over him, swirling out in magnificent glowing lances, bending elegantly as if they were in water. He looked over at the unicorn, and saw how her eyes were forced shut, and how her forehead scrunched downwards as beads of sweat rolled down her fur. Tempted to make her stop, he decided against it, not knowing what would happen if he broke her trance.

        The magic threads exploded soundlessly over him in a bright flash, remaining over his eyes like a star filled night with its fading flicker. He attempted to rise, having an entirely new sensation in his shoulder. He had never used magic to mend his battle wounds before. He rolled his shoulder around carefully, flinching as it stung with the movements. He tried putting pressure on it, crumbling down to the ground again as the muscles caved under him. He closed his eyes and sighed, forcing the frustration down.

Trixie breathed heavy, supporting herself on her hoofs. Even as young as she was, the spell took much of her energy. Athaal marveled at the old priests once he figured the mental stamina they would need to have to perform their magic when he looked at Trixie. She was young enough to take the strain of the spell, but when Rishad had cast it his age had became apparent. Even with his poorly hidden admiration he was still determined to punish the church and the priests for the crimes they had done against ponies in the past.

        “Is your shoulder okay?” He asked, an oddity rising within him, exchanging pleasantries with this mare wasn’t something that was at the top of his list.

        She blinked, looking at him with slight puzzlement drawn over her, before she smiled meekly. “Yes… it worked wonders.”

        He tried to rise again, in futility. “Damn it!” he winced through clenched teeth, cursing no one but himself for his powerlessness.

        An odd sensation pressed him downwards, forcing his limbs to stretch out. He saw Trixie’s horn light up, forcing her magic upon him. He began to thrash slightly, barely getting any movement at all before the magic tightened around him. The magic began to constrict his limbs and neck, tightening its grip the more he moved. The magic was different, it didn’t hold any of the extravagant features the early ones did; nor did she look in the book for it.

        He glared towards the unicorn, “Release me at once!” he ordered.

        The unicorn looked at him with saddened eyes, “No…”

        “What’s gotten into you?” Athaal asked, flexing his muscles even harder in attempt to break the magical chains.

        Her horn flashed up, and the binds grew stronger. “You will remain lying down ‘til the wound has healed.” She stated.

        “Who are you to give me orders?!” Athaal growled, yanking his hoofs harder, feeling the bonds loosen slightly.  “You may have the freedom to do as you please in Equestria, but here you should tread lightly!”

        “Be quiet!” Trixie hissed in retort.

        He froze momentarily, setting hard eyes at her, waiting for something more sensible.

        “What do you plan on doing now? You can barely stand at this time. Whether you realize it or not, you need to rest; let the magic work and tend your wound.”

        “I’ve got no time to rest, we need to get going, now!” he answered, feeling his insides boil up again.

        “Then what? What good will it do if you died on your way there?” Trixie pointed towards the sleeping form of Moxie, “I will not let you stand up, if only for her sake. How do you think she would feel if she came to at the graveyard, without you at her side? You have struggled this far, and if you refuse to allow yourself to take the better choice, I will do it for you.”

        “I will make it up there, alive!”

“I promised to help her, and I will do just that, even if it means keeping you locked down like this for hours!” Trixie stopped, taking a deep breath. “I won’t let you stand up, the future is not only yours any more… Don’t let your foal grow up without a father.” she said in a hushed, cracked voice.

He stared intently at her, his rising anger vanishing in a heartbeat. The way her head and eyes turned from him, he saw a faint glimmer of watery pearls forming in her eyes, only visible in the sun. She was right, and he knew it; with every fiber of his body, he knew it. He had refused to allow himself to be weak, and vulnerable. For once he needed to put his faith in someone else and trust her decision and knowledge. 

        He sighed, “Fine… but at least help me get up so I can rest next to her,” he said as he submitted.

The bonds broke, leaving him free to move as he wished. The unicorn helped him get up, supporting him as they wobbled over to Moxie. He flinched slightly as he lay down behind his wife’s back, but what pain was left had vanished quickly.

“We will leave as soon as you can move with ease; ‘til then I will help Arien with gathering what we need. Just try to relax just a little longer.” Trixie seemingly ordered him as she made her way over to the forest.

        Arien emerged from the forest with the stretcher behind him. He stopped briefly as Trixie ventured over to him, before he pointed towards the forest again and set Trixie off in that direction. Then he resumed his path towards where Moxie lay. Under the watchful eye of Athaal, he carefully maneuvered her on the stretcher, and placed canteens of water on the top.

Arien turned to Athaal, a surprised expression falling over him as he saw the shoulder. “Is that…?” He asked quickly.

“Yes, she pulled it off her own shoulder so I could heal faster. Since the wound is so fresh, we can hopefully leave in a few hours.” Athaal responded with a hopeful tone in his voice.

        Arien smiled ruefully at him. “We’ll leave when you’re ready, and not a moment before…” he said stoically. “Your brother will wait for us near the graveyard, he has enough water to wait for a long while.”

Athaal opened his mouth to protest. He wanted to say that he could walk now if he wanted to, based solely upon the promise he had given to Moxie. Once more he found his spirit and heart being crushed by the grim reality, and no matter how much he wanted it otherwise, he couldn’t change it. He let his eyes wander over the sleeping body of his wife, a smile tugging upon his lips; no joy was left within him. It pained him to hear the short, shallow breaths from her, as much as it pained him to see the rose colored cheeks upon the pale fur. He stretched out a hoof and pushed away hair that had fallen over her muzzle, and as she frowned, there was a short stab within his chest. He was frustrated, almost to the brink of tears, for his inability to act on the best interest for both of them. He scooted a little closer to her, letting his muzzle barely touch her chest, and took a deep breath; no matter what happened, they would go through it together, life or death.

> Chapter 11 - Fida
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	
Fida


Saif scrunched his snout; he was less than happy to be this far away from Trixie and Athaal, especially after he found out what had happened earlier today. His mind conflicted between his need to hold her close, comforting her when she needed him, and his loyalty to his brother. He had decided the moment he met them at the rock, seeing his beaten up brother and the terrified look upon Trixie: He would ask Athaal to release him from his duty and ask Trixie to move together with him. Where he was not sure, but as long as they were together he didn’t mind. No more of this reckless traveling, no more danger. He would live life as a family stallion, and he hoped with his whole heart that she would want that as well. What she said after their night together still made him worry. 

Attempting to push his mind over to something else, he tried focusing on what lay ahead. The linac camp he had discovered upon his initial scouting trip was stationed far away enough for them to be no immediate threat, but once he blew the signal horn they would need to move fast, if he needed to blow it at all. They had agreed for him to only use it if there were linacs approaching the graveyard. If it was only one, he would be able to take it out; if there were more than that, he would need to gain their attention and draw them away. An unnerving idea, he thought. It would at least mean that the Equestrian army would come to their aid rather quickly. He could only hope that they managed to move quickly and reach the graveyard before anything happened.

He had a great view of the area between him, the graveyard and the border of Equestria. From the tree top he had found he could almost see all the way to the camp itself. It was barely hidden behind the back of a large, red mountain topped with a green oasis. The mountain stretched upwards and even further into the land of Equestria, slowly acquiring a grayer color; they had named it Twassil, the mountain that connects, but he was sure it had another name in Equestria. From its root sprouted lush forest from the water falling down, traveling from the top of its part in Equestria to give further life to the desert. He imagined the grass and trees being softer than those he rested upon, which the sun had left dry and sharp as razors.

Coming around the back of the mountain he spotted two large forms making their way towards him. He quickly covered himself in a large leaf from the tree and remained unmoving. It took a painstakingly long time for them to get close enough for him to even make out some details from them. It was no doubt linacs making their way towards the graveyard. Once they had their backs turned to him he began his descent from the top, flaring his wings out and gliding forward. The sun quickly scorched his wings and forced him to land earlier than he had hoped, but he managed it without a sound. He began to stalk them from a safe distance, checking the readiness of his horn at all times.

He embarked upon the large dune, carefully pushing aside the grass and bushes that grew there; keeping a fixed eye on the two linacs walking in front of him. They had the same markings upon their backs as the ones from earlier. He was certain, however, that they had a different color underneath the yellow stripe, as if their tribe colors had been painted over. One of them also had large scars running down his side, most likely from fighting another linac. Several ideas floated around as to why; one was that they had begun to gather under a single leader. Which would also explain their organized patrolling of the desert. It was all new behavior for Saif, and he had read quite the amount about the linacs under his training. Nothing had mentioned them being sentient to the level of organizing like this.

Seeing them headed straight to the graveyard, he quickly scurried over their path behind them.  Saif didn’t understand magic very much, but he could imagine the level required for the ritual Trixie would perform in the graveyard would create big flashes and some sound. Any closer now and they would be able to see everything. He needed to act within the next few seconds. He began to move behind them, close to the border. If he could get them to chase, he would need to meet the army if he were to survive at all. He imagined flying would be easier, but they wouldn’t have any interest in him then; he needed to stay grounded for a little while at least. Besides, the heat would force him down quickly. Even this far north it was still unbearable. 

Confident that they hadn’t noticed him just yet, he huddled down underneath a large rock, cooling what little he could in its shadow before he needed to run for his life. He took a deep breath, attempting to force his heart to a resting pace, but the mere thought of what he was going to do made it hammer in his chest, and adrenaline began to hit his joints. A sense of excitement struck him, much like the first time he went on a mission after his graduation. Perhaps he would miss this when he settled down, but it would be a small price to pay.

He looked forward, spotting a large gathering of stones and red mountains a mere hundred paces to his left. Being so much smaller than the linacs, he would be able to hide there if needed, where he could draw out the time.

He put the horn to his lips and took a deep breath, readying. Then he froze, hearing heavy breathing close to him, quickly followed by sand moving as a great weight walked upon it. His heart froze as he saw the scaled snout of a linac plunge towards him from behind the rock. In a second that seemed like hours, he saw how the purple pupil of it changed size as it focused on him, a mad glint within much like the one he saw the night he got the horn. His eyes refused to close, and his body shook violently seeing the scaly head leaning even further in, the white flesh above the teeth visible. A large gash was apparent on his neck, coagulated black blood made it look like a void of nothingness. As it snarled, showing teeth shining with its poisonous saliva, he snapped out of the freeze. He flung sand into its eyes and began to run towards the stones as the linac howled in anger. 

Not gaining more than a few seconds lead before he heard the thundering form behind him, he knew then that he wouldn’t have time to fly away. Linacs had rumors surrounding them that they could jump high enough to grab hold pegasi flying too low. The stone gathering he saw earlier was getting closer, but from behind he heard the growls nearing as well. His chest constricted as he focused his eyes forward, squinting. A burning sensation slowly emerged from within him, each breath stinging.

Reaching the small mountain, he frantically began to search the edges for a way in. Once he found a crack, he slipped in, huddling as close to the center as he could. The linac attempted to stretch towards him, growling in anger as it got no more than its fist inside. Saif sighed, tried forcing his pulse down again. He was safe for now. Hearing the linac hammer at the stones, it was undoubtedly just a matter of time before other animals or linacs would hear the noise and come to check it out. He reached for the horn, looking down in terror as it was missing from his side. He tossed his head to the side, scanning the area around him, hoping it had been lost within the crack; his muscles jolted together as he saw it behind the beast threatening to kill him.

He had no choice. The warning needed to be sent. Going against a linac alone wasn’t at the top of his list of things he wanted to do, but, like last time, the situation called for it. He only hoped that the linac would grow tired in the heat quicker than him, for one mistake would cost him his life; one mistake could cost him his newfound dream. Taking a deep breath, he slammed his hoof to his side, expanded his wristblade and readied it. He forced his breath to slow down, focusing intently on the movements the linac had towards him. The moment he saw the claws come close enough, he shot his hoof forward, digging the blade deep within one of the fingers of it. It roared in anger and pain, jumping a good distance back, giving Saif room to get out with one quick leap.

Immediately he had the horn over his shoulder again, his hoofs burying deep into the soil as he stopped abruptly. The linac had its focus on him once more, and it leapt forward. Saif ducked and sliced at its tail as it crashed into the stone behind him. His hope for an easy way out was put on hold as the beast turned towards him before the sound of the crash had vanished. The irises of it widened in anger as it eyed the pegasus, measuring him.

It leaped forward, clawing after the pegasus as he barely managed to keep up with the speed the attacks came at. Saif tried getting a few stabs in, but the dodging required all of his focus. Then a sudden overhead swipe took him off guard, clasping down upon his tail, effectively stopping him. He drilled the wristblade down in the scaly palm of it, and, through more roars of pain, it struck him with one hand as it pulled the other back, sending him into the rocks at high speed. Jolts of pain traveled up his spine and stars danced over his vision as the loud crack of ribs came upon impact.

He wheezed slightly, blood passing his lips, coloring the sand red. His muscles trembled as he regained his hoofing; if not for the adrenaline, he would not be able to stand. The linac rushed at him once more, its mouth open like the serrated maw of the abyss. Saif tried to move, but his hoofs were frozen in place. Only by reflex did he pull the aquamarine blade from its sheath upon his chest, and quickly put it in front of himself.

The linac crashed into him, both thundered into the rocks, Saif feeling more bones breaking upon impact. Its teeth bored into his neck and shoulder, the light armor of the watanï offering little resistance. The blade, easily broken by the impact of the large creature, burrowed into his shoulder, together with the serrated teeth of the linac upon his neck and chest. His own blood seeping out from the wounds, mixing with the black of the linac.

Saif coughed, a rattling sounded deep within his lungs as he took a breath, making it clear that he was bleeding internally. He tried to will himself to move with little success, and he laughed. The linac lay unmoving upon him, dead as the blade had penetrated its tiny brain. Then he laughed even louder, a desperate laugh. Then he cried, just as loud, a cry that would chill even the toughest pony to the bone. A mix of tears and blood painted the linac’s large head, Saif cried at the cruel touch of fate. For once he had had somepony other than himself to fight for, someone other than his brother, he had something to look forward to, somepony to hold close, just for it to be taken away from him so easily.

He fiddled the side for the horn, struggling to operate it with only one hoof able to move. Each tiny breath hurt him, but he forced himself to take a last deep breath. Perhaps he would not survive this day, but the life of many others would be safe, if only he could blow the horn. He closed his eyes, forcing himself to stop sobbing, and he blew, the sound almost as loud as the linac’s roar. He dropped the horn onto the sand, and laughed manically, cursing his own luck, before he looked up at the sky for the last time.


*~*~*~*


Athaal walked beside Arien, making sure the old pony was faring well. Even with the white healing formula attached to his shoulder, he didn’t have enough strength to pull Moxie forward. He was thankful that Arien had offered his assistance once more. He looked next to him where Trixie walked, supporting him as best as she could. Each step he took sent a jittering sensation of pain rushing through him. After countless hours of this, it became more and more obvious that she strained herself to keep him on his hoofs, for she flinched slightly each time he buckled. She did not raise her voice over it, for her stubbornness did not allow it.

At first the entrance to the graveyard seemed like a black dot in the green and orange wilderness, soon it opened up like a gaping maw, threatening to devour anything that came close to it. The path they had walked vanished as they neared, what before could have reminded them of a distinguished road turned to overgrown walkways almost impossible to see. They entered the abyss with heavy hearts and lost thoughts; they were so near, and yet it could all end horribly for them all. The white aura of unicorn magic lit up the black walls, a terrifying vision for them. Critters with glowing eyes followed them as they passed, roots twisted into wicked forms hung from the ceiling and protruded from the walls. The further they went, the heavier the air smelled of dirt and mold. Water dripped from the roots and onto the soil, making it rich and soft to walk on. In time, time that seemed like days underneath the ground, they saw light shine as the path expanded to a great, vast valley. Here, there were no signs of life apart from them; the last life was left in the cave they traversed. Athaal shuddered, large curved rib bones sliced up towards the sky, some broken, and some whole, in their awe inspiring size one could only imagine the size of some of the dragons that roamed the land. Smaller bones were scattered on the ground, not much larger than a pair of ponies; some even had remnants of decaying flesh upon them. Between the foul smell and horrid vision of the blackened meat Athaal decided it was a fitting place for a dragon to take its last fiery breath of life, and hope bloomed within him as he saw the end of their journey.

Arien unhitched the stretcher and placed Moxie carefully on the barren soil. He then began to turn his head, looking at the place they were at. “Pretty massive,” he simply noted.

Athaal huddled on the ground next to Moxie, placing his hoof upon her forehead and throat. Her breathing had become shallower. “Yes, it is, let’s get this over with. Could you go and find the bone marrow? The fresher, the better,” he ordered and pointed toward a secluded area of the graveyard. Arien quickly nodded and sped off.

Trixie gazed upon the two, freezing as Athaal turned to her. The unicorn hesitantly began to place the different ingredients out, and shifted the pages in the book, stopping as she reached the middle. Her hoofs shivered as she placed the vials, opening them up so she could withdraw the powder from them easily, almost knocking them over in the process. The loud clink of glass against glass was the only sound near them, making it sharp and mind piercing. 

Athaal jumped around by the sound and leapt over. “Careful!” he hissed.

“I am careful!” Trixie snapped back at him.

He furrowed his brows and rose his head towards her, his mouth stopping as he attempted to speak. Trixie’s whole body shook as she tried her best to glare defiantly at him. But for all that she tried to remain stoic and angry, he saw something else. She shivered, her eyes wide as she looked at him. Her mind betrayed her body, showing her true emotions. Her teeth jittered together and in the corner of her eyes moisture began to gather. She turned her head slightly away from him and put a hoof over her muzzle, trying to hide how she bit her lips together.

“I am careful…” she squeaked once more, her lower lip trembling as the words passed.

Athaal felt witless as he watched her trembling body, he never knew casting a spell would put such strain upon her. He rested a hoof upon her shoulder. “I didn’t mean to raise my voice, it’s just that... I can’t bear the thought of losing her. It’s a fear that I have lived with for the past few days, and it can still come to a reality if we’re not careful,” he slowly pulled her in, his stomach doing a short stab within him for his gesture. “Thank you…  I really mean it, I’ll make sure that you get home after this.” 

She sighed and closed her eyes, giving no answer, rather she pushed away from him, slouching her body down and seemingly wanting to vanish. Athaal stepped back and stared confused at her, wondering if he had done something unjust, if he had breached a custom over in Equestria. The lack of answer annoyed him, but it was not for him to decide her answer. If one chose not to speak it would be rude for him to ask any further, the thoughts of her inner mind were hers and hers alone, she would only need to speak them if she thought it necessary. The strain put upon her mind was massive, as well as the strain they had experienced the last day. Now that they were here, Athaal could almost cry tears of joy, but he dared not to before he could see Moxie open her eyes again. 

At the side of his view was Arien waving him over. As he hobbled over the general spoke, “There’s a newly dead dragon over here, but we need to cut the bone out.”

Athaal cast a look behind him, seeing Trixie reading the book near Moxie. He nodded and followed Arien as he led the way over. After a short walk they came close to the dragon. Luckily, it wasn’t a large one; it was almost small enough to be counted as a drake rather than a dragon. Athaal ran his hoof down the side of the golden scales of the body, feeling the toughness in them. Its wings were curled up to his body, the light skin between the willowy bones had been the first to decay for it was riddled with holes. From the mouth it had many snake like growth, almost making it look like a beard. The head was tilted slightly to the sky and its crimson red eye gazed upon the blue sky above where it once had roamed freely. It became quickly obvious for them that the stomach had softer scales and would be easier to cut, but the thigh bones would grant more marrow.

Arien placed a hoof upon the decaying hind leg. “How much do we need?” he wondered.

Athaal drew his sword and poked a few times at the scales. “I’m not sure, I think if we take one of the larger bones it will be enough; a thigh bone,” he answered absently, marveling over the magnificent creature that laid before him. Once part of the ruling race of Equestria, no other being able to stand next to it in power, now to serve another purpose.

Athaal closed his eyes and prayed for the soul of this dragon which would help them complete their journey; also praying its soul would find peace in the endless halls of the afterlife together with its kind. Then he slid the sword up underneath one of the scales and yanked it up, sending a loud crack over the graveyard. He continued to peel off the scales, becoming more and more appreciative that he didn’t have to fight one of them; with each movement of the sword sending jolts of pain through his shoulder, it would have been his last fight.  Arien came up next to him and drew his own sword and began to aid with removing the scales.

The dragon was fresh enough for it to bleed as some scales got ripped out instead of breaking. Soon the black skin of the dragon became visible, looking soft to touch, while the red pooled over it. Athaal ran his hoof over the large scale less area and wondered about just how recently this dragon had died, for the muscles were still soft with no rotting apparent. He shrugged and positioned the blade once he found a proper place, then pushed it forward, quickly penetrating the tissue, and as he sliced blood began to gush out, pooling at their hoofs. Athaal halted slightly as he felt the warm liquid hit him, by how it bleed it couldn’t be more than half a day old. He touched the skin again, feeling warmth radiate beneath his hoof; perhaps, he thought, it was the fire magic that kept it warm longer? He shrugged, knowing he still had little time to waste and continued.

Arien stepped up and began to help, cutting off pieces, tossing them on the ground with a plump sound. They worked tirelessly for what seemed like hours, but the sun above betrayed their notions of time. The blades slowly turned dull as more and more of the white bone became visible. They finally reached the top of the femur. At first they tried a quick, hard pull, with little effect, only when Athaal struck the joint with his blade multiple times, they gained some effect. It tilted over and only remained up due to its attached lower limb. They quickly hammered the joint and the large femur fell to the ground with a thud.

Athaal lifted it up over his shoulder and began to drag it forward, the bone sloping after him on the ground, being almost twice as long as him. Half way he stopped, giving his shoulder rest before he continued forward again. The scraping on the gravel echoing as the only sound produced apart from the gusts that whistled through the valley now. He grunted as he finally reached where Trixie waited for him, soon as the bone hit the ground he drew his sword again and cracked it open; revealing the dark red bone marrow within. He sighed in relief and halted as he saw the horrified look upon her face. His hoofs bloody from the work, along with most of his coat; it was understandable for her to wonder.

“Are we ready to begin?” he asked.

She snapped out of her revery, her face turning to a mask of still fear once more. “Yes…” she squeaked, voice crackling with pent up emotions; emotions Athaal had no understanding of.

He slid over to Moxie’s side, choosing to rather focus on her than to give more of his energy on things he wouldn’t understand. Sitting down next to her, he carefully woke her and placed her head upon his lap. The black mark had visibly expanded, pulsing with life as it stretched over her eyes. Running a hoof through her cherry mane, he hummed softly. Her eyes slowly opened, no white left within them; her beautiful orange iris was completely surrounded by a void blackness. Just the sight of it made him want to flinch back, but he swallowed the shock and continued to hum, as he had done so many times for her. Her smile resonated with his tune, just barely, for it was weak, weaker than what he had ever seen. He lifted her up, placing her in the groove of his neck, cradling her back and forth as he still hummed for her.

“We’re here, Moxie, we made it. Everything will turn out fine,” he whispered after a few seconds, and he glanced over to see Trixie watching them, quickly returning to the magic as she saw him returning the stare.

“I’m sorry, Athaal…” Moxie squeaked, her voice a dry husk of the soft one he was used to.

He pushed aside strands of her mane. “Why?” he simply asked, uncertain why he felt tears beginning to gather up in his eyes, and his throat clenched together.

The faint glimmer in her tears seemed like pure diamonds as the sunrays hit them against the black in her eyes. “I’m sorry for all of this, you would be better off without me, everypony would be… I’ve brought you nothing but pain and trouble.” Her hoof carefully touched the wound on his shoulder, her lower lip trembling. “This is my fault… I’m sorry for what pain I’ve caused,” she said, voice choking back tears.

Athaal’s vision blurred from the moisture building up, his heart knotted and skipped a beat as he realized what she was trying to say. “No, no, no, Moxie,” he started, turning her head towards his, forcing her attention to him. “We’re here, our trip is over for now. You’ll be fine, and don’t you dare to think otherwise.”

Tears from her eyes flowed freely as she looked at him. “I can’t…”Moxie stopped, her eyes closing once more. “I love you…” her voice lingered through the air, a hollow, shaken whisper.

“What about what you said earlier today?” Athaal shouted, his muscles trembling as he tried his best to remain in control. “We’re going to be parents, Moxie. I need you for that. You promised me that you wouldn’t give up.” Gaining no response from her he took hold of her shoulders and shook them, first carefully, then desperation took hold over him and made him shake much harder. Still no reaction from her. He felt his body droop down over her, losing all semblance of strength. “Then what are you doing now…?” he asked with a broken voice. He screamed, maybe he hoped it would wake her, but it was a scream of desperation, filled with all of his hurt and pain. Followed by mournful wails as he clutched the lifeless body of his wife tighter to himself.

Over the sound of his own cries he heard the hiss of magic, Trixie focused intently as her white aura embraced the ingredients. The golden dust pulled from the urn, flowing around her as if it were a wave of water that danced in thin air. The blue liquid from the other urn joined the dust, and together they undulated in sync around the unicorn in a way that Athaal could only consider beautiful, and it filled him with hope. It was what they came here for. Till now it could all have been in vain, but as the magic danced around the unicorn it all seemed to fall in place. The ingredients twisted together flawlessly, twined together like a web, yet never merged in mix. The air around her became littered with pearls, some white as newly fallen snow and others green as the most pristine emeralds; and soon pearls of the whole rainbow filled the air around the unicorn. Lastly the magic siphoned the marrow from the bone. The marrow centered in front of the unicorn, while the dust and liquid continued their mesmerizing dance as the incantation was spoken.

Athaal cradled Moxie again. “She’s doing it, Moxie. Just you wait, it will be fine,” he sniffled, his voice breaking as the knot in his throat became too much. “You just have to wait a little longer, for me… wait for me… there’s so much more of life we have to see. I can’t be a father without you… I don’t want to be anything without you! I need you…” 

The ground underneath Trixie crackled as makeshift lightning struck, and winds whipped her mane upwards. Her horn lit up with intensity Athaal had never witnessed before; the light striking several hoofs forward, looking like a blade slicing through the air. Her eyes glowed the same way, so bright with white that her irises were completely gone. The orbs around her now shook violently, thundering together in their bright colors. The wind around her howled as it grew into a sphere of sand and dust, the sound growing so loud that it rang in his ears. Athaal remembered that Rishad had told him that the magic of Eran was no trifle trick, but this was far beyond his wildest dreams. He imagined the terrifying power that rushed through the veins of the unicorn.

“Athaal, move away from her, now!” Trixie bellowed, her voice no longer soft, rather thundering with unchecked power.

With only a second’s hesitation, he placed Moxie down and quickly moved away, ending up at the same place as Arien, both standing wide eyed and terrified. The moment he was clear from her, a magic lance shot between the two mares. The colors of the ingredients mixed together with the magic, lightning crackling as they moved together down the lance towards Moxie. As soon as they hit, he saw her writhe in pain, more and more as they all merged within her. His first instinct was to jump in, to remove her from the pain, but he realized that no matter what happened now, it was not up to him; he was rendered powerless as his wife and Trixie began to levitate above the ground. 

The lightning around the lance faded, and a black substance became visible within it; traveling towards the unicorn. Trixie’s eyes, now back to seemingly normal, filled up with terror as she saw the blackness traveling towards her. She flinched as something pulled out through her, shifting places with the disease.

Athaal shouted Trixie’s name loudly, hoping to get her attention. Multiple efforts was needed before she turned her head towards him and smiled weakly. “Thank you, your decision to save me gave me longer time upon this planet, I would be long gone if it weren’t for that. I… could you tell Saif… I’m sorry. I treated him badly and he didn’t deserve it; I’m sorry I never returned his feelings. And I’m sorry for what trouble I’ve caused.” She smiled contently, her eyes revealed sadness, but nothing else did.  Small crystals began to emerge upon her horn, growing from the base and creeping upwards. “This is the least I can do… Take good care of each other, Athaal… be happy,” she said, as the black from the lance finally ended and, her eyes filled with blackness before both the mares fell to the ground with a thud. The sphere that had covered both of them exploded outwards, shaking everyone near violently, forcing both Athaal and Arien down to their knees. Around them bones shattered into pieces, burrowing deep into the walls of the valley from the sheer force of pressure.

Athaal and Arien both rushed over, both equally confused. Athaal quickly checked Moxie, feeling the weight upon his shoulders removed and replaced by an elevating happiness. He turned to Arien and Trixie with a smile crossing his lips. Moxie was alive. They made it. The feeling of dread he had mere minutes before replaced with blissful happiness as the black had vanished from her completely. If he had had any strength left in him, he would have shouted to the heavens in joy. However, his immediate joy slowly vanished as he saw the grim mask of Arien. The general stood motionless over the unicorn’s body, checking for vital signs with trained hoofs. 

“She’s dead,” he stated quickly without removing his eyes from her.

Athaal felt a shock going through his heart, like it got stabbed with a serrated needle. “But…?” he squeaked.

Arien closed her eyelids with a hoof, covering the pitch black irises. “The spell must have taken her life to rid Moxie of the disease,” he reasoned.

The young noble took a few steps over, his mind in disbelief. They might have had their differences, but not once did he wish death upon her. Then a revelation struck him, and he sunk to the ground, hoofs buckling underneath him. This was the reason she had acted so weird the last few days… she knew what would happen here. He could only begin to imagine how terribly afraid she must have been, and he was the one who pushed her forward, angry at her in her last moments, yet she went through with it. Athaal clenched his teeth together and let a heart shattering sulk escape him.

Arien leaned forward, stroking his back. “It’s not like you knew, is it?”

He shook his head. “No… but she did,” Athaal cried and pointed at Trixie’s unmoving body.

Before either could celebrate the removal of the disease, nor mourn the death of Trixie, the sound of a horn blared from far away. They both quickly looked at each other, knowing it was Saif’s signal to the Equestrian border. Linacs were nearby. 

Arien quickly strapped the stretcher upon him again, and began to move. Athaal ran over to Trixie’s body and tried lifting it up on his back.

“Leave her!” Arien shouted.

“I can’t leave her here,” the noble objected, determined to give Trixie a funeral worthy of a queen.

“She will slow us down, we must be fast!” Arien explained quickly.

Athaal hesitated, his shoulder shooting jolts through his spine with every attempt he did upon lifting her. Closing his eyes, he sighed. The general was right; they needed to move fast, and it wouldn’t be possible with Trixie looping over him. Regretfully he let her go, and flinched slightly as she fell upon the ground, not even a slight hint of life within her. Then he ran, as fast as he could with his limp. Catching up to Arien, they moved in quick pace towards where Saif agreed to meet them. 

Athaal’s mind grew dark, how would he tell his brother? 

As they reached the edge leading towards Equestria, several linac roars could be heard echoing over the desert. A still terror crept over him and his mind went over to his brother. If he were close to that many linacs, Eran knows how he would survive. He focused his mind again, deciding to worry about any eventual outcomes after they had reached the agreed location.

        Minutes seemed like hours as they ran, no sound part from the wind came, the stillness setting a terrifying seed of doubt within him. What terrible fate had he given his own brother?

        The heat was taking its toll, leaving them thirsty and exhausted. Athaal constantly checked how Moxie was doing, giving her water in short breaks, and dousing her mane and coat in what little water he could spare of his own ration. It was not nearly enough in an ideal situation but it had to do for now, he needed to survive as well. He knew that if he did not get help soon his wound would get infected, the white magic mixture helped to a degree, but it had used most of its power to heal Trixie.

They reached the dead tree where Saif would have waited for them. Seeing no sign of him, Athaal’s heart sunk. He was now sure his brother had given his life for the sake of protecting him and his family. Hopelessness washed over him and once more strength left him. He buckled to the ground. 

        “Athaal…” Arien tried.

        “It’s my fault… everything is my fault!” he cried. 

        “Saif did what he thought was best, but we need to move, we can’t—“

        Athaal looked up, trying to figure out what had caused the general to stop. Swiping the moisture in his eyes away, he squinted through the waves of heat that rose from the ground. Between the mirages he saw a large body of ponies approaching them, their blue armor glinting sharply in the sun.

        A unicorn dressed in a deep orange armor ordered a halt as they reached the three of them. Blue calculating eyes watched him underneath the helmet, adorned with a red plume on top. A slender light yellow neck was barely visible underneath. A long yellow mane, with darker yellow stripes poked out from the back of the leader’s neck.

        “Are you Athaal?” the leader asked in a fluent Saddle Arabic and feminine tone, catching Athaal off guard, not used to mares addressing him from a rank in his own language.

        Too tired to wonder about why she knew his name, or what hid underneath the helm, he simply answered. “Yes…”

        She turned to Arien and Moxie, “Then this must be your wife, and the general Arien, I’ve heard about you.” 

Both Athaal and Arien looked at the soldiers from Equestria with complete confusion. Their perplexed stared must have been somewhat entertaining, for within the rows came snickers and subdues chuckles. They immediately stood in attention the moment their leader turned her head slightly.

        She turned back. “Your brother sent us to get you. Come, we must leave before the rest of the tribe shows up.” She bowed slightly towards Athaal. “May my soldiers help ease your burden by carrying your wife? We have a sturdier stretcher available,” she asked respectfully.

        Athaal turned and saw Arien breathing heavily, he then nodded and a few of the soldiers made way over and moved her carefully over to the new stretcher. They quickly moved forward, towards the border of Equestria and to relative safety. Arien and Athaal were placed between the squad itself and its leader.

        “My brother… he’s alive?” Athaal asked quickly as he made his best effort to keep up with the speed with his limp.

        The commander’s eyes turned dark, and her lips tightened slightly. “Yes, we found your brother barely conscious due east of here. We sent him to our medical tent immediately, for his condition is critical; if he makes it through the night we will send him to Canterlot, where he will have a better team of medical staff around him.”

        The momentary joy of hearing that his brother was alive were quickly subdued as it was replaced by the thought of perhaps losing him again. “May I have your name?” he asked.

        The general smiled slightly. “Stella Lux, but you may call me Stella as long as you are within my camp and under my protection.”

        The name rolled oddly off his tongue, almost artificial to him, but so it was with many Equestrian names. “Stella Lux, you have my eternal gratitude,” Athaal said and bowed as deep as their traveling speed allowed. 

        Soon, they saw trees and crags grow up in the horizon. A large wooden spike fence enclosed a camp with blue and white tents. Seeing it rise up, Athaal just now felt how exhausted he was, muscles ached, and his mind completely drained from the ordeal. But now, for the first time in a long while, he felt hopeful. He somehow knew that it was going to be fine: his brother would survive, and so would Moxie. Then his mind went to Trixie once more. How would Saif take the news?

        “Stella, is there any chance for your squad to go back into the graveyard?” Athaal asked, in a final hope to get Trixie home as he promised her.

        Stella looked at him, a curious scrunch over her eyes. “We could in a while, if given a good reason?” she both stated and asked.

        “There’s somepony in there. Sadly, she’s dead, but she gave my family life and hope… I would like to give her a proper funeral,” he answered coolly.

        “Very well, I’ll send two pegasi over there once the sun falls a bit more, then they can fly and scout overhead rather than walk,” Stella answered, her tone stating that it was no use arguing over the time.

        “Thank you,” Athaal said, then he looked back towards Moxie and smiled. 


* * * * *


        The border camp of the Equestrian army was vast and solid. They had managed to erect a large stone tower allowing them to gaze far into the desert of Saddle-Arabia. It was clear that this post was intended to stay for a while: some of the soldiers had begun to grow crops in a field made near the outer fence of it. A large wooden house was the center of the camp with tents spread around it. From the fireplace in front of the door Athaal had assumed it was the main hall where they gathered for dinner and meetings to relay new orders from the military commanders. 

        Athaal had been given a tent for himself, Saif and Moxie, where they could rest in solitude. Arien had been asked to give a report to Stella as she judged Athaal in need of rest. He didn’t object, not because he was too tired to do it, but because he wished to remain next to the two most important ponies in his life. When they woke, he would be there for them as they had been for him the whole trip.

        Saif had remained motionless ever since they had arrived at the Equestrian platoon. Athaal took the cloth away from his brother’s forehead and moistened it before putting it back again. The poison from the linac bite was tearing through his body, followed by high fever and shallow breaths. Saif’s normally dark brown fur had lost its color, turning bleak and ghostly compared to what it was.

        Moxie still slept. She had not opened her eyes since the graveyard, but she was getting better. Her fur began to gain its normal vibrant color and her breathing was turning to normal. Looking at her now, Athaal smiled slightly. She looked like she had always done, and he caught himself thinking back to the first days of their marriage, and the time after they learned she was pregnant. While she slept he would often spend hours of the night just watching her, being thankful for what life had granted him. Then, the times she had woken up when he stroked her mane, she had returned his smile, her beautiful lips would split into the most wonderful thing in the world for him. Her snout would wiggle slightly as he pushed away a strand of hair from it.

        Light shot into the dim tent and a small gust caused the candle to flicker slightly as the door opened up, effectively pulling Athaal out of his blissful thoughts of past joy. In entered Arien and Stella, both looking upon the ponies lying in the beds. As Athaal rose to bow for Stella, she rose her hoof to allow him to sit still.

        She approached and sat down on a pillow in placed in the center of the tent. “My scouts have returned from the graveyard, Athaal,” she began in his mother tongue. “I’m sorry to say that her body was nowhere to be found. After hours of searching my lead scout decided they needed to call off the search; I’m sorry.” 

        Athaal sighed as a small stab went through his chest. “Thank you…” he simply answered, unsure how to process the feelings that arose in him by this development. His breath caught in his throat as he saw movement from Saif, when no more came from it gave the commander word again.

        “Arien has told me that it was an Equestrian mare. Who was she?” 

        He turned his eyes towards the commander which looked at him in turn with a wondering face. Who was she? He had not considered that question and as he did his focus drifted. She was not his friend, nor his enemy. From the start she had been a burden to them, but not by her own choice. Swallowing pained him slightly, although he did not show it. Forcing himself to focus again he turned to Stella. “Trixie Lulamoon… that was her name.” He let a hoof fall to Moxie’s cheek and let it rest, barely touching, just sharing warmth. “She became my family’s savior, one I perhaps did not deserve.” Becoming silent he clutched hold of Moxie’s hoof and swallowed hard, the thought of losing her still lingered in his mind, and even now it pained him.

        Stella jotted down a few notes and halted slightly before she looked at him. Trixie’s name had sparked a familiarity in the commander, but it was obvious that she did not want to speak of it; instead she turned her gaze at Saif. “Is your brother doing better?”

        “Saif still has a fever. I’m not sure how well he’s doing,” Athaal answered quickly.

        Stella nodded, then looked at him. “Arien mentioned that you need to get an audience with the princesses. Is that correct? And for what cause?” 

        “The cause is for their ears only, I mean no disrespect to you or your family, but it is of the utmost importance,” he answered and bowed slightly.

        The commander squinted towards him and furrowed her brows. After a time of silence she finally spoke up. “Very well, I may not guarantee you that they will take your audience, but I will arrange an escort for you to Canterlot.” She turned her eyes over at Saif and her form became somber. “If your brother is to survive he will need to get there as soon as possible.” She rose and headed towards the exit. “I will make sure both your wife and brother can travel while resting. Try to gather what you can, you will leave within an hour.” 

        “Thank you, your kindness is great!” Athaal said loudly and bowed deeply before the commander was gone.

        Before the flap to the tent closed after Stella he saw how dusk had taken slight hold of the day. The orange glow bathed over the green, lush grass, and the sun began to fall beyond the horizon riddled with snow covered mountains. As the glare struck the clouds it split and shot out like swords of light. The night would be warm, and the forest they would travel through offered seclusion from any winds that might come. Then as the flap closed Athaal and Arien were left inside with only the flicker of candles and the inkling of warmth it offered.

        Arien, who had remained silent since they arrived to this camp, part from talking to the commander, looked at Athaal with ears flopped back. His old features strengthened as his brows furrowed to a pained expression. “I must bid my farewell now, Athaal. I wish you all good luck on the task you feel you need to take on.” 

        Athaal rose, again a slight stab in his chest came to him. He didn’t want the general to leave. He knew it was decided, but he felt helpless over what would come next. He could not show it, the need for support, the weakness that came within him; his pride wouldn’t allow it. When Moxie became healthy she would give him all the support she could, he knew that. But he feared that he might need something more, he had no idea how stable her mind would be after the ordeal it had been through. Athaal smiled, ruefully, and it was obvious even if he tried to hide it that he regretted this goodbye. 

        “If that is your choice,” Athaal said, and pulled the general in for an embrace. “I owe you my life, and the lives of my family, thank you.”

        Arien nodded, but remained silent. They both knew that next they meet it would perhaps be as enemies. Between the discoveries of the temple and the decision for Athaal to bring the evidence to the Equestrian crown, Arien couldn’t betray his oath to the crown. It lingered in the back of their mind that they never might see each other again, for so was the will of the crown. The path taken by Arien left him without choice of his own life. Athaal’s thoughts scrambled over the general’s choice, struggling to understand. Even more so after the treason they experienced in the desert, that Morad and Sati could justify an attack on them simply because of what Arien was; Athaal just could not understand the will to stand loyal to a culture like that.

        Arien placed a hoof on Athaal’s shoulder and smiled; a smile mixed with uneasiness and uncertainty. He clenched upon the shoulder and retracted his hoof and began to make his way out. The young noble was left with a jittering feeling, one which made him sure that bugs had taken hold of his skin and crawled underneath it in a panic stricken frenzy. 

        Athaal tried shaking it off and return to Moxie’s side, but he couldn’t. He was sure, more so now than he was mere minutes ago that he would not see Arien again. What the cause of it would be he was not sure. His heart was heavy, and once more he felt fatigue overcome him. He decided that the void feeling that had grown in his chest would perhaps disappear if he managed to rest till they would leave.

        Not daring to get into the bed which Moxie slept, he made himself as comfortable as possible on the pillow he had sat upon until now. He hesitated slightly, but he held on to her hoof and nestled his cheek upon it and closed his eyes, awaiting to be woken by the Equestrian soldiers.

> Chapter 12 - Azrha Ghazath
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Azrha


Athaal lifted his head as he heard the door to the hospital room opening. He had not slept well since coming to Equestria, and it did not help that Moxie hadn’t opened her eyes much, either. He flinched, his shoulder still sore but the wound properly healed. He took a last look at Moxie, still relieved that the black mark was completely gone, and remained as such.

He marveled at the medical facility here, machines beeping next to the patients and white sterile rooms, with long gray curtains to block the sun out properly if wished for. The beds made out of sturdy, blank metal, and the blankets offered warmth and comfort. Not once had he seen unicorns attend to them; they relied much more upon anatomical knowledge and experience to heal rather than magic, it seemed. And they did it well, for Moxie looked better and better.

While the wellbeing of his wife gave comfort, the lack of knowledge around his brother gave him unease. As soon as they had arrived, Saif had been taken to something they called intensive care for observation. Athaal had tried to gain knowledge about where it was, but for political reasons he was only allowed to stay next to Moxie until the Princesses had spoken to him. At least, that was what they told him. Occasionally they came in and gave quick reports, but nothing more than if he was doing fine or better. So far it had only been positive.

He looked upon Moxie again. The curtains had shifted slightly, allowing the morning sun to strike her mane and make it glow like it did in the garden a few days ago. Her breathing came steadily and made her snore slightly, forcing a loving smile to don his lips.

Hoofsteps turned his attention to the door. A soldier in golden clad armor waited patiently as he gained his wits. “Yes?” Athaal simply asked in his broken Equestrian tongue. Much like his wife, he could understand it rather well, but had trouble speaking it.

The soldier bowed slightly. “The Princesses request your audience in the throne room.”

Athaal sighed and turned his gaze to Moxie, barely touching her with a hoof. “It can’t wait, can it?” he asked in redundancy and looked at the soldier. Even if this was what they had come here for, he didn’t know how well Moxie would be when she woke up, scared and alone in a foreign room; he wanted to be there when she awoke.

He looked slightly at ease at being addressed that directly and shifted slightly in place before he answered, “Princess Celestia would be deeply disappointed if you’d deny her invitation.”

Athaal stepped down onto the floor. “Thought so… lead,” he said, trying his best to not insult with his limited use of the language. He walked towards the guard and nodded, knowing that the Princesses had spent the time since they arrived looking at the books they had with them from the temple.

He looked one last time at her before he closed the door and followed the guard. Unlike her, he had never been in Equestria before, and continued to marvel over the difference in cultures with each new experience. Part from how different everything was in the architectural way, he was taken by surprise by seeing mares in positions of power. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it. He didn’t oppose it as strongly as many would, but it would take him time to adjust to addressing them as superiors.

The guard led him down a large hallway, past the castle entrance, where commoners arrived to bring their inquiries and pleas to the goddesses. Banners with the marks of them both hung from the roof, but rather than being something fearsome, like the King’s mark back home, it was something soothing over them, yet they possessed a quality that was fit for a goddess.

As they reached closer to the throne room, he noticed an increase in the number of guards. Regardless of being pegasi, earth or unicorns, they all carried a weapon: swords, lances or spears. The hall ended in a set of large red doors, guarded by another two well armored ponies. They both nodded slightly as Athaal and his escort arrived and opened the doors for him. The guard that had followed him to this point remained outside and the doors shut behind him, sending a loud thud through the castle. 

The room, larger than the church he had wed in, opened up in its splendor. Light struck through colored tiles on the windows, landing on the floor like it had been shot through a prism. A large red carpet stretched from the door and all the way to the seat of the goddesses. Upon the white tiles that covered the floor, each hoofstep reverberated loudly.

Drawing nearer the large table situated near the vast windows, he felt eyes turning to him, almost as if they judged. All of the goddesses apart from Cadence sat on the end opposite of him, he imagined that she lived too far away to come on such a short notice and didn’t think much more of it. Celestia in the middle, eyes watching him with an experienced yet cautious look. Her mane constantly moved with a shift of different colors, as if in constant wind, her coat a purest, snowy white and magenta irises beckoned him into submission.

To her right, the younger, and smaller, of the goddesses resided. Her mane glittered with the beauty of a cloudless desert night within its violet and dark blue aura, while the dark blue coat shone softly, the black neckpiece stood in stark contrast, adorned with a white half-moon. Her eyes looked at him with uncertainty and judgment, the dark blue irises wandering over his form.

To the left of Celestia, the newly made goddess looked at him with curiosity. Her mane, with multiple shades of violet, curled up behind her ears, her coat purple to the very tip of her wings. Upon her head, near her small horn, the crown of magic rested neatly, shining with pure gold and emeralds. A calculating mind hid behind the innocent violet eyes, yet they shifted slightly as a new experience opened up new doors of learning for her.

He was uncertain how to address them, for back home he would be of a higher rank. Here, on the other hoof, he was standing in front of what could easily be called demigods, with life and power far beyond his own. While he knew that Celestia was familiar with the Saddle-Arabian culture, the two others were not. As much as he wished his traditions would not be insulted, he hoped he would not do the same to them. He bowed deeply as he would to his king and remained with his muzzle nearly touching the floor till he was addressed.

“Athaal Ghazath, is it?” the calm and comforting tone of Celestia asked.

“Yes, your Highness.” He quickly answered, then paused, trying his best to formulate his next question. “I could ask... what of my brother?” he asked, uncertain if he at all managed to get it right. Celestia smiled slightly at him.

“Saif is stable, but he require a lot of medical care and must remain completely still as the poison of the linac is removed. Therefore, you may not see him just yet,” Celestia answered calmly. “I will make sure to tell you when you may visit him,” she added and smiled kindly.

“Thank you,” Athaal answered, relieved that Saif was taken care of, but worried yet, for Saif didn’t know what had happened to Trixie. Almost above all, Athaal feared what would happen once he told him.

“This book… it’s familiar to me. Where did you stumble upon it?” Celestia asked, hovering the book found within the temple ruins in front of her.

“My brother found it in the clutches of a dead unicorn in an old temple in the desert.” 

“Fascinating… last I saw this was hundred years before the Crystal Empire fell to Sombra. I know its purpose.” Celestia turned her gaze at him. “Do you know it? Please answer in your own tongue if you wish; my knowledge of your language is more than enough to understand you,” she added.

“We know some of it, but not the whole picture,” he answered, feeling relief at switching languages.

“How did you read the language? It’s very old; few know about it at all.” She placed the book down upon the table again, and looked at him with a demanding stare. “Will you also explain what you were doing out there, and what happened?”

Athaal took a deep breath and began to recite as best as he could. The little he understood from the sickness that began their journey, and how they had stumbled upon Trixie captured by the linacs. How they had earned the ire of the tribe by rescuing the unicorn. The following of Rishad, and his death and sacrifice, along with the rest of the fallen. Lastly, he explained the treason they had experienced near the graveyard, where he got injured and the last watanï had fallen.

“What of Trixie?” the light voice of Twilight Sparkle wondered.

“Trixie Lulamoon, Princess Sparkle,” Athaal corrected, and he quickly saw how Luna became annoyed with his blunt correction. He ignored it and faced Twilight. “Her name shall forever hold a special place within my blood-line, for, without her, I would not be here, and nor would Moxie, my wife. In the end, she gave us her life as a thank you for her rescue. A sacrifice meant to be Rishad; unknown to us, it is the only cure for the disease.” Athaal took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “She will be remembered for her last action, a truly selfless act. My foal will bear her name in my own tongue, and it will carry that name proudly, knowing exactly why it needs to. Trixie Lulamoon is gone. I am forever grateful for the fact that I got to know her in her last days, but her spirit will never fade.”

“Bu-“ Twilight started.

“Twilight…” Celestia interjected, her gaze lingered on Athaal. “My student is somewhat inexperienced with your culture, would you mind if I explained it to her?” she asked calmly, but her slight change of tone made it clear that it was not a request.

He bowed. “The teaching of my culture is open for all.”

“Twilight, what you just saw was a blood oath; it is given only to those who have passed. Often for great warriors, or a benevolent king. Never before have I heard it be given to a mare…” Celestia explained, not removing her eyes from her student.

“Trixie’s dead?” the lesser alicorn asked, full and well knowing the answer. Her face turned somber, and her eyes to a detached thoughtfulness.

“I’m afraid so, Twilight.” 

“Did you know Trixie Lulamoon, Princess?” Athaal asked as he slightly bowed his head downwards toward Twilight. “I would like to hear more about the life of my family’s savior, unless speaking of those passed is against your culture.”

Twilight shook her head. “I knew Trixie, we had some history together…” She became silent and stared aimlessly into thin air, as if a deep regret struck her. “Let us focus on the matter of what you wish for,” she said after a while, in a distant voice.

Athaal nodded and turned to Celestia, but his eyes remained on Twilight. He knew that to push further on the subject would perhaps harm his chances of acquiring what he needed, yet his wish to gain more information about Trixie pulled him. But seeing how Twilight changed her expression once she understood the meaning of a blood oath told him that she, as well, felt sorrow over the loss of the magician.

“You brought us this book, Athaal, yet you’ve not told us what you wish?” Celestia softly demanded.

“Your Highness, if I’ve understood the information within that book correctly, I require help.” As he said it, there was a certain change in Celestia’s demeanor: she leaned slightly forward as if she had discovered something entirely new. “If my King is responsible for the sickness that almost took the life of my wife, and responsible for the creation of the linacs, whom almost killed my brother, then I will serve him no longer. If I were to return with this book and approach my King, me, and my family, would be killed for treason, of that I’m certain. I therefore humbly ask for your highnesses to aid me, with your political ties, to learn the truth. I also wish to request for my family to be able to stay here in your kingdom.”

Celestia arched her neck back, closing her eyes thoughtfully. 

“You must understand, your Highness, this request does not come easy from me, but I believe it is for the greater good of those living in Saddle-Arabia,” Athaal quickly added.

“I’ll grant you a room in the castle, Athaal. You may live there with your family till we figure this out,” Celestia said and smiled lightly.

Athaal bowed once more. “Your kindness is great.”

“Do you have any belongings back home, Athaal?” Twilight asked curiously.

He turned his gaze at her, his features becoming a stoic mask. “You must understand, my life back home is only as long as the king permits, so is my honor. My house will be removed from the history of Saddle-Arabia because of this. I’ve become a grey warden…”

“Grey warden?” Twilight wondered.

“The colors of my house will be taken from my person, a grey slate in the files of Saddle-Arabia. I will only have myself and my family to protect. I will become the warden of my own honor, and my own person; a wanted target within the land of Saddle-Arabia. The safety of my family falls to no pony but me, now…” he explained.

“You can’t be serious?” Twilight blurted out in disbelief.

“Such is the fate of anypony that goes against the crown openly.” Athaal turned his gaze to Celestia, “If I may be a little blunt, your Highness, you recognized the book we found in the temple. How?”

“We don’t think that’s any of your business!” Luna declared from the side.

Celestia gave no recognition to her sister’s outburst, rather she looked at Athaal, grief clear upon her face as he asked the question. Twilight saw the change in the white alicorn’s features, and looked worriedly at her mentor, uncertainty playing over her. Celestia’s gaze remained unmoving, as if judging Athaal. “No, Luna. It may not be, but he has the right to know,” she said after a long silence. “I know this book simply because I was there when it was written. I knew about the temple you found it in, but the King back then denied its very existence. Not wanting to go to war against a whole nation because of a hunch of what went on in there, I withdrew.”

Athaal locked eyes with Celestia. “So, because of your inaction, Sombra was brought to life, sending this plague over my land and dooming the Crystal Empire for a thousand years…”

“Yes…” Celestia answered calmly, and returned his stare. “Not even I can see all ends; I may not see into the future, and, for all my wisdom, I still doubt my own decisions. I could never have forgiven myself for all the lives that would be lost during a war, and I try my best to repair those mistakes made in the past.”

“What of the linacs?” Athaal asked, hoping to not unsettle the goddess more than necessary.

Celestia turned to her smaller sister, urging her to take the lead. Luna straightened her posture and responded calmly. “That is a matter we must take when the time comes. We have discussed it with our generals and we feel that you might perhaps add valuable information to our troops if you would agree to tell them of your experience, and to train them to fight against these linacs,” she suggested.

Athaal remained silent. He felt Luna’s piercing stare over him, judging him and how he responded. If he would agree to train the troops of Equestria it would perhaps gain consequences far worse than being marked a gray warden. If the crown feared he would reveal secrets, he and his family could be marked by the legion. He knew, however, that he needed to trust his new allies, and from the looks they gave him it was also expected of him to comply. 

He bowed slightly. “I would be honored. However, there is a condition.” Both Luna and Celestia leaned forward, both squinting slightly towards him. “I will not train your soldiers personally; I may train one of your sergeants or generals, and let them bring the information to your soldiers, but my presence in the training ground must be a secret. I wish to return the trust you have given me, but my family’s safety comes first. I hope you understand.”

Luna raised her brow slightly, but then nodded. “Very well, if that is how you wish to do it, we shall see that it is fixed.”

Twilight hovered Rishad’s book in front of her, sifting through the pages, completely engrossed with the content of it. When it became clear for Celestia that her student had completely lost herself to it, she smiled slightly. It took a couple of pages before the smallest alicorn noticed the stares upon her. She quickly shut the book and put it down, before she apologized to those in room for her absent mind. 

All eyes turned to Athaal once more before Twilight spoke, “Athaal, could you explain some of the magic from Saddle-Arabia to me?”

He looked quickly towards Celestia and upon receiving a quick nod he began to explain the Arwah and the different kinds, how the scholar and all unicorns trained their mind’s arwah, and how soldiers had the arwah of the heart. Then he sighed. “Sadly, I cannot tell you more. As I am not a unicorn, the theories of magic are not taught to me.”

Twilight’s eyes almost gleamed with the possibility of studying something entirely new and turned to her teacher. “This magic is completely new to me, completely different from what we learn here. I must gather a small team so we can properly study this.”

“No,” came sharply from Celestia, the reaction from Twilight immediate. One could almost see her disappointment growing up to the surface. “There’s a reason, Twilight. For now, let it rest,” she explained as her jaw clenched slightly together.

Twilight opened her mouth to object, but closed it fast and nodded in understanding. Before they could discuss what to do next, a loud knock echoed through the vast room. Celestia ordered the door to be opened and the hinges complained loudly as they had to bear the weight of the large door. A soldier donned with the regular golden armor poked his head through and saluted. “Pardon the interruption, your Highnesses.” Luna waved her hoof and allowed him to speak further with no consequence. “Athaal Ghazath, your presence has been requested at our medical facility: your wife has gone into labor.”

Athaal froze. Immediately his breath was gone. It was like he were standing in a vacuum; no wind, no sound, nothing could penetrate to his mind as adrenaline tingled into the tip of his hoofs. He smiled slightly, taking a hoof over his heart. The beat increased, but felt so much different from what it did in the desert.

He looked over towards the alicorns, pleading for a permission to leave. The moment Celestia smiled and nodded at him, he began to run. He pushed aside the guard and sped down the ivory halls, windows and arches flashing past his vision in a blur. He moved as if weightless; if he could run on clouds he imagined that this is how it felt. He leaped down stairs and slalomed past ponies as they jumped to the side of him in surprise, some shouting angrily at him. He ignored everything, the sound of his running hoofs echoed through the halls, but along with it was also a smile beaming like the sun itself.

Throughout the journey they had faced struggles and dangers and almost died on occasion. These things vanished from his mind; so did any thought of what his decision would mean to his family, now not only Moxie and him. Halfway and his heart threatened to jump out of his chest, he didn’t mind. His breath stung slightly, but he didn’t mind. His jumps carried him ever forward. This is it, I’m finally becoming a father, he thought as tears rolled came from his eyes. He wasn’t sure if it was from the wind or from joy, but they quickly left his fur and created wet marks on the floor he passed.


* * * * *


The hours felt like days, made worse by the fact that he was not allowed to be at the side of his wife. So he wandered aimlessly outside the door, head jolting up each time it swung open in hopes for news. His attention changed as he saw Celestia walking towards him. As she stopped, a smile split her lips.

“Anxious?” she asked.

Athaal bowed once more. “Yes, more so since I’m not allowed to be with my wife.”

“You’ll be next to her when it matters, Athaal Ghazath,” Celestia comforted. Then her demeanor changed. Something was on the alicorn’s mind, yet she had trouble voicing it. He remained silent; his dealings with the priests back home had taught him to never put haste on something that weighed heavily on somepony’s mind, for the clarity of what they want to say would then perhaps be broken. “Athaal… there’s an important question I need to ask you. What has the crown told you about your eyes?” she finally asked.

He looked at her slightly bewildered, as if the content of the question was completely alien to him. He hadn’t thought about it before, but now he began to doubt the information he had been given from birth. The mark he had carried throughout his life with pride, could it all be another ploy by the crown? 

“They are the mark of a great warrior, gifted by the gods,” he answered, fearing what the alicorn might say next.

The white alicorn looked at him carefully; not angry, nor happy, but a sense of comfort beamed from her, together with eyes full of regret. “Would you agree to do some experiments, Athaal?”

“For what cause?”

“We believe that the iris rings, and other mutations that are common in Saddle-Arabia, are an effect of the disease. With our academy working on it we might figure it out for sure. One major issue has been that no Saddle-Arabians have been in the situation you’re in now, and thus have never agreed to help us.”

He sat down, uncertain of what any experiments would entail, but he was certain that the goddess would not disappoint him. If they found anything unusual in him, they could use it as leverage to gain compliance from the crown. It would make sense, seeing how it acted on him, burning from anger, painful crushing: It was not natural. “Very well, I agree,” he lastly said, bowing his head slightly down.

“I’m glad, Athaal. I can assure you that no harm will be done to you.” She bowed her own head slightly at him, and smiled. 

A thought came to him, and he looked at the alicorn again. “May I ask something?”

“You may.”

“How come you won’t let the alicorn of magic study the magic of my country?” he wondered, making sure his voice was submissive as it had been within the throne room.

Celestia closed her eyes and sighed. “It is because of the nature of your magic.” Seeing the confusion dawning over Athaal, she settled to explain further. “All unicorns in Saddle-Arabia are made to go to the temples of Eran, as you call them, and only they are allowed to learn the nature of the magic used. They spend time training their mind and soul, or arwah as you call it, to make the spells more potent. For healing magic, that is great, but at the same time dangerous. If somepony with enough strength would perform a spell on other without their defenses up they could plant an idea within them, and make it so that the victim would perform the task planted as an idea no matter their nature. I do not want that kind of magic within my kingdom; it gives too much room for misuse.” 

As he recovered from what the princess had told him, the sound of a foal’s cry reverberated from the room behind him, and his heart jumped up to his throat. He knew that this was the sound of his foal, a foal they had travelled far to make sure lived. Hearing this sound, his tiredness vanished. The one thing he managed to do was to smile, and as the door opened he smiled even wider.

A blonde maned nurse poked her head out. “Athaal Ghazath? You may come in now,” she said and stepped to the side, giving him view of the room.

“Nurse, could you and the other staff stay out here?” Celestia quickly asked, both doctors and nurses quickly complied.

“Thank you, your Highness,” Athaal said, for he knew that Celestia recognized his traditions as well as the many in Saddle-Arabia. 

Athaal slowly entered the room, heart pounding as he drew closer to Moxie, who was resting in the bed, cradling a small creature in her hoofs. He held his breath, hearing small nuzzling sounds coming from the ball of blankets. Moxie smiled at him, a tired but satisfied smile, beckoning him to come closer. He let go of his breath in a restrained manner while he sat down. Carefully, he took a hoof and pulled the tip of the blanket to the side. 

        Moxie ran her hoof down his chin and smiled warmly. “Say hello to your daughter, Athaal.”

        The tiny creature which rested in Moxie’s hoofs looked at him with a curious expression. Her fur light brown with a pristine quality to it. Her mane dark brown like his, elegantly touching her coat. Her eyes looked at him, their color so close to Moxie’s, a foal born with the blessing of the sun. She also had the iris rings from her father, and he wondered slightly what ill-fate he might have put on his own daughter. Athaal hovered a hoof over the filly and felt a rush coursing through his veins as a set of small hoofs carefully prodded his own. He was sure that the foal could see how his eyes sparkled with excitement; he was sure that she could feel how his pulse increased as she touched him. And if she could understand, she would know that the tears that came to his eyes were those of joy when he heard the lighthearted laugh that came. 

        “She’s beautiful, just like her mother,” he stated, his voice soft as the silken sheets that could only wrap the newborn in a warm embrace.

        Moxie giggled. “I’ll remember to tell her that once she gets older,” she lightly mocked as she ran a hoof through Athaal’s mane.

        Athaal smiled wryly at her. “Yeah, you remember that.” 

        The tired smile that adorned her beautiful lips, how he loved it with all of his heart. But seeing it brought a lingering thought to mind, something Celestia said to him. Could Rishad have made sure Trixie would complete the task he set out for? He didn’t want to believe it, but the possibility was there from the changes he had seen in Trixie after Rishad had cast a spell on her. 

        He looked on as Moxie nuzzled the foal, and let it play with one of her braids. The mother of his foal beamed with life and love once more. Her eyes never left the foal in her hoofs and gazed at it with deep affection. She carefully pulled it nearer to her, shutting her eyes to savor the closeness they had together, making sure not a moment was lost. 

        Athaal decided, even if it was a possibility that Rishad had done that, he could not tell Moxie, not yet. She needed to keep the image she had of Rishad for just a little longer; it brought comfort to her, he was sure. 

        She finally took her eyes from the foal and looked at him, her features turning slightly to worry as she saw him lost in thought. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

        Athaal shook his head. “I’m happy, happier than I could ever imagine.” He took a deep breath and wiped a tear away. “I thought I lost you, both of you, earlier; but look now, we have a beautiful daughter.” Athaal rose slowly and placed his lips upon hers, before he let his head rest carefully on her shoulder. “I love you, Moxie…” he said with a comforting sigh.

        Moxie nuzzled his mane. “I love you, too…” she replied and let her head rest upon his.

        He lifted the foal up and held her close. He began reciting the words his father had taught him when Moxie became pregnant: the oath of Ghazath. “When day becomes dawn and falls to night, I’ll be here for you. When your first tear falls, I’ll be there for you. You’re brought into this world under my wing, bearing the name of Ghazath; no matter the struggles, no matter the cost, I will be there for you, settled next to your mother. By your life, our hearts bound together, a bond only to be broken by death. Wear the name with pride, and we’ll be there for you when struggles arise. Ghazath is whole, and as a family, no one will be forgotten or left behind.” He gave the foal over and tucked it gently into the hoofs of Moxie. “Azrha Ghazath, I welcome you to our family,” he said in a hushed whisper, placed a careful kiss on her forehead and smiled.

        Moxie cradled the small one, humming a lullaby. “Azrha Ghazath… a beautiful name, I know you will wear it with pride.” She looked wryly at Athaal. “But so many lives has been lost…”

        He rose and pushed Moxie carefully to the side of the bed before he laid down next to her. “Yes… but it’s over now,” he comforted the best he could, putting his hoofs around her.

        “If you know what you do now, would you do it over again?” she asked, letting her hoof carefully touch the scar upon his shoulder.

        “Yes,” Athaal answered without skipping a breath. “For you two, I would go to the ends of the planet and back, as long as I knew I would be able to come here to you.” He pulled her closer and let his head fall upon hers. They both let one hoof rest near Azrha, gently touching each other and her. And he began to hum, as he had done for only Moxie so far, but now… it was for one more.

> Epilogue - Blackheart
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Blackheart


Athaal opened the door to where his brother was resting. 

It had been three days since they arrived in Canterlot, three days since he became a father and Saif an uncle, although Saif didn’t know it yet. It had taken the medical knowledge of every doctor in this city to save Saif, but, after time battling the fever caused by the linac bite and blood loss, he was now doing better. Well enough for visits, at least. 

Entering the dull, gray room, he expected to find his brother sleeping soundly in the bed. Instead he found him standing at the end of the bedpost, struggling to put on his clothing. The light that shone through the windows as it grew to night made the white bandages that covered most of his upper body glow slightly. Newly replaced, they were white as snow upon his brown fur. From the edge of the bed to where he was standing the floor was laced with needles and long tubes, which Athaal assumed had been used on him for his treatment. Saif barely moved his head as the hoof steps sounded loudly within the room.

Athaal approached carefully. Part of him wanted to leap over and embrace his brother, but another part of him was weary, wondering what caused Saif to get out of bed. 

Saif put down his clothing, admitting defeat to putting them on, and only then turned his gaze to his brother. “How is Moxie?” he asked, voice tired and strained.

Stopping next to Saif, Athaal smiled as best he could. “She’s fine. The mark has not returned, and…” He placed a hoof upon the watanï’s shoulder. “She gave birth to a beautiful filly. I’ve become a father and you an uncle.”

Saif smiled slightly, but it quickly vanished. “That’s great… have you decided a name?” 

 “Azrha,” Athaal simply responded with pride.

“Blue… like her,” Saif answered, his voice strained to keep his emotions culled.

Athaal halted. Saif looked out in the air, his face a stoic mask, not revealing any emotions apart from what his voice betrayed. His eyes looked like hollow ghosts of what they used to be, a blank stare looking out at nothing, past everything that was there, glimmering slightly in the scarce light. Seeing that, Athaal now realized that Saif had been awake when Stella gave her report. 

“Yes… like her,” he responded, at loss to what more he could say to mend whatever wound had opened within his brother.

Saif applied part of his armor and took the rest of the clothing over his back, then made way past Athaal. “My duty is fulfilled, Athaal,” he announced without bowing.

“What?!” Athaal exclaimed in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“You are no longer a Saddle-Arabian citizen; as a gray warden you have no right for a watanï,” Saif responded in a monotone voice.

He took hold of Saif’s shoulder, forcing him to turn away from the door. “But you’re my brother. I need your help!” 

Saif returned his plea with another empty stare. “I can’t…” his face remained the stoic mask it always was; trained to hide his emotions, he stared like a stone. “I can’t protect one who I blame for the death of one I loved.” 

Athaal’s heart skipped a beat and sent a painful sensation through him. While his limbs tingled, blood rushed to his head, the beat upon his eardrums unbearable. “We didn’t know it would happen,” he simply explained, deep regret burning in him.

“I know you didn’t. I don’t know what happened there, nor do I want to know what caused her to die.” Saif finally turned his gaze directly at him, his features still unmoving. Where others would wince as tears came unbidden to them, he remained motionless. His eyes filled up with moisture before it ran down his cheeks like rivers of pain. “But it hurts… just thinking about going back to your wife’s side, protecting her and the foal named after Trixie. It hurts more than I can describe, Athaal. It tears me from the inside.” 

Athaal retracted his hoof. He wanted to say something, perhaps to soothe his brother’s pain, but he could think of nothing. He wanted to order him to stay, but he held no power over the watanï anymore. The candles that had guided him throughout the darkness that had been this journey had vanished one by one, leaving him in the dark alone. Saif had shone the brightest, and now he vanished as well, leaving Athaal with the light of Moxie and Azrha left, and only them.

“I need to find Kazim’s other apprentices and give them the news so that his spirit may finally rest.” Saif opened the door and stopped. “I will also find Trixie’s body…”

“You’ll die in your condition. You can barely stand without sweating!” Athaal tried to reason.

“I’ll do what I must to find her,” he answered and bowed, flinching slightly before he rose again and walked out. 

Athaal would probably have run after his brother, forcing him to stay with all of his strength, but the sudden goodbye left him unable to take action, even if he knew what he wanted to do. “I don’t know if I can do it without you, Saif,” he finally squeaked, knowing full well there would be no answer, for his brother was gone without any promise to return.