616 B.C. (Before Celestia); THE YEAR OF THE PLAGUE
“Now now, darling,” he says warmly to the little foal cowering below him, his voice muffled by the beak-like mask covering his face. Underneath, he is smiling. Even though he knows it’s useless, he can’t comfort a patient with this ridiculous costume.
He knows this because the filly he is tending to is shaking. Either in fear or in pain from the great swollen buboes on her loins and on her neck.
Valiant is a unicorn. Unlike the other unicorns who had decided to coop themselves up safely in Canterlot whilst the Earth ponies dies agonizing deaths, Valiant had a little something called honor. And he wasn’t going to let his honor die away with these poor ponies. He would save as many of them as he could before he himself died of the terrible plague.
He reaches a hoof into his cloak, withdrawing a satchel of herbs. He had yet to find a cure for the plague. But he knew with patience and practice in the field, he would be able to find it.
The plague.
The crying filly before him was a prime example of what the pestilence was capable of.
Buboes, large swollen sacks of gunk that develop in the pits, the loins, the groins, the neck, and even the jaw. Darkening coat, giving the victims a horrifyingly black complexion. And a terrible smell. If they were lucky, the ill would die soon after. But if not, they would suffer through blindness or paralysis or even both. Even if they survive that, the victims will begin to decay while they were still alive, their flesh eaten away by the unseen contagion.
“Now honey, I’m going to give you some herbs to chew. Will you be a big, brave filly and chew on them for a bit?” Valiant asked sweetly. He knew for a fact that she was terrified of him. It was because of the ridiculous outfit worn by the doctors of the plague. He was one of three unicorns who enlisted to help find a cure. Countless more pegasi and Earth ponies outnumbered them, well over two hundred Earth pony doctors and fifty pegasus doctors to each one unicorn. Of course, the real problem wasn’t the lack of magical assistance from the unicorns of Canterlot.
It was the damned suits.
A cloak thrown over a full-body suit, all black. Anypony would be terrified, even without the mask. And the mask was the thing that sold the deal. Designers in Canterlot and Cloudsdale claimed that the milky white mask that resembled a bird’s beak would ward off infection. Also, there was a wide array of flowers and scents stuffed into the long schnozz, which made it easy to breathe in this world of rot.
The filly chewed the herbs. She had gagged on the foul taste, but Valiant was used to ponies disliking his supplements. They were generally disgusting and Valiant held a firm belief that the disease was altering ponies’ taste buds to make them want to reject any medication. The idea was horrible, which is why nopony accepted his theory. The others studying the illness simply assumed that if they spat out the medicine, the medicine was no good.
Stupid logic, Valiant thought, but I guess that’s the only logic they can understand.
“Can you walk?” He asked the filly. The little pegasus shook her head, several strands of her mane fell out. Yet another symptom: premature balding. Valiant cast a levitation spell, and carried her in a ball of golden energy away from the crumbling shack he had found her in.
All of Equestria was in ruins.
Clouds of raw filth, vectors of the disease, slunk about the terrain. Anypony, even doctors, caught in one would instantly die of the plague. Being in a cloudlike form seemed to alleviate the symptoms and cause the disease to rapidly progress far beyond what it was capable of doing trapped in a pony’s body.
“Let’s go.” He murmured, leading the filly out from the shack. She simply floated about, saying nothing. Her silence disturbed him. He hoped that she hadn’t died already.
Valiant re-adjusted the brass goggles over his eyes and marched onward. He did his best to ignore the moans and groans and pleas for help or mercy coming from various, but equally devastated ponies, whom were too far along in their sickness to help. Even if he did manage cure those ones who were slowly dying of exposure, the missing chunks of flesh would cause infection that couldn’t and wouldn’t be healed with even the most powerful of spells.
Suddenly, startling him back into reality, the floating filly began to murmur in a deep, raspy voice. At first, Valiant thought she had gone insane. But then he realized she was giving him directions.
“Turn left…” She whispered. Valiant obeyed without question. Maybe she was directing him to her home. They passed crumbling ruins. The plague had only started at the early days of that winter, but the disease had rotted away far more than defenseless ponies. Everything felt the effects of the plague, even the Everfree Forest.
“Keep… walking…”
Her voice was so low and quiet that Valiant had to strain his ears to listen. It didn’t help that the mask conformed around them, keeping them covered. Like every other inch of his body.
“There.”
She was pointing a feeble hoof at a distant cabin. Valiant looked at the dark house with an air of doubt.
“There? Are you sure? What’s in there?”
“Please. There.”
Valiant nodded, bringing her along as they headed on towards the cabin. He knew better than to deny the wishes of a patient. Especially a young patient like her.
Eventually, they made it to the front door. Valiant stood uncertainly upon the creaking oak porch. Other than the natural sounds of a settling home, Valiant heard no sounds of anything living come from behind the door. He raised a hoof to knock.
THUD. THUD. THUD.
The sounds of knocking echoed across the emptiness of the wasteland and from inside the empty house. Valiant was skeptical.
“Are you absolutely sure you want to go in there?”
“Yes.”
“Okayyy…”
He turned the doorknob and floated her in with him. Inside, there was nothing but darkness. Why was it so dark in here? It was daytime, and the windows had no curtains; from what he could tell of his limited view of the inside.
Valiant let out a yelp as an unseen force cut off his magic, and the filly smacked grotesquely into the floor. For a panicked moment, Valiant thought he had killed her. But then she spoke.
“Thank you. Ponies are curing The Plague.”
“W-What?” How had she survived that fall? Especially when she was so ill?
“Ponies are curing The Plague.”
“Um… yes. They are.”
“The Plague needs to sleep. Return another day.”
“Um…” Okay, Valiant thought to himself, there is something really wrong with this foal. “Yes. But how about we leave this creepy cabin and go somewhere you can get better?”
“No.” Her voice was different. It sounded less like one filly speaking and more like a there was a chorus of voices, chanting the word together as one.
“N-No?”
“The Plague needs a vector. The Plague must sleep. You will sleep with The Plague. You are the Vector.”
Before Valiant could even scream, he felt a dark force grip him from all sides. He whimpered in fear, he was paralyzed! Then, he felt air brush against his muzzle. His suit was busted! He was breathing in the contagious air! Valiant struggled to break away, but he was exhausted.
Valiant felt his eyes droop as the chorus of voices began to chant.
Princess Twilight Sparkle thoroughly studied the ancient manuscript laid on the table before her.
She was in the Library of Canterlot Castle, for some anniversary of some tragedy that happened long ago. Before Princess Celestia was even born long ago. Twilight wondered why the tragedy was still commemorated, if even Princess Celestia couldn’t remember it. But the eldest of the four Alicorn Princesses insisted that they keep the anniversary; more in memory for her parents, the ones who had suffered through the tragedy, than for the actual victims themselves.
The manuscript was important. Vital, even. Nopony really cared for Remembering the Day of The Plague. It had been so long ago, even Twilight was having trouble seeing how it affected ponies today, especially when all that had happened was a few disfigured Earth ponies thousands of years ago.
The manuscript gave a detailed list of the various symptoms of the Plague. Buboes. Magical rot. Balding in the mane and tail. Pretty much turned ponies into painfully grotesque monsters. Twilight felt a little sorry for the poor ponies who had fallen ill to it so long ago, but she couldn’t for long as she read about how those who contracted the illness would bleed out from every orifice in their bodies. Ears, eyes, nose, mouth, anus, genitalia. Sometimes even through the pores in their skin. Twilight shuddered as she read that.
Gross.
She skipped ahead. She was sure those details weren’t vital to the day of honor. Twilight began to look for any indication of a cure or of an antidote. Strangely, she found none. Just a little paragraph in Middle Equestrian script about some valiant stallion (or was it a stallion named Valiant?) who was the last known victim and how since his disappearance, the Plague had simply vanished as well. But no details on how this Valiant guy found the cure.
Fun fact logged into her vast mental depository, Twilight rolled up the crumbling scroll and levitated it gently back to the shelf to select another stack of manuscripts. She was jolted out of her study zone by knocking at the door to the library.
“Come in!” She called.
The door swung open to reveal a dark, tall unicorn stallion with a purple-striped mane. Twilight was always amused by how much the color seemed to match her own mane. Maybe they were related, but Twilight couldn’t see any more resemblance past the mane. His tall, slender frame had a dark, stormy grey coat. A glowing white ankh on his flank told her that this was indeed Ponyville’s resident necromancer, Shudderbones. And his luminescent purple eyes confirmed this.
“Oh hey, Shudderbones. What are you doing in Canterlot? Shouldn’t you be back in Ponyville? I thought there was a goblin infestation.”
“Here to help with the Plague Anniversary.” He said glumly. Twilight blinked several times. Why was Applejack into this stallion again? He was so… gloomy.
“Is that so?” She asked, faking a grin. “Funny thing, I’m here to help, too.”
“Whoopee.” Shudderbones cheered with very little enthusiasm. “I was actually ordered here by Princess Celestia to assist you. Supposedly more important than saving school-foals from goblins.”
“What? Why? I mean, your help is alright and all, but why did she choose you to help me? And, well… not to be rude… but how can you help me?”
Shudderbones shrugged in disinterest and began to read the titles of random manuscripts, picking up a few and then tossing them back with a grunt. Or maybe not so random. The scroll he was levitating before him was titled ‘Beginner’s Guide To Summoning Higher Imps of Tartarus’. How delightfully morbid.
“Oh yeah,” he said, just as Twilight was about to return to her studies, “Celestia asked somepony else to come. Besides me. To help.”
“Really? Who?”
“I believe his name is-”
“CARNEGIE PORTER, EVERYPONY!”
A tan stallion with a black mane thundered into the room, tripping over the rug, and landing with a crash face-first into the table where Twilight had been reading moments before. The stallion lay upside-down in the table’s shattered remains. He blinked several times before righting himself, shaking his crazy mane to look even crazier.
“Hallo, Princess!” Carnegie drawled cheerfully. Twilight swore she saw a small trickle of blood escape from his nose, but he either didn’t notice or didn’t care.
“Mr. Porter,” Twilight grumbled, “why are you here?”
The drunk rubbed his head for a moment. Whether from pain or from intense thinking, Twilight wasn’t sure. But the lavender mare was almost certain she knew why he was here.
“I’m here fer an oh-fficial remembrance day. An’ Bonesy is here ta make peace with the spirits who died. I’m just here to sell beers.”
“Don’t call me Bonesy.” Shudderbones growled darkly. Carnegie looked to the unicorn with a goofy smile on his face. Twilight could feel a fight or an argument or both coming on, and she had better figure out a way to divert their aggression elsewhere. Well, Shudderbones’ aggression and Carnegie’s sheer stupidity.
“Why can’t I call ya Bonesy. Tha’ orange mare snoggin’ up on ya outside called ya Bonesy-”
“Okay, okay. Ladies, please.” Twilight said aloud. The stallions looked to Twilight with incredulous expressions; as if they had completely forgotten she was in the room.
“Good,” she gave a little cough and then drew herself up into what she hoped was a regal stance, “now. You two are my planning committee, I’m guessing. Though I don’t know why Celestia would pair me with you two. Pinkie Pie and Rarity would have been my first choices, no offense. So… planning committee.”
Carnegie and Shudderbones had sat down on their haunches, side by side, waiting for her to finish. They were perfectly quiet before the drunkard raised his hoof like a colt in a classroom. Twilight resisted the urge to roll her eyes (Shudderbones didn’t) and nodded to Carnegie.
“Yes, Porter?”
“Can I put this on me resume?”
Twilight face-hoofed.
“Yes. You can.”
“Wicked!” Carnegie said with a grin, smiling at Shudderbones. Shudderbones grumbled something about dead drunks and cursing into oblivion. Twilight didn’t ask for the necromancer to elaborate because she too was feeling a little tired of Carnegie’s rambunctious energy. Porter himself was oblivious to their exhaustion: “So now what?”
“Nothing. The actual anniversary isn’t for a few more days. I’m going to my castle room. You two are to do your own thing.” With that, Twilight was about to exit the library. She was immediately followed by Shudderbones, who was also eager to escape the annoyance that was Carnegie Porter.
“I will accompany you. I too have a room here in the castle.”
Carnegie’s jaw dropped.
“How come I don’t get a room?”
“Probably because the last time you stayed here, you drank all of the Princesses’ mead and proceeded to urinate all over the Grand Ballroom.” Shudderbones explained.
“Ohhhh… yeah. Good times.”
Below the castle, in the mines that had originally provided fortune to the Equestrians of old, a darkness was stirring. Shadows danced about the ancient caverns. But those shadows were not the only things lurking in the depths.
:Is it time?:
:No.:
:Soon, time will come.:
:The Vector shall awaken. We shall awaken.:
:Soon:
The disturbances radiating off of the cave walls halted their vibration. And all was calm once again.
The figure slumps upwards, like a puppet on strings. Which, considering the circumstances, isn't that bad of an analogy. Valiant finally felt warmth flow through his body for the first time in what had felt like ages. He had been so cold, so alone... for so long. Where was he? And why couldn't he see?
He realized with mild irritation that he was still in the ridiculous costume. Valiant felt the first few rounds of intense malaise. Something wasn't right here, but he couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was. He wished he could take off the stupid mask. Then a few breaths of fresh air would sort him out. He sniffed, realizing that there was a horrible, reeking stench. Coming from him. He sniffed a bit more before it dawned on him; his supply of herbal scent had melted into nothing but rot.
Retching and gagging, Valiant struggled to remove the mask covering his face. For some reason, he couldn't pull it off. Valiant gripped the mask by the beak and tugged hard, resulting in nothing but a sore muzzle. He tried to remove it with magic; but that too came to no avail.
Falling onto his haunches with a sigh, Valiant tried his best to ignore the terrible smell as he took in his surroundings. He was in some sort of cave, judging by the darkness and the occasional dripping sounds echoing about. He wished he could hear more than that. The stupid doctor's mask obstructed is hearing. He swore he could hear voices in the shadows, but something told him that those voices weren't in his mask. They were in his head...
:Get out.:
:Escape the darkness:
:The Plague must spread once again.:
Something was with him down in these caverns, wherever he was. Something that didn't want him there.
Valiant sat up once again and reached out a tentative hoof into the darkness. His covered hoof struck stone. Progress. Valiant began to slowly poke and prod his way through the labyrinth. He hated the dark. And now, something inside him seemed to magnify his hatred tenfold. He felt a burn of anger swell in his belly. When he smacked his beak-like mask into a stalagmite, he lost control.
"I HATE THIS STUPID-" he felt something in the stale underground air grow agitated as he screamed, but he didn't care "-BUCKING-" the energy collected around him "-CAVE!" The energy swirled about his horn, and it sparked into a toxic green light. The light dissipated but did not vanish; it formed a misty green trail that glowed on the cavern floor, making a path of sorts.
Valiant blinked several times.
He wondered how in Tartarus he had done that. Last time he checked, he only knew basic healing spells and how to levitate objects. Valiant shrugged off these nagging thoughts and decided he was better off following the glowing path at his hooves.
615 B.C. - BEFORE THE PLAGUE
"Hey, Val."
"What, Merry?"
"You ever wonder... if maybe we're not doing what we were always meant to?"
"Merry. Why are you getting all philoso-psycho on me?"
"I dunno. I just have this feeling... like we shouldn't be doctors."
"You're talking crazy. Merry, you have the cutie mark of a bandaged heart. My cutie mark is a caduceus. Obvious symbols that we were meant to heal. And face it; we're the best doctors since the Founding! We've saved lives, Merry. We help ponies! Why would you not want to help ponies? Why would you ever want to quit?"
"I... I dunno... sometimes I just feel like I should quit while I'm ahead. I mean, you've heard about that disease coming in from Yakyakistan, right? What if... I don't know..."
"What if it comes here?"
"...Yeah."
"And it starts infecting ponies?"
"...Yeah."
"Then we'll just have to stop that from happening."
"..."
"..."
"Valiant?"
"Yes, Merry-Go-Round?"
"I'm scared."
"I'll admit that I am, too. That's a harsh illness, from what I've heard. But don't worry about it, we'll be fine! We're doctors, like I said before. And damn good ones at that."
"AN' YA BETTER COME TA THA BLOODY SPEECH YA HALF AR-"
"Thank you, sir," Shudderbones boomed over his Cockney companion's shouts. The drunk apparently did not like being called a 'Brid'. Although Shudderbones admitted it was a rather rude term to use to describe the Bridlish Porter (Shudderbones himself would've used the word 'nincompoop'), the necromancer believed that the brewer's reaction was a little exaggerated. After all, Brid was simply a shortening of Bridlish. Somepony from Great Bridleton. With little struggle, Shudderbones managed to drag Carnegie away from the sniggering waiters at the restaurant they had stopped in. How many more of these embarrassments would he have to endure until Princess Celestia told him he could return to the welcoming hooves of Applejack?
"Porter," Shudderbones growled in warning as the Cockney continued to writhe in his levitation spell.
"Bloody 'ell do ya want, Bonesy?"
"What was that about?" He hissed dangerously.
"What was what about?"
"That scene! Back there! With the waiters!"
"The who?"
Shudderbones face-hoofed. How could Carnegie have forgotten already?! The necromancer decided that he wasn't going to bother with Carnegie Porter's irresponsible, idiotic, insane, stu-
Wait. He felt something. A sort of chill that can only mean Dark magic or maybe even a restless spirit.
Shudderbones cast a quick spell, a flash of purple light going over every nook and crannie within a mile radius. Something wasn't right here. Something felt off about Canterlot. Like a cold, wet blanket had slung itself over the city. But nothing visible or invisible could be detected. Shudderbones wasn't sure how he could explain it, but it was almost like something he could sense.
Carnegie let out a slight cough.
Shudderbones whirled around and gaped at him in alarm.
"Wha'?" Carnegie asked, confused, "Ya look like ya've seen a bloody ghost."
There was a disease in the air. And in Porter. That was the feeling Shudderbones had felt. Not a ghost or evil magician, but a sickness that the good necromancer had never encountered before.
"Carnegie. We need to get you to the Princess. Now."
Sunlight.
It burned Valiant's eyes. He felt hatred to that big glowing ball of fire suspended in the sky.
:Yessss... Infect the sun...:
But why? He asked the hissing chorus of voices in his head. What about everypony else? They need the sun.
:Infect the poniesssss...:
Valiant stumbled over several rocks as he made his way from the cavern he had escaped from moments ago. Without that weird bizarro spell that he had randomly cast, Valiant had the distinct feeling he wouldn't had survived the ordeal of navigating a dark cave all by himself. The shrouded stallion took a moment to ponder once more upon the origin of that spell. There was no way he had known one so powerful. Where were these powerful bursts of magic coming from? How did he end up so far down a cave?
He struggled to remember what had happened before he had fallen asleep (he assumed he had fallen asleep), but Valiant kept drawing a blank. Absolutely nothing made sense about his predicament.
Valiant took a deep whiff of the crisp evening air. Unsurprisingly, it still smelled of sickness and rot.
The plague wasn't getting cured anytime soon. He'd have to redouble his efforts in finding a cure. But before he could do that, he would have to find Canterlot and Merry-Go-Round, his colleague. Valiant remembered with a heavy heart the conversation he had last had with her. When she had told him that she... that she loved him.
It had seemed so long ago... and Valiant couldn't understand why.
