Chapter 01: Returning Home
The storm had come.
Dark clouds hung low as they released their contents upon the world below with enthusiasm. It was the type of downpour that came suddenly and forced every living thing beneath it to seek shelter. Puddles didn’t have time to form; instead small lakes were rapidly growing in the lowlands and valleys.
Every few seconds a flash of lightning would light up the dark sky, followed swiftly by the booming echo of thunder. The forks of lightning splintered across the sky, the branches reaching down to touch the ground in an attempt to set the grasslands and trees ablaze. Not that it would do them any good; the vegetation was too soaked to do more than smolder where the lightning impacted.
Then there was the wind—it whipped the rain about in great torrential gusts and eddies, sending the water sideways and backwards and even back up into the sky. Leaves and branches thrashed about, and several of the weaker ones were pulled right off their trees, whose trunks were bent beneath the onslaught.
It was a storm that would have made the Storm King proud, if he had been there to witness it. At the moment though, there was only one individual who was caught outside and experiencing the true power of the storm.
The irony was not lost upon Tempest Shadow.
Her head was bowed as she shouldered her way through the biting rain and howling storm. The deluge beat heavily down upon her, and her cloak did little to protect against the water and the wind. It was completely soaked and whipped about with each monstrous gust that threatened to rip it off her.
Drenched to the bone, she made her way along the path, her hooves sinking into the mud with each step. She paused for a moment to blow water from her eyes before peering around to make sure she was still headed in the right direction. It was almost impossible to see through the curtain of rain, but after a few seconds she was able to make out a wooden sign just a few meters ahead of her.
Tempest squinted, trying to make out the faded words painted on the side.
‘Storm’s End — 5 miles’
Silently eyeing the words for a moment, Tempest then pulled her cloak tighter about herself before trudging doggedly onwards.
The storm did not let up during the journey, but the going got somewhat easier after the first mile. The muddy path slowly gave way to worn cobblestone, so Tempest was no longer struggling with each step. That didn’t mean that her pace quickened though; the moss-covered stones were slick from rain water, causing her to slip and slide with each step. Several times she almost face-planted into the muddy ditch that ran alongside the path, but she caught herself at the last moment.
As she continued down the path, trees began to sprout up along the wayside and the grasslands gradually became a small forest. The foliage provided little protection against the pounding rain. Leaves whirled about her, several even going as far as to slap wetly against her face where they stuck until she wiped them off with muddy hooves.
The road cut through the trees, following a winding, serpent-like path along the forested countryside. Despite the rain currently blinding her, Tempest walked the trackway with muted familiarity. The trees had grown taller over the years, and there were several places where the path had worn down to almost nothing, but her hooves knew the way.
Eventually, Tempest reached her destination.
Cresting a twisting hillock, she gazed down from her perch at the moor beneath her. The tree line gave way to rolling hills and grasslands, with small pockets of trees cropping up within the sloping mounds.
It was within these gentle knolls that a small village was nestled. The glow from several streetlamps was visible through the rain, as well as the warm light shining from many of the windows. Smoke wafted from stone chimneys, only to be caught up in the storm and scattered to the winds.
Lightning flashed across the sky, providing a brief moment of illumination in which Tempest got a good look at the village before her. Thatched cottages made of stone, wood, and straw were settled on hillsides and hilltops, within the dales and valleys. Composed of dozens of buildings, the village was scattered about in a chaotic web of cobblestone streets and walkways as if there had been no plan when designing the village’s layout. Which of course, there hadn’t been; the village had been slowly pieced together as more and more of its residents first arrived.
Overall, it hadn’t changed much over the years, save for a few new buildings on the outskirts.
Standing atop the hillock, a small frown touched Tempest’s muzzle as she gazed down at the village. Beneath her hood, her ears splayed back against her head. The sight of the homely hamlet below summoned old memories from years gone by. Some were good, but the majority were not.
Lost in thought, she lifted a hoof and touched absently at the scar that ran over her right eye. Beneath her hood, her horn sparked briefly before dying out once more. Several of the sparks danced off her muzzle, pulling her from her daze and refocusing her attention on the present. A small frown touched her muzzle before she sighed softly. Maybe she should just—
Suddenly, the storm picked up and the wind grabbed at Tempest’s cloak, nearly lifting her hoof her feet in the process. She stumbled slightly to the side, but managed to catch herself before she was thrown from the top of the hillock. Lightning lanced across the sky again, followed booming clamp of thunder.
The storm was angry at Tempest’s loss of attention and was reminding her of its ever-looming presence. Rain lashed against her sides and jumped up at her from the ground. Another bright flash of light followed instantly by a deafening explosion suddenly rent the air, causing her to jump. Her fur stood on end as a burst of electricity filled the air. Somewhere behind her, there was a loud crunch as one of the trees split in two, its trunk burnt and blackened from the lightning.
Glancing over her shoulder, she eyed the smoldering wrecked of the once proud tree. It suddenly occurred to Tempest that standing on top of a hill during a thunderstorm was probably not a good idea. She started slowly down the hillside, but a sudden increase of static in the air caused her to yelp and she slid down the muddy slope just as another bolt of lightning struck a second tree at the top.
Not waiting for a third strike, Tempest booked it
Tempest’s hooves clicked against the wet cobblestone as she made her way through the vacant streets of the hamlet. There didn’t appear to be anyone else out and about at the moment, but that was to be expected given the storm.
Making her way towards the marketplace, Tempest wiped rain water from her eyes as she glanced around at the buildings, searching for a place to stay. A few shops, a library, and town hall appeared out of the gloom at her approach, but nowhere she could find shelter for the night.
Undaunted, she continued her search.
It didn’t take long for her to reach the center of town. A small fountain rested in the middle of the marketplace, water cascading over its overflowing basin to rush down a nearby storm drain. Several vacant wooden stands dot the marketplace, their owners having packed up due to the storm. Somewhere a bell started tolling out the evening hour.
As she peered around through the rain, Tempest found that she was not alone, much to her surprise. A smallish pony in a yellow rain jacket stood outside one of the storefronts, a glowing lantern held in their mouth. As Tempest watched, the pony’s horn lit up and they lifted the lantern up onto a hook just above the shop’s door.
She eyed the pony for a moment before making her way over. They had just finished securing the lantern when she reached them. Lifting a hoof, Tempest tapped the pony on the shoulder. “Um, excuse me?” She winced as the pony jumped with a yelp.
They turned to face her, revealing an elder mare beneath the raincoat. She squinted—one of her eyes clouded with age—as she attempted to see who had snuck up on her. Upon seeing Tempest, her eyes widened and she took a step back. Tempest couldn’t blame her though; she was a good head taller than the old mare and wearing a dark cloak that covered most of her body.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” Tempest said, taking a step back as well.
The mare placed a hoof to her chest and took a deep breath before giving her a weak smile. “Oh, that’s quite alright, deary. No harm done.” She took another breath before glancing over Tempest. “If you don’t mind me asking, what are you doing out in this weather, young one?”
“I’m actually looking for the inn,” Tempest admitted, “though I’m afraid I’m not as familiar with the town as I once was.”
“Oh, well, er… the only real inn we have is The Chilled Glass.” The mare turned and pointed down one of the streets that branched away from the market. “Just down that way, the last building on the right. You can’t miss it.”
Giving the mare a nod of thanks, Tempest turned and headed down the street that was indicated. Head bowed against the driving rain, she peered at each building she passed. Sure enough, at the end of the row—nestled right next to a small café—was a large cabin-like building. A bay window on the front had many different sized mugs displayed on purple velvet cushions, and a large wooden sign above the door read ‘The Chilled Glass Inn’ in stylized letters, behind which a cup with several ice cubes was painted.
Barely taking a second to study the building, Tempest pushed the door open and hurried inside out of the pouring rain.
She was greeted instantly by a warm wave of air and the heated scent of spiced potatoes and apple cider. Standing on the entrance mat, she gave herself a good shake, trying to dislodge any excess water that had followed her in. A small puddle formed around her hooves.
With her mouth already beginning to water, Tempest took a moment to glance around the common room. Only a few ponies were present, seated amongst the empty tables that filled the eating area. They glanced up when she entered, but quickly returned to their food and drinks. A large stone fireplace was located against the far wall, a fire crackling away merrily within the hearth. Along the opposite wall, a set of wooden stairs went up to the second floor.
Keeping her hood up, Tempest made her way towards the bar which was currently empty save for an oldish stallion behind the counter. His coat was dark brown, and his wispy mane was white with age. It ran down the sides of his face until it became a whiskery set of sideburns that covered his cheeks. A long pipe rested between his toothless gums, and a plaid cap rested atop his head.
He glanced up as Tempest sat down on one of the barstools and gave her a large, gummy grin. “Welcome to The Chilled Glass Inn. The name’s Frosty Mug, but everypony just calls me Frosty. What can I get yer for?”
“How much for a meal and room?” Tempest asked.
Frosty sucked on the edge of pipe thoughtful for a moment before he smacked his gums. “That’ll be about fifty-four bits, methinks.”
Wordlessly, Tempest reached beneath her dripping cloak and pulled out the necessary bits. She dropped them on the counter, where they were promptly scooped up by the stallion and counted out. Upon seeing that she had given him the correct amount, he headed back to the kitchen to prepare her meal.
Tempest relaxed in her seat, allowing the warm air from the fire to slowly spread through her chilled limbs. Reaching back under the cloak, she undid a pair of saddlebags strapped to her back, gingerly lowering them beneath her stool. They were luckily drier than she was, but they still had caught some of the rain.
She kept her cloak on though, allowing it to drip-dry.
Frosty soon returned and placed a plate filled with food down in front of her, along with a wooden mug of cold cider. The sight of the food-laden plate—spiced potatoes, cooked carrots, root-and-bean stew, and potato bread—made Tempest’s stomach growl loudly; she hadn’t eaten anything all day. Picking up her fork, she dug in eagerly.
The food was warm and flavorful, the mixture of homemade sauce and spices playing out upon her palate. The cider was good too, the amber liquid cool and soothing to her dry throat. It had a nutty, hazelnut flavor to it that, while puzzling at first, she soon found she actually enjoyed. There was also a creamy aftertaste that left her wanting more.
She was about halfway through her meal when Frosty sidled up again and place a set of keys down in front of her.
“There you are, lass,” he said as he gummed his pipe. “Your room is just up the stairs and the last door on the right.”
Grunting around the food in her mouth, Tempest grabbed the keys with her hoof and slid them beneath her cloak. She continued eating her meal in silence until everything had been consumed, even to the point where she placed the edge of the plate to her lips and tipped her head back to get the gravy-broth from the stew.
With the meal finished and her belly fuller than it had been in a while, Tempest threw back the rest of the ale, draining the mug in one go. Fishing out a few bits for a tip, she dropped them on the counter next to the dirty dishes before grabbing her saddlebags and making her way up the stairs to the second floor.
The bits and dishes were gone before she made it up the first few steps.
“G’night, lass!” Frosty called after her with a friendly wave as he leaned on the counter. “Breakfast will be waiting for you in the morning. Oh, and it’ll be an additional twenty-five bits if you’re staying another night.”
Giving the stallion a nod to show she heard him, Tempest disappeared up the stairs.
As Frosty had said, the keys did unlock the last door on the right, and she wasted no time slipping inside before closing and locking the door again behind her. The room was small, which was to be expected from a one-pony room. A single bed rested in the corner of the room, along with a small writing desk with a lit lamp upon it. A tiny bureau with drawers rested in another corner, just below a small window. A thick pair of flowery curtains covered the glass, hiding the storm outside from view. A small closet—empty save for a few coat hangers—was positioned just across the room from the bed.
Tempest eyed the flower-covered curtains with some disdain before moving further into the room. Dropping her saddlebags at the foot of the bed, she let out a weary sigh before finally undoing her cloak. The still-damp material fell to the floor, revealing the dark armor which laid beneath it. She removed said armor, carefully stacking it in an empty corner of the room before throwing the cloak over it to hide it from sight. Next came the black spandex suit she wore beneath her armor. Unzipping the back, she slipped out of the clingy material before throwing it over the closet door to dry properly.
With that, Tempest unceremoniously flopped down onto the bed. She was still for a moment before rolling onto her back. Reaching out with a hoof, she turned off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness.
For a long time, she just laid there, staring up at the dark ceiling above her while listening to the storm still raging outside. Every so often a flash of lightning when shine through a small gap in the curtains, illuminating the room for a brief second before plunging everything back into darkness.
A multitude of thoughts swirled about within Tempest’s head as she laid there, going over past events in her mind. The entire incident with the Princesses had only happened a week or so ago, yet it still weighed heavily on her mind, as did her part in everything. Minutes turned to hours as she just laid there, thinking.
It was late when she finally decided to get some sleep. Settling back in the bed, she closed her eyes and tried to claim her mind. It took a few minutes, but she eventually began to slip off into the realm of slumber. As she went, a single through crossed her mind and while it didn’t make her smile, the thought had a comforting presence to it.
I’m home.