//------------------------------// // IV. I Sought You, For You Were Lovely and My Own // Story: Great Heart Will Not Be Denied // by Cynewulf //------------------------------// The Acropolis of Jannah was massive. It was a straight climb, no incline, taller than any building she had ever seen. The walls atop it seemed a world away, and the small caverns and balconies that dotted the outside surface of the mighty plateau seemed unattainable. These natural fortifications dwarfed the pure white of the city’s outer walls, and Rarity felt small. Making their way here had been easier than she’d expected. Even with patrols, Rarity had just seemed to know where to go. The prospect of avoiding detection had not fazed her a bit. They had just seemed so familiar. It had all seemed so very familiar. All morning, as the towering citadel had beckoned, it had tugged on her memory like a colt at his mother’s apron. Had she dreamed of these streets? Had looking out over them as she finally closed her eyes seared them into her memory? She hadn’t paid nearly that much attention. And yet when she came to a street, she knew it. When she turned at an intersection or crossed through a now barren park, she knew exactly what would be ahead of her. It was if she’d flown over this city and walked its streets her entire life. And even now, as she stood before the awe-inspiring heart of the once mighty city, a sense of familiarity played with her mind. Familiarity, unfortunately, did not equal concrete knowledge of how to enter without using the front door. “There has to be some way,” she insisted. “I’m sure of it.” “Are ye, now?” Root asked, as he walked behind her, watching for pursuit. “Absolutely. As I live.” “Well, as ye live, I’ve not found one yet.” He sniffed irritably. Rarity sighed for perhaps the hundredth time in the last hour. “Branch... I know it seems strange, but you simply must trust me. I know there’s a way in. It doesn’t matter, anyhow. It’s all quite moot. Unless you wish to try your luck at the front gate.” Branch grimaced and looked away from her, grumbling. But how could she explain? There wasn’t any good reason for her surety, really. Just... an impression. That there was one. She’d tried to explain it to him twice already, and both times the burly earth pony had simply looked at her strangely. He probably thinks me mad. Sometimes I feel that way, in this place. She looked over her shoulder again, and Root cocked his head to the side, raising an eyebrow. She shook her head, as if to say it was nothing, and then went back to searching. The feeling of being watched never left for long. It wasn’t like the feeling she got when some stallion was eying her futilely from across the cafe, or when someone was looking for her. It was a strange sort of feeling, like somepony was walking beside her, matching every step she made. An alright sort of companionship, just walking. It must be from walking with the brothers. In a way, it reminded her suddenly of walking with Rainbow after the moon had risen in the sky, down the lonely streets of Ponyville. Why...? No, Rarity, she warned herself, but it was too late. Her mind was pulled along by nostalgia and homesickness, and the rhythmic beat of her hooves against the cobblestone faded away. Rarity breathed in the cold night air, and shivered despite her warm apparel. Rainbow chuckled and nuzzled under her chin, and Rarity smiled. She loved the feel of Rainbow’s feathered wings and of her coat, warm no matter what. She let out a happy sigh, and her warm breath showed up as a little fog in front of her. Her hooves crunched against the snow that was starting to collect in the streets. “So,” Dash began as they walked into the empty square. “So,” she responded with a chuckle. She kissed Dash on the cheek, and they stopped to watch the snow fall. “You’re crazy. I’m doin’ alright, but I’m a pegasus. You don’t have resistance to the cold, Rares.” Rarity simply continued to smile. She squeezed her eyes shut, taking in a deep, long breath and holding it as she walked. She shouldn’t. She really, really shouldn’t... and yet. But loneliness is hard to fight. She missed Rainbow. It had been so long since she’d heard that voice. “So why? It’s just snow, Rares.” “Yes, well, to you maybe,” she sniffed, pretending to be offended. Rainbow rolled her eyes. “But to me, it means a little more! It‘s the first snow! When I was a filly, I loved the snow.” Rainbow walked forward, right in front of her. That prismatic tail swayed and it was Rarity’s turn to roll her eyes. “Bored, Rainbow Dash, most fearsome of ponies?” “Most awesome, Rarity. Most awesome. And nah, just movin’ my hooves. I can’t imagine you as a little kid.” She raised an eyebrow. “I mean... I still lived in Cloudsdale then, probably. But I can just imagine you, little filly Rarity.” She started laughing, her wings flaring as she struggled for breath. Rarity harrumphed. “Oh... gods. ‘I want my cutie mark to be.... FASHION!’” she cried, changing her voice to sound like a cross between Sweetie’s and Rarity’s. Rarity scowled at her laughing pegasus, but then chuckled. “I suppose. I was rather eager, as a filly. I worked on costumes for the school plays like my poor little life depended on them!” She recalled feverishly sewing, her control of magic still weak. “I bet they were awesome,” Rainbow said, and then she smiled that award-winning lopsided grin. She loved that grin, lived for it. Tears pooled at the edges of her eyes, and she tried to blink them away. “Branch?” “Yes, milady?” “Is there anyway we can stop in a few minutes? I know we can’t be seen, but the tarp is camoflauged, correct?” “Oh, aye, of course,” he answered, not looking back. “See yon guardhouse? I think we may try to see inside ourselves anyhow just to make sure it’s not what we need. Secret passageways for the guards, if ye ken.” “Of course,” she echoed, and wiped her eyes with a hoof. They came away wet and she hated it. It was a miracle she hadn’t spent the whole trip crying, really. It had always been a matter of time. Useless, useless, useless. Oh, Rainbow. Branch led on, but she could care less. She knew there was a way in, that certainty never left her for all of its refusal to explain itself. “And I’m tellin’ ye, yer bein’ stubborn.” “Better,” Root responded as he had many times over, doing his best around the tool in his mouth. Branch sighed, frustrated, and sat. His brother’s professed skills with simple machinery were not showing themselves. Rarity ignored them both, lost in her own thoughts in the other room. The small guard house built into the side of the cliff had been promising, but as soon as they’d reached the door, Root had heard hoofsteps and so they’d hid. Sure enough, there were patrols about the base. It was luck alone that saved them; there was a long outcropping beside the flat, rectangular building that the patrol had needed to go around. It had bought them time. And so they’d rushed in blindly. She had hid under the window beside the door, and tried to hold her breath as they trotted by. Every step outside the window had been torture, like she could feel them on her chest and on her stomach, marching. It was only after the mercenaries had passed out of sight and sound did Branch find the door. It was a new door, and the rather large padlock and chain on its handles were very recent. On top of that, it was situated in the back of the building, where it met the rock, in the rather empty armory. Across the long hall from her, Rarity knew they were working at picking that iron lock. Branch would wander the mostly empty room, staring at the door and the patient Root. He would pretend to inspect the ancient spear racks. He would shuffle listlessly. Rarity had noted it, but drew no conclusions. She’d retreated further into the waystation,finding a side room. She guessed tiredly that it had once been some sort of office for an officer. Perhaps some middling soldier of Jannah had had a nice desk, a picture of his wife. But her usual imagining of such things would have to wait. She was occupied. They lay together in the early morning light. “Twilight’ll be here soon,” Dash said presently, but didn’t move. Rarity did, however. She scooted closer and kissed Rainbow’s cheek before sighing. She loved these lazy mornings when neither of them were working and they could simply sleep in. Sometimes, Dash would play music on her new... whatever it is that thing was called. MPs or some silliness. The new kind. And it was nice. Rarity loved her singing voice, and always took the time to coax her love into singing, when she thought Dash would be amenable. “It can wait,” she said softly. “I guess,” Dash said, and once again Rarity was amused at how easy it was to convince Rainbow that being lazy was the best course of action. When choosing between exertion and a nice soft cloud, Rainbow chose a cloud whenever possible. Rainbow shifted, stretching. “What time is it, Rares?” Rarity blinked the sleep out of her eyes and sought the alarm clock with her magic. She pulled it over to her face and held it suspended above her for a moment. “Eight,” she said. “Or so.” The clock read 8:25 exactly, but she wasn’t going to say that. Twilight would come when she came, and telling Rainbow it was almost half past would just make her want to get up. And Rarity never wanted to move. She never wanted Rainbow to move. Moving meant leaving. Rainbow closed her eyes again. “Music?” “Sure.” She at up with a soft groan, and rested on her haunches. Rarity found the buttons and pushed them still not sure about this new machine. Her old player had been quite fine, thank you. But technology was moving fast. They were building carts now that could move of their own accord, and Luna talked about earth ponies flying. “I am my mother's only one It's enough...” Rarity could hear that song playing even know, the guitar and the soft but steady beat of somepony’s hoof upon the ground. Was that how they did it? She didn’t know. Branch groaned, and Rarity idly wondered if perhaps he was nervous about another patrol. “Brother, friend, Eon’s blood! How long does it bloody take ye?” “Long enough to vex ye,” the other stallion replied, spitting out the lockpick. “Branch, you try. Stop moving.” Grumbling, the stallion with the ragged mane did just that, sitting on his haunches before the lock, fiddling with it. Of course, they had asked Rarity if she could, but she’d denied that she was capable. A lie, but one that was necessary. She was in no condition to focus her magic in such a way. Though, that was not to say that she was without the knowledge; far from it. She’d actually learned how to pick locks with magic as a younger mare. How had that come up? Who had taught her? She remembered a nice neighbor in the apartment. Was it the old grandmother down the hall? She couldn’t remember, it was more than a decade ago. It was simply wonderful, she reflected, how the useful memory of how she managed to pick locks with magic before had deserted her and how Rainbow had set up tents in her mind. Wonderful. “So, you’re startin’ to like Good Winter?” Rainbow asked, pronouncing it with the proper accent. It was strange hearing the correct sound on her tongue. “Of course, darling. He is quite calming.” “Somethin’ like that. What’s keeping Twilight, I wonder?” Rainbow yawned, and looked out the window. Rarity wished the window was closed. She wished that Rainbow wouldn’t look out it and think about the train or even about flying. Flying carried her way. She might get on the train, and go West with Twilight. Something caught in her throat. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. But a Lady cannot dodge the issue at hoof forever. “I’ll miss you,” she said quietly, wishing Rainbow Dash would’ve spoken at all to give her some indicator of mood. The words sounded awful on her tongue, like admitting she was wrong. They tasted like giving up. It was only for a while, wasn’t it? Three months, hadn’t Twilight said that? She couldn’t remember. She thought so, but... it was too long. She needed her here. Already the bed’s future emptiness weighed her. “Clothe,” said Branch as he worked. Rarity could hear the clink of metal against metal and tried to imagine the lock in her mind from all those years ago, the one she’d learned on. It was a spell, she knew that, but not an automatic sort of thing. Easy to botch. That was it! She remembered now, the lock on Professor Amethst’s desk. Control of Magic 101, freshman year. She’d loved getting students to try the lock, knowing it would peak their interests. It had captured Rarity's imagination for sure, helped take her mind off of the loneliness of cold Manehattan, practicing her minute control. She’d used it as a kind of meditation. How could I forget about that? I never told Rainbow. She’d probably think it was “awesome” or some such, that I could pick locks. Or that I used to. She stood with a soft groan. Her weary bones complained quietly, but she ignored them as best she could. Branch cursed and spat the tool out. “Damn it to Tar’trus, but I can’t do it. No idea what ‘bout it, no kennin’ at all.” He looked at his brother apologetically, but Root shook his head. “If I might try my hoof...?” Rarity said softly. Both earth ponies looked at her, hesitant. “I thought... ye might be unwell...?” Branch offered,tilting his head. “Alright,” Root replied, and gestured. His crimson brother caught his eyes, but the big stallion shrugged. Rarity was grateful to him. She sat before the door iron door and stared at the lock. Rarity took a deep breath and closed her eyes, trying to remember the classroom. Professor Amethyst gesturing to the lock with a hoof. A test, or a quiz. Something. Her professor was watching, and she was waiting. Gingerly, Rarity reached out for the lock with her magic, feeling around it, surprised at how naturally it came to her. It was, of course, Iron, and somewhat resistant to magic. No matter, there were ways around that. She opened her eyes again. Looks similar to the one from her test. She fashioned a kind of tool in midair, her light blue aura focusing into a rod. It flew straight and true into the lock. The earth ponies looked on in awe, but she ignored them. It was very similar. She wondered idly, as she shaped her “key”, if perhaps it hadn’t been made in the same Equestrian shops that had created Professor Amethyst’s long ago. “Yes,” she said softly, smiling. She was close, and the process was all coming back to her. It was trial and error, testing each of the tumblers in turn. One refused to cooperate, and she paused. Oh. Those. She altered her magic, considering a cut from an angle into her key design... And it fit. She chuckled, and the lock opened. With a tug of her magic, Rarity pulled it and the chain from the door handles. Behind it she found a long stairway leading up, dark except for occasional torches on the walls. “I’ll be...” Branch said, and she turned to find him agape. She giggled, the sound almost shocking her. It echoed lightly up the dim stairwell. They all stood there, listening to it. Finally, Rarity broke the awkward silence. “Gentlecolts?” she said, gesturing. “Surely you wouldn’t let a lady head into enemy territory first.” Branch turned even darker crimson than he already was, and she laughed quietly. She had missed teasing. It had been some time. But he went ahead, and she followed quietly. They watched the proceedings below with a mixture of disgust and morbid fascination. Coming this far had been surprisingly easy. The stairs had led to the first floor and to a grand hall filled with mercenaries and strange ponies with hoods and robes. They’d slipped around the side, hiding behind pillars and waiting for chances to move. Then had come the side door into a series of corridors and more rooms that had once been servant quarters, she assumed. These had been abandoned: no close calls. The barracks on the third floor had posed a problem; it had been filled with the strange ponies. A few of them were earth ponies, but on further investigation, they’d found them mostly to be zebras. The zebras had sinister looking hoofblades and Rarity had almost gasped aloud at the horrible scars that marred their limbs and faces. It had been harrowing, trying to find a way around. The hallways around the barracks chamber with its new bedding were occupied by mercenaries and hooded zebras, and in the end only a strange messenger from the floor above had saved them. He’d arrived in the large room while Rarity watched from a doorway in the corner. His eyes had been red, as if he’d been drinking. His movements were strange, once again almost drunken, but not quite. They were too bizarre for that. He twitched, his ears—his torn, twice pierced ears—seemed to act with a life of their own. As he spoke his guttaral tongue, his teeth ground together. Rarity suspected some sort of drug. Just like that, though, they’d left. Unfortunately, Rarity had realized that their only option was to see where the strange zebras were going. If nothing else, they could figure out where D’Jalin was. Maybe they would see Rainbow. She was so glad that her hopes of seeing Rainbow at this assembly had been thwarted. The mad zebra was dead; she had no idea why or what he had said, but his “friends” seemed to accept this with wild ecstasy. She hadn’t been able to watch it all. The blood had been too much. Her past misadventure in the dark maze come back to her, and she’d saw Rainbow bloody and mangled again. She’d almost heard the whispers from that place where the sun was silent, telling her it would happen. That it might happen. He’d danced, while D’jalin had watched in judgement from atop a rather crude throne. His comrades and cut him until he the white between his stripes had become crimson, and then he’d danced. As his hooves beat the ground to the timing of a hastily produced drum, the pooling life on the ground had begun to change. She’d almost cried out in shock at seeing it. No unicorn was ignorant of this, of course. It was something you read and heard vague rumors about in textbooks. Blood magic. It had risen up, danced with him, glowed with magic beyond her reckoning, and then been used up quickly. She could see no purpose in it except the show, but D’Jalin had seemed to sigh and close his eyes. And then he’d begun to speak, while his disciple had laid there before him, dead on the floor. She had no words. There were none. “Lady? Lady Rarity?” She looked at Root, and knew she must look horrid. Her hooves trembled, and she slumped against the balcony’s solid railing, thankful for its shelter. Her frazzled, sweat-absued mane was in her face, and she tried to brush it away. But her damn hooves kept shaking! Why? “Yes?” she managed to say with a relatively steady voice. “I think...” he gulped. “I think we may need to be splittin’ up.” “What?” she asked, her voice sharp and dangerous. “I know, I know. But I’ve... been thinking, if ye ken. We’re barely avoidin’ yon eyes of the crazed folk. It’s because we’re all three of us together, bunched up.” He shrugged, suddenly unsure. “What about the guards? One against many,” the other stallion cut in, frowning. Rarity nodded. “Yes, and we’re not exactly familiar with the layout.” “I know, I know,” Branch whispered with a pained grimace. “Just... listen. We need to find yer ladylove quick, kennit? Very quick. Ye saw that, I know ye did.” She nodded again. He shivered. “Don’t know any Zebra. Don’t know much about magic. What I do know is that D’Jalin has been sacrificing ponies from the villages. But we’ve started to fight back, and so I guess he’s using homegrown offerin’s.” “And?” Don’t you dare say it. Maybe he took the hint, as her eyes bored into his. Regardless, he looked away. “Look... Lady... I mean... I don’t know how to tell ye this, but this is the best idea I have. If we go on like this we’re gonna be caught. You can see that, aye?” She broke her stare off and looked back down at her hooves. The shaking had stopped. “Yes, I do see that, Branch. We’re too large a group.” She winced at how the “s” in see hissed as she whispered. They were silent, thinking. Below them in the assembly hall, D’Jalin had finished speaking. The cultists had begun to disperse. The mercenaries—who had looked almost as horrified as Rarity—were first to leave. “I hope this isn’t a ‘ladies first’ situation, gentlecolts,” Rarity whispered, trying to break the uneasy silence with a smile. Branch gave her an attempt at a smile. Root’s reaction was a bit more sincere. “Not if ye don’t wish to. We could split in two groups.” Root said softly. “No,” she responded with a shake of her head. “No, that wouldn’t help. We’ll be parted in three ways, and we’ll find Rainbow. The sentiment is appreciated, Root.” He nodded. “Rarity, milady... I’m sorry. I don’t like this...” He searched for words, but she gestured with her hoof for him to stop. “It’s fine. I’ll be brave if you will. Though I wish you two had some of those hoofblades...” “Ye have yon gun, aye? Surely ye’ll be fine,” Branch whispered. Rarity got the impression it was mostly to convince himself. “We’ll meet back here. It’s out of the way.” She kept a straight face. No, I don’t. It’s long gone, and Celestia forbid that I should touch such a thing as long as I live. “I shall be quite defended, Branch. You may go with that for peace.” He nodded. Rarity was bunched up behind a marble pillar, standing awkwardly on her hindlegs, praying fervently. A few more hoofsteps echoed in the hall, and with each one, she winced. Soft grumbling. Slowly, her heart pounding, she peeked around the pillar. There were only two guards here, sitting on the other side of the strange collonaded passageway. She’d gathered that this had been some sort of upper-class market, open to the needs of the nobility in peacetime. These two earth ponies had taken up residence in one of the old establishments, watching the way up to the grand stair. She’d come out of the door across from their little guard post without an ounce of caution. She’d even been about to comment on it, like an idiot, and then she’d heard those hoofsteps. Stupid, stupid, stupid! And now she was stuck here. She moved and they would see her. Please, go back in. It’s getting near dinner, is it not? Surely you’re hungry or something. But they didn’t move. They just sat there and talked. She felt trapped—no, she was trapped. Stupid, stupid Rarity, walking right out into the open. If she’d kept moving towards the grand stair, she’d have been there by now. These two ruffians would be none the wiser. Rainbow would be closer. But of course she hadn't! She'd frozen up as soon as she'd heard that first step, hadn't made a decision, and now? Stuck. It was far too typical of her progress through the exhaustingly large citadel. How these ancient ponies had managed to carve out such winding caverns and massive chambers was beyond her. Rarity was sure she’d walked more than a mile easily, and she wasn’t even past the public areas yet. Root and Branch are probably going to find her first. She watched the hired mare play with her hoofblades, scowling down at them. Yes, they probably would find Rainbow first, and then there would be Rarity, being useless. Out of her element. Rainbow would be sitting in her cell, miserable, probably chained to the floor or the wall. Her wings were probably bound. Rainbow would never let them do that, would she? But not even her Dash could stay awake and alert forever. She had to face that. It was probably dark. Was she thinking of the maze while she laid there, grounded? Rarity hadn’t stopped thinking about it since the first stairway in the waystation. One of the mercenaries moved. Her eyes burned into his back as he trotted through the doorway, pushing the partitioning cloth aside. As soon as it swished back into place, she looked back to his companion. The mare in the barding—earth pony, on the small side with her lance leaning against the wall—shifted and yawned. Rarity’s hooves felt like they were on fire. Her chest constricted. She could see Rainbow as if the mare was standing right before her. It was little known, but still quite true: the House of Belle had been a terror on the field of battle. Loved by the common folk, generous in peace, and peerless in martial prowess. The valor of a thousand unicorns before her boiled in her veins. Somehow, she knew what to do. It was like somepony entirely different was whispering in her ear. She knew how to cast sound dampening spells; you had to, when Sweetie Belle was your sister and you needed to work. Rarity knew she could land a few good kicks. She’d fought a manticore! She felt a kind of distant surprise at that memory, but yes, she had bucked it in the face, hadn’t she? The spell was up, slammed on the door in a hurry. It was shoddy, sloppy spellcasting, but it was enough. All she needed was a chance, just a short moment. Twenty seconds of stupidity. She had a lot of ground to make up in the rescuing department. Rarity was out from cover, on the bored mare before she could make a noise. With a second spell, she pushed the lance far out of reach. With a third, she threw the mare into the open hallway. With a fourth, her magic beginning to strain and her horn beginning to hurt, she plastered two more walls of silence at either end of the short passageway. “Granite! Granite, I foun’ her! Gr—” When her voice began to echo, she recognized Rarity’s magic immediately. No help was coming. The mare rose to her hooves and swung at Rarity. Damn! Hoofblades, small ones. She edged back, trying to maintain her balance. The snarling earth pony swung again and again, each time her hooves with their serrated, edged spur-like blades coming with inches of Rarity’s face. Finally, she connected. Rarity was too slow, too unbalanced already. Her forehoof connected and then the blade sliced a jagged line across Rarity’s cheek. Rarity cried out in agony, and fell back. If her eye had been open, she’d have lost it. Blood ran down her cheek. The wound was deeper than she thought possible. She swore, frightened. The other mare began to gloat and trotted over with a wide grin. Rarity backed up, trying to rise, but her back was against the cold marble tile and there was nothing she could do... At least, that’s what it appeared like. The mercenary began to laugh. “That’s what ye get then, lass, tryin’ ta get the ju—” Rarity bucked her in the face with both hindlegs, and the feel of the laughing mare’s face under her hooves made her sick. The mercenary dropped like a stone. Trembling, she got back up and shook herself. She didn’t look at the fallen mare. She focused on the second guard. She could afford to have him behind her when she moved on. She knew what had to be done. But she didn’t want to. She wanted to run, drop the sound barriers that were already fraying at the edges and just flee. Rarity wanted out. She wanted Rainbow. Gingerly, she touched her face with a hoof. It came away bloody, and her cheek stung where she’d touched it. But then she grit her teeth. Just do it or don’t. If you’re going to risk him sneaking up on you, make your mind up. So she did. She left, running for the door that led out into another large chamber, this one more empty than the grand hall. Old tapestries preserved from time by magic hung on the walls, and a small statue of a smiling Alicorn sat proudly and kindly on a pedestal. There were no ponies. There was only the clip-clopping of her own hooves against the marble. Rarity took a steadying breath as the adrenaline finally began to drain from her limbs, leaving them feeling leaden. There was no choice, exposed as it made her. None at all. Rarity mounted the stairs.