From The Ashes

Chapter One

Thieves, traitors, merchants, warriors; it does not matter. Buffalo, Griffon, Diamond Dog, or even Pony, it does not matter. Man, woman, or child, it does not matter. Captors are blind to these things. When you're a prisoner, the only thing that could matter is if you have information. Changelings crave information. They are ravenous for it.

It's a simple feat for them, changing into someone you love. Then, when you get close enough, they trap you in their goo. You are their prisoner. Many on the prison convoy had found themselves caught that way. Some, however, were captured by sheer force. Changelings are excellent fighters, these people found out.

The convoy had been traveling the barren land of the Changelings for days. There were ten carts, each holding around twenty people. The prisoners had little to eat or drink and many had perished during the journey. They were nearing the bug's capitol, Öuj'xik and the remaining prisoners knew that there was no hope for escape now.

All they could do now was pray that they would be with their family in chains. Many realized that now, the only way to seek comfort was among each other. Talking quietly, each person told their story. One stallion could not find comfort in his fellow prisoners though. They wouldn't talk to me anyway, he thought. I'm just a face in the crowd.

"Excuse me," a white griffoness softy said. "May I ask what your story is?"

The stallion sighed and put his arms over his knees, the chains clanking. "It's complicated."

"Everything is these days," she said with a hint of saddness. "Where are you from?"

"Ponyville."

"Isn't that where that exiled stallion lived?"

The stallion eyed her wearily, aware that she could be a Changeling. "I heard he was never from anywhere and just wandered Equestria."

"Many people have heard false tales concerning him. I was told that he tried to propose to Twili-"

The stallion put his hand over her beak and carefully watched the Changeling guards. They continued to march onward, eyes straight ahead. "Be careful about who might be listening to you," the stallion whispered. "Especially concerning that mare and those acossiated with her."

He removed his hand and looked down. "Yes...he did. He was arrested before he had the chance."

"What's your name?"

"I can't say. I...I have done enough harm by even talking to you."

"Sir, I have been alone for months and had hoped to befriend someone before I reached Öuj'xik. Therefore, I, Princess Storm Icefeather humbly ask your name."

The stallion looked at her in shock. "My appologies, your majesty. But, now you'd be in greater danger if I had told you my name."

The two sat in silence for a few minutes as the princess thought. They had entered the city when she said, "You're the Exile. Aren't you?" The stallion nodded, his amber eyes wet with tears. "I'm so sorry," Storm said, hugging him.

"Everyone out!" A guard's hissing voice shouted. Each prisoner in the convoy exited their cart and stood next to it. The Exile took notice of the black architechture that was the city. Its buildings were all sharp and menacing, green light softly glowing in what appeared to be streetlamps.

Öuj'xik was surrounded by a mountain. Several caves and buildings were embeded in it. Aside from the guards and soldiers keeping vigil, not many Changelings could be seen. They must be in the caves, the stallion thought.

"I want men on my left," the prison master yelled. "Women and children on my right. Move!" He cracked a whip, and they gathered in lines on either side. The stallion had a bad feeling when the city buzzed with life as its citizens came out of hiding.

The guards moved some prisoners into two more lines and led them off. The princess took a final look at the Exile as she was taken away. A few Changelings began to inspect them. They cut off the men's shirts if they had them, showing the lean muscle, or fat.

They would then inspect teeth, forcing open the captive's mouth. The Exile saw the women and children being treated in a similar manner. He kept his eyes focused on the women's faces out of respect. He could hear and feel the men's need to defend their wives and sisters, but there was nothing they could do.

One by one, the prisoners were taken away. Some were taken for interrogation, sold into slavery, and even killed outright for not being any use to the Changelings.

A Changeling came up to the Exile, looking thoughtful. He examined his muscles, humming with satisfaction. He tossed a pouch filled with coins to the prison master and pushed the stallion to the ground. "Get quadrupal slave," he hissed. "It's hard to get out of a harness when you can't grab the chains."

The Exile bowed his head and did so. His new master slipped a heavy harness over the stallion's neck and shakled him to a line of others like him. The slaver cracked his whip and the men marched through the city. Along the way, citizens sneered and spat at them. A few minutes later they slowly passed an auction stand.

"You see," the slaver said. "That is why we are superior. We can break even the strongest Minotaur."

The Exile saw a mare holding a baby being sold. She screamed as her child was torn from her arms, the mare's husband fighting against the slime that held him in place. The baby wailed and was silenced. The child's head tilted at an angle, broken.

The stallion scowled, feeling a fiery heat inside of him well up. He closed his eyes and took a shakey breath. No. You can't do that. Not here. You can't stop it anyways. It's what got you here in the first place.

They were marching again. The Exile looked back at the stand, burning the image of the baby into his mind. He stopped suddenly. The griffon princess was being inspected. The bug examining her mouth thrust his finger into her beak and yelped as she bit him.

Storm was slapped across the face, the force knocking her down. The stallion locked eyes with her. She moved her talons in a pattern and the Exile mouthed, 'hope?' She smiled sadly, nodding.

The stallion was pushed forward and he continued to walk. He forced himself to watch the griffoness' top be torn off and her back be whipped repeatedly. Be strong princess...

The slaves were led through a large tunnel in the mountain, the green light inside lending little visibility. The tunnel twisted and turned with several others attatched to it, making the path almost impossible to remember.

They stopped in a small cavern with a barred window at the end of it. The floor was lined with hay and shakles were attatched to the walls. About a dozen other slaves sulked on the floor, their bonds keeping them five feet from the wall.

The Exile and the others were disconnected from their harnesses and locked to the walls. The slaver then walked out and closed the heavy door, the bolt sliding into place. "What is this place?" A twitching stallion asked.

Chains rattled as another stallion next to the Exile stood up in the faint light. "The slave pens in the arena," he replied in a soft, low voice. "You have been brought here for the Changeling's own amusement. You are going to fight and most likely will die."

The new arrivals grumbled and shifted uneasilly. "Death does not come so easilly to the spirited," a buffalo snarled.

"Make that claim again when you have been here as long as me. You may survive with my guidence, however. I will train you all in secret. Unfortunately, there is nothing here we can use as training weapons, so you will learn unarmed combat. You'll have to teach yourself how to use a weapon in the arena."

"And if we refuse to fight?" The Exile asked.

The stallion's teeth shined in a grim smile. "The beasts need food," he replied simply. "I have been here many years and know that fact all too well. I have survived because the Changelings like my battles. They call me the Scourge of Despair, because I have not given up the hope that has spurred me on. The hope of seeing my family freed. That's what you must fight for gentlemen."

He sat back down and the slaves sat in silence. They did nothing for what seemed like hours. When the food arrived, they ate ravenously, though it only consisted of water, bread, cheese, and an onion. Their moods seemed to lighten a bit, even with such a little amount of food.

Gradualy, the men began to converse out of lonliness. Each shared how they were captured with the older slaves. The Exile shifted into his anthromorphic form and took off a chain necklace. He opened the large locket, frowning at the items inside.

There were several pictures of his friends, some with him in them. He shifted through them, his lips twitching as he resisted the urge to smile at the memories he had shared. He stopped, picking up a small ring gingerly.

His gaze shifted to a picture taped to the inside of the clasp. It was the last picture he had recieved; a mare's cheerful face smiled at him, her blue gown adding to her beauty. The Exile put the items away and put his necklace back on. The stallion's vision blurred as his eyes became tearfull.

The memory came back to him hard and he shut his eyes tight. He was forced to the ground, the princess' stern face towering above him.

"You," a voice said, breaking his thoughts. "Come here." The Exile turned his head to the source; the stallion from before was motioning for him to come. He did, his chains just barely long enough. Now that he was closer, he could see what this stallion looked like.

He was lean and well toned, his body very angular and sharp. His blue-green mane touched his shoulders and his tail was a bit longer than the average stallion's. His black fur was dirty and matted; three vertical scars ran down the length of the left side of his face.

"There's something we need to discuss," he continued, his emerald eyes revealing no emotion. "By next week, several of you will be dead, regardless if you use what I teach you. I'm not going to lie, the gladiators will not give you mercy and will stab you in the back as soon as you turn away."

"Why are you telling me this?" The Exile asked.

"Because you need a reason to fight back; defensivly at the very least."

"I don't kill, Scourge."

"I'm not saying you will! Even so, you might have to hurt somepony to live and shields only last so long. Now get some sleep, we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

'-'

"Again!" Scourge shouted. The Ponies practiced the attack once more, punching left and right, then quickly changing form and bucking with their hind hooves. The Griffons, Buffalo, and Diamond Dogs watched on since combat was both cultural and instinctive for them. The Exile had refused to be taught at first, but in the days that passed, more and more of his fellow slaves were taken away, never to return.

"That's enough for today," Scourge said. "Rest now." They all sat down and the stallion took the Exile aside.

"Is something wrong?" The Exile asked. Scourge kept quiet, leading him to the window.

"I need to tell you something," he said. "But before I do I must know who you are. Who you really are. You're not just some ordinary stallion are you?"

The Exile looked away. "I'm just another stallion, nothing special."

"Then why don't I believe you? What are you hiding?"

"Nothing! Look, I've already told you who I am, so why do you keep pestering me?"

"Because I know that you havn't told me everything...Exile."

The Exile slowly looked at Scourge, fear showing on his face. "How did you know?" His voice was a whisper.

"I heard rumors that you had been captured. I didn't believe it, until I saw you. You look and act the same way I had been told. So that is why I ask: how much do you want to be back in Equestria?"

"More than anything."

"In that case, look out there." The Exile's gaze followed the stallion's hoof, pointing at the window. "Do you see the bones scattered around the arena?" The Exile nodded. "I have organized a rebellion. They will attack Öuj'xik in two days. Now those bones, they belong to those who died because of the queen's tyranny. I don't want you to die alongside them, so, will you accept my charity?"

"If it will get me home, yes. But I won't fight for you Scourge."

"I won't force you Exile. You have my word."