My Little Warhammer 40,000: Penitence

Chapter 3: Of Ponies and Men

A short while later the odd pair of beings found their way to a gnarled tree. Its trunk housed a small door, flanked on either side by windows cut into the tree, and bottles were hung from its branches by ropes. A red and green mask hung above the entrance. Zecora approached the door and turned her head to ask,

"You must be thirsty, I think.

I shall make us some tea to drink.

Staying out here, you need not abide.

Would you care to come inside?"

Taking a few steps forward, the Calibanite eyed the doorway and shook his head. "Thank you, but no, I think I'll stay out here." I probably wouldn't fit through that door, he thought. And even if I could, it would be too easy to trap me in there. Just because this strange hermit had offered him aid did not mean she lacked more sinister motives.

She sighed and pushed open the door. As the equine stepped inside, the outsider scanned the surrounding area. His eyes picked out points in the surrounding bushes and trees where an enemy might spring from in ambush. Distant sounds reached through his helmet's audio sensors to tickle his ears with the buzzing of native insects, the croaking of amphibians, and a gentle breeze stirring the branches of nearby trees. Contrary to what the soldier had expected, there were no distant roars or calls that suggested larger creatures going about. Either his host had exaggerated the ferocity of the local fauna, or things were quieter than would be expected.

This forest reminds me of how home used to be… except it seems to be less of a hellhole. Despite the constant and varied dangers faced in his native woods, the Space Marine found himself missing the old forests of his past. Back when Caliban had been green and alive, not flattened by-

-smoke and fire and blood and ruin and the sound of a world ending-

-flashes of memory flooded his mind. His primary heart began to beat faster in sympathy, and the smell of sulfur filled his nostrils. Try as he might, the Dark Angel could not assemble these fragments into something cohesive.

The sound of hooves clacking against the ground broke him from reverie. Zecora came out of her house, her mouth holding a tray upon which two cups rested. She placed the drinks in a shady spot under the tree's branches and said,

"The tea is ready and boiled with heat.

Won't you join me and take a seat?"

After a moment of hesitation, the human went over and sat down beside her. Pleased with this small amount of progress, Zecora picked up a cup and gratefully took a long sip. As she raised the cup to her lips, the Calibanite found even this small movement interesting. The handle on the cup is extremely large. She is able to fit her entire leg through the gap. It took a moment for the implications to become apparent as he stared at the remaining cup. These were designed for horses!

It seemed that this supported Zecora's assertion that she was in fact an equine and not a shapeshifter, but he still harbored some doubts. She is a talking horse! There is no such thing! Noticing his lack of movement, the zebra set her cup down and asked,

"Come now, please, won't you try it?

I am sure you are thirsty, don't deny it."

He slowly lifted the cup up and held it before his helmet, allowing the steamy aroma to run through the sensors in the mouth grille of his helmet. No neurotoxins, biochemical agents, or parasites detected… Hidden behind red lenses, his eyes switched from the cup to the little horse beside him. She merely sat there and smiled encouragingly, without any hint of malice or ill intent.

This, more than anything, persuaded him to remove his helmet.

Ᾰ

At first Zecora had not understood why he did not just drink, but now she saw that the thick green shell that covered the stranger was in fact a suit of armor. The hands rested the evil-eyed helmet on the ground as she got her first real look at the being behind the mask.

The first thing that she noticed was the light peach of his skin, as if he had been exposed to very little sunlight during his life. His head was completely bald and devoid of hair, and she wondered if the rest of his body was the same way. Then she noted that the structure of this outsider's head was different than any creature she had ever seen. His mouth was directly underneath his eyes, instead of being in front of them on a snout, and his nose stuck out by itself from his face. He's so… alien.

Dark green eyes, set in the center of the face like a predator's, regarded her beneath hairless brows. These then fell upon the remaining cup. Armor-clad fingers raised it to the warrior's lips, which took an experimental sip. He was silent for a moment, gazing into the liquid.

"Now that you have had a drink,

tell me what you think."

"Digestible," he stated flatly. Zecora's eyes narrowed a little at the tactless reply. "High nutrition content, especially calcium." Looking at her, he arched an eyebrow. "Grass?" She smiled and nodded.

"Here in the forest, the grass is sweet.

It is good to boil and good to eat.

Add some tea leaves to the pot

And a delicious brew is what is wrought."

"My thanks." He tipped the cup up and swallowed the rest of it in one gulp. The zebra winced at the thought of chugging hot tea. As he placed the cup back on the tray, he looked at her as if considering something. Without warning, he grabbed one of her forelimbs, which barely registered in her brain before the knife came down slashing.

Ᾰ

He made sure to keep a firm grip on her leg as his knife darted forward and made a shallow cut on her limb. Still holding firmly, he allowed a trickle of blood to pool onto the blade. Satisfied, he released Zecora. She watched in horror as her blood was licked off the blade, her assailant's face a blank mask. Finally, though, it struck him and his eyes widened.

Memories flitted through his mind like birds on the wing. They were blurry, as though seen through the eyes of another, but they could still be understood. He saw grassy plains of a land far away. He saw wandering tribes of striped horses, herding cattle and fending off lions.

He saw the telling of a lie, and the tragic consequences that followed…

His consciousness snapped back like a rubber band, the memories finally settling like snow. Zecora, hermit of the Everfree Forest, backed away from him, her eyes wide with fear. For the first time since he had met her, his face softened. "I am sorry, Zecora, but I had to be sure you were telling the truth. You are what you say you are… or at least mostly." The solider stood up and stepped out from beneath the tree, staring out into the forest.

While she was confused about this sudden shift in behavior, and doubly uncomfortable at the ease of which he could have killed her, she was still angry.

"Why did you cut me and bring me pain?

Tell me, stranger, do you care to explain?"

He turned to her and stated matter-of-factly, "My fellow Astartes and I possess an implant that allows us to read the memories and experiences of other creatures. It's very useful for when little is known about the prey you hunt. In order to do so, however, a sample of organic tissue is required, mostly blood or flesh." The Space Marine knelt and wiped his knife clean on the grass. "This was the least damaging way I knew. I had to make sure you wouldn't struggle, or I might have given you more than the small cut I needed."

He held the blade point up for emphasis, showing the serrated edges. "Trust me, little horse, if I had really wanted to hurt you, we would not be having this conversation." Zecora shuddered as he sheathed the knife, chilled to the bone by how casually he talked about murder.

"So, the dominant species on this world is a bunch of horses? Very interesting." The warrior walked back to the tree as he talked, stopping to pick up his helmet and placing it back onto his head. Once more Zecora was confronted by blood red slits. "I thank you for your hospitality, and I apologize for frightening you, but I think it would be best if I left." With that, he started to walk further into the forest.

Zecora trotted quickly after him.

"Wait now, do you know where you're going?

Memories or not, you'll have no way of knowing."

He stopped his advance into the darker depths below the clustered treetops.

"Why leave at all? Stay with me.

It's not wise to get lost in Everfree."

"I need to find some sort of shelter where I can evade prying eyes and plan my next move. I don't think your tree house would be able to accommodate me." Her earrings jingled as she considered his words.

"If solitude and safety are what you seek,

I know of a place, though it's not for the meek.

An abandoned castle is in the forest, hidden,

ancient, stony, and vine-ridden."

He stood silent for a moment, and for all that he moved he might have been a statue. A castle in the forest… ancient and stony… almost sounds like Aldurukh… No sooner had the word sprung to his mind than memories-

-swords clashing and bolters barking and shouts of outraged betrayal-

-returned to plague him once more. Why can't I remember clearly? Aggravated, he shook his head to clear his toughts. I need time to think. Finally, he turned his head and replied, "I guess I could use a guide. How far away is the castle?"

"It is not far, a few hours away.

The sun is setting, though, an end to the day.

You could stay here tonight, keep yourself warm,

and then we'd head out in the morn."

A look at the horizon did indeed show that the sun was setting. What's more, clouds were closing in with the threat of rain. The Dark Angel itched to be moving. I could set off alone and leave her, or force her to take there now. With the enhanced senses granted by his helmet and the wargear he carried on his person, he had no fear of going out into the dark forest at night. However, I'm sure she'd be of little help in the dark, and it would take me weeks to find that castle by myself. It chafed at him to say, "I hate to say it, but you're right. But I wish to be on the road at first light."

Zecora gave a small chuckle, full of warmth and genuine humor. Now he was confused. "What is so amusing?" Her eyes twinkled as she said,

"Earlier you made fun of my rhymes.

Guess who's doing it this time?"

Her mirth faded away as she sensed a tense silence from the Space Marine. Have I offended him somehow? Then she saw his hand scratch the back of his helmet and his stance slouched a little, a universal sign of awkwardness.

"What is the matter? Did I offend?

To mock you I did not intend."

What she could not have known was that her statement had caused some of the absorbed memories to resurface, bringing alien thoughts and feelings to the Dark Angel. "Zecora, I… I know why you rhyme."

Her eyes widened, but the zebra tried to restrain her shock.

"You know?! How could-"

She stopped herself, a resigned look on her snout.

"Ah, the memories from my blood.

So you've seen what I've done."

Closing her eyes and hanging her head, she asked,

"Could you do one favor for me?

Please, tell nopony what you've seen."

Uncomfortable with the situation both in front of him and in his thoughts, he answered, "If you take me to the castle tomorrow, I swear upon the stones of Aldurukh and as a knight of the Order that I will keep your secret. Never will it pass from my lips, not even under pain of death." Gratefully, she raised her head.

"I thank you for your understanding.

It seems, though, I hear raindrops landing.

Come inside, just for one night,

and we will set out at first light.

She trotted back to her house, grabbing the tray and cups as she went. The Space Marine saw light shining through the windows as candles were lit. Raindrops splashed onto his armor as he debated between the indignity of squeezing into the small shelter or standing out in the rain and perhaps finding a tree for cover. Lightning flashed and thunder boomed, and the metal-clad giant realized how one-sided the debate was.

He felt ridiculous as he had to walk on his knees and lean over to get through the entrance, but once past the door the inside of the tree was actually quite spacious. The interior was dominated by masks and bottles, with a large cauldron in the middle. "You are an herbalist?"

"Yes, I make great use of plants.

You'd be amazed at the healing it grants."

The stranger's respect for her went up a notch. Primitive worlds are where the real healers shine. They don't rely on machines for making decisions, or cybernetics to cover up their mistakes. He watched as she applied a small poultice to the cut he had inflicted on her. And she seems knowledgeable about infection. Most other tribal cultures would have just washed it out with water.

"Zecora." She looked as she finished winding the bandage around her leg. He once again grew uncomfortable. "Since I know almost all about you, not by your own choice, it's only fair I suppose…" He trailed off and she looked on expectantly. How much should I tell her? Do her people know about humanity? About the Imperium of Man?

"I am Brother Mykel," he finally allowed. Zecora smiled.

"I am glad, Mykel, that you can trust me.

It is not misplaced, that you will see.

Now I grow weary and will soon head to bed.

Let me find you some blankets, my friend."

Mykel held up a gauntleted hand. "That will not be necessary. I don't require much sleep, and I have much to think over tonight."

Her jingled as she held up a hoof.

"If you need something, let me know.

If nothing else, see you tomorrow."

With that she retired to a small bedroom off to one side of the tree. He marveled at her attitude. I threatened her and wounded her, and yet she still offers me shelter and aid. What kind of world is this where there is such generosity and forgiveness? Where it is so easy to call someone friend? He leaned against the wall, lost in his thoughts and pondering what had happened in the past few hours, as the last vestiges of chocolate rain poured down outside.