CHAPTER 25

Now begins the last chapter of One Pony's Tale: The Drake Chronicles Volume 2. Herein, Drake's life in the frontier ends, and this tragic part of his story is wrapped up...for the most part. Please review, and enjoy the chapter, everypony.

I spent the next day burying the four ponies in the fort, digging their graves on the small rise outside the fort, and dragging their bodies to their final resting places. It was my duty. They were my command, and the fort was my responsibility. I buried Spring last, making sure that I buried her wearing her fringed vest and her bowie knife. I then set up wooden planks with their names written in paint. When I was finished, I sat in the stillness of the small graveyard and watched the sun set. When the night came, I trudged back to the fort, and drank half a bottle of whiskey before falling asleep on my bed.

When I awoke, it was late morning, and I realized I had to deal with the dead Buffalo warriors. I could never move them on my own, even if I were not injured. I tried burning them, pouring lamp oil on each one and piling wood on the bodies before igniting them. My efforts only half worked, and I realized there was no way for me to completely get rid of them. The carcasses would begin to decay in the summer sun, and make the fort uninhabitable. I was left with only one option. I found a sharp knife in the kitchen, and began the gruesome and trying task of cutting the dead Buffalo into smaller pieces, and then carting the remains outside the fort, piling the pieces in one grizzly mound. The task took two days, and by the time I was finished, I was worn out, and my body screamed with pain.

For the next week, I stayed in my quarters. I ate only a dry army biscuit now and again, washing it down with either strong coffee or whiskey. I had several bottles of bourbon, and a few jars of moonshine hidden in my cabin, and made full use of them. At night, no matter how much I drank, I could not fight the nightmares. I would awake, screaming in bed. Often, I would break down in tears, and try to drink even more in an attempt to forget. But I couldn't. I knew I would never forget this horror. It was burned into my mind. So I drank more.

There was no end to the torment. Days passed, and I was alone in the fort. I was alone with nothing to do but think about what I had done. Finally, the pain was too much. I drank away all instinct for self-preservation, and got a rope from the supply room. I tied it to a small timber supporting the fort's narrow catwalk, and tied a noose around my neck, standing on the parapet. I looked down at the ground, ten feet below. I had to end it. I had to die with my troopers. I stepped off of the walkway, and fell. The timber snapped, and I hit the ground, further injuring myself. I lay there for an hour, in mind-numbing pain, begging for death to come and take me. Finally certain that I could not die, I crawled into my quarters and drank until I was unconscious.

After a few days, I had healed enough to stand and walk again, and promptly set about destroying my quarters, screaming every profanity I knew as I broke windows, threw chairs and even ripped up a few floor boards. I threw every book left in the guest room out into the courtyard, save for the book containing Spring's letter. This, I kept on my desk for several days more, until I could no longer look at it without crying. I seized it, and ran from my quarters to the well in the center of the fort, the well Spring had helped to construct. I threw the book and the letter down the well, listening to the faint splash a few seconds later. She was gone. Gone forever. They were all gone. It was only me. I was all that was left.

I awoke the next day, almost at noon, and had a breakfast of a hard biscuit and half a bottle of whiskey. It was an overcast day, and once I felt the effect of the alcohol, I grabbed a fresh bottle and ventured outside into the courtyard of the fort. I sat by the well, slowly nursing the bottle of bourbon, wondering what would happen now, and wishing that I was able to die. Off in the distance, the normally quiet sound of the desolate landscape was broken by the faint sound of hooves. I hoped that the Buffalo had returned to finish their job. I slowly stood, and staggered to the nearest ladder. I somehow managed to climb to the catwalk, and peered off in the direction of the sound. In a few moments, I saw a mass of ponies appear on the horizon, and I heard the sound of fifes and drums.

"Damn you all..." I slurred. I took a long drink of whiskey, then climbed down the ladder and made my way back to the officer's quarters. I put on my dress jacket, fumbling with the buttons, and strapped on my sabre belt. I placed my gray slouch hat on my head, and took another long drink as I sat at my desk, waiting for the soldiers to arrive. In a few minutes, I heard the regiment approaching the fort, and could make out their marching song:

"Instead of spas we'll drink brown ale

and pay the reckoning on the nail

for debt nopony shall go to jail

from Garryowen in glory."

"Prepare to halt!" A voice yelled. "Halt!"

"Halt!" More voices echoed. I stared at the open door of my quarters and took another drink of my bourbon. A large tan earth pony with a black mane and handlebar mustache, wearing the uniform of a colonel walked to the door. He glanced into the room, and I stared back silently.

"Who are you?" He asked.

"First Lieutenant Dragoon Sabre..." I said, my voice slurring from all of the booze. I shot him a messy half-hearted salute. "Commandin' officer of Fort Mesquite." He was taken aback and had a look of shock on his face.

"Wh...where is your command, lieutenant?" He demanded.

"DEAD, sir...they're all dead, damnit." I replied. He had a look of horror on his face. I didn't care anymore. I drained the bottle and continued. "An' you 'anna know why they're dead? I KILLED 'EM YOU SON OF A BITCH!" I threw the empty bottle against the wall, shattering it. "They're all dead, and it's my fault!"

"Captain Elm!" The Colonel called.

"Sir?" The officer replied, entering the room and saluting the colonel.

"Place the lieutenant under arrest and...detain him. Hold him until he sobers up, then I want to know what happened here." The captain looked at me a moment, then back to his commander.

"Yes sir. Sergeant Major! Corporal!" He pointed to somepony outside the quarters. "In here." Two soldiers moved into the room. "Place this officer under arrest and lock him somewhere safe until he's no longer intoxicated."

"Yes sir." The large gray sergeant major replied. He moved over to me, and I relaxed myself and prepared to go peacefully.

"Good Celestia sir..." The sergeant major groaned. "Look at him. He's beaten to a pulp!" The captain and the colonel walked around my desk. "I think he's got broken ribs, and it looks like somepony split his head wide open."

"You got an infirmary here, lieutenant?" The colonel asked. I pointed out the door. "Take him to the infirmary, and have the surgeon see to him. Keep guard on him. I want to see him as soon as possible.

"Yes sir." The sergeant major answered.

I was placed in the infirmary, where I remained for three weeks. According to the regimental surgeon, I had three broken ribs, a slight fracture in my right foreleg, a bad wound to the back of my head that had to be stitched, and a sprained left hindleg, not to mention a bunch of cuts and bruises. I was also dehydrated and suffering from malnutrition. The surgeon was amazed that I had gone so long without medical attention, and even expressed some surprise that I wasn't dead. Some of my wounds were beginning to get infected, and according to the medic, the only thing that had probably prevented it from getting any worse was the fact that my blood-alcohol level had been constantly so high that it had actually helped stave off infection.

Once I had healed enough to walk normally, I was brought before Colonel Ringgold. It felt strange to be escorted to what used to be my own quarters for so long, and to sit across the desk, looking at this commander sitting in the chair I used to sit in. Also in the room now was a small folding table, at which sat the colonel's adjutant. I knew that it was time to give my statement, and I was ready. I didn't care anymore. I wanted to get this over with. I sat across the desk from the colonel, and for the longest time, he said nothing. He simply stared at me, as if unsure how to begin.

"Off the record...we um...we found your troopers, lieutenant." He said in a sympathetic tone. "We gave them a proper burial." I looked down and nodded sadly. "And you may be happy to learn that the Buffalo who were responsible have been completely...pacified." I looked up at the large colonel, took a deep breath and sighed.

"Pacified..." I repeated. "All of them...sir...pacified?" He gave me a stern look and nodded his head gravely. "That's...I don't know..." I said. I didn't know how to feel. In fact, I couldn't feel anything anymore. "Congratulations, colonel." I replied stoically.

"Now, lieutenant..." Colonel Ringgold began. "...I want to know what happened to your command. Go slow, and tell me everything, son." I nodded solemnly. The colonel looked at his adjutant, who prepared to take down my statement.

"We were assigned to protect the area...and the settlers at Rawhide from the Buffalo." I began. I told him everything, leaving out no small detail. I told him about the early attacks, about my ambushing the Buffalo party, about the Summit and Spring Shower. I described the carnage at Rawhide, and my attack against the Buffalo village. I admitted everything, hiding in the arroyo while my troopers were being slaughtered, and I spoke of what happened once I had returned to the fort, describing how I had buried the four ponies, and cut up the Buffalo. I confessed to the colonel all of my mistakes, and all of the military laws I had broken in my time as commander here. The colonel looked at me with indifference, and the adjutant was shaking, barely able to write down the gory details I gave. When I was finished, Colonel Ringgold was silent a moment, then leaned forward across the desk.

"Is that...is that all, lieutenant?" He asked, his voice betraying his demeanor. I could tell he was shaken by my account.

"Pretty much, colonel." I sighed. "I'm a murderer, sir. A murderer and a drunk, and a piss-poor officer, and frankly, I don't give a damn anymore."

"You do realize that you're going to be facing some serious charges, lieutenant..." The colonel replied. "One count of negligence resulting in the death of a subordinate for every pony here, insubordination, dereliction of duty, and whatever else the military court is going to throw at you."

"And I hope to Celestia they hang me for it!" I shot back.

"I see." The colonel said, looking away for a moment. "Lieutenant...this is the military...things happen in combat. Ponies die. You should have known that when you signed up."

"To hell with the military." I growled.

"Hm." He scoffed. "Still don't know what to do with you, lieutenant. I will send this report to headquarters, along with transcripts of all of your reports since you assumed command of...the squad. I will also include my report on your behavior, the condition of the settlement to the north, and a description of the battlefield in the valley. What comes of this is not up to me, lieutenant."

"I know." I stated.

"I will allow you the freedom to wander the fort. Until I receive orders from command, you will stay here, and have a room in one of the barracks. You will not be allowed to leave the fort, but you will not be under guard anymore unless I'm told otherwise. Do you understand these conditions, lieutenant?"

"I do, colonel." I replied. "One thing though."

"What is that?" He asked.

"My whiskey. At least let me have that." I said. He nodded.

"Very well."

The next month was spent in Spring Shower's old room. I passed the days by getting blind-stinking drunk, and the nights waking up from night terrors so bad, that troopers would rush into my room to see if I were being killed. I was brought food, and only ate half, when I could. The remainder of my time was spent laying in the bed, slowly sipping whiskey straight from the bottle, staring at the carving on the wall above the bed, where Spring had etched a heart, with 'Drake + Spring' inside. Several times, I would cry until I started laughing, and others, I would giggle until I began sobbing. It was such a foalish thing for her to do. 'Shut up, Drake. You need more booze.'

I waited for word from command, not that I even cared what that word would be. I was finished as an officer. I had no home, no family, no friends, and my career was over. There was nothing that my superiors could do or say to me to punish me enough. What could they do, throw me in prison? Have me executed? Whatever they did, they could never absolve me. Finally, I was sitting on the bed one day, mourning an empty bottle of whiskey, when there was a knock at the door.

"Enter." I said gloomily. A young corporal stepped into the room.

"Lieutenant Sabre..." He said "Colonel Ringgold requests your presence, sir."

"Is that so?" I remarked. I sighed and dropped the bottle, the high-pitched clank causing the corporal to flinch. "Well, tell the colonel I will acquiesce his request in a moment."

"Excuse me, sir?"

"I'll be right there." I explained. He nodded, and left the room. I stood and stretched my back and legs. It was time. Whatever. I exited the room, and walked into the officer's quarters without knocking. Colonel Ringgold looked up from the desk as I nodded a greeting, and dropped into the chair across from him. He cleared his throat.

"Lieutenant Sabre..." Colonel Ringgold began. He held up a piece of paper. "I just received notification from command...in Canterlot. You are to report to HQ in one week." I sighed. "Lieutenant Sabre...can I trust you to get there without guard?"

"Where else would I go?" I returned. "I wanna go. They can give me a trial, and convict me, and I hope to hell they find a way to kill me."

"You keep talking like you're...immortal, lieutenant..." The colonel commented. I looked the commander in the eyes.

"I'm not dead yet..." I replied in a low voice. "...and I should have been...a long time...ago."

"If you want to die, lieutenant...then I won't stop you. Be in Canterlot in a week, and I hope you find what you're looking for. I nodded, and stood, walking to the door to collect my things and leave the frontier for good. I paused, turned, and snapped a salute to colonel Ringgold.

"Sir." I stated. He slowly stood and returned the salute.

"Good luck, lieutenant."

So ends part 2 of Drake's story. I hope you have all enjoyed reading this story. It's been a real labor of love for me, and if at least a few of you were touched by it, then I am glad. I know it wasn't a happy story. In fact, it sort of ended on a down-note, didn't it? And it left you with a lot of questions, no doubt. What will happen to him now? What awaits him in Canterlot? I will begin volume 3 either tonight or tomorrow. The FIM storyline started about a year ago in this story, so don't be surprised if Drake's next story includes a few characters from the show. I hope you the readers continue to follow Drake's story. His life does get better, I promise, and knowing that, I know you can't leave the saga now, with Drake suffering. Thank you all so much for reading, and a special thank you to those who have reviewed my story from the beginning. Drake's story shall continue, just you wait.