Chapter 2: Swaardvegter
Somewhere in the Stalliongrad Wilderness...
The thick forest cleared for a moment. After acres and acres of untouched wilderness, a single oak had reached far above the treetop. It shaded the space under it, clearing the trunks from around its own. With no competing flora to hold it back, It had its own little lonely grove all to itself. At its base, white mushrooms with purple spots sprouted. I fell to my knees at the edge of the grove, my hooves aching from the days of hiking I did after the goat tribe sent me on my way. Their goodwill had lasted until a day ago, and I was about one missed meal away from perching in a tree and dropping down on the first prey-animal that wandered below me. As I stood up to make for the mushrooms, the sun peeked through the canopy above, lighting the ground around the tree. I ran towards the trunk and grabbed a handful of mushroom caps. Despite the risk of being poisoned, my mouth watered. I didn't hesitate to eat the whole handful at once, barely chewing. I gulped, and waited. If I had brought death upon myself, it wouldn't be instant.
Sitting against the big tree, I took a moment to collect myself. If I got thrown off the train not long after leaving Canterlot, and Stalliongrad was really far away from there, then I had approximately a really fucking long way to go. I thought about my friends on the train, how comfy of a journey they must've had, how much rich culture they would be absorbing in the city. It didn't matter, because all I needed to do was walk. But I was so tired. It was either the mushrooms setting in or the entire day of walking I had just done. Either way, I'd find out when or if I woke up. The grove had just a slight breeze, making it the perfect temperature. As my eyelids fluttered shut, the sunlight slipped past the treetop, returning the shade it had once hidden from me.
I was somewhere in between. I felt myself, but where I should've been, there was nothing. Except for him. The muscular, black-haired figure I met the night with the goat tribe. He was holding the scythe again.
I knew the voice was his. "Soon..." It boomed. His words echoed into the infinity surrounding us. "You'll know." Chills shot up my non-existent spine. The presence disappeared, and I felt my body back in reality stirring awake. Nothing became something, and reality returned me to my body.
When I woke up, I had chills. Who was that? What were they doing with my scythe? What would I know? I felt watched, even more so than when Discord would visit my dreams. The grove was peaceful, though, and it brought me some comfort. I thought about the situation at large, the globe-spanning adventure, the nightmares, the fights. It was what I had always wanted, and apart from the starving to death, I was actually enjoying myself. But it would all be much more fun if it didn't start with the death of a Princess.
A twig broke somewhere in the woods around me. My ears perked up, and I spun around, peeking my head past the tree. Peering into the woods, I saw nothing but woods. Go figure. Cautiously, I scanned the area around me. The once peaceful clearing now felt incredibly exposed. I waited for a moment for something to react to. There was only silence. Thinking I might be safe, I stood up, looking for a sign of anyone around me. Just as I breathed a sigh of relief, A dart whistled through the air and planted itself firmly in the bark to my left. My eyes widened as I looked at the dart. Some kind of thick blue liquid dripped slowly down the side of the tree.
"Oh shit." I whispered. I heard whistling, and hit the ground just in time for a dart to slice a hole in my mane. Cowering, I circled the tree, darts screaming through the air and lining the bark of the tree. After a full lap around the tree, the darts halted. I peeked out from under my hooves to still see only wilderness around me. There was another moment of silence before someone finally showed themselves. A zebra charged from the brush, a khopesh in his jaw. I backed up into the tree, ducking as his blade swung, the weapon driving a cleft into the wood. While the zebra tugged at the sword, I swivel on my hooves and bucked him away from me, taking his place attempting to pull the khopesh from the oak.
The zebra rose, catching his breath and dusting off his robe. "You may be faster, Strange One, but who is the better swaardvgter?" He pulled a dagger from his belt, and pointed it towards me.
I held the sword with my mouth. "I don't know what you're saying but I feel very threatened." I said, preparing to fight someone far more skilled, experienced, and lingual than me. As he took his first step towards me, two of his allies stepped out of the woods to both my sides. To my left was a tall, lanky zebra. He had a blowdart hanging from his side and a staff across his back. To my right, a zebra stood, fully cloaked with their hood over their head. They held a staff in their right hoof, a shrunken head dangling from the top.
The tall zebra addressed the first, "Jemar, now is not the time for knife-fighting. We are to bring him to Tula alive."
Jemar furrowed his brow but kept his dagger raised towards me. "I'm not stupid, Reinar. I was just going to show him how in over his head he is." The zebra looked back at me, smiling now. He didn't know what was coming to him. One of the zebras said something, and I used it as my moment to strike. I ran forward, and before I could execute my plan a powerful blow landed on my knee. I collapsed to the ground, before the lanky zebra stepped in front of me. He looked down and smiled.
"You are nothing, if not brave, Strange One. Tula will make you just nothing." Before I could crack wise, his staff came down again, this time on my head. Darkness followed.
This was starting to get old. No one called for me in my sleep this time, which was a welcome relief, but at this point I'd spent more time unconscious then I did saving Twilight. From that darkness, the squeak of a loose wheel called me back into the world. I saw the trees reaching far overhead passing by, and the low walls of a cart all around me. I could faintly make out the conversation between my captors.
"Will Hakeem's hex hold until Tula?" Jemar asked.
"Have faith in your elder. As we speak, there are several families and houses across the world experiencing strife, famine, or endless bad luck. One out-of-touch Pegasus is no risk to him." Reinar's voice reflected his belief, steadfast and faithful.
My vision faded, even the squeak of the wheel turned to nothing, until the nothing became a gentle crash of waves. I felt like I was swaying, like a baby in a crib. The waves were right next to my head, and I could feel the elements tickle the edge of my conscience as my ears turned cold from the wind and my mouth dry from the salty air. Always at the precipice of waking, my perception of time crumpled into nothingness, but I became accustomed to the sound of the sea. Afterwards, salt became dust, and the waves were replaced by a whistling wind. I became warm, very warm, as if I was lying in the sun. The feeling of dirt and sand in my eyelids brought me closer to I had ever been to opening my eyes since the forest, but it served only to tease and frustrate my senses. The waking world would have to wait for me.
Eventually, the heat faded slightly, and my vision began to return shortly after. It wasn't much help, however, as the room I was in was so dimly lit I could barely see my snout. I felt around, my hooves meeting dingy cobblestone under and behind me before metal chains locked my arms close to the wall I sat against. A dungeon. Great. I knew I wasn't the first pony to be chained to the wall as I could smell the blood, rust, and mildew in the air around me. Occasionally, I would hear chains across the room clinking around slightly, followed by a quiet, desolate groan. Not a light around, yet this place just gets darker by the minute.
I knew I was awake now, but I couldn't see or move, so it's not like that was doing me any good. Common sense told me hours had passed, but it felt like days. Sometimes the noises across the room would turn to sobbing, but never became coherent or legible. I tried what little I could with the chains, pulling them, grinding them down against the stone, even smashing them, but it didn't matter. I was captive in some Zebra's dungeon, and there was nothing I could do about it. Reality began to set in. What did they want with me? It would've been so easy to kill me, but for some reason they chose to chain me to musty cobblestone in what sounded like a haunted house closed for safety violations. It dawned on me just how in danger I was this time. I remembered the crack that echoed through the castle when Princess Luna was bludgeoned by the Golem. The dead bodies littering the courtyard. The visions of Twilight, slaughtered by Discord. This was it. At any moment, around any corner, I could have breathed my last breath. Panic slowly climbed its way to the top of my chest, I started heaving and pulling again at the chain. Eventually I gave up struggling, and let my head fall and legs rest. Tears collected in my eyes before falling down my face and splashing onto the stone floor. I joined the chorus of sadness whimpering throughout the dungeon, crying myself to sleep.
I awoke to a harsh metal screech. My head shot up, and I saw light for the first time since my arrival to the jail. I could see I was in a cell, iron bars separating me from a hallway with more cells across from mine. The light only illuminated the edges of the cells, and I couldn't see deeper into them. Three zebras appeared from the right of my cell. Two wore heavy leather armor, and flanked the zebra with a staff from before. I recognized him as Hakeem from the cart ride. He slowly walked down the hall, and I heard the other prisoners whimper in fear as the witch doctor passed their cell doors. Without realizing, I did the same, cowering against my wall. Hakeem stopped in front of the cell across from mine, and glared into the dark corners of the room. Without speaking, he raised his staff towards the back of the room. A pony inside began too scream furiously as the two armored zebras entered the cell and dragged him out. The pony was ragged and malnourished, his eyes sunken into his face and his cheeks gaunt. He thrashed weakly at his captors, who carried him with ease. His screams turned to echoes, but he was never out of earshot. For hours, we could hear the pony's screams somewhere across the jail. They must've stopped at some point, but I didn't notice when exactly, since they turned to background noise after a while.
This misery became routine after what felt like days. I felt like cattle, sitting in a pen and waiting to be slaughtered. More time passed,and more ponies were taken by Hakeem, the darkness of the dungeon consuming them and dispersing their screams into the stony cobble halls, saturated with madness. Again the witch doctor returned, the ominous green glow foretelling another visit. The witch doctor took only a few steps into the hallway before turning to me. Through the bars, he peered towards me, and my heart sank to my stomach. I couldn't say anything, and all I could do as I began hyperventilating was cower against the wall of my cell. Panic turned to terror as his staff lowered ever so gently in my direction, and the two guards began the process of collecting me from the cell. I thrashed and kicked at the zebra as he attached my chains to a wooden rod which was then carried on either end by the two armored zebras. I pulled at the chains but the rod didn't budge, nor did the zebras falter in their course. I was carried through a series of other dark stone hallways before finally entering through a thick wooden door a square room. There was a single hanging brazier in the center of the room, dangling back and forth by chains above a wooden chair with iron shackles attached to the arms. On the left side of the room was a table with several tomes scattered around it, and a set of clay pots, all different sizes and shapes.
My heart was jumping from my chest as the zebras unshackled me from the rod and threw me into the chair. What little strength I had left was no match for theirs. They clicked the restraints on the arms of the chair and stood at my side, facing the witch doctor in front of me. The room hummed with the remains of echoes from down the musty cobble halls, an occasional scream or groan being heard. The brazier above made the lighting of the room shift ever so slightly back and forth, the chains barely rattling. As the orange flame curled around Hakeem's hood, his face was never visible. Two green eyes glinted as the light shifted, staring me down and feeding ice-cold venom into my blood. Even had I not been shackled to the chair, The witch doctor's presence alone was enough to lock me in place until he commanded otherwise.
Without moving, Hakeem addressed the guards. "Leave us." His voice cut the silence like an axe, and the other zebras wasted no time in exiting the room, the wooden door slamming behind them. The echo of heir hooves disappeared down the hall, and Hakeem stared for another few seconds before moving towards the table to my right.
"I have practiced my art since you were nothing more than an animal impulse in your father's physiology. I can read minds and make things float. Magicians in Equestria work lifetimes just to create the illusion of my skill." I heard the clink of clay jars and pouring liquids, and twisted around just enough to see Hakeem producing some sludge-like concoction.
He raised a glass jar, raising it to his eye and swirling it gently. "Your people even offered me shelter, food, and money, for my skills. Not some hut on the outskirts of a town, but a room within a palace. They wanted me to teach my craft to their wizards and mages, those unable to cast without a tome or scroll, feeding their feeble minds the simplest of spells or incantations." The witch doctor put the jar down and reached for another clay pot, gently sprinkling a white powder into the mixture.
As the contents of the jar sizzled, Hakeem opened one of the books and turned to a specific page. "As much as I despised Equestria, and the pathetic practitioners, there was only one thing that kept me from accepting the offer and leaving my country. I could practice magic, but I could not practice my craft." Hakeem turned his head towards me. "Pain."
I untwisted, facing the door, and started breathing heavily again. I couldn't see his face, but I thought I felt a grim smile curl across his face. I looked back towards him.
He was back to his mixture, reaching for a wide pot that sloshed when he grabbed it. From within it he plucked two white orbs, a small tendon dangling from each of them. As the brazier shifted towards it I was able to make out pupils on each of them. I jumped in the chair, desperately shaking the chair and pulling at the shackles, to no avail.
I heard several wet plops from the table. "Suffering is a tragedy in Equestria. It is an unlucky event that could happen to anyone. But it is always seen as an inconvenience, something unfortunate, something to feel sorry for someone over. That is the weakness of your people." Hakeem took the mixture and walked towards me, ever so slowly, carrying the book and the mixture. "Pain and suffering is an beautiful thing to experience. It rends your mind and psyche like an artist with clay, creating a new, stronger, more resolute version of yourself. That is why your people are destined to fall. You cannot live with pain. You refuse to evolve or change, and you reject the notion that pain is your friend. Pain is transformative, Chris. I am going to transform you."
My stomach dropped as he uttered my real name. All I could think of was how dangerous Hakeem was to me. He could ruin the life I worked to build and protect here. And I was strapped to a chair right next to him, unable to defend myself. My captor pulled my head back with one hoof and held my nose with the other. The potion floated in front of me as I struggled against his grip. I tried keeping my mouth closed, but I had to come up for air, and that's when the awful mixture wormed its way into my throat. I gagged as the eyes worked their way into my stomach, coughing and choking as I swallowed them.
Hakeem laughed, finally expressing something other than hatred since I had met him. "What many people don't know, Strange One, is that if you are looking for the truth..." He picked up his staff and placed it on my forehead as I began to shiver and seize. "...Simply open your eyes."