Dash was up and dressed as soon as Jack came out of her morning shower. The farmer raised her brow as she vigorously wiped her hair dry.
"Mornin' sunshine, yer up early."
The Ritter rubbed her bloodshot eyes. "Will ran in here while you were in the john. He's flipping sh-" She yawned, covering her large mouth with a fist. "Shit. He's been barging into everyone's rooms and telling them to meet him at the track."
Jack moved to the chest of drawers and threw on a pair of pants. "Already? Dang. Wanted ta get a bite ta eat first."
"No time, bro. Princesses are already here, I guess."
Jack froze, the zipper halfway up on her jeans. "W-what? B-but they-"
"They showed up early."
Jack clumsily finished donning her britches, then focused on putting on a shirt. She quickly buttoned herself up, then scowled when she realized she was off on her buttons. She undid the shirt and started down again.
"Take it easy, hayseed. They're not gonna be any less here if you rush."
The blonde took a breath, methodically finishing getting dressed as Dash took a glance over at the new addition to the room, resting in a pile at the foot of Jack's bed.
"What's with the suit, by the by? You were totally passed out when I got in last night, so..." Dash asked, giving a nod with her head towards the leather armor.
"Gift from Rare."
"Leather, huh? It, uh, actually work?"
Jack gave an incredulous look Dash's way. "Ain't like I go about tryin' ta get stabbed. I dunno how well it'll do."
"For the love of—you don't have to be wearing it when you try it out, dummy."
"Jus' makin' a joke. I ain't that stupid, sug." She rolled her eyes.
"Need a hand getting it on?" Isabelle asked, yawning once more.
"If yer offerin', pardner," Jack conceded, picking up the pieces and tossing them onto the bed. She started on her gauntlets. "Dunno how people stand all these belts an' crap. Drives me nuttier than a squirrel's house durin' winter."
"Takes some practice," Dash agreed, moving to grab her boots and leg guards. "Still takes me about ten minutes to gear up, and I've been doing it for a couple years now."
"Mmm," the farmer grunted, continuing the tedious task.
They each worked in silence for a moment, until a thought came to Jack's mind.
"Aw hogwash, fergot ta tell ya somethin' yesterday: ya know Gilda?"
The athlete froze briefly, then shrugged. "Might."
"Bumped inta her the other day, said she wanted ta jaw."
Dash paused. "She wanted to what?"
"Jaw. Ya know, talk?" Jack replied, acting like it was the simplest thing in the world.
"Oh. Well, she wants a lot I ain't gonna do," Dash cooly snapped back, tugging hard at the belts of Jack's vestment.
The other quirked a brow. "Ya got a, uh, history with her, I take it?"
Dash tilted her hand left and right. "Bit closer than me and you guys, not quite at you and Rarity level, you dig?" She shrugged after another pause. "You know how it goes, man. Stuff happened."
"Stuff?"
"Yeah." Dash breathed out, lifting her multi-hued bangs from her eyes. "Gilda did some shit behind my back. Said some words to Chylene too—made the girl cry."
Jack thought briefly about their timid friend. "Jus' 'bout everythin' does, though. Hell, I'm pretty sure I've done it after speakin' too loud when she didn't know I was around."
"That's different," Dash argued, putting the finishing touches on Jack's gear. "She was a jerk to my friends. I don't play that game." She looked over Jack. "There. Got you ready to rock."
Jack did a quick glance over herself. She put her thumb to her index finger, making a circle, and nodded. "Thanks."
"No problemo." Dash did an about-face, turning towards the door. "I'm gonna head towards the meeting grounds—got my gear stashed nearby with some of the others. Don't take too long, hayseed."
"Won't. Jus' gonna brush my teeth—see ya there."
Isabelle nodded, opening the door and stepping out into the hallway, leaving Jack alone with her thoughts.
The farmer went to the bathroom sink and splashed cold water on her face, trying to pump herself up. She was nervous—not like guarding royalty was a common thing for her; what if she screwed up? Lord knew that Camelot folks just about swam in etiquette and protocols, and while the last time she had met the princesses they were considerate and fairly laid-back, working for them might be a whole different ballgame. Groaning, Jack, killed the water and headed to the foot of her bed out of habit. The farmer stopped when she realized her trusty stetson was missing off the corner of her footrest, but quickly shut the panic down when she remembered it was with Rarity at the boutique. Jack made a note to grab it tomorrow and headed out the door, doing her best to relax her frayed nerves.
000
Will stood at the forefront of a handful of his students when Jack arrived, apparently telling them a story or two, judging by his wide smile. He noticed Jack walking towards them and gave a wave, stepping across the track and onto the grass.
"Apple!" Will addressed, beaming. He put his hands to his sides and nodded. "Just the woman I wanted to see!" He looked her over, eying her armor. "Not too bad. Didn't expect you for a leather gal, but whatever works. Custom job?"
Jack rubbed at her arm. "Uh, yeah. Kinda was, I guess."
"Cool." He gave a thumbs-up then began walking. Jack followed in step. "Got big news for you! Hell, I got two pieces of big news for you!" He held out an index finger. "First: Got a norfolk weapon en-route on the train system. Supposed to be here tomorrow, but, trust your work to a transit man, and odds are you'll find yourself canned!"
"An' the other?"
He stopped abruptly, pointing a thumb hard into his chest. "A fight for the history books."
Jack blinked. "A fight? Who?"
Will slapped his chest with a fist.
"And?"
"The lady of the night, Apple!"
Jack took a beat to process that. "'Lady of the night?' W-wait. Are ya talkin' 'bout Luna?"
"Sure ain't a hooker!" He grinned, then paused with a frown, adding under his breath. "Poor Luna, having that title before it became synonymous with prostitution."
"So yer tellin' me yer gonna fight an all-folk?"
He scratched at his beard. "Of course I am. Why?"
"Ya don't get it? All-folk's got all kinds-a things goin' fer 'em. Flyin', magic, hell, strength even." Jack looked at Iron Will out of the corner of her eye. "I mean, yer a tough one, hoss, but..."
The giant crossed his arms, keeping an even stare. "But...?"
Jack's brows furrowed. "But yer jus' a man, Will. Folks like us ain't exactly got a bag-a-tricks ta use."
Will sternly shook his head. "Apple... we're square pegs heading toward round holes."
The farmer paused. "I, uh, don't get it."
He rubbed at his mouth, then gestured toward Jack. "Round pegs fit into their slot without a hitch. Square pegs? Only way they're making it is through effort—by force. It takes work, but it can be done." The scarred man looked toward the treeline up north. "Wings and spells don't make a man. Never have, never will."
Jack shrugged. "Might not make a man, but they sure as hell help 'em out."
He sternly turned to face her. "Then you work twice as hard as them. Hell, just by watching you in training, I know you're not the kind to shy from work."
She offered a lopsided smile, just as the sound of wings crept up behind her. Jack glanced over. Isabelle stood, covered from her neck down in heavy, rounded steel armor. The Ritter gave a wink on seeing Jack's face.
"I know, I know. Awesome," Dash dismissed smugly, giving a wave of her hand and smirking.
"Ain't it a bit heavy fer ya, twig?"
"Twig?" Dash bristled, putting her hands to her hips. "Better than being a thunder thighs."
Jack narrowed her eyes and tersely smirked. "That a fat joke or somethin'?"
"Ladies!" Iron Will barked, snapping them both to attention. "Enough," he ordered in a more subdued tone. He glanced between the two. "Now, you going to behave yourselves?"
"Yeah, yeah," Dash said with a roll of her eyes. "Better win this time, though."
He frowned. "Last time was a fluke. I misheard a word she said—was expecting a different spell than she actually conjured. This time I'm evening the score." He turned, starting to walk away.
Jack blinked, then quickly went after him on foot as Dash conjured her wings and took to lazily flying next Will.
"Yer tellin' me you've fought her before?"
"Have several times since we were in the war together. Luna's told me I'm the only one she's ever fought that can stand ground against her." The man looked down, briefly in thought. "Hoping you might hold ground against her some day too," he added under his breath.
"What was that?" Jack asked. "Didn't hear ya."
"Nothing worth repeating, Apple. Forget it."
The trio walked in silence for a minute, until they arrived at a pristine, well-kept field at the edge of the school grounds. About fifty feet away was Luna, knelt down and seeming to be in a deep meditative pose as she clutched a spear tightly in her hands and silently mouthed words to herself.
To their right, a good eighty feet from them, was Celestia, standing tall in her armor as white as new-fallen snow, the mighty Excalibur sheathed loosely at her side. Standing next to the princess of the sun was Twila. Jack paused.
The soul-folk looked like hell. Black eye, her arm in a sling, and a bandaged nose. The farmer briefly forgot about Will's approaching duel and made a beeline for her friend.
"Twi," she called out as she came closer to the girl. "What in the hell happened ta ya?" Jack suddenly remembered her manners and gave an awkward bow to Celestia. "An', uh... howdy, yer grace."
"A 'howdy' to you too, Jack," the regal woman replied with a patient smile. The leader of Caballo then paused, looking over to her protege with a frown. "As for what happened to Twila, she risked herself for me—something I cannot condone."
"I would do the same again in a heartbeat, princess," Twila instantly replied. "There's no way I was going to let someone try to hurt you without a fight."
"Someone hurt her..." Jack trailed off. It dawned on her after another moment. "Wait. Did that thief ya mentioned yesterday do this ta ya?"
"In a way," the soul-folk agreed, rubbing the star-shaped mark on her cheek with a thumb. "I misjudged a teleportation spell, ended up a good ten feet in the air above the classroom I was knocked out of—a downside to casting a high-level spell while panicked. Makes precision go out the window."
"Judgin' by ya havin' ta teleport, I'm guessin' no luck in keepin' her away from the goods?"
"Him, actually," Twila corrected, then paused. "At least, I'm assuming 'him' for now."
Jack squinted in confusion. "Uh, I didn't realize it was that hard-a thing ta figure out."
"No, Jack," Twila said, putting a palm to her face as Celestia let a single snort of laughter pass through her noble visage. "Magic can alter bodies for a time—that can include... organs, if you will?"
"Oh! You mean like kidneys an' stuff?"
Celestia let out another small titter of restrained laughter as Twila's jaw dropped.
"No, Jack. I'm talking abou-"
"I know, I know—jus' had ta play the naive country girl bit," the farmer said with a small smirk, brushing off Twila's words with a wave of her hand. She paused. "I didn't know y'all could do that much ta yerselves, but I guess it makes sense, considerin' all the other shit..." Jack glanced over to Celestia. "Er, stuff, yer able ta do."
"Anyway..." Twila's frown deepened. "I wasn't strong enough to stop him. He got the last plant needed to make his poison."
"You did your best, my child," Celestia said, placing a hand on the girl's shoulder. "That's all I ask of you."
"Celestia, I..." Twila started, putting her good hand to Celestia's own and squeezing tightly. Before the soul-folk could continue, Dash buzzed over to them, her ethereal wings in overdrive.
"Guys! Show's about to start—better get in position!"
Jack looked at the others present, then to the two combatants, who were now surrounded by several of Iron Will's men. They appeared to be making a large circle in the ground with chalk.
"Position?" Jack repeated. Dash nodded.
"Yeah, bro. Will wants a supporter for Luna and one for him watching together." She crossed her arms and puffed out her cheeks as she levitated in air. "'It's the only way I want this watched! That way nobody's opinion gets spoiled!'" the Ritter said in a in-the-ballpark imitation of Will's tone.
"So, guess me an' Twi?"
"Actually..." Twila trailed off with a wince. "Me and Dash are going to discuss guard positioning for tonight while this battle commences. With her being one of the upperclassmen in Will's group, she's going to be issuing orders."
"I keep fergettin' yer a year ahead of me here. Guess it's me an'..." Jack trailed off, turning to face the all-folk and swallowing.
"Indeed we are, Jack. Let's break away from the others—odds are, William will be begging me for my observations about the match." The royal and the farmer broke away from the others and took to walking.
"Will takes this stuff serious, huh?" Jack said, trying hard to break the ice she felt around the woman.
"Has since the griffon wars," Celestia agreed. "It is rare to see someone that devoted to the art of battle; Luna seems to be the closest thing he has to an equal anymore."
They paused when Isabelle and Twila were blobs of color in the distance.
"How often does he win?"
Celestia crossed her arms and leaned her head back onto her shoulders in thought. "Hmm... I believe the record is forty and forty-three, give or take a few points. I know it's Luna's favor now, though."
Jack shook her head. "Yer tellin' me that guy's won over forty fights against yer sister?"
"Around that, yes."
The farmer couldn't wrap her head around that. "But how? He ain't even got magic, fer cryin' out loud!"
"He doesn't need magic to win." Celestia's brow narrowed as Will put a hand on one of his assistant's shoulders and took a hefty, chipped axe from the masked man's arms.
"Ya can't be sayin' an axe beats someone that can jus' hoist ya up in the air an' choke ya, right?"
"Of course not," Celestia replied. "The problem is actually getting the spell to stick."
Jack scratched her hair, tilting her head slightly in confusion. "Whaddya mean?"
The all-folk pointed to Iron Will. "The reason he's feared isn't from muscle strength—that can be countered easily enough. His mind is actually the most dangerous part of his body."
Once the arena was marked, the masked men bowed and departed, heading towards the treeline. Will gave a few practice swings to his two-handed axe, growing accustomed to its weight.
Jack said nothing, waiting for Celestia to finish her thoughts. "Thanks to the mental focus from years of single-minded training and concentration, Will's got an inordinate amount of spiritual energy inside his body that resists magic—I've seen it stop dozens of forms of illusion, alteration, and even certain conjuration spells that were thrown at him." She smiled as she watched Iron Will get into position, his stance powerful and unafraid. "It's suicide for Luna to make him the target of magic. This battle of theirs boils down to technique and skill versus force and experience."
It began suddenly and silently, each combatant seemingly ready without uttering a word or breaking the morning's silence. Will charged forward, swinging his axe down. Luna easily parried it with the metal shaft of her spear and kicked him in the gut. Unphased by the strike, he swung horizontally; Luna leaned back just in time, the axe inches from her brow.
"They outta be careful," Jack said, feeling panicked at the nearly fatal strike. "One of 'em is apt ta be killed."
Celestia laughed.
"It looks that way, doesn't it?" she agreed. "But the seal Will's whisperer's drew around them will keep their weapon strikes non-lethal. Not that they won't feel it tomorrow—the spell just softens blows and stops blades from puncturing deep enough to be life-threatening."
As the battle raged on between the two paragons of combat, Jack felt like she needed an answer to a question that had been bothering her since yesterday.
"Princess?"
Celestia tilted her head towards Jack, never taking her gaze off of the battle.
"Why'd ya come today?"
"To see my prized student, of course."
Jack shook her head with a frown. "Come on now."
"Why come when someone wants to kill me?" the woman guessed.
"Eyup."
Celestia gave a half smile as Luna struck Will hard in the mouth with the pommel of her spear. He dodged a strike with the blade of the weapon and charged forward, slamming into her body with a shoulder.
"Two reasons, I suppose." She briefly tapped the hilt of Excalibur with her delicate, gloved fingers. "Firstly, if I am to be targeted by an assassin, then I'd rather it be in a favorable situation. Despite their best efforts, whoever intends to target me tonight will have quite a bit of work ahead of them. If he or she manages to evade your group and subdue Will, then they still have to best me and Luna." The faintest hard glimmer shown in her eye. "There's a reason me and my sister are the sovereign leaders of Caballo, and it's not simply due to blood lineage."
"An' the second?"
Celestia grinned like a child, all thoughts of battle leaving her mind as she briefly looked away from the chaotic melee and towards Jack. "Do you know the legend of Excalibur?"
Jack blinked. "Kinda. Yer pa got it from some sorta... lady in a lake. I think."
"That's mostly correct."
"An' it's got some kinda, uh, magic in it, right?"
"Some of the strongest in the land," Celestia agreed. She returned her gaze to Luna for a moment, before speaking again. "Do you know the strongest part of Excalibur?"
"What?"
"It's a question Merlin the Star-Swirled asked of my father when he was but a child-king."
Jack pursed her lips in thought. "It some kinda riddle?"
"Maybe," Celestia teased.
"Well..." She put a hand to her chin. If it was a riddle or something, she'd have to think outside the box—think about something only vaguely related to Excalibur.
The hand that holds it? Nah, comes out sounding too egotistical ta be tellin' a kid like Arthur. Maybe...
"What about the sheath?" she guessed. It was a shot in the dark, but it sorta made sense.
Celestia raised her brow in evident surprise. She put a gloved hand to her earthen-toned chin. "Why do you say the sheath?"
The farmer froze. This was worse than having to show her work in a math class. "W-well..." she swallowed. "Uh... it's like you've got yerself a fancy diplomatic meetin'. A sheathed sword at one of them things would say a lot, I'd reckon. Tell the people ya'll were talkin to that ya ain't interested in hurtin' nobody, but if ya gotta, yer gonna draw a blade ta protect you and yers."
Celestia ran through Jack's words, giving a small wink to the farmer. "You really took it into metaphorical ground."
"Well... don't wanna do a job halfway."
The sun princess snorted laughter. "While you're mostly correct, there's a more practical reason why this sheath is the strongest part of the weapon." She crossed her hands behind her back. "The sheath held—or, depending on who you ask, still holds—a divine blessing. Whosoever carries the sheath shall not suffer the breaking of blades or piercing of arrows upon their skin." Celestia touched the handle of the legendary weapon. "They say that the blessing ended with the death of my father, but I have my doubts."
"I'd imagine so, yer still in one piece after the war—that's somethin' right there."
"Mmm," Celestia off-handily replied. "The sheath is akin to Schrodinger's cat, in a way. I won't know if the blessing still actually exists until I get injured."
"Why's the cat of a fella named Schrodinger important?" Jack asked, obviously clueless.
"Nevermind. It's..." Celestia trailed off with a slightly disappointed shake of her head. "My point is that even if the magic isn't there anymore, I'd still carry it."
"'Cause it's yer father's?"
"Indeed. This way he can live on with me."
Jack and Celestia slipped back into quiet observation of the two combatants. Neither had given much ground, though Will had a shallow cut across his chest and Luna had a rapidly swelling black eye.
"Surprised you let yer sister do this," Jack commented.
"Luna's always had a fascination with warfare, even before we were old enough to enter the fray. Tactics, swordplay, archery, offensive magic—if I didn't let her fight her battles, that would be the far crueler fate."
"She fight a lot?"
"About any time we manage to flee Camelot together," Celestia joked, her hair swaying in an unfelt breeze. "It's been hard leaving just the Council in charge of decision-making in our absence, they're always second guessing themselves and seeking our advice on matters." She raised her brow in thought. "Now that the self-exiled princess is back, though, maybe I can sneak off a bit more often, give them a chance or two to prove themselves without my guidance. Give them a taste of how Luna runs things."
"Sounds like the Council's a pretty big deal," Jack said, running a finger under her nose.
Celestia nodded, her words taking on a philosophical tone. "It's an important position. They're around to make sure my sister and I are doing what's best for Caballo as a whole. Our... ideas for what's right in this land can sometimes come across as a bit old fashioned, suffice to say. The Council makes sure we can be held in check."
"Ain't nothin' wrong with bein' a bit ol'-fashioned," Jack replied, nodding slightly as Will yanked the spear Luna thrust at him out of her hands and struck at her temple with an elbow. The blonde scowled when Luna rolled with the blow, landing on the ground a few feet back and to Will's right. With a gesture, her spear seemed to disintegrate from William's hands. At the same instant, it quickly built itself back together in her own palms. Will offered an exasperated look, wrung his hands around his axe shaft, and charged forward once more.
Celestia smiled. "Perhaps. Still, it's important to hear a modern man's worldview occasionally. Debate keeps the mind sharp, and reminds me on occasion that I'm not all-powerful—that I have people to answer to, just as much as anyone living in this country does." She clasped her hand at Excalibur's sheath once more. "Power has to be tempered with responsibility. Do you understand?"
"Yeah, I think so," Jack agreed, surprised at how she was adapting to speaking with one of the rulers of her country. Just a month or so ago, Jack wouldn't have a clue what to do with someone this regal and cultured.
"Good. Will tells me you have the markings of a warrior—if you heed my advice, I think he'll be right."
"Warrior? Will all due respect, princess, I'm jus' a farmer from the south, 'bout all I want," Jack replied easily, looking away from Celestia for a moment to stare once more at the battle between two living legends.
Celestia was about to reply but held back, instead letting a small, sad smile cross her features as she returned her own gaze to the fight.
000
Jack stood patiently amid the crowd of armed guards as she waited for Will to return from the nurse's lounge. The lady that worked the office probably wasn't used to treating a norfolk and a princess back-to-back, Jack thought with a shake of her head.
The fight was intense, as close as a razor, neither had walked away uninjured; Will had a fractured eye socket and a puncture wound in his gut—the seal his companions had crafted before the match had thankfully stopped Luna's spear from piercing too deeply. Luna, on the other hand, had a fractured arm and a burn mark across her neck—Celestia said that if the seal hadn't been up, Will's axe wouldn't have been repelled. The man probably would have decapitated her. Jack wasn't sure how to take Celestia's nonchalant approach to their altercation. If it had been her, Jack would have been fretting about the magic wearing off mid-fight so bad that she wouldn't be able to swing her weapon.
Then again, the farmer never had much trust for magic working right.
Will finally came after another minute or two, limping, bandaged and clutching at one side of his jawline, but smiling proudly. He walked through the track field and throng of students. After getting a few paces ahead of the group, he snapped around and to attention, puffing his bare chest out and staring straight ahead with his unbandaged eye, past his students.
Jack gave a quick glance behind her, then turned forward once more. She paused, doing a double-take.
Luna approached, her arm in a sling and bruises all but coating her pale skin. She too, marched forward, through the sea of people that parted within seconds of noticing their ruler. Dozens of them kneeled down. Jack looked at them briefly, then clumsily dropped to a knee herself. The princess stepped slowly past the farmer, joining Will's side.
"Arise, my loyal subjects," Luna commanded.
The group rose, with many taking a militaristic, rigid pose. Jack simply put her hands to her hips and waited for their liege to speak once more.
"Today, thou art guardians of Caballo's will. We know that in our heart of hearts, thou shalt preform thine duties with the utmost skill and as such, We simply would like to thank all of you for this blessing." Luna bent down to her knees, falling prostrate and cradling her injured hand to her chest as she tapped her forehead to the ground. "Thou remember the words of thine fathers and their fathers before them. Each of thee honor the Pendragon's in more ways than We can express." The princess remained on the ground for a moment, before rising and dusting off her armor. "'Thine instructor will now delegate your place and location for this evening. While I doubt greatly of a man foolish enough to attack mine sister or I, We trust any attempts on our body's well-being will not go without a fight."
Will nodded. "You can count on us. Besides, if this guy gets through the rest..." he gestured towards his students, then pointed a thumb to his chest. "He still has to tangle with the best." Will then reached into both of the pockets of his pants, producing a small notebook and a pair of reading glasses. He put them on and frowned at how skewed they were thanks to his bandages. With a roll of his good eye, he took off the pair and squinted hard at the paper. "Ok, let's see... uh..."
Luna turned her gaze to the giant. "Shall I speak on your behalf?"
Will sighed, handing over the notebook. "Only because you got me square in the good eye earlier."
"And thou caught me on my favorite throat," Luna dryly retorted.
Will gave a small chuckle. "Guess we're square."
Luna cleared her throat, turning to the crowd. "Apple, Jack!" she bellowed, loud enough to make everyone wince. "Thou art to be a guardian of mine and mine sister's quarters!"
Jack was tempted to ask if she should read Luna and Celestia a bedtime story too, but decided against it. Anyone shouting like that was bound to not be in a joking mood.
"Almadia, Andre!"
A young sky-folk gave a nod, wiping his nose with a thumb.
"Thou shalt be under Isabelle Ritter's tutelage!"
Luna continued to shout, issuing directions to dozens of people. Dash was on patrol in the hallways, with three people under her command. A few other names Jack vaguely knew were called out, putting several guards outside the school's entrance, patrolling the fields, and a few others keeping watch over the basement and dormitories. A short time later, Gilda was called to arms, instructed to join Jack in guarding the quarters.
The farmer swore under her breath. Of all the people to be paired with, it had to be her. Jack glanced across the crowd. Sure enough, she spotted Gilda, who bore her own mark of disdain at the news.
"Thou all have thine orders! Let us all make haste to fulfill them!" Luna barked out. "Honor thine fathers with thine works!"
They all separated, falling into cliques as they traveled to their posts, a few only briefly stopping to arm themselves from a crate of weapons some of Will's servants had placed nearby during Luna's announcements. Jack lagged behind the others, being one of the last to actually get to the supplies. As she bent down to try and find a weapon in strong enough not to be damaged by her colossal strength, a hand tapped her on the shoulder.
Jack turned, coming face to face with one of Will's masked companions. He wordlessly thrust a hefty looking single-bit axe Jack's way. The farmer raised a brow as the man made a few small finger gestures with his free hand. He nodded and gave another small thrust with the weapon's handle, encouraging Jack to take it.
"Uh, thanks?" she offered. He nodded, briskly turning and walking off. The farmer shook her head. "What in the sam hill was that about?" she muttered to herself.
"Sign language," Gilda said from a few feet away. Jack turned, spotting Gilda about fifteen feet away and approaching, barely making a noise on the packed dirt.
Jack shook her head. "Yer as quiet as a mouse at a librarian's funeral."
"What?"
"Jus' sayin' ya caught me by surprise is all." Jack shrugged. Gilda grunted, quickly looking over the cache of weapons and selecting a sheathed dagger, which she promptly looped around her belt with a bit of fabric. "So, how'd ya know what he was doin' there?"
"What? The sign language?" Gilda asked, pulling back her sleeve and checking the small, wrist-mounted crossbow attached to her arm. "Will told me about it last year."
"Why didn't that fella jus' speak ta me?"
Gilda scowled, adjusting the middriff-bearing jacket she wore. "Are you freaking stupid? They can't."
"Why?"
The archer looked over Jack with disdain. "You are that stupid." She shook her head. "They're all muties."
"Like, they can't talk, or...?"
Gilda smirked, exposing her tongue. She ran a thumb underneath it. "Like they got it cut out."
Jack paused, looking over the other's face. Not detecting any hint of a joke, the farmer slowly put a hand to her mouth. "Jesus... why, though?"
"They're like soul-folk. Got power in 'em. While people around here use their hands for spells, norfolk speak or sing to produce magic"
"Guess callin' 'em whisperer's makes sense."
"Yeah. As for the ones around here that follow Will, they were part of a group of norfolk that got captured during the wars, I guess. Griffon-folk didn't want any chance of magic getting turned against 'em, so..." Gilda clicked her tongue. "Off with 'em."
Jack shook her head. "What kinda monsters do that ta people?"
Gilda didn't have an answer.
After a beat, the white-haired woman glanced away and rudely brushed past the farmer. "It is what it is. Let's get this damn day over with, hick."
The farmer narrowed her brow. "Right behind ya."
000
Trixie woke up as dusk light filtered past the venetian blinds by her bedside. She weakly groaned, sitting up and tossing her legs over the bedside. Her entire body ached thanks to overtaxing her powers last night. She coughed harshly, clutching at her burning throat and standing. Her legs buckled and she limply collapsed to the wooden floor. The soul-folk sucked in a pained breath, weakly getting to her knees and using the corner of her desk to rise.
Trixie stumbled once more, but caught herself this time. After another moment, she fully rose and glanced over to the far end of her room, where lay several small beakers half full with various chemicals and a mortar and pestle with brown and green dried plant pulpings shredded inside. Trixie moved at a limp across the room, sitting down at the counter and taking to slowly and mechanically grinding the plants into a fine powder. She gave a small thought to the pick-me-up in her cloak, but decided against it for now—she only had two vials of the stuff, and one was going to be all but necessary if things went south tonight, as weak as she was.
She rolled her neck and reached for the beakers, popping the corks off of each top and pouring the individual mixtures into the mortar, then stirring the concoction slowly and carefully. Magesbane could react violently if you weren't careful with it—Trixie was already painfully low on magical reserves, she didn't want to be tapped completely out, after all.
Her thoughts wandered as she monotonously stirred the foul smelling mixture.
As long as she had successfully misdirected everyone about her real target, she wouldn't have a problem at all tonight. It had seemed bothersome at the time, stealing more supplies than she needed, but it was the only way Trixie could put the idea in Twila's mind that she was targeting an all-folk.
Trixie shook her head. Despite wanting to put the girl she was after in a magical coma, Dorcas didn't want her hurt. "A warning is all," he had said. Trixie didn't understand the reason then, or now. It had just seemed like it'd be so much easier to just kill the woman—wasn't like that soul-folk knew combat, after all, compared to Twila.
The white-haired girl paused for a moment, sitting dead still.
"Twila..." Trixie growled out, clenching a hand so hard she could feel the nails biting her palm.
It wasn't fair. That pathetic excuse for a soul-folk shouldn't have lived through last night, once their spells had began. Trixie was stronger, faster, far more capable of anything that second-string bookworm was ever capable of doing, and yet...
Come on. Snap out of it, Trixie thought, refusing to think any more about her rival. What was Trixie's order of operation? Gas the woman, drag or teleport her to the bell tower. Complete the ceremony. Ok. That's not bad at all.
And after that? After that, she'd be eating on Dorcas's ticket for years to come.
The tailor Dorcas was after wouldn't even know what hit her.
000
Jack shuffled slightly on her feet as she stared down the long hallway she was stationed at, her back firmly against a heavyset wooden door. Despite her best efforts, she let out a yawn, earning her the reproach of the other woman that stood nearby.
"Stop that shit," Gilda growled out. "It's not even ten yet. We don't swap for another three hours."
"I ain't exactly an all-nighter. Early ta bed an' early ta rise, ya know?"
Gilda gave a scowl and grunted, crossing her arms and leaning back against the door. "This is stupid. All we've done is stand around and look down an empty hall. At least everyone else is actually patrolling."
Jack shook her head slowly in thought. "What time ya reckon the fella would get here, if he's plannin' on takin' Luna and Celestia out?"
"Very early morning, I guess. Keeps people disoriented." Gilda brushed off a piece of lint from her worn shoulder pads.
"Wouldn't the princesses know that?"
Gilda blinked. "I suppose so. I mean, Luna has been training with military tactics since she was a child."
"Then if he wanted ta actually have an advantage, he'd have ta do it at an earlier time—since Luna would be ready that early, right?" Jack stopped briefly, a rare insightful thought crossing her mind. "Now, I ain't a genius by any means-"
"Obviously," the snow-haired woman agreed.
Jack ignored the reply. "But there's somethin' not right 'bout all this. Jus' seems a bit too, I dunno, obvious. Why would ya pretty much announce yer plan ta kill an all-folk? There are so many fellas patrollin' right now that it's gonna be hard as hell sneakin' past 'em, let alone takin' down Will." Jack gave a nod of her head towards the room they were guarding. "An shoot, Twila ain't no slacker neither."
"Might just be dumb and arrogant, hick."
"Whoever it is managed ta get away from Twila last night—that ain't dumb."
Gilda sighed, crossing her arms and staring at the wall to the side. She leaned against it, unsheathing her knife to shave off a layer of her fingernails, then dusting the tips against her heavy jacket. "Occam's razor."
Jack's face scrunched up. "First it was that Shrewdinger fella with his cat, now there's an Ock-am too? Lord, I jus' can't win today."
The archer crossed her arms and refused to make eye contact with Jack. "Friggin' stupid. Occam's razor is a theory that the most obvious answer is usually the correct one."
"Meanin'?" Jack asked.
The white-haired woman growled under her breath. "Meaning that whoever this is is probably going after someone else, while we waste resources on protecting people who can protect themselves."
A sinking feeling started forming at Jack's gut over where the conversation was heading. "I, I dunno. Ya figure Twila would think it was a distraction, if they were plannin' on takin' someone else out."
"As much as I hate know-it-alls, I'll agree Twila would probably embrace the idea that this was a distraction. Normally."
Jack glanced down the hallway once more. "What's stoppin' her now?"
Gilda stared hard at the farmer. "I have no idea how someone so stupid is in college, let alone breathing."
Jack scowled, looking down at the woman. "I don't take kindly ta words like them, Gilda."
"You'd better get used to them until you stop being retarded," she snapped back, resting her hands tensely at her bare stomach and glaring dangerously.
"Ya know what?" Jack replied, throwing her hands up in defeat. "Ok. Fine. I'll bite. What, apparently, am I missin'?"
"You're missing the fact the guy who stole that crap to make a poison? He was counting on getting Twila riled up enough that she'd panic and send every available resource she could towards protecting Celestia."
"Meanin' that, aside from patrols, other places 'round campus would be threadbare..."
"Now you're getting it," Gilda nodded in agreement, obviously getting tired of the conversation. She wrapped a finger around her hair, twisting it as she stared down the hall. "If I don't see a soul-folk body by late morning, I'll be surprised."
"Then we gotta do somethin'!" Jack exclaimed, pausing for only a moment before taking down the hall. "You get Twila an' Will roused, I'mma hit the patrols 'round the dorms—have 'em split up an' search the rooms." The farmer began quickly running down the hall. She spared a glance behind her, just before rounding the corner.
Gilda stood, unmoving from her post.
"What in the—Gilda move yer ass!"
She stared at Jack, looking repulsed. "Why?"
"Why in the hell do ya think?! Someone might be dyin'!" Jack snapped, throwing her hand to the side.
Gilda shrugged. "Not my problem. Besides, even if I cared—which I don't—how could we know who's being targeted? All we got is that the guy's probably after a soul-folk, judging by the shit that's been stolen. Even that might be a lie and he might just shank someone with a knife! It's bullshit to think you can make a difference!" Gilda snapped back, subconsciously resting her hand on the pommel of the dagger at her side.
"Don't mean I can't try!" Jack roared, the sound echoing in the hallway. She clenched her fists tightly, her arms shaking in anger. She broke away from Gilda and headed towards the doors. "I'll get 'em myself."
Before Jack could put a hand on the large double-doors, Gilda snapped forward, grabbing the farmer's wrist.
"We have our orders. Don't disturb them."
"Ta hell with orders—this is important!"
"You're not getting through that door and that's that, Apple," Gilda replied, ice in her voice.
Jack felt a growing, red-hot heat in her belly, her nostrils flared and her jaw clenched as her mind felt like it was turning into a static filled television—she had only a vague idea on what was happening, it felt like her actions were distant. Controlled by an avatar. Without warning, she shot forward, pinning Gilda and slamming her forearm into the others throat.
"Ya think yer some tough shit, don't ya?" she whispered through her contorted face, each syllable a pinprick of venom and warning as Gilda struggled to break free of Jack's grip. "Thinkin' that jus' cause it ain't buggin' ya, it don't need anythin' done 'bout it? Thinkin' that followin' the rules is more important than doin' what's right?" She sneered, pressing even harder on Gilda's throat, the dark-skinned woman choked, letting out a strangled, weak hiss of air. "Yer wrong. I'm goin' through that door."
Gilda managed to pry Jack's arm away for a brief moment. She sucked in a half-breath of air. "Kiss my ass, Apple," she growled out, staring defiantly at the farmer with her piercing eyes.
Jack pulled her hand back and threw a punch.
She stopped, inches from Gilda's face, feeling like she had just woken up from a horrific nightmare. Jack let go of the other; Gilda collapsed to her knees, clutching her neck and swallowing air. The tall woman gazed down at her, sweating. She opened her mouth, though no sound came out.
"That the best you got?" Gilda finally panted out, rising slightly off of the ground. "You're... pathetic."
Jack said nothing still, sweat coated her brow and her hands shook. "I..." She backed away a few steps and swallowed deeply. "I..."
She turned, sprinting off down the hallway, her thoughts nothing but a jumbled collection of warnings and self-doubt as she ran through the school.
She had lost control again.
She had lost control again.
Just thinking about it made her want to vomit. Just thinking about what she had said to Rarity the other day.
Ya shouldn't be afraid of... someone like me.
Gilda would have had a busted lip and broken teeth at best, if Jack hadn't gotten a sudden flash of clarity from her anger. The smallest glimmer that broke through her veil of darkness.
When she swung, right before impact, there was a brief spark of fear in Gilda's otherwise emotionless eyes.
000
Gilda rose, leaning back against the wall and drawing breath after breath. She rubbed at her already bruising neck.
Bitch, she thought, scowling intently. Hick was lucky, getting a sucker punch off like that—a fair fight and Gilda would have mopped the floor with her.
What was her deal, anyway? They had their orders. Doing something stupid like this, especially with nothing concrete? Dumber than a bag of hammers.
The woman scowled, crossing her arms over her chest and staring daggers down the hallway. Sure, the hick was already long gone by now, but it still felt good in a petty, spiteful way. Gilda's glare turned even more sour—she slammed a fist into the wall and gave a disdainful sniff.
"Coward," she said under her breath, not sure who she was speaking about.
The door behind her opened. Will sauntered out, accompanied a few steps behind by Twila.
"What was the noise earlier?" he asked, then paused, glancing to his left. "And where in the nine hells is Apple?"
Gilda seemed to debate on what to tell him. Finally, she shrugged. "Was heading to the dorms."
"She left her post?" Will growled out. "She had one job and-"
"Apple did it because she thinks there's a different target than Celestia."
Twila tilted her head. "But why would-"
"Why would they try to kill someone like Celestia? It'd be like sticking a hand covered in meat into a bear cage. Princess or not, they know how to take care of themselves. You've just got the hots for teacher so bad that your head isn't screwed on right!" Gilda snapped, staring hard at Twila, who turned beat red and scowled.
"I've got nothing of the sort!"
"If that were true, you woulda realized that you were being set up," Gilda replied, crossing her arms and resting against the wall. "It's a bait-and-switch. Anyone going after the Lady of the Sun would have their shit wrecked."
"I..."
"You screwed the pooch on this one, you damn dweeb," Gilda spat. "Teaming up with Isabelle and giving everyone pointless orders just so you could 'save' that ancient piece of ass."
"Don't call her that!" Twila snarled, stepping forward. Gilda's smirk widened, exposing a row of sharp teeth.
"Sorry, sweetheart. I always forget how bad you want to get in that granny's pants."
Twila lunged forward; Will scooped her up with one arm and placed her behind him.
"That's. Enough," he ordered, his tone leaving no room for compromise. "Now, it's worth a look to see if this whole thing was a misdirection—even just as a courtesy. Twila, can you use magic?"
"I'll be fine," she dismissed. "One doesn't need two hands to preform spells, after all."
"Good. Come with me for a moment—Gilda, you stand guard. And for your father's sake and the ones before him, don't blindly follow orders without thinking of the consequences. Cowards do that."
Gilda scowled, hugging herself as they disappeared, vanishing around the corner. She blinked and sucked in a heavy breath.
"I'm not a coward."
000
Jack's feet slapped against the linoleum as she frantically ran through the possibilities of who could be targeted.
Soul-folk. An'... an'...
And that was about all she knew. While she wasn't a recluse by any means, she just didn't know enough about the other students to make a guess as to why one of them was being targeted—she wasn't Rarity, after all. Girl loved her gossip far more than Jack.
Jack literally paused, one foot lifted in front of the other and her arms mid-swing.
Rarity.
If there was one woman in her group of friends that would know about skeletons in the closet, and what could make a person be marked for death, it'd be the tailor.
Jack nodded to herself and made her way towards Rarity and Twila's dorm-room, her mind racing in a thousand directions at once as she blew past a group patrol and rounded a corner.
What if she doesn't know anything?
What if I'm too late?
What if Gilda's wrong and Celestia is targeted?
What if Rarity's the target?
Jack was about to brush the last thought off as paranoia, but it stuck to her, giving her a desperate, frightened feeling in her gut.
Think about who nearly fell to their death a few months back thanks to someone trying to scare her. Think about who one of the richest people in St. Charles is! Think, ya damn fool!
Jack's hard jog turned into a dead sprint, her axe smacked hard into the small of her back with every frantic footstep.
000
She observed the sleeping figure of the woman from the foot of the elegant bed. Watched the violet-haired beauty take each breath, her chest slowly rising and falling with each motion as she slept under the cover of silken sheets. Trixie pushed back her hat, almost sad that it was this easy. Girl didn't have the door locked, didn't hear Trixie creep through the room to stand vigil at the foot of her bed—she was even wearing a sleep mask.
So much for an attentive audience, the magician dryly thought.
She reached into her pockets, producing a vial filled to the brim with a neon blue powder. With no hesitation, she uncorked and inhaled its contents through her nose.
As soon as the first trace of powder entered her system, she felt magic surge throughout her body. Trixie doubled over, watching as the vial fell out of her convulsing hands. It hit the ground, breaking the dead silence.
Rarity slept on.
Once her body had stopped tingling, and the faintest marks of black had shown up on her veins, Trixie reached and produced another vial. This one, a reddish-brown, she took to Rarity and let it sit under the woman's nose, as she covered her own mouth and nose with a handkerchief.
In mere moments, Rarity began to cough and clutch her neck at the scent of the grounded magesbane, its venomous ability already beginning to sap the soul-folk of her magic. The tailor threw off her mask, still coughing intently.
"Twila?! I smell smoke!" Rarity exclaimed as she rose from under her sheets and stood, clad in a silken, form-fitting nightgown. As the sleep quickly died from her mind, she noticed Trixie, who smiled grimly. Rarity let out a shriek, backing up and tripping over her bed, landing near the corner of the room.
She raised an even palm and braced it with her other hand. "W-who are you?" she weakly asked, her heart a frantic drum beat.
"You don't know Trixie?" the pale woman asked. "The strongest soul-folk in the acad—no, in the world?" She leered at Rarity, looking hard at the tailor's open palm. "And you can stop pretending you have a magic spell armed—the magesbane you inhaled stops any chance you have of conjuring spells."
Rarity tried regardless, focusing her mind towards her palm, and envisioning a powerful surge of wind erupting from her hand.
The smallest gust of wind came from the tailor's hands, slightly blowing Trixie's hair from her brow. She shook her head at Rarity and adjusted her large hat.
"Told you," the woman stated. She reached once more into her pocket, pulling out a large syringe.
Rarity's eyes shot further open in panic. She glanced towards the door—it seemed so far away. If she could just get past Trixie...
The tailor jumped up and shot forward, jumping onto her bed and springing off the mattress in a blind panic. She made one more desperate sprint and lunge for the door. With shaking hands, she unlocked it and-
Transparent, blue chains wrapped around bother her wrists. They pulled her backwards and pushed her body flush against the wall.
"Going somewhere before the show?" Trixie asked, laconically spinning a finger in the air as two additional magic chains came to life, pinning the tailor's ankles flush against the wall.
"Someone!" Rarity called out, struggling against the magic. "Anyone!"
"You must think the Great and Powerful Trixie for a fool. Of course she cast a sound dispersion spell on the room before she woke you! Couldn't let your screams interrupt, after all."
"W...what do you want, y-you brute?" Rarity whimpered. "Money?"
"Trixie is insulted." She narrowed her brow and slowly shook her head as she approached the tailor. "I've got more than enough money doing exactly this."
Trixie put a hand to Rarity's cheek—the violet-haired woman shrank and recoiled at the touch. The showwoman's smile widened. She brushed Rarity's hair from her neckline and ran a finger along the side of her neck, before plunging a needle deeply into the tailor's throat.
The woman let out a pained gasp and trembled as the syringe deposited its load into her body.
"What...?" Rarity weakly asked. Trixie nodded in understanding. With a snap of her fingers, the chains disappeared and Rarity sank to the floor, sweating.
"Think of it like a cocktail. You don't know what's all in it, but I'll let you know the main ingredient is turbocurine—a relaxant. Judging by your body size, we've got maybe four minutes before your entire skeletal system becomes paralyzed." She gave a haughty tilt of her nose on seeing Rarity's terrified expression. "Don't worry. If Trixie had wanted you murdered, she would have simply crushed your skull with a pressure spell while you were asleep."
"Then...?" the tailor panted out. Already, the drug was starting to take effect—her voice was limp and whisper quiet, and her legs quivered like jelly. She tried to stand, only to not even have the strength to hoist herself up
"It's just to make you docile. For now. When I carry you to the clock tower, I'll-."
The doorknob leading to the hallway jiggled; Trixie swore, quickly making a gesture and conjuring a black, misty ball of energy into her palm. She threw it across the room, smashing the loosely collected orb against a wall. It hit with a small pop, inky vines crept throughout the area, coating it in pitch-blackness.
Trixie smiled as the door slowly opened. Whoever it was was in for one hell of a show.
000
Jack paused at Rarity's dorm room to briefly suck in a breath of air. She had sprinted across most of campus, drawing looks from the dozens of men and women on patrol. With another deep breath of air, Jack twisted the handle, not surprised in the slightest when it was unlocked. She slowly creaked it open and took a tentative step inside.
Darkness. A pitch-black room greeted the farmer. Jack held out a hand a few feet from her face and couldn't even see that. She began to slink along, running her hand against the wall and attempting to find a light-switch.
"Rare?" Jack spoke in a heavy whisper, taking a few more cautious steps through the room, sure the switch was nearby.
The door slammed shut behind her; Jack turned on instinct to face it, swearing and drawing her axe.
A click behind her—Jack's instincts went into overdrive, she jumped to the side just as a blinding flash of blue electricity erupted past her, striking against the wall with a thundering roar.
"Who the hell's here?!" the farmer called out loudly, holding her axe out in front of her like a protective ward.
"Asking for a name before giving your own?" a haughty woman's voice said from everywhere and nowhere at once. "Such manners."
"Talkin' 'bout manners when yer hidin' in the dark?" Jack spat, glancing all around her in an attempt to find the speaker. "Show yerself."
"With pleasure."
A bright, overwhelming burst of light erupted from the ceiling lights—Jack squinted her eyes shut and covered them with the back of her hand, just as a force connected hard to her chest, disarming her with a clatter and knocking her onto her back. The farmer rose, coughing and sputtering, glancing across the brightly lit room, where a woman wearing a cape and large hat stood, smugly grinning.
"Where's Rarity?!" Jack asked, staring daggers.
The woman smiled, rising one finger and pointing it to Jack's side. The farmer offered the briefest of glances, feeling like this was a trick.
There, on her bed, was Rarity, staring straight up and taking strangled gasps for air. Her body remained motionless, but her blue eyes slowly traveled towards Jack, the raw, panicked emotion on them almost palpable.
"What ya do ta her, ya bitch?!" Jack snarled out, her teeth bared like a feral dogs.
"Just a little cocktail. Trixie doesn't plan on killing her." She offered a half-smile Jack's way. "You, though..."
Jack gave a small glance toward her axe. About five feet ahead of her. She could dive for it. She could make that. She subtly tensed, waiting for an opportunity.
"I'd like ta see ya try," the farmer growled. Trixie glanced towards' the figure of Rarity.
"She has about two minutes before she's unable to breath on her own." The magicain smugly grinned. "Trixie thinks it's an excessive time limit to deal with a mud-folk, but she's sure she'll find something to do after you're dead."
Jack snapped her body and lept forward, somersaulting as she hit the ground. She grabbed the axe mid-roll and rose in one fluid motion, charging the soul-folk, who watched with disinterest. The farmer hefted her axe in preparation of a powerful swing, just as Trixie made a few small, minute gestures with her hands.
Jack's hands became raw, painful agony as the handle of her weapon turned red-hot. She dropped it on reflex and watched it clatter once more to the floor before briefly glancing at her hands—the leather gloves had stopped any lasting damage. The ward Rarity had put in between the layers must be working like a charm. The farmer glared up at the soul-folk and ran forward, raising her fist to strike.
Despite Jack's years learning boxing, and countless hours of training with Will, Trixie simply ducked under the blow, that smug, arrogant grin still prevalent on her face as the woman rose, striking Jack. There was a loud crunch as the lithe woman's surprisingly strong fist connected with Jack's nose, breaking it.
Jack howled, tears welling up in her eyes as she cupped a hand over her ruined nose. Blood poured from her crooked nostrils, running down her face. She threw a punch once more. Trixie narrowly dodged it, the brief flicker of surprise on her face enough for Jack to gain a little confidence back.
"Yer gonna have ta do better than jus' a smack against me," Jack warned, scowling though her blood-soaked mouth.
Trixie smirked. "You're right."
She gestured once more and Jack was knocked off her feet by an invisible force. She skidded, smashing hard against the wall. Another force instantly brought Jack to her feet and flush against the wall, where blue, transparent shackles held her arms and legs in place.
The farmer struggled, but was unable to escape the magical chains that held her in place.
"Hmm..." Trixie pondered, reaching into a pocket and producing a switchblade. "Trixie at least has something to do for the next minute..." With a grin, she balanced the tip of the blade on her finger, before throwing it blindingly fast across the room.
000
Will ran down the hallways with Twila, trying to make up for lost time on finding Jack.
It had taken a bit of asking the groups of patrols, but eventually they got an idea of where the woman had went too—wasn't like there were too many that looked like the farmer, after all. The guidance they had received eventually put them at the front of Twila's door.
Will gave a look over to the soul-folk. "There a reason Apple woulda come here?"
"Well..." Twila gave a pause in consideration. "Her and my roommate are, well, close."
"Close like...?" Will gave an implying roll of his enormous hands.
"Indeed."
"So she just went off for a quickie?" Will narrowed his brow and swore, crossing his arms. "I'm gonna beat her black and blue for this-making up a lie just so she could get some action." He tried the door. Locked. He turned to Twila. "Do you have the key?"
Twila stared down at the floor, a nagging feeling running through her mind-something was off about, well, everything going on. Jack wasn't the type to blow off anything.
On realizing Will asked a question, the soul-folk nodded, reaching into a pocket as Will moved to the side to let her through. "Rarity never locks the room," Twila said, mostly to herself.
Will overheard and gave a shrug. "When you're having sex in a room, lock it up, you goon," he said, nodding sagely. Twila felt heat rush through her ebony face at his blunt words.
"Oh my... do you suppose they're...?"
"Only one way to find out." He nodded. "Get the door open."
She froze, clutching the side of her head as two things happened simultaneously. First, Twila sensed the overpowering magical aura of a soul-folk utilizing their craft, coming from the other side of the door.
Second, the realization that all those months back, Rarity nearly lost her life thanks to Blueblood. It might be mere coincidence, but as it stood now, the scholar had a feeling she found who the real target was tonight...
"Twila?" Will asked, sparing a glance her way and snapping her out of her epiphany.
"There's something more than Rarity and Jack behind the door," she stated, her good hand clenched tightly at her side. "Magic."
Will mulled that over for a brief second. "The guy who hassled you last night?"
"He hid his magical aura last night. However, I wouldn't doubt it."
The norfolk scowled, reaching behind his back and pulling out a dented and worn axe. "I'm breaking down the door. Watch my back."
She clenched her fist, a lavender aura coated it instantly, shining like a fire in the dark. "Go."
000
The knife flew through the room, propelling directly toward Jack's face. She tilted her head and pushed hard to her left. The knife pierced deeply through her cheek, tearing a long line from her mouth to her ear. She howled at her ruined face, fighting against her shackles.
A blue aura enveloped the knife, pulling it free from the wall. It flew into Trixie's hand. She casually wiped the knife clean. "Where should Trixie throw next?" She gave a gesture; small shackles pinned Jack's hand to the wall, her digits opened involuntary and splayed out. "Ring finer, perhaps? Or Trixie supposes she could just pull out your teeth one by one..." She glanced over at the still figure of Rarity. "Ah. Never mind. Seems like our time together is at an end." The magician aimed her knife. "Would you prefer it through the eye or forehead?"
"Go... ta... hell," Jack snarled through her aching, blood-soaked mouth. For a brief moment, she shivered and nearly vomited at the realization she could stick her tongue out though the cut Trixie gave.
"The throat it is, then."
Trixie pulled back her hand, just as the wooden door exploded, sending splinters across the room. The massive bulk of Iron Will charged through the shadow, as Twila walked in right behind, making a gesture that parted the shadows, disintegrating them in a heartbeat. Upon Twila clearing the shadows, Will instantly scanned the area, spotting Trixie and charging. She made a gesture and an aura briefly enveloped the norfolk. With a shake of his body, it vanished, leaving Trixie stunned as the giant twisted her arm and brought her to the ground.
The impact broke Trixie's concentration, the magical shackles around Jack vanished without a trace. The farmer tilted forward and crashed to the floor, groaning in pain.
"I got her pinned!" Will shouted out, never looking away from the soul-folk. "Check Jack!"
Twila knelt down, wincing on seeing the farmer's broken nose. "Jack, I'll-"
"Rare," she sputtered through her clenched teeth. "Rare first."
The soul-folk looked up to the still, limp body of Rarity. Twila quickly left Jack's side and approached her roommate. She left her hand a few inches from her mouth and nose.
"She's not breathing!" Twila announced.
"What?!" Will exclaimed, glancing away from Trixie for one moment.
That moment was enough.
She made one brisk gesture, vanishing with a flash of light.
"Shit!" The norfolk glanced around. "Twila! Teleportation or Invisibility?"
Her gaze briefly lingered on Rarity before narrowing her brow. "T-teleportation. I'll go after her."
Will rose, already moving towards Rarity. "Do you think you'll have a chance against her?"
"I'm the only shot we've got. She's not getting away from us!" Twila fiercely announced, clapping her hands and disappearing in a similar flash of light.
Will pulled Rarity off the bed and laid her flat on her back. "Apple!" he announced. "I need you to do CPR. Do you know how?"
Jack nodded, wiping the blood away from her mouth as best she could.
"Keep her breathing. I'll run to the nurse's office and-"
"Go ta room 1768," Jack ordered with a point of her hand. "It's closer. Her name's Chylene. She'll have a BVM—that'll do better than CPR, won't it?"
Will nodded, taking off in a dead sprint out of the room.
Jack looked down at the tailor's body, tilting the paralyzed woman's head up. She opened the woman's violet lips and put her own bloody ones to it, exhaling gently. Jack watched the woman's chest rise and slowly fall. Jack took another breath and exhaled into the soul-folk once more.
"Don't die on me, Rare. Please," Jack whispered, her injuries all but forgotten on seeing Rarity's pitiful state. She took another breath and breathed life into the beauty once more. "Christ, Rare. Please."