“No funny stuff. Do as I say and you will live. Now get to work.”

Blackbird struggled to bring herself to wakefulness and couldn’t remember when she had lost consciousness. Her eyes were covered by something damp and soothing and she was laying on something soft that cradled her body, but had a few lumps. Or maybe she had lumps, she didn’t know and it was hard to tell.

A soft feminine voice cried out and she heard Dim say, “I told you. Such is the nature of domination spells. Do as I say or the pain will be unbearable.”

The blanket over Blackbird lifted and she felt a soft, light touch that she knew to be magic. Blackbird’s ears pricked at the sound of muffled sobbing and then she felt a tug on the bandages around her eyes. As the gauze was unwound, Blackbird saw some light, but little else.

“You killed my husband—”

“Last night, I killed a lot of husbands, so you are not special. Get over it.”

“You monster! You tore his wings off and wouldn’t let me save him!”

“Cease your bleating, as I grow weary of such things,” Dim responded in a dismissive voice that left Blackbird with a cold, chilly sensation.

When the bandages were completely removed, Blackbird realised that she could see nothing at all, except for the light. Her body ached all over, every place that she had been beaten, kicked, bucked, and clubbed. The sobbing mare was close, real close, and Blackbird could feel hot breath against her ear. She couldn’t smell anything as her nose was gunked shut.

“I’m blind,” Blackbird croaked.

“It’s part of the dust,” the mare replied. Blackbird’s ears perked and she heard how grief distorted the mare’s voice as she wept. “I’m going to apply some eye drops. It will sting. In fact it will hurt a lot, but it will help make you better. When I am done, I will reapply the poultice so you may have a little relief.”

Taking the warning at face value, Blackbird braced herself, and was thankful that she couldn’t see what was coming. Sniffling a bit, she tried to clear her snot-encrusted nostrils, but couldn’t. Her muscles wanted to tense, but the many bruises, knots, and tender places sent telegraphs of distress through her nerves.

“Remember… you do anything to harm Blackbird, and I will burn your foals alive for all to see.” Upon hearing Dim say this, Blackbird’s blood ran cold for the second time in the span of just a few moments and the unknown mare’s sobs gained strength. “And if you do anything funny when changing my bandages—” Dim’s words trailed off into wet, raspy coughing.

“I’m a healer, I save lives, not take them,” the mare murmured. “Even the undeserving get my mercy.”

“Dim, are you okay?” Blackbird feared the answer, and Dim continued to cough, so he did not reply. She started to say something else, but felt a tug on her right eyelids, pulling them open. Bracing herself, she gritted her teeth, waiting, even anticipating the pain, she was not prepared for the sting. Hissing, she writhed in the bed and almost pissed herself.

Before she had a chance to recover, her left eyelids were peeled back and more drops were applied. Blackbird’s talons tore through the sheets and her claws dug deep into the mattress beneath her. The pressure inside her built and she could feel every single sphincter on her hind end clenching to hold everything in. When the pressure proved to be too much, her mouth fell open and a ragged scream almost tore open her parched, gritty throat.

“I’m sorry, dear, I know it hurts.”

Blackbird did not hear these words of comfort, as she was lost in her own private Tartarus of pain. Blinking, her eyelids fluttering, the drops acted like lubricant and she could feel the rough, scratchy sensation of her eyelids closing over eyeballs being smoothed out little by little. Rolling over onto her side, she rocked back and forth while praying to whatever might be listening that the pain would come to an end.

After some time to recover, Blackbird felt her head tugged into position and then a salve was applied to her burnt abraded cheeks. It stung too, but only for a second, and then her skin went rather numb from a strong cooling sensation that was like peppermint, but stronger. Some distance away, she heard a door open and she waited, straining to listen.

“How are things?” she heard Dim ask.

“About as well as to be expected,” a strange voice replied.

“How are you holding up?” After a pause, Dim spoke again and there was a strange something in his voice, but Blackbird wasn’t sure if it was kindness. “I am sorry about your wife, Starhammer. She dealt honourably and fairly with me. I wish things had been different.”

“Me too. Me too. At least her death was avenged.”

The cooling salve was rubbed around Blackbird’s eyes and the sensation that brought relief was welcomed. Heaving breathing could be heard along with the sounds of soft sobbing as well. The unknown stranger moved closer, his hooves striking hard and heavy against the floor, and Blackbird felt bad for him because of what he had lost. Starhammer was likeable.

“Short Stitch is a good sort, Dim… please, there’s been enough bloodshed and violence. There’s no need make it worse for her. I overheard what was said when I was standing outside.”

“You’ll have to forgive me, Brand, but at the moment, I have a real lack of trust.”

“I suspect that you do,” the stranger replied. “So do I, if it makes you feel any better. Last night, Snowbird and those loyal to him kicked down the door to my home, beat me into submission, and killed my wife right in front of me when she would not relinquish her authority… so I understand your anger… I really do… but those responsible have been punished, and now, those of us that survive, we need to find a way to pick up the pieces and come together.”

“This is all because of greed,” the sobbing mare murmured. “Greed and stupidity.”

“Dim, is that you?” Blackbird asked in a scratchy voice when she heard somepony close to her bed. “No fooling around… I’ll rip out your throat—”

“It’s okay. Be still.”

Something about Dim’s voice was reassuring and Blackbird relaxed just a little. “Dim, are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“A few bullets grazed me, but other than that, I am fine,” he replied.

Shuddering with relief, Blackbird squirmed in her bed and it took her a few seconds to realise that Dim was lying to her. His breathing was laboured, wet, and raspy sounding. She wanted to be angry, but knew that he was trying to spare her some worry. As she lay there, unsure of what to do or how to respond to Dim’s fiblet, or perhaps even a full blown fib, as she had no real way of knowing, something soft touched her, something damp, and there was light pressure.

It took several seconds to register what it was, and then she asked, “Did you just kiss me?”

“It felt like the right thing to do. Are you mad?”

Before responding, Blackbird took a moment to check and see if she was. She thought about it, he had kissed her on the top of her head, a kind gesture of affection. Probably just affection. It didn’t have to mean anything else. “No,” was her response, “not mad.”

“I have been worried for you like I have worried for no other creature.” Dim’s voice bubbled in his throat and sounded like he was gargling. “It has unhinged me, made me terrible and monstrous. I think you are my friend, Blackbird, perhaps my only friend. This is new to me and the idea of losing you made me murderous.”

“Dim…” Blackbird, at a loss for words, did not know what else to say.

“Go back to sleep, if you can, and I will stand guard over you.”

But Blackbird was in no mood to sleep, no. She was in pain, she ached, she missed her parents, and was in dire need of comfort. Her ribs and wings had taken a pounding and though nothing felt broken, she wondered if things were cracked. The pepper dust bombs had left her lungs a stinging, burning mess and even now, not knowing how much time had passed, it was still difficult to draw breath.

“Leaving you behind was a mistake,” she heard Dim say. “It’s tearing me up inside. I left you behind so that I might keep you safe. But then, all of this happened. When it was just me, I didn’t mind the danger so much, but now, with you…” His words trailed off into wet, phlegmy wheezes that filled her with much worry.

Blackbird thought about picking her nose, but she had learned a painful lesson about doing that long ago. Sharp claws and tender nostrils did not mix. Her sinuses drained down the back of her throat and her nostrils seemed to be cemented shut still. A dreadful feline curiousity possessed her, and there was something she had to know.

“What did you do to Snowbird?” she asked in a voice that was no more than a hushed whisper.

“Well,” Dim began, and Blackbird heard him shudder. “Snowbird threatened to have you raped, tortured, branded, plucked, and enucleated. I thought that it was only fitting that he endured those experiences himself, so that he might have a better understanding of what they mean. I gave him an education in the finer points of sadistic cruelty, and near the end, he understood the error of his ways. I first impaled him on a tent pole in the marketplace, and then I began my terrible work, all while his disabled troops watched, helpless, and unable to do anything.”

“Was all of that necessary?” she asked, breathing the words through parched lips. “Was killing Snowbird necessary?”

“Who said that Snowbird is dead?” she heard him reply, and she felt her blood almost freeze solid in her veins. Her terror was so strong that her bowels clenched and she both felt and heard her guts gurgling. “No, he lived. To stop the bleeding, I dipped him in hot tar, and then I rolled him in his own feathers. Right now, he probably wishes that he was dead. They’re still peeling away the tar, you see.”

“Dim, could you get me some water? And maybe something to throw up in?”

“Sure thing,” he replied, and she heard him shuffle away from her bedside.

Dim told a strange tale of his meeting with the Jaguar Witch, his encounter with some kind of conjurling, his near death and subsequent near-transformation into lichdom, and then his revival by an old, dead jungle goddess named Chantico. While it was a very strange tale indeed, it was certainly no stranger than a hippogriff travelling the world hoping to find her alcoholic gunslinger mother who had vanished to avenge her husband’s murder.

And after hearing the tale, when Blackbird thought about everything that had taken place during that long, horrible night, she realised that her mother and Dim had something in common: Dim too would travel to the ends of the earth to get revenge if something was to ever happen to her. Blackbird could only speculate upon what this meant, but she wasn’t nearly as stupid and naive as she might appear to be at times. It was almost flattering, how he felt for her, but it was also horrifying what he would do and had already done because of his possessive nature.

All of this led to a greater understanding of her mother and her father. The complexities of her father and his mind had long eluded Blackbird, but now, after chasing after her mother’s evasive, slippery shadow, she had come to understand much about her parents. She had learned much that she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. And just like her father, she found herself falling for a vicious sort. Dim, for all of his faults, still had his charms. But like her mother, he was dangerous, so dangerous and fickle.

It was amazing that none of her talon-fingers were broken, after having been stomped on. She clutched a wooden bowl filled with some kind of starchy, salty broth. It tasted alright, but she had to take only a little at a time or her stomach would revolt. The sound of Dim’s breathing was the only thing in the room, a room she had not seen, nor could she see. Not liking the silence that had settled in, she was compelled to say something. But what?

The gauze bound around her head crinkled against her sweaty head with every little movement, causing distraction. She sat in the bed with her back against the wall and the cool stone felt good against her hot bruises and lumps. A tiny sip of the broth slid down her throat and the pain of swallowing made her head feel swimmy.

When the door opened, every muscle tensed, almost causing her to spill her bowl of broth.

“Brand,” Dim said.

“Snowbird has died,” Brand announced.

“You’ll have to forgive me if I fail to shed a tear,” was Dim’s sardonic response.

“Much of the town is still in ruins. There are still trolls in the woods. Most of our protectors are dead. For some reason, everypony is turning to me for leadership and I have no idea what to do. I have no head for this sort of thing. I can’t even see how this town is going to survive.”

Blackbird heard the creak of wood and guessed that Brand had sat down, but she couldn’t be certain. Dim’s wet, bubbly breathing demanded the attention of her ears, and she heard a sigh from afar, which meant it came from Brand. She took a sip of the broth and forced it down her gullet, pushing past the pain of swallowing.

“We had a good thing going in this town. All of us, we looked after one another. Hiring the mercenary company was a good thing. For years, we prospered and we were safe. The mercenaries put down roots. Many of them married. I had my eye on Starhammer almost from the beginning, because she was a real prize. Honourable. A pony of her word. She didn’t make rash decisions. The mercenaries were supposed to be the saviours of our town… they made everything safe and good… but now… but they… but—”

“But some of them were still mercenaries,” Dim said in a wounded sounding whisper. “Some of them were looking for that big pay off. Such is the risk of dealing with mercenaries, because you only get as much loyalty as you pay for.”

“We gave them homes… wives, husbands, this town was their town… why do this?”

Blackbird quivered at the pain in Brand’s voice and she pitied him. He was not responsible for what had taken place last night, but like her, was a victim of everything that had transpired. The broth in her bowl sloshed because her talons shook so much, and she realised that she had dug her claws into the wood. Try as she might, she could not relax her grip.

“Sometimes, mercenaries are just bandits with an air of legitimacy.” Dim coughed, a terrible sound, and when he spoke again, his strained voice was little more than a wheeze. “I have dealt with many in my travels. It is why I try to keep my dealings honourable.”

“Which is why I wanted to ask you—”

“No.”

Brand’s voice was pleading. “Please, even if it is only a temporary arrangement. We need somepony to protect the town, at least until we can hire new security. We’re vulnerable right now, and you’ve already shown that you can defend the town—”

“I said no,” Dim whispered.

“Over a hundred dead… and I don’t think we’ll even find all of the bodies. Some of the ponies here want you gone and I’ve had to plead with them to show some reason, but there are a few that see that you could protect us… please, reconsider.”

“No.”

Now after Dim’s flatout refusal, Brand sounded desperate. “Who will look after us?”

“Not me,” Dim replied. “I have my own problems to look after.. I don’t even know how we are going to travel away from this place—”

“What do mean, Dim?” Lukewarm broth sloshed over the side of the wooden bowl and trickled down Blackbird’s foreleg, but she did not notice.

“The vardo is gone, Blackbird.”

Unable to respond, Blackbird sat in stunned silence, stupefied. She found that she couldn’t cry, she couldn’t speak, she couldn’t do much of anything, so she just sat there, unmoving. The vardo. Her home. Her fantastical flying machine that was always in need of constant repair. It was a work in progress, and she had such dreams for it, such as engines, propulsion, a better interiour with nicer curtains… none of which mattered now.

Everything was gone. The Foalsitter was lost and so was her vardo.

“I have no idea what to do,” Brand said and his voice began cracking. “If we put out a call for more mercenaries, surely the bandits will also hear of such a thing and know that we are weak. They will come, just like vultures who sense carrion. Please, please stay for just a little while until we can get new security established. Please?”

“No. As soon as Blackbird is fit to fly again, we are leaving this place.”

“You’re killing us—”

“I’ve already killed you,” Dim blurted out, cutting Brand off. “I’ve slit your throat for your betrayal and now you will bleed out. Make peace with it.”

“I don’t know what to do… these ponies, they expect some kind of leadership from me…” Brand’s words trailed off into wheezes and then Blackbird heard the sounds of him sobbing. She pitied him, really, she did, but like Dim, she had no desire to stay.

Author's Notes:

Betrayal is the only truth that sticks.

Arthur Miller