Freebie Mondays: My Little Domerin – Episode 6: Act 1

I promised my twitch chat I would take Domerin, the grumpy elf main character from the Aruvalia Chronicles, and turn him into a pony if they helped me pay for my replacement computer. I never thought we’d reach that goal – but of course we did. Because my twitch chat continues to be the most generous community out there.

For more details on the project, check the intro. (There are pictures of my characters converted into ponies there as well.)

This story is meant to take place in the same world as “My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic,” though it’s unlikely any of the characters from the show will appear in the story. I have attempted to adopt the style of storytelling used by the show (including an episodic format and a ‘season’ instead of chapters in a novel). And some of the ponies that appear were created by donators from my chat. VoDs of the writing sessions are available on my youtube channel!

I hope you enjoy this crazy, silly little romp!
. . .

Domerin paused for a moment to pull his cloak more tightly about his shoulders. Before he resumed his trek, he cast a glance in Crescent’s direction to make sure the earth pony wasn’t struggling with the wind and rain.

Crescent had tucked his chin as tightly against his chest as he could manage, but it barely kept his head out of the rain as the wind kept threatening to blow the hood free of his head. The warrior took a moment to tuck the fabric more tightly around his partner’s figure, then he bent his head and continued to plow forward.

As the pair descended the incline to which they had arrived, it grew ever steeper until the landscape behind them rose like a great titan to cast a shadow on all that rested at its base. With rain lashing the mountainside, the paths became slick, forcing both ponies to dig their hooves into the stone with each step or risk slipping.

Under different circumstances, Domerin would have suggested seeking shelter to wait out the storm. Especially since the severity of the weather seemed to worsen as they moved toward the mountain’s base, suggesting the clouds were blowing across the valley to crash against the slope to which they arrived.

But this was a time-sensitive issue, and the less time they spent in the danger zone, the more secure Domerin would feel. It was hard to mess up the future since it came after everything he was likely to do for the rest of his life. But he was keenly aware that anything and everything he did here would have lasting consequences.

He wanted to touch nothing but the critical event.

In retrospect, he realized it would have been more helpful to know the exact time and place to which he was arriving before his departure. He assumed Rupert had determined both as part of his calculations. But again, the princess had insisted only that the optimal time for solving the problem had been selected, so it seemed it was up to Domerin to make the rest of the determinations.

Luckily, he had traveled the length and breadth of Aruvalia several times throughout his long career. By the time they reached the base of the steep slope and began traversing blessedly even ground, he had identified their location.

They were on the fringes of Aruvalia, at the edge of the Griffinstone Mountains – the massive mountain chain that marked the edges of their grand kingdom and, theoretically, guarded it against outside incursion.

It made perfect sense; the raiders who had infiltrated the castle were from these mountains. They made their homes in the highlands where the terrain was even more forgiving than that he and Crescent had just crossed.

Domerin didn’t know for certain what the weather had been like in that part of the kingdom in the days leading up to the attack, but he assumed they were three or maybe four days before the wretched sunrise that pulled him out of bed and into combat almost instantly.

He tried not to think of the alarms as his hooves scraped the last of the slick stone before he and Crescent turned onto grass and leaf-padded pathways that seemed far more heavily traveled than the rain-slick escarpments above. He tried not to think of the scrape of steel on steel or the blood that flowed from the many wounds of his people and their enemies during the encounter that drove them from the heart of their home.

Instead, he focused on calculations. Three days of hard running from this border outpost could deliver a war band to the queen’s doorstep. Or, if they wished to travel with stealth – as he suspected was the goal, since no one had been aware of the clan’s approach until the attack began – five days of careful but steady travel would do the trick.

That meant they could be anywhere up to a week before the attack began, likely near the origin point of the war band’s departure.

Which meant if Domerin acted swiftly and decisively, they could intercept the raiders before they vanished into the nearby forests and quickly eliminate the threat.

Crescent huffed heavily, and his breath formed a small cloud of delicate white that hovered around his nostrils for a moment before he shook his head and ducked beneath the shelter of a tree’s wide branches. He stamped his hooves and shook some of the moisture free of his clothing, and Domerin darted into the shelter of the leaves beside him.

“We need to find somewhere to stop soon,” the earth pony declared, and a small shiver moved along the length of his body. “My ankles are starting to go numb and so are my ears.”

It was chilly. With the wind howling heavily enough to whip the branches in the nearby trees into a frenzy, the rain felt almost like ice chips whenever it hit flesh and fur instead of protective fabric. Domerin had long since gotten used to such foul conditions and barely paid them any mind. But when he paused for a moment to consider his partner’s words, he found himself in a similar state.

“Wait a moment,” he suggested softly and trotted back out into the storm so that he could peer over the edge of a nearby ridge.

It was obvious they occupied the upper portion of a valley. If they continued to follow the winding path downward, they would eventually find themselves in the center of it. To the right and left, more massive slopes carved into the sky, their peaks obscured by the thick clouds that carried the relentless storm determined to fall atop their heads. Behind him, he sensed the heavy press of the stone slope they had just descended. But in front of him, the land fell away to reveal the perfect picture for a postcard.

It must rain heavily in these mountains quite often. The steady trickle of water down the sides of the mountain gathered into a torrent a few miles away, and the river formed by that flow cleaved a heavy gash through the center of the valley below. Not far from his current position – perhaps an hour if they picked up their pace – a wide bend in the flow of that river had created a massive lake. And on the edge of that lake perched a tiny town filled with houses made of stone.

From this distance, it was hard to make out the details of the town’s streets or how big it might be. Certainly Domerin didn’t see any figures moving among the structures – though that might have been because the rain now fell in heavy sheets that threatened to completely obscure his vision of their destination.

But this must be where they were meant to go.

He shuffled back to the tree where Crescent sought shelter and found the earth pony huddled against the tree trunk as if it would protect him from the growing storm. Domerin paused long enough to shake some of the moisture from his cloak and fur while the leaves protected him from the worst of the rainfall, then he shook off his hood so he could meet his partner’s gaze.

“We’re close to a town. If we abandon the path and cut across the rough terrain, we might be able to reach it within the hour depending on how much the weather slows us down.”

Crescent huffed again, producing another little cloud of pale steam.

“I don’t suppose there are any caves around where we could curl up and wait for this to pass,” he muttered, and Domerin knew him well enough to know the words were mostly spoken in jest.

Crescent wouldn’t have found a cave comfortable even in these circumstances.

“The fastest way out of this situation is through the storm,” he admitted, though he wasn’t thrilled about it either. They were going to be soaked through by the time they reached the outskirts of that village, and they had no idea what kind of welcome would be waiting for them there. He assumed they were still within Aruvalia territory, which meant his guard patches if not his face might be recognized. But they were also close enough to clan territory that they might find their reception mixed or even cold.

They might not have any choice but to take the risk, however. They certainly couldn’t stay here. Already the increase in the rain’s intensity had caused a steady stream of drops to wind through the leaves forming their shelter so that several steady dribbles marred their haven.

Crescent snorted, but Domerin could tell from the dismayed look on his face he agreed with his partner’s assessment. “Let’s just get it over with,” he growled. “Maybe then we can at least curl up by a warm fire and get dry.”

Domerin mustered a weary smile. Knowing Crescent, he would want a hot bath and several hot drinks to accompany that lounge. But if they could head this attack off at the pass, he would deserve all that and far more.

The warrior put his head down, settled the hood of his cloak back into place and once more ventured beyond the fading haven formed by the thick tree branches. Crescent joined him a moment later, once again curled as tightly in on himself as he could to avoid the effects of the rainfall.

The first portion of their descent required them to move slowly if they wanted to navigate the muddy incline without planting their noses in the dirt. But as soon as they reached the base of the hill from which Domerin had observed the town, the ground leveled and became far more steady.

Forgetting about the rain, both ponies leapt into a canter and, from there, into a gallop, eating up the miles between them and the promise of shelter.

They were mud-spattered in addition to soaked by the time they reached the small gate that marked the town’s entrance, and both had to pause in order to catch their breath, but at least they made it without twisting an ankle or breaking a leg.

Because the weather had grown far worse.

As Crescent beelined for the nearest awning and Domerin followed hot on his heels, the distant rumbles he had been hoping weren’t thunder finally turned into a violent whip-crack. Even as the warrior lifted his head to search for the source of the sound, the bright fingers of a lightning strike streaked across the sky before fading back into the dim grey of the storm-choked day.

Domerin shuddered as he finally reached the edge of the nearest building and curled close to Crescent beneath the meager shelter of the roof’s overhang. A second peal of thunder followed the first, indicating he had probably missed a lightning strike, and he found himself counting the seconds before it faded as he had when he was a foal.

It was immediately evident that they might have to downgrade this town to a village. The small glimpse he had gained of it while pelting through the streets indicated that most of the roads were still unpaved. And outside of a tight cluster of central buildings, there seemed to be only a small smattering of houses. Which meant most of the people who inhabited this area probably lived deeper in the woods or up the slopes of the mountains. This place would serve as their hub for supplies and news but little else.

That could prove to be a problem. Loyalties aside, there might not be enough people in this place to muster the kind of defense Domerin needed to ensure the capital remained safe.

But if this is the kind of border outpost I think it is, they’ll have runners trained to deliver messages swiftly during events such as these.

The reminder eased the tight band restraining Domerin’s chest and allowed him to finally refill his lungs. He poked his head tentatively beyond the sheet of rain that formed along the edges of the awning and quickly spotted a sign that read public house. He nosed Crescent, pointed in the proper direction then trotted across the street to reach the door.

Even the short sprint from one shelter to another re-soaked the two companions so they stood dripping once they entered the small entry just beyond the tavern’s door. The soft click of the heavy portal returning to its resting place drew the eyes of most of the establishment’s patrons and, for a moment, Domerin worried they’d made a mistake.

What he first took as hostility, however, quickly became shock as unfamiliar faces identified unfamiliar travelers moving through unfavorable conditions. Most of the chatter quickly resumed – though Domerin sensed some of the whispers now involved him and his partner and their sudden arrival. They weren’t barked at or shuffled out the door though, and that made the guard captain breathe a little easier.

Some of the gazes lingered, raking both the unicorn and the earth pony with scrutiny. But eventually, a single figure broke away from the rest of the pack and trotted across the wide space to greet them. A pair of towels were slung over his right forearm, and he quickly distributed them to the travelers.

“You’ll have to pardon the reaction to your arrival,” the pony declared with a light chuckle. “Most folks around these parts aren’t used to seeing unfamiliar faces traveling outside a caravan at this time of year. Especially when we aren’t expecting any kind of delivery for another couple of weeks. Can’t say you’ve come at a good time, since this storm isn’t likely to stop any day soon. But you’re welcome to come in, rest your weary hooves and help yourself to some food. It’s hot.” This last was accompanied by a reassuring grin.

Domerin unslung the sopping wet cloak from his shoulders and placed it on the nearby coat rack before quickly using the towel to mop up the worst of the moisture still dripping from his figure. He wasn’t overly concerned about being damp, though he noted Crescent’s efforts to get dry were far more thorough.

Domerin took advantage of the extra time to survey the pony that greeted them. He was an earth pony, like Crescent. And like Crescent, his mane and tail were of a rich gold tinge. Each fell in waves of ringlets across his shoulders and down his flank, though a strategic binding kept it from ever covering his eyes. His fur was a burnt umber that looked brighter beneath the lanterns that lit the tavern’s entry but darker whenever he ventured into shadow. A small tuft of curled goatee adorned the base of his chin, and his eyes were the color of pine trees after rain.

Beyond just this initial assessment of the stranger, Domerin quickly determined that this pony was strong. There was obvious tone to his muscles which indicated more than just standard hard labor, and the lithe nature of his figure and grace of his movements only reinforced Domerin’s belief that he had some form of formal combat training. There was also a quick wit in the pony’s eyes that suggested he was scanning and assessing Domerin at the same time Domerin was scanning and assessing him.

It would have been easier to complete his survey if the light had been brighter. It seemed most of the tavern’s interior was lit by lanterns slung across the roof beams and the large fire that sat in the hearth near its center. Domerin couldn’t fathom why a place like this wouldn’t have electricity – at least until a loud crack of thunder rent the air outside again.

The power must be out, he reasoned. And since it sounds like the people here are no stranger to storms, it must happen fairly often.

“Forgive us,” he said as soon as he could be reasonably certain his admission would gain a favorable reply. “We are not simply passing through. We come bearing an urgent message, which is why we had to endure the fury of the storm.”

Crescent stilled beside him and cast him a nervous look. Domerin could read a thousand questions in his eyes – is this wise? Shouldn’t we learn more about the situation first? Aren’t we jumping the gun a little?

But the queen sent him on this mission because she trusted he would be decisive and correct. And the sooner they returned to their own time, the sooner they would be free of the worry of catastrophic change.

The sunny disposition of the stranger that greeted them instantly vanished, replaced by a concern frown. But rather than glance over his shoulder in search of any form of confirmation, he narrowed his eyes at Domerin, clearly seeking clarification.

Domerin at last allowed his eyes to drift toward Crescent’s. But ultimately, his lover shrugged as if to say that he had taken the first step so he was going to have to decide when to make the leap.

Domerin sighed. His options here were slim. He could take the time to survey the area surrounding this city and locate the clan war band before he took action – but that might cause him to miss his greatest window of opportunity. Or he could deliver his message, warm his legs and get the hell out of here before things went horribly awry.

“We ride from the capital,” he declared, though it earned him an odd look. “We have reason to believe that there is a clan war band forming in the near vicinity with the intent to attack and overrun the heart of our kingdom. We cannot allow that to happen. We must send forces to intercept and disband the raiders before they can slip into the hills and vanish.”

Their host’s frown had become horror by the time Domerin finished speaking. His jaw fell open for a moment as if to indicate he was at a loss as to how to respond. But then he snapped his mouth closed and steeled his frame – confirming Domerin’s suspicions about his training.

“We have feared news of this for some time,” he admitted, leaning closer so that he could lower his voice and conceal his words from the rest of the tavern’s patrons. “But are you certain the time has come to act? We have been vigilant and seen no indication of open hostility. If we strike too soon-“

“If you were aware of the threat why not report it?” Domerin cut in sharply. News from the border was all it would have taken to prepare for the assault before it was on top of them.

No sooner were the words spoken, however, than did Crescent slam his hoof into Domerin’s ankle, causing him to grit his teeth and swallow the angry words boiling in the back of his throat.

“We are certain about the activity we have come to report,” the earth pony declared primly. “We would not have braved a storm like this otherwise.”

Another sharp rumble of thunder punctuated Crescent’s words, restoring an uneasy stillness to the group huddled in the tavern’s entry way.

Domerin forced a sharp breath through his nostrils and tried to force his muscles to relax. Part of him very much wanted to don his armor, unsheathe his swords and race into the heart of the rainstorm to deal with the threat himself. He had expected at least passing familiarity with the guards posted along the kingdom’s outskirts, but this pony was a total stranger to him. It wasn’t unusual for hired companies to supplement the security at the border, however, and he didn’t know every member of kingdom’s guard. He was the royal guard captain, not the head of security for the entire realm.

Still, it would have set him at ease if he had known who he was dealing with, not to mention the capabilities of the force he was about to send into the storm to deal with his future problems.

Their host breathed a soft sigh, at last breaking the silence. Then he shook his head. “My name is Ryland,” he declared and bowed his head for a moment. “I am in charge of the protectors garrisoned in this area. They are all out on watch duty, despite the weather, so it will take some time to receive their reports. But if what you say is true… I must muster them with all speed.”

Ryland didn’t pause to wait for any form of conformation or even to wait for Domerin to offer his services. He simply brushed past, pulled a fresh cloak from a nearby hook and vanished into the squall outside.

Domerin watched him go for a moment, poised on the brink of following. If it came down to an attack, every sword would count. And if it came down to a diplomatic situation, no skills would prove more valuable than Crescent’s.

But he recalled the words of his future self about the consequences of meddling with time, and he stepped back instead of forward.

“Come on,” he murmured to Crescent as he turned toward the massive hearth and its crackling fire. “Let’s warm up for a few minutes, maybe get a few bites of hot stew in us. Then we can head back.”

They would have to retreat away from the village before they activated the remote that would carry them home. But it would be worth a small amount of discomfort to have this over quickly.

Domerin tried to surge forward, eager to dispel the chill that still clung to his limbs, but Crescent extended a leg in front of him to halt him.

“Shouldn’t we go with him?” he hissed. “Shouldn’t we make certain the issue is properly taken care of?”

Domerin shook his head firmly. “We have already altered the course of history. And I have to assume since this Ryland didn’t ask anything more of me, he recognized me or you to some degree. Right now, we are already back in the capital tending to other matters. The more we’re seen here, the more we’ll muddy and confuse things. And besides, the less we touch the better.”

He almost said that if they returned to their point of origin and found things hadn’t worked out the way they hoped, they could try again – but he instantly banished the thought from his mind.

Messing with time to any degree was risky beyond measure. He shouldn’t even have agreed to do this, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the devastated faces of the ponies forced to evacuate from Silvergarden in the wake of the assault.

If he could change that horrible day, if he could make things right, he could fix the rest in the present. As soon as they got back, they could send a diplomatic mission into the highlands to speak about the grievances that caused the war band to gather. They could open the table to negotiations from the security of their walls and without the desperation born of a need to reclaim lost land.

He didn’t like leaving their fate in the hands of a stranger any more than Crescent did, but he could see no other way to deal with this.

Crescent gritted his teeth. For a moment, it seemed as if he was going to protest that Domerin was acting too cavalier. So the guard captain dropped his defenses and allowed his uncertainty to show on his face.

“We’re in unknown territory here,” he hissed. “What else would you have me do?”

“I don’t know,” Crescent admitted at last and shook his head. “I don’t know, Domerin. It just feels like too little after all the effort we went through to get here.”

“Maybe getting here was the hard part,” Domerin countered. “Time travel isn’t supposed to be easy, after all.”

“I suppose you have a point,” Crescent relented and finally stepped out of the way to let Domerin pass.

Together, they slunk past the tables filled with tavern patrons, keeping their heads down. They chose an empty table near the hearth and its large fire, and they each ordered a pint of ale and a hearty bowl of the kitchen’s stew.

They were midway through their meal when Domerin heard shouts cutting through the din outside. He glanced out the nearest window and noted a crowd of ponies dressed in armor and armed to the teeth.

Again, he felt the itch to rise and join them. He could slip into the rear ranks without anyone noticing and diverge from the rest of the group when he was certain the war band had been dealt with.

But again, he forced himself to focus on his meal and the warmth that permeated the space where he consumed it.

This fight was not his fight; not every fight could be. His fight was in the future with the people who had tried to wreck his home, not in this rain-choked mountain pass where ill fortune was about to be averted.

He increased the pace at which he consumed his meal, and Crescent joined him. By the time they donned their damp cloaks and stepped back outside, the rain had eased a little – enough for him to spot trails of smoke rising in the distance, indicating that a fight of some kind had already taken place.

The royal guard captain felt ill at ease as he turned away from the village and the distant trails of smoke, though he couldn’t say exactly why. Some old instinct screamed against leaving a task unfinished, but he overrode the sensation as he reached for the remote that would open the portal to carry them home.

Normally, Domerin Lorehooves was not the sort to pray. But as he waited for the small circle to open wide enough for him to pass back into the princess’s concealed tower, he uttered another small prayer to the hero of his ancestors that whatever small portion of his spirit might still linger in this place would guide and watch over the ponies he’d sent to solve his problems.

He could only hope he’d finally gotten things right this time.