Loose ends (Patreon)

Every evening since he'd been captured, Rakorno had been forced to listen to the same argument in my Equestria dreamscape.

    “Sarge, why can't we go back to our old helmets these new ones are terrible! I like the old ones where our ears stuck out! You can hardly hear anything with this thing on, and it bends your ears in the wrong way!”

    Can I borrow it? Thought the griffin as he stuffed his head under the pillow. That way maybe I wouldn't have to hear your whining so much! Well in a few more hours I'm going to be far, far way from here!

    “Quit grumbling private! They are test model that procurement is trying. It is only for a few weeks and then we give them back with our report. Then you can tell someone how much you hate them, but in meantime your a soldier so shut up and deal with it!”

    Yep I'm not going to miss that! Thought the griffin. Of course he was trying act like nothing out of ordinary was happening; which can be difficult when something out of the ordinary is about to happen!

    And the private's whining wasn't helping. Finally the sergeant had enough and he sent the private off to run some errand. Which made the dungeon quiet. However now Rakorno had nothing to distract him. All he could do is listen to the pendulum clock at the end of hall go through its rhythmic motions.

    Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

    Over and over, and as the hour of his planned escape approached he was becoming more and more aware to its sound.

    Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

    He couldn't see the actual clock, so when 10' o clock arrived his mind became fixated on counting down to 11. He didn't know how tight his window of opportunity would be be. Yeah Kessandra had said two minutes, but was that plus or minus a few seconds. He'd memorized the map he'd been shown, and the distance from his cell to the window was only two hundred feet or so, but felt like miles away from his viewpoint.

    Finally it got within a few minutes of the hour and he heard the private leave to start his patrol of the halls around the perimeter of the dungeon; a minute or so later the sergeant left to make his rounds starting with the lower levels of the dungeon. That just left the other private in the break room doing paperwork , but the he'd have to pass right in front of that doorway!

    Then ever so softly he heard the door to outside hall open. But it was minutes before the private should return? A few seconds later there was the sound of a quick blast of magic. Then the door opened and closed again. Suddenly the clock started chiming it was 11.

    Rakorno pulled the ring of keys from under his cot and dashed to the door. Quickly inserted the correct key in and gave it a turn. He felt the tumblers click and the door swung open. Stepping out into the hall he turned and closed the door and took the key ring with him.

    A quick sprint down a short hall brought him to a right turn in the hall. 40ft away the end was the door to freedom but in between it was the break room which had no door to block ones view of the hall. One or another he'd have to pass it. As quietly as possible the griffin hustled down to the door and then peered in. There sitting at a table was the private with a strange, glazed look in his eyes. Rakorno watched him for a second then sprinted past the door. The private never said a word.

    From there it was a quick jaunt to the window of freedom. The lock on the window clicked softly and much to the griffin's surprise the hinges swung silently open. Taking a second he removed the splint and wrapping. His feathers under the wrapping were in sorry shape but he could fly. With that he launched himself into the evening sky.

    It was a short flight to the safe house and he'd been instructed to enter via the back door. There were no lights on and from the accumulated dust this place had not been inhabited for awhile. It was modest two story affair that apparently someone had started remodeled and then stopped due to some circumstance.

    Stepping inside Rakorno turned and locked the door behind him. He was standing in what looked like a laundry room with several scrub tubs, clothes wringers and drying racks. Directly across from him was another door and even in the darkness he could see a piece of paper pinned to it. The paper was too clean compared to rest of the décor.

    The paper was a letter addressed to him.

Rakorno, if you are reading this then you've successfully escaped from the dungeon. Congratulations. Please remain within and out of sight until tomorrow night when a couple of moving ponies show up to supposedly pick something up. They are your escorts to the airship. You'll find some rations in the kitchen. Of great importance you'll find an envelope outlining your next assignment located on the desk of the upper stairs study! Take some time to review its contents. Time is short on this assignment.


Sincerely, Kessandra.

    The griffin went and located the promised rations. Hardly top billing but no worse than he'd had in the cell. Besides they tasted better because he was free. Chewing on the date bar he headed up to the study. By this time his eyes were starting to adjust to unlit gloom of the house but there were still areas that were engulfed in darkness.

    After a little searching he found the study. It looked like some pony had started painting since there were heavy drop clothes draped over everything. Also one could barely make out ladders and abandoned paint buckets. He also spied the desk in question.

    He stepped into the room and was approaching the desk when suddenly he halted. Maybe it was his latent predator sense. Maybe it was his years of living as an outlaw, but something told him he was not alone in this room. Maybe it was just luck that he'd noticed. Then his luck ran out.

    He never heard the crossbow fire. The heavy, broad head bolt pierced his spine right at the base of the skull and continued on tearing through various veins and his trachea. He collapsed to the ground like a mannequin with its strings cut.

    After about a minute a Kessandra swooped down and landed beside him. In her hand was a steel prod crossbow. Leaning forward she examined the body. The bolt had stopped at the fletchings and there was a slowly spreading pool of blood soaking into the drop clothes beneath the body.

    “The target is dead.” She said. “Come here and prepare it for moving.”

    Out of various darkened corners of the room emerged four changelings. They came over and began wrapping the clothes around the corpse. In few seconds they had it rolled up like a rug ready for transport.

    The female griffin nodded her head. “Good. You.” She pointed at two of the changelings. “Go and dispose of this body the way we've taken care of the others.”

    She turned and faced the other two. “You know your orders right?”

    The first one shimmered and took on the form of Kessandra. “I am to board the train for Manehatten tomorrow at 5am but I will actually get off in Hoofington. I am to make certain that I am noticed by several ponies while leaving the station before blending into the crowd.

    The second changeling shimmered and took on the likeness of Rakorno. “And I am to fly south allowing myself to be seen in this form occasionally then I to will blend into the local population.”

    The first Kessandra shimmered and morphed into Corporal Trotter. “And I will report to work tomorrow like it just another, ordinary day.”

    He went over levitated a soft cap onto his heads. “We have our jobs. Let's do them!”

To be continued.