//------------------------------// // Chapter Seventeen // Story: Rats In The Belfry // by Beegirl Scribbler //------------------------------// “Excuse me, Princess, but I believe you've strayed to my side of the room again.” Celestia looked at her inmate, trying to contain her frustration. “What room? There is infinite space, Fancypants.” “And you appear to be on my side of the infinite space.” She gritted her teeth. This had been going on ever since she'd arrived. “Excuse me, Fancypants. Again, I apologize for not thinking to bring a spare monocle with me. But there are no sides of infinite space, so stop going on about it!” Fancypants sniffed, adjusting his cracked eyepiece. “I'm just not accustomed to these conditions.” “Neither am I, but I at least manage to handle them with dignity. You've done nothing but complain since I arrived!” “Well, there was nopony to complain to before that, Princess.” Fancypants started pacing. He looked up, frowning. “Besides, I am of nobility. It is a Princess's duty to languish in mystical dungeons, not a mere count's. It's really most unseemly.” “You were quite alright going to the dragon lands.” “Well, the dragons didn't lock me into a mystical dungeon, did they?” Fancypants's eyes flashed. “Frankly, Princess, I'm not exactly certain how you all manage it. Just stay on your side.” “There is no side!” Fancypants started drawing an invisible line in the mist. There were not, as Luna had feared, dozens of escapees swarming the countryside. There were hundreds. The hills were alive with the horde of Tartarus. Luna wasn't certain her illusions would be able to carry her and Fluttershy to the Gate—even abusing the No-Fly and No-Teleport Zones placed around the Southern Equestrian borders—and she was very reluctant to try. There were a lot of monsters between them and the Gate, after all. A black pony galloped towards them, ridden by a dragon-shaped shadow. The pony's head was detached and carried under the arm of its rider. Luna held her breath as it approached. “Does it see us?” Fluttershy asked. Her voice was low, despite the fact that Luna's magics would disguise it as no more than the wind. Luna shook her head, trying to feign confidence. In reality, Dullahan was known for her skill in seeing through illusions. Luna really wasn't certain hers would hold up. Dullahan drew near and stopped. Around them surged the former prisoners of the great prison beneath the earth, but the head of Dullahan paid them no heed. Her beady black eyes darted around with lightning speed, as if reading a massive scroll only she could see, and came to settle on Luna. The creature's unnatural grin became even wider as she stared. Luna began to sweat. Creatures capable of seeing through illusions were rarely found in Tartarus—dragons insisted on handling their criminals within their own brutal system—and she had so dearly hoped she wouldn't run into any here. She hasn't seen me yet. Luna was sure of that much. If Dullahan had seen her, the alarm would have already been sounded. Luna had hurt Dullahan too fiercely in their last encounter for the creature to be forgiving now. The shadow atop Dullahan shifted to swat at something Luna couldn't see. Dullahan's eyes darted up as she gave a snarl. The shadow swatted again. Dullahan began growling at the shadow, berating it in a tongue Luna didn't know. The shadow looked irritated, gesticulating wildly in the air. “Come on,” Fluttershy said, tugging on Luna's mane with her teeth. “While she's distracted.” She and Fluttershy hurried away—only to nearly run into something else. Namely, an angry little honeybee. Luna was about to just go around, but Fluttershy stretched our her hoof and allowed the bee to land. It buzzed at her. “What's that?” She appeared to listen. “Oh, I'm so sorry. We didn't mean to.” Luna rolled her eyes. “Fluttershy—” Fluttershy glanced at Luna with a slightly guilty expression, then back at the buzzing bee, giving a little giggle. “Oh, um, yes, maybe just a little.” The bee buzzed. Fluttershy gave another giggle, again glancing at Luna. “Okay, maybe a lot.” Luna blinked. The bee gave another short buzz. “Oh, that's fine, I understand completely. Thank you very much for your time.” The bee took off into the air. Luna scowled after it. “Did he say something about me?” “No time.” Fluttershy started running. “We have to follow that bee.” “What? Fluttershy, you're going right into the midst of the—” But Fluttershy was already out of range of the shared sight spell that allowed them to communicate. If Luna stood around much longer, Fluttershy would exit the illusion's range as well. Cursing, Luna hurried after. The little bee led Fluttershy into a strange little building. Although the size of her cottage, the thing was shaped like a hornet nest and constructed of what appeared to be beeswax. Inside were a number of odd creatures. They superficially resembled wasps, but bore somewhat ponylike visages, and most had stringy brown hair atop their carapaced scalps. They were also about twice Fluttershy's size. One of them—a corpulent monster twice Fluttershy's size—lay back on a bright yellow throne at the nest's center. Upon the creature's mat of greasy hair sat a garnet-studded silver crown. She sucked hungrily at a bouquet of flowers, causing them to turn black in her meaty grasp. The bee-like creature didn't appear to have noticed Fluttershy. Hesitantly, Fluttershy took a step forward. “Um...excuse me?” The bee's head shot up, locking beady black eyes with Fluttershy's wide blue ones. They stared at each other for a moment. Then the bee tossed the bouquet of flowers aside. “There you are. I must say, it's high time.” Fluttershy blinked. “Um...me?” The bee glanced at her. “Hm? What?” She rolled her eyes, pointing up over Fluttershy's shoulder. “Don't be stupid. I was addressing our recently departed Princess.” Fluttershy turned. Luna stood there, scowling. The alicorn dipped her head slightly. “Queen Bumble.” “Hmph.” Queen Bumble sniffed, holding out a claw expectantly. One of the other giant bees quickly handed her a bouquet, which she began sucking at as she spoke. “Queen Bumble the Twenty-Eighth. You've been gone a while, you know.” Cadance opened her eyes. She slowly sat up, clutching her head with her front hooves. Sun and moon, but it hurt. Bray was nowhere to be seen, and the baseball bat lay abandoned next to her. Noticing a bit of blood on it, she felt the top of her head and let out a groan. A voice suddenly rang out from above. The voice was almost a hiss, as if the speaker was exhaling as he spoke. “The head has gone 'batty', the brain of this one thinks.” Another voice came, harsh and brittle like snapping twigs. “Give it up, ye old windbag. Thy 'joke' still makes the sense possessed by dragon poetry.” Cadance looked up. The first speaker was a translucent blue horse with silver eyes shining with malice. The second was a holey-legged pony-like creature with solid blue eyes, chitinous plates for skin, and insect-like wings. Both were rather emaciated. She sighed. “A changeling and a windigo. Wonderful.” “Oh, yes,” the changeling snapped, “feel free to dismiss myself by the name of mine species. Varlet.” “This one thinks the mouth's grasp of verbalized communication has degenerated thanks to its host's long stay in—” “Silence thyself, cur!” The changeling glared at the windigo, then looked back to Cadance. “Thou shalt not refer to thy slayer as a mere changeling. Mineself has a name, and a fine story. Once, I was thy aunt's most fearsome of scallywags to face...” “The brain (of the alicorn) cares not for the mouth's (of the changeling) tales. The brain doubtless wishes to hear the story of this one, whose presence in Tartarus (prior to the intervention of the key [born by the hand {of the Witch}]) is the tragic saga which most would desire to—” “I don't care about either of those stories,” Cadance said. “What was that about being my 'slayer'?” “I was imprisoned in yon cell for eight score generations.” The changeling drifted down to land in front of Cadance, giving a toothy smile. “I believe the slaying of mine old enemy would avenge mineself sufficiently to return to yon hive of King Cocoon with pride.” “The heart (of the King) was pierced by the horn fifteen changeling generations ago. This one believes that the head (of the Queen) took the crown shortly after and has born it since. Regardless.” The windigo landed much more slowly than the changeling, as if very weak. “The head will be battier than before, this one expects.” The changeling rolled her eyes. “I had thought death by the vines would be a more fitting death—strangulation for our starvation—but it matters little.” Her horn glowed and the bat rose jerkily into the air. “W-wait!” Cadance tried to get to her hooves when her head gave a painful throb. No. Sitting was good. Instead, she took a deep breath and locked eyes with the changeling. “Are you really going to let one of his kind push you around?” The changeling's eye twitched. “Dost thou think I care overmuch as to the method of thy execution?” “Well...” Cadance rubbed her temples, lowering her head to the ground. “It's just, you've waited so long. You're going to let that scrawny monster decide how your revenge is carried out?” Though her head did hurt, the rubbing of her temples was a cover—behind her hooves, she was working a spell to isolate sounds. If this was to work, she couldn't allow the windigo to catch wind of it. The changeling blinked. “Huh.” She shuddered a bit. Cadance heard the former inmate's stomach rumble. “And you're so hungry, too,” Cadance muttered. “It doesn't seem fair to me, anyways.” The changeling shuddered again, then turned to the windigo, glaring. “We're killing her my way. We'll hang her from the willow tree!” The windigo cocked its head. “It matters little to this one.” As the changeling made her way over to get some vines, Cadance quickly switched the sound isolation to target the windigo. “You're really going to let her tell you what to do? Your kind used to practically rule hers!” “It...matters little.” The windigo's left foreleg started trembling. Both of these creatures were so exhausted from their imprisonment that this was nowhere near a fair 'fight', Cadance realized. Their wills were gone. It was a miracle they'd even reached the castle, really. She hated using her talents to spread hate and distrust, and using them on those who were no longer stable enough to resist felt even worse. But what choice did she have? “You're starving,” Cadance hissed. “You've been locked up for centuries. Now you want to give me a painless death? Just because a piece of meat says so?” The windigo's leg started spasming worse. It cocked its head, then turned to the changeling. “This one...thinks not.” Cadance gave a grim smile.