//------------------------------// // Chapter 9 // Story: Beyond the Portal II: Flames of War // by Firestar463 //------------------------------// The moon was high in the sky casting a soft white glow on the ground as Kyle made his way out of Ponyville. The Everfree Forest loomed nearby, dark and foreboding as always. A low fog rolled from the treeline, cloaking the ground in mist up to Kyle’s knees. Chills shot up Kyle’s spine. The forest’s unnatural presence seemed stronger than usual this evening. Thankfully, It seemed like the forest was not his destination. Not far in the distance, the distinct yellow-orange glow of a fire pierced through the night like a beacon. Kyle moved towards the flame, and soon the shapes of the young colts and fillies began to take form against the bright glow. Kyle fell into step behind the crowd, following them further away from town. Soon, the crowd began to slow. Up ahead, Kyle could see that the front part of the group was now spreading out to form a circle around a large statue. As he rew closer, Kyle began to make out distinct features on the statue. A long, pointed horn. A pair of large wings, spread to full extension. A mane and tail that billowed away from the statue like clouds. Battle armor that covered the statue’s chest and head. A face locked in an eternal snarl. Beauty and terrifying power, both captured at the same time. Nightmare Moon. “Oh, now this is a quite a sight,” A familiar voice murmured to Kyle’s left. He turned his head to see a cloaked figure moving towards him. “Mr. Slater joins us for Nightmare Night.” “Hello, Zecora,” Kyle smiled as he observed her costume. Hers was perhaps the most creepy one he had seen that evening. Her mane had been let down from its usual mohawk, and flowed freely past her ears and down her neck. Fake spiders had been placed here and there throughout her mane… or at least, Kyle assumed they were fake. The rest of her body was obscured by a tattered, dark-blue cloak that was held in place by a single golden band around her barrel - a band which matched the ones still wrapped around her neck and right foreleg. Her left foreleg was covered in a leather bracer of some kind. “So, what’s going on here?” Kyle asked as he glanced around. Most of the foals had now taken a seat around the statue, and their eyes were now locked on him an Zecora. Kyle spotted Scootaloo near the middle of the crowd, still mostly hidden behind her Wonderbolt costume. “An old tradition of Ponyville,” Zecora replied, “One which the Ponies cling to still. Though Nightmare Moon has been defeated, we still offer candy so we do not get eaten.” Kyle raised an eyebrow, and Zecora chuckled. “Simply take a seat and you shall hear, the tale that tells of that which we fear.” Kyle made his way through the crowd of foals towards Scootaloo, where he plopped down on the ground next to her. He opened his mouth to speak, but his words were cut short as a flurry of movement caught his eye. Zecora moved swiftly back to the front of the crowd and stood at the base of the statue of Nightmare Moon. “Listen close, my little dears,” Zecora began. “I'll tell you where you got your fears of Nightmare Night, so dark and scary.” Zecora held out one hoof, and a green powder exploded outwards. It quickly formed into a thick green mist that encircled the group Looking around, Kyle couldn’t even see Scootaloo sat next to him. “Of Nightmare Moon, who makes you wary.” Kyle could hear the screams of shock and fear from the foals around him, though he himself felt little more than a pang of surprise. A simple parlor trick, though admittedly this performance was aimed at foals far younger than him. Zecora certainly was putting on a good show for these young ones, even if it didn’t have the same effect on him. A pair of glowing eyes and a set of sharp teeth formed amidst the mist. Zecora’s voice rang out again, this time distant and echoey. “Every year, we put on a disguise, to save ourselves from her searching eyes. But Nightmare Moon wants just one thing: to gobble up ponies in one quick swing!” Suddenly, the green mist swirled past Kyle, revealing those around him once more. Kyle could see multiple foals huddled together, shivering in fear. Only a few of the larger foals, including Scootaloo, appeared unafraid. Indeed, Scootaloo was chuckling silently to herself as more and more terrified faces were revealed. The mist congealed into a swirling ball, which quickly took the shape of a large alicorn - the same one that was displayed upon the statue beside it. The green form of Nightmare Moon hissed violently and took to the air “Hungrily, she soars the sky,” Zecora continued. “If she sees nopony, she passes by. So if she comes and all is clear, Equestria is safe another year!” “Isn’t this a little insulting to Princess Luna?” Kyle murmured to Scootaloo. “After all, this is basically a celebration about the monster she became…” “You should have been here for the first Nightmare Night after she came back,” Scootaloo murmured as the green Nightmare Moon circle overhead. “Ask me about it later.” Slowly, the green image of Nightmare Moon began to fade. Specks of the green powder fell down from the sky and swirled back into Zecora’s outstretched hoof. As the last of the powder returned to her, Zecora tucked it safely away into her cloak. “But costumes alone do not appease,” she continued. “And so her belly we must please. Fill up her belly with a treat or two, so she won't return to come eat you!” By now, most of the foals had moved forward to deposit a portion of their evening’s candy at the base of the statue. Kyle had no candy to offer himself, but Scootaloo rose to her hooves and trotted towards the statue as well. As the foals gathered around the statue, Zecora moved towards him. “Of Hallow’s End I’ve heard as well,” she said as she sat down next to him. “Though to these foals I’ve little to tell. Expertise on this matter I cannot claim. I only know that the days are the same. Perhaps you’ve a tale to share, and perhaps provide a little scare?” “What, you’re asking me to tell them about Hallow’s End?” Kyle asked. Zecora nodded. “I… uh, I guess…” he murmured. His time as a commander had often forced him into a public speaking position, much to his discomfort. Though a lot of his fear had been worn away by repeatedly speaking to crowds in Ironwall, it still always brought a pang of discomfort. Still, these were just foals. Not like anything major was going to happen. As the foals began to settle back in, Zecora moved back up towards the front of the crowd. She leaned forwards towards the large pile of candy that had been left at the base of the statue and narrowed her eyes. “A sufficient offering, or so I hope, so Nightmare Moon’s wrath we might not provoke,” she announced. “The tale of Nightmare Night I have told, but tis not the only tale of old. Our friends from Azeroth share this night, with one of their own, also filled with fright. Please, come on up here, my friend, and tell us of your Hallow’s End.” Every head snapped towards Kyle, who had risen to his feet. He carefully made his way through the crowd of foals, up to the front of the statue. He turned to face the crowd as Zecora backed away, leaving him alone under the gaze of the youths of Ponyville. Another pang of discomfort shot through Kyle, but he forced it back with a deep breath. “Hallow’s End is a celebration on Azeroth,” he began. “Its origins have long been forgotten to the ages, but its purpose and meaning are still strong. Tonight, on the eve of Hallow’s End, it is said that the barrier between our world and the realm of the dead is at its weakest.” Several foals went wide-eyed as Kyle continued. “It is said that on this eve, the spirits of the departed can be sensed by the living. Hallow’s End is a celebration of the lives of those who have left this world for the next.” A flash of movement behind the group rew Kyle’s attention. He peered out into the darkness towards the movement, but saw nothing. He shrugged and continued. “We too carry the idea of trick or treating, though we do not offer the candy to Nightmare Moon as you do. Again, the origin of this tradition has been lost to the passage of time, but it still remains. On the eve of Hallow’s End, the youths of Azeroth will dress up and roam from house to house in search of candy and other treats.” “For us, Hallow’s End is not simply a single evening. Our celebration lasts for two weeks, ending on this evening. On the first and last days of the celebration, at sunset, a giant straw effigy outside of the city of Stormwind is set ablaze. Many will gather around the burning wickerman and cast their own flaming torches into the inferno. In doing so, we cast our doubts, our fears and uncertainties, into the flames to be burned away, so that we may not carry them into the cold of winter.” Kyle fell silent as his tale ended. He thought back to the day two weeks ago when he himself had cast his own torch into the wickerman. How he had hoped that somehow throwing the torch would quell his own uncertainties of where he would go after his recovery. How, on that evening, King Varian and delivered to him his instructions to oversee the construction and maintenance of Ironwall. How, on that evening, he had been told he would be able to return to Equestria. To his friends. Zecora cleared her throat next to Kyle, causing him to jump slightly. A soft laugh echoed through the crowd as Kyle tried to recover his composure. “Thank you, Mr. Slater, for sharing your story,” she said. “Now, let me share with you an old tale of glory” The foals surrounding the statue leaned in close and began to scootch towards Zecora as Kyle stepped away. He spotted Scootaloo among the crowd, and his eyes met hers. he motioned for her to come towards him. As Zecora began speaking again, the two moved towards the back of the group. Kyle opened his mouth to speak. He found himself cut off, however, as another flash of movement caught his eye, this time on the other side of the statue. This time, his eyes locked onto the movement and refused to let go. A shadowy, cloaked figure darted behind the statue and paused for the briefest moment before moving into the shadows of the forest. As it stepped into the treeline, the figure’s hood fell back. Kyle was able to make out a couple of prominent features as the figure stepped back into the forest. Long, pointed ears. Sharp tusks. Blood red, glowing eyes. A sharp, angled chin. Green, braided hair. Blue skin. A Troll. “Zecora!” Kyle called out. Every head snapped towards him as he ran towards the Zebra, doing his best to not step on any foals. “Zecora, we have to get back to town,” he said. “There’s a Troll creeping around here.” Zecora raised an eyebrow. “Troll. Horde. Enemy of the Alliance.” Zecora nodded. “Younglings, please, follow me. Do not stray near the trees,” she commanded. There was scattered worried murmuring among the crowd as Kyle moved back towards Scootaloo. “Stay on the left side of the group,” he murmured to her. “I’ll stay on the right. That Troll’s gonna try something, I just know it. Defend the group until we get back to Ponyville. Once we get there, we’ll -” BOOM! The earth shook violently as several explosions blasted out of the forest and from behind the statue. Zecora dove towards the closest foals to her and knocked them to the ground as the fireball soared overhead. Screams of terror pierced the night as foals ran from the explosions, back towards Ponyville. “Scootaloo, stay with the group, keep them safe!” Kyle yelled over the screams of the foals. Surely someone in Ponyville had heard those explosions. “Everyone, stay calm!” he hollered over the noise. “Stay with Zecora! Get back to Ponyville now!” “What is that thing?!” Kyle’s head whipped towards the voice. A small filly was staring with wide eyes at the forest. His head snapped towards the source of her fear. Several other foals wre now staring as well as a monstrous creature moved from the forest. A massive red body, easily eight feet tall. Large, leathery wings partially folded behind its back. Black horns, sharp gnashing teeth. Black and gold armor covering its body. A blood-red blade clutched in its right fist. A Doomguard. A feeling of horror washed over Kyle as the demon stepped from the forest. Behind it, several smaller demons could be seen. Imps, felhunters, voidwalkers… a dozen in all swarmed past the Doomguard towards the terrified group. “Scootaloo, with me!” Kyle yelled. He rushed away from the group and reached towards his back for his staff. It wasn’t there. Of course. He growled at himself at his stupidity. He had left his staff back in Ironwall because it didn’t match his Nightmare Night costume. All he had with him were his daggers. Better than nothing. Kyle quickly drew the small blades that hung at his belt and rushed forward. The first felhunter surged towards him, snapping at him with its massively oversized jaw. All it found was a dagger buried in the underside of its chin as Kyle thrust upwards. He quickly withdrew the dagger and spun around, catching a voidwalker across the chest. He ducked underneath a fireball that and imp had launched at him and shot a bolt of lightning at his attacker. The imp sizzled with electricity before falling to the ground. Not far away, Scootaloo was fighting a group of demons of her own. She slammed her hoof through a voidwalker’s chest before sending an imp flying skyward with a rising sun kick. She ducked and dodged around their attacks with her usual agility, never letting them get a foothold, never letting them settle in, always keeping them off-guard. A pair of felguards moved from behind the Doomguard and charged towards Kyle. He took a step backwards and bounced lightly on his toes as the first one reached him. The first horizontal swing from its massive axe went sailing over him as he ducked down. The second strike slammed into the ground as Kyle rolled between its legs. He landed on his feet behind the felguard and grabbed its left shoulder before pulling it backwards. At the same time, he thrust his dagger into the small of its back, drawing a howl of pain. The felguard collapsed as Kyle withdrew his dagger, and for good measure he slammed the heel of his boot into the felguard’s face. The thud of heavy iron boots against the ground gave Kyle all the time he needed. He ducked underneath the strike of the second felguard and spun around. He rose back up as he spun and whipped his dagger out in a sideways slash that caught the felguard across the throat. The second felguard collapsed as easily as the first. A scream of terror forced Kyle to whip his head towards the group. By now, the foals were huddled around the statue of Nightmare Moon, trying to keep as far from the demons as possible. Their route to Ponyville was cut of by a second swarm of demons. Zecora was stood before the demonic horde, with a pile of smaller demons already scattered around her. Kyle watched as a voidwalker surged towards her. She dodged its attack and lunged forward. Her left hoof struck its chest, and the voidwalker dissolved into nothingness. As it did, Kyle caught a fleeting glimpse of a small blade as it retracted back into the bracer wrapped around her foreleg. The Doomguard behind Kyle had not made any moves yet, but Kyle could tell that it was doing something. Perhaps commanding this attack. If he took it out, it was possible that the flow of demons would stop. It was worth a shot - Scootaloo and Zecora looked like they had things covered for now. Kyle ran forwards towards the large demon, intent on bringing it down. The doomguard sneered as Kyle approached, and it brought its massive sword slamming down towards the ground. Kyle dodged to the left and moved in close to the large demon, slashing away with his daggers. Memories of his time as a rogue came flooding back to him, and the daggers began to feel more familiar in his fingers. He and the doomguard traded blows, neither backing down, neither giving ground. And then, the doomguard made an error. A wide swing flew high over Kyle’s head, leaving him wide open. Kyle lunged forward and flicked his blade out, slashing the doomguard across the chest. The doomguard snarled in anger as it swung down at Kyle once more, but Kyle was no longer there. Like with the felguard, he had rolled between his foe’s legs, and was behind the doomguard. Kyle’s first blow severed a tendon behind the Doomguard’s calf, sending it to one knee. Kyle used the opportunity to whip back around to the front, where he drove his second dagger into the doomguard’s chest. The doomguard roared as it fell backwards, its sword forgotten in its pain. Kyle was there in an instant, standing on the doomguard’s chest. Two swipes of his dagger silenced the doomguard, and its severed head rolled away from its body. Kyle reached down and pulled the dagger out of the demon’s chest and looked back towards the rest of the group. Already, the flow of demons had begun to slow, though Zecora and Scootaloo were still fighting a small horde of them. Still, it seemed that Kyle’s hunch had been correct - the doomguard had been, in some way, responsible for summoning these demons. But what had summoned the doomguard? As if to answer his question, a flash of brilliant fel green energy caught the edge of his eye. He spun towards the light to see the same Troll from before. His hands were glowing with fel-green magic, and his face contorted in a hideous snarl. Before Kyle could move, the Troll thrust his arm forward. A massive bolt of green energy, shaped like a dragon’s head, surged forward towards Kyle. The air sizzled with power around it as it raced forward towards its target. Kyle could have sworn he saw the face on the dragon grinning as it approached him. Dodging would do no good. Kyle knew what this attack was - a Chaos Bolt. One of the most powerful spells in a Warlock’s arsenal. It would track him no matter how much he ran. This Troll thought that it would be enough to kill him. And if Kyle had been any other man, he would have been right. But Kyle wasn’t any other man. Kyle’s hand lit up with green energy of their own, this time soothing and serene. A small translucent green bubble popped into existence around Kyle an instant before the Chaos Bolt slammed into him. Kyle could feel the heat of the Chaos Bolt, feel its power trying to sear his flesh and annihilate his body. But Kyle’s Diffuse Magic spell held strong, and while he definitely felt a flash of pain as some of the excess energy pierced the shield, the majority of its strength was dissipated harmlessly. Still, the force of the impact was enough to lift him from his feet. He flew backwards into the forest and slammed into one of the trees behind him with enough force to stun him. His vision blurred for a few moments as he laid there, trying to regain his senses. When he finally pushed himself upright, the Troll was gone. Kyle slowly made his way back out of the forest and towards the statue of Nightmare Moon. Zecora and Scootaloo were already there, trying to soothe the rest of the terrified foals. Kyle saw Scootaloo trying to comfort her classmates, even the two bullies whom he had seen picking on her before. He felt a surge of pride for his apprentice as he approached Zecora. “We’ve got to get back to town,” he said calmly. “There might be more of those things out here. We’ll be safer with more Ponies around.” “Wh… what were those things?” One of the foals asked. Kyle sighed and closed his eyes. “It’s… too much to get into here,” he replied. “The short answer is that they’re called demons, and that they’re utterly evil. The long answer is one that you all don’t need to hear.” “But the Princesses do. And they need to hear it fast.” ----- Zinju growled as he pushed his way through the thick undergrowth. It hadn’t worked. His plan, his foolproof idea, had failed. All because he hadn’t had enough information. All because he didn’t know. He knew that that stupid Human had been training an apprentice, but no one had told him that said apprentice just happened to be in the group that he was attacking. No one had told him that that damned hornless Zhevra had a retractable blade with her. If those two hadn’t been there, the Human would have certainly been overwhelmed. Instead, his army that he had worked on for nearly two weeks was gone. All that time spent pouring summoning magic into those soulstones… all that work, all that pain and energy… all destroyed. All because he didn’t know. That Chaos Bolt had been a desperate attempt to salvage what was left of his plan. As soon as that Human had started fighting the doomguard, Zinju had known that his plan was done for. That Chaos Bolt should have killed him, but no, that Human just happened to know a spell that protected him from the worst of the fel magic. Even though the Human had been stunned when flung against that tree, there was no time to charge a second one. Zinju had had to flee for his life. All because he didn’t know. Zinju slowed to a stop as he reached the entrance to his little cave system. Already he had been running for half an hour, and these thoughts had chased themselves around in his head in a vicious circle. The master was going to end him for this. He knew it in what was left of his twisted, tattered soul. His instructions had been clear - eliminate the Human and disrupt the Alliance’s operations in Equestria. He had failed. He had failed to eliminate the Human, and now all the world would know that he was there. A flash of orange lit the sky to the northwest, and a few seconds later a distant explosion could be heard. Despite his fury, Zinju felt a small grin creep over his lips. Well, at least he had succeeded on one of his two goals… As Zinju pushed his way into his cave, he instinctively held out his cloak for Sarnak the Voidwalker to take. Instead, the cloak fluttered to the ground. Zinju growled again and picked up the cloak before hanging it on the nail he had driven into the stone wall. “Sarnak? Where are ya, ya damned demon?!” he called out. No response. Zinju felt a wave of unease wash over him. Sarnak was bound to him. He had to obey Zinju’s commands. Something was wrong here…  A small sound came from the right-hand passage. Zinju’s eyes narrowed, and he moved forward. His hands lit up with green felflame, and he started down the passage. His eyes darted this way and that, observing, watching, looking. As he reached the round room that he had been using as a living quarters, Zinju froze. A large shape lay in the center of the room. A large shape that he hadn’t left there. A large shape that was hidden behind a hooded cloak. “Ya picked a bad day t’ get lost, ‘friend’,” Zinju snarled. “Tell me ya name, so’s I can know it when I kill ya.” “Calm yourself, Zinju, before you do something you will come to regret,” The figure murmured. Its voice was weak and sickly, and yet behind it held the promise of power untold. the figure pushed itself to its feet - no, hooves, Zinju realized - and turned towards the Troll. “I have been looking for you,” it continued. “What ya done wit’ Sarnak?” Zinju demanded. “The voidwalker?” The figure let out a dry chuckle. “Unconscious in the other room. Like yourself, he did not take kindly to me, and so I was forced to subdue him. You will find he has come to no permanent harm.” Despite his misgivings, Zinju slowly lowered his hands and allowed the felflame to die. “Who be ya, mon?” he asked warily. The figure chuckled once more. A pair of scrawny arms - little more than skin and pale red fur draped over bones - reached out from under the cloak. They gripped the hood and pulled it backwards. The creature’s face was revealed - A pair of stubby black horns upon a balding red head. a retreating mane, once black but now greying. A pair of hollow eyes, pitch black with merely a single spec of yellow to show that they were not in fact empty sockets. Snow white sideburns that ran the length of his long face, connecting under his rounded chin. A silver nose ring. And a wicked smile that made even Zinju’s hardened heart jump. “Tirek. Lord Tirek.”