46. Memories on the Roof of the World
The door had sealed behind him. He was alone in the darkness. His horseshoes rang as he climbed the steps into the city, but his steps were light, unburdened by the weight of a pack as they had been for so long. His cloak was his only possession, the thick Aurelisk fur wrapped snugly around his neck. The first gift from the Nordponies… and the last, if he was unsuccessful.
His horn remained unlit. He didn’t need the light to climb the stairs, and there was no sense in advertising his presence. He had no doubt that the guardian of the city knew he was there, but he had seen no sign of the spirit.
Anger burned within him. He’d trusted her, trusted her more than even Inger, almost more than himself. But looking back, it seemed inevitable. It was no different than running after them to Sleipnord. She’d done what she wanted, consequences be damned.
And Inger. He didn’t even seem to care that Cranberry had just destroyed all their efforts in a fit of selfishness. Of course not, he was practically tripping over himself around her. Had they all forgotten what was at stake?
But the real blame… Rye paused on the stairs and his face creased with pain. He’d been in charge. He was the unofficial leader of their group, the ambassador to the Nordponies, and he’d miserably failed at every part of his job so far. He had no army to return south with. He couldn’t even get a stupid hammer out of an empty city.
Not entirely empty. He scowled as he continued upwards. The guardian of a long-abandoned and forgotten citadel, roaming the halls like a vengeful spirit. What was he doing here? Where did he come from? What was he?
The last, he called himself. The last what? Citizen of the city? But the unicorns fled south with all the others, eons ago. Why would he elect to stay behind?
The guardian’s words echoed back to him. I will preserve this place at all costs. Preserve… that had been Cranberry’s goal, in a way. Was the guardian a historian, then? Dedicated to safeguarding the ancient city? No. If there’s one thing Cranberry loves more than learning about history, it’s teaching it to anypony who will listen. This ‘guardian’ wants to keep everypony away, not share the city with the world.
Then what could motivate a pony, or ghost, or spirit, or whatever this thing was, to stand watch over a city no non-unicorn could enter, and that no unicorn cared about? He felt the answer had already been laid out before him. He just had to pick it out from the clues he’d been given.
Rye furrowed his brow. What was it the guardian had said? You have betrayed my trust. Rye’s pace up the stairs slowed. Betrayal. I have known its taste before, and it is a bitter one. He reached the top of the steps, finally finding himself on the flat, smooth floor of the entrance hall. Betrayal.
The air seemed to seethe with anger. He felt stifled, crushed by the rage seeping from every stone of the city. It reminded him of the forest, of the whispers of the trees as they tried to seduce him into staying. But this place felt anything but welcoming. Every cell in his body screamed to turn around and run, but he banished fear with the thought of his parents, and what might happen if he was to fail.
Half an hour later, he continued to struggle to understand what he was facing. He could never hope to match the guardian in combat, physical or magical. His only chance—Equestria’s only chance—was to convince it to give him the hammer. But to do that he had to find some sort of leverage, some way to pressure the guardian. He had to know what made him tick.
“Betrayal…” Rye stared into the darkness, feeling the answer just out of reach. He forged on into the darkness, listening to the echoes of his hoofsteps. Minutes passed in the thick, hot air as he pressed forward, searching his mind.
A growing sense of familiarity had been rising in him ever since they had found the door. Before that, even, he realized. Something had clicked in his mind the instant Braki had mentioned the hammer’s resting place. Why did he know this city? His mother flew through his mind, and he shook his head. The guardian might have chosen her form, but that wasn’t why he thought of her now. It was something she had told him, years ago, when he had listened to her stories of ancient battles and heroes…
“Betrayal… the eight-pointed star… a city inside a mountain…” His eyes widened. I do know this city.
He lit his horn in excitement, and yelled in surprise. Only an inch from his face, the guardian’s scowling visage appeared from the darkness. It still had the appearance of his mother, but its features were blurred like petroleum jelly smeared on a window. Still, he could see the guardian’s face twisted in a rage he’d never seen in his mother before.
I did not think you were foolish enough to ignore my warning.
“Desperation makes fools of us all.” Rye regained his composure, staring evenly at the guardian.
I have no wish to kill you.
“Good,” said Rye. “I have no wish to die.” His face hardened. “But I’m not leaving without the Kingshammer.”
The guardian’s eyes flared. You think after your betrayal you can simply walk away with such a valuable item?
“Betrayal,” said Rye, slowly beginning to walk around the guardian. It matched his pace, and they circled each other. “Such a specific word. Yet you seem awfully fond of it.”
Fond? Anything but.
“So I gathered.” Rye continued pacing. The guardian eyed him warily. “You’ve been betrayed before, a long time ago. And I know by whom.”
The guardian’s lip curled. You are not the first to come here. You are not the first to think they know this place, know me. Who, then, little one? A parent, perhaps? A friend? A lover?
“Not a parent. Not a friend. Certainly not a lover.” Rye’s pace ground to a halt. He stared into the guardian’s eyes. “The pegasi.”
The guardian’s sneer vanished. His face looked frozen. Windstreak’s image wavered. Pegasi? This was a city of unicorns.
“The greatest of them all. The last bastion of the unicorn tribes in the north. The only unicorn city-state that did not flee south with their kin, but remained behind in the frozen wastelands. The only city that was not abandoned.” Rye took a step closer to the guardian. “Tyorj.”
The guardian stepped back, its face unreadable. Rye frowned. “I’m right, aren’t I? This is the mythical unicorn capital from the old days.”
Eyes narrowing, the guardian slowly nodded. Yes. That was this city’s name.
“Mother told me the story a long time ago,” said Rye, looking around at the giant pillars that rose from the floor to vanish into the dark. “The last unicorns who refused to leave. Their war with the pegasi proved their undoing. The great wooden horse…” He shook his head. “Tyorj is just a legend, like Hoofunaptra or the Crystal Empire. I never imagined it was a real place.”
My home is very real, Rye Strudel.
“So you do know my name.”
I know much about you, little one. Your mind is an open book to me. Your fears, your insecurities, your inadequacies; your lust, your joy, your anger, your desperation. I can see it all, written on your soul.
“Poetic. But if it’s true, then you’ll see I’m telling the truth. When I walk out of here, I’ll be carrying that hammer.”
You mentioned a wooden horse.
Rye felt a tendril of worry creep into his mind. “Of course. The wooden horse of Tyorj. It’s the most famous part of the myth.”
Blankly, the guardian said, Explain.
Rye’s spine chilled. “The pegasi laying siege to the city pretended to give up the fight. They abandoned the mountain, leaving behind only a large statue, a wooden horse. When it was brought into the city, the soldiers hidden inside it opened the gates and the army entered the city, conquering it.”
The guardian’s face went livid. A wooden statue? A STATUE? The air rumbled, and Rye took an uneasy step back. The image of his mother rippled, and he caught a glimpse of ghostly white. You think we were overthrown by some childish ruse? Some petty trick? NO. The figure burst into white, wispy flames, and Rye leaped backwards. The air pounded against him, writhing with the guardian’s anger.
There was no wooden horse, no poetic device to bring my city’s doom. Tyorj was not slain by trickery, but treachery. BETRAYAL. Windstreak’s image melted away into the air at last, and Rye got his first look at the true form of the last Tyorjan unicorn.
He was whiter than snow, almost pearly. His mane and tail were equally stark, but wispy, almost immaterial. They rose in the air, as if the guardian were underwater. His eyes were pure, blank white. He had no irises, or pupils. The sight was unsettling. Ethereal flames surrounded the pony, flickering in the air like curtains of light. He might have been wondrous, but the anger etched in every inch of his face made him terrible to behold.
Rye’s eyes narrowed with determination. He held himself up against the heat. “Posture all you want. I’m taking the Kingshammer.”
The guardian’s face twisted with fury. You are trying my patience.
“And you’re trying mine,” said Rye. “If you’re going to kill me, be done with it. If not, I have a hammer to retrieve.” He had walked a semicircle around the guardian, who now stood on the southern side of the hall. Rye turned and began walking north, toward the lift chamber.
There was another rumbling sound behind him, like distant thunder. You think you understand me, Rye Strudel, but you know nothing. You cannot understand the pain of betrayal, of loss, as I do.
“No?” Rye did not turn. “How do you think I felt when Cranberry stole that book? Do you have any idea why I need the hammer?” He whipped around angrily. “It’s you who knows nothing about me. Stop pretending nopony can understand your pain. I know pain.” He sneered. “You’d rather wallow in self-pity than come to terms with your city’s fall.”
The guardian roared in his mind. The ghostly flames rocketed outward, washing over him. He stood his ground, letting them pass. They did not burn, but he felt as cold as ice wherever the tongues of ghostly fire touched his skin. Very well, Rye Strudel. You wish to understand? Then I will SHOW you.
The unicorn’s eyes opened wide and blazed with inner fire. Rye recoiled, then felt a searing pain in the back of his head. He dropped to the ground, crying out and clutching his head. There was a blinding flash of light behind his eyelids, and a thunderous roar in his ears.
The roaring faded away. He blinked his eyes, adjusting. He looked around and found, to his utter astonishment, that the entire ceiling of the vast chamber was glowing with pale blue light. It stretched unimaginably far to either side, like a sky inside the mountain. The entire place was lit up like the outdoors, all of the hundreds of massive columns standing tall and proud in his view.
He was no longer alone. A massive throng of ponies—all unicorns—surrounded him on all sides. The chamber was filled with countless thousands of others, gathered near the edges and by forests of brightly-colored tents that had grown up around the chamber. The noise was deafening, the hubbub of an entire city crowded into a single gargantuan room. Rye looked around, utterly stunned.
Cheers and songs rang out through the air in ceaseless celebration. Rye had never seen the like, not even for the summer sun festival in Canterlot. He turned in a circle, trying to take it all in.
“Cheryl!” He spun to see a white and brown-speckled stallion running in his direction. Beside him, a white mare stepped towards the stallion with a smile.
The two met and embraced. “Cheryl, can you believe it? It’s finally over!”
“I know! I never thought the negotiations would succeed, but… here we are!” The mare, Cheryl, laughed. “I’ve never seen so many happy ponies in my life. This city’s turned into a circus.”
The stallion grinned. “I think we deserve to celebrate a little, hmm? Come on, have you been over to Caribbon’s? He’s pouring out bottles of his best vintage, free of charge.”
“That tightwad?” Cheryl laughed again. “I guess they’re right. War changes ponies.” The two of them ran into the crowd.
Rye felt compelled to follow them. He pushed into the crowd, trying to keep them in sight. None of the ponies seemed to notice him, not even if he touched them. The entire world felt strange. Colors seemed slightly muted, sounds were slightly flat.
They made their way to the nearest set of vendor’s tents, coming up near a large blue one. They chatted with the pony behind the tent’s front, before coming away with a bottle of wine. They passed by Rye again, and he began walking close beside them, straining to hear their conversation over the noise of the city.
“So, Tyrian,” said Cheryl, cocking her head back. “What’s the first thing you’re going to do once you go outside?”
“Smell the grass,” said the stallion, looking wistful. “It’s been so long since I’ve smelled grass.”
Cheryl’s face grew somber. “I don’t think there is any grass, Tyrian. This winter still hasn’t ended.”
“Well…” Tyrian smiled. “The war’s over, now. Spring has to come soon, right?”
“I hope you’re right…” Cheryl took a swig from the bottle. “Wow, Cheribbon wasn’t kidding! That’s good.”
“Only the best for you, sweetheart.” Tyrian kissed her cheek.
“Oh, stop it,” she said, smiling.
Suddenly, Rye heard the unmistakable blast of trumpets. The crowds hushed, listening as the trumpets blared again. All around him, eyes turned to the entrance of the great chamber, far in the distance. Rye craned his head to see above the other ponies, trying to catch a glimpse of the events on the southern wall.
“Is that—” Cheryl sounded disbelieving.
“Yes,” said Tyrian, with a grin. “Commander Hurricane herself.”
“They let a pegasus into the city?”
Tyrian nodded. “You’d better get used to it. We’ll be seeing a lot of them, now that we’ve made peace.” He smiled thoughtfully. “Maybe it’ll be good for us.”
“Urgh,” said Cheryl. “Dirty beasts. Molting feathers everywhere, breaking things just to entertain themselves. They’re a bunch of uncultured brutes.”
“And they have more soldiers than we have citizens,” said Tyrian gently. “Peace is the best we could hope for, Cheryl.”
“Shh, I think the councilors are about to start talking.”
A magically amplified voice boomed out in the chamber. The acoustics of the place had to be horrendous—on purpose, otherwise the noise would be literally deafening to anypony inside—but Rye could hear the words clearly even from this distance.
“Citizens of Tyorj, as your leaders, it gives us great honor to announce that peace talks with Commander Hurricane and the city-state of Pegathens have been successful. We have come to an accord, and we gladly declare that from this day forth, there will be peace between us.”
Thunderous applause rumbled throughout the chamber, accompanied by cheerful roars. Rye jumped in place, trying to see the speaker, but it was a hopeless effort. Beside him, Tyrian whispered, “Come on, let’s try to get closer. I want to get a good look at them.”
They pushed into the crowd, and Rye followed close behind. They fought through the mass of ponies, pressing toward the chamber’s entrance. Above the noise of the city, the councilor continued to speak. “In the days to come, we must all make sacrifices, but in doing so we will secure a future free of war, free of strife, free of hardship. There will be food for all, and clear skies for decades to come.”
It took them nearly fifteen minutes to get close enough to hit the edge of the crowd. There was a huge circle of ponies surrounding the large procession that had come from outside the city. Rye pushed out into the clearing, looking around. Nopony turned their head to look at him. He looked to the center of the clearing at the large group of armored pegasi and unicorns that stood in a marching column.
At the head of the procession was a group of white-robed unicorns and one pegasus, in night-black armor. Her coat was pale blue, and her tail was brilliant white. She scanned the crowd as the councilpony talked, surveying the Tyorjans like a wolf among sheep. Rye felt a sense of uneasiness as her gaze passed over him. By now he was fairly certain that nopony could see him, but something in her eyes promised horrors to come.
“And now, with great pleasure, I give the floor to Commander Hurricane, to affirm the peace between our races.”
“Thank you, Councilor Tyras,” said the pegasus. Her cool, rough voice had been magnified the same way as the unicorn’s. “Indeed, today is a day we will celebrate for generations to come; the last day of the war between Pegathens and Tyorj. After today, no pegasus or unicorn will ever draw arms against each other again.”
“Not likely,” snorted Cheryl, beside Rye.
“Though we have struggled to enter your city for years, it is only through peace that we can finally walk these halls. Again, I extend my gratitude to the council, for their efforts in negotiating this truce.”
Rye frowned. Hurricane sounded like she was delivering a victory speech, not a concession. Behind him, he heard Tyrian say, “This doesn’t feel right.”
“And so, with no further ceremony, let me be the first to thank you all for opening your gates at last, and allowing us to lead you into the future.” Hurricane raised a hoof.
The armored pegasi in the large column stepped out of formation. Rye realized that all of them were wearing swords.
“Tyrian…”
“Cheryl, I have a bad feeling about this. Let’s get deeper into the crowd.”
A scream drew Rye’s attention like a lightning rod. The pegasi had drawn their weapons. The armored unicorns were lowering their spears.
It happened in a flash. The pegasi moved like the wind, whipping their swords through the air with terrifying speed and skill. In moments, blood splashed onto the floor, and the unicorn guards were dead. Rye heard one of the councilors cry out, “But we had peace!”
Hurricane shoved the unicorn to the ground. Her voice, no longer amplified, could only faintly be heard from Rye’s position. “I promised you an end to the war, councilor. And that, you shall have.”
“Cheryl! Let’s go! Come on, let’s get to the library.”
“The library? Tyrian, what good will that do?”
“We can hide in there. I know a secret chamber, sealed into the wall. Let’s go!”
They began pushing into the crowd, but the ponies all around were already retreating from the chamber’s entrance. Rye saw the pegasi take flight, their bloody swords flashing in the magical light from the ceiling. He turned and ran after Cheryl and Tyrian.
Screams and yells rose around them. Rye heard the sound of clashing metal, but couldn’t stop to look. He ran through the masses of panicking Tyorjans, trying to avoid being trampled. A long wail from behind him was suddenly cut off. He heard the unmistakable snap-hiss of a lightning bolt spell, followed by the rumble of falling rock. The acrid stench of ionized air reached his nostrils.
He spared a look over his shoulder to see hundreds of pegasi flying out of the stairwell that led to the door of the city. There were no unicorn soldiers that he could see. The pegasi were falling on the Tyorjans like birds of prey. The massacre was rapidly spreading from the entrance.
Ahead, he heard Cheryl gasp. “Where are our soldiers? How did they get past them?”
Tyrian grunted as he galloped. “They were all outside for the peace conference, to stop the pegasi from trying to take out the entire council in one attack. They must still be out there.”
“Are they still alive?”
“I doubt it, Cheryl. Run!”
Rye followed them to the north side of the chamber. Together with the mass of other Tyorjan ponies, they reached the wall. Hundreds of tunnels led deeper into the mountain. Tyrian and Cheryl were headed for the one directly opposite the entrance tunnel, far in the distance. Rye kept close as they pressed inside, crowded by the other citizens of the city. He could hear sobs of fear from several of the fleeing ponies.
As they ran down the long hallway, the crowd surrounding them began to thin. Ponies branched off into the myriad tunnels leading away from the main hall. Rye had the grim realization that none of them were going to find safety, no matter where they hid.
By the time they reached the end of the hall, they were only accompanied by a half dozen other ponies. The other Tyorjans turned left, heading for the lift chamber. Tyrian, Cheryl, and Rye turned right. The sounds of death followed them.
They reached the library after what seemed an eternity. The three of them raced into the room, panting for breath. Rye looked around at the beautiful mahogany shelves. Countless books lined the walls of the room. Suddenly he knew what Cranberry had felt. The wealth of knowledge contained within those tomes had to be immeasurable.
Tyrian slammed the doors shut, pulling a large wooden bar across them. Cheryl had tears streaming down her face. “They’re killing everypony. They said… they said they wanted peace…”
“Come on, Cheryl, we have to hide.” Tyrian raced away from the door. He began feeling along the wall, pressing his hoof against the stones. “I know it’s here somewhere…”
Rye heard a thump from the door. Tyrian and Cheryl froze. The door shook again, bending inward. Cheryl gave a whimper. Rye felt his stomach sink as he realized what would happen next.
The door burst inward, the wooden bar ripping out of its holder and spinning across the floor. Three pegasi, huge and armored, skidded into the room, spears wrapped in one leg.
“Cheryl. Get behind me.” Tyrian stood tall as the three soldiers approached. She shrank back behind him, shaking.
The soldiers rushed him all at once. Rye watched, resigned, as the lead pegasus smashed his spear butt into Tyrian’s head. The unicorn fell heavily to the ground. Cheryl dropped to the floor, pleading. “Please, please, don’t hurt us. We don’t want to fight anymore, we just want the war to end.”
The pegasus thwacked her with the butt of his spear. She collapsed, and fell silent. The pegasus turned to Tyrian, who was struggling to rise. “You. Are you the librarian?”
“Yes,” he spat, rubbing his cheek.
“Good.” The pegasus removed his helmet, running a hoof through his mane. “Where’s the city vault?”
“Top level,” said Tyrian, giving the soldier a dark look. “Just take the airlift all the way up. But you’ll never get past the door.”
“That’s why we’re bringing you,” said the pegasus, nodding to his fellows. The soldier on his right moved forward and grabbed Tyrian’s leg, pulling him upright.
“You aren’t going to kill me?” Tyrian sounded disbelieving.
“Not if you behave,” said the soldier. “Move.” He, Tyrian, and the soldier gripping the Tyorjan began to leave the room.
“Sergeant,” said the third pegasus. “What about the mare?”
The sergeant paused for a moment. “Same as the rest.” He turned and left the library.
Tyrian’s eyes went wide. “No! Cheryl!”
Cheryl had regained her hooves, standing and backing away from the pegasus with a look of terror on her face. “Please, please, no…”
The pegasus advanced on her, impassively. Tyrian struggled against his captor, trying to reach her. “Cheryl!”
She screamed as the pegasus thrust forward with his spear. She ducked beneath it, and it gouged a long score in the wooden shelf behind her. She lay on the floor, curled into a ball. Tyrian screamed, “Cheryl!”
Rye turned away as the pegasus brought his spear down. He hung his head as Tyrian’s screams turned into cries of primal anguish. When he looked up again, Tyrian was being dragged from the room by the soldiers. Rye followed, his steps heavy.
They walked back to the main hallway. The floor was stained everywhere with blood. Rye accidentally stepped into a puddle of it, pulling back in revulsion. He looked at his hoof, but no blood remained. Shaking his head, he followed the pegasi down the airlift chamber hall. He could still hear sounds of the slaughter from the distant entrance hall.
They reached the lift chamber and found an equally ghastly sight. Bodies lay piled by the walls of the lift tube. Rye bent his head, trying not to vomit. The pegasus sergeant forced Tyrian to activate the lift, then stepped inside it with the Tyorjan in tow. Rye and the other two pegasi followed.
When they arrived at the top, the four ponies exited the airlift. Rye found himself staring at the familiar door of the vault. The sergeant shoved Tyrian toward it. “Alright, Tyorjan, open the door.”
“Why?” Tyrian’s nose was bleeding. “You’ll just kill me like you did Cheryl.”
“Not if you get us inside there. The Commander wants a certain item very badly, and she’s offered to spare whomever brings it to her.”
Tyrian gave a black, humorless laugh. “And what kind of life would that be? You’ve just sacked my city and killed everypony I’ve ever known. Tell Hurricane she can take her offer and shove it up her ass.”
The two pegasi soldiers stiffened, but the sergeant gave a coy smile. He leaned forward and spoke into Tyrian’s ear, so quietly Rye had to follow suit in order to hear.
“It’s true, you’ll be miserable, rotting in your cell. But you’ll be alive. And the living have one advantage over the dead.” His voice became a bare whisper. “They can seek revenge.”
Tyrian’s eyes narrowed to a focus on the door. “Revenge…” he whispered. He stood suddenly. The sergeant backed away, smiling like a fox. “Very well. I’ll show you the vault.”
His horn glowed bright yellow. He stared at the door for a few moments. One of the soldiers frowned. “Nothing’s happening.”
“I’m undoing the wards,” said Tyrian, his voice flat and cold. The door glowed the same color as his horn, then suddenly swung inward. Tyrian led them all inside.
It was the same room Rye’s party had passed through to reach the hammer, but now it was filled with riches beyond imagining. Piles of gold, gems, and artifacts Rye couldn’t even describe were everywhere.
“So. What’s Hurricane after?”
The sergeant looked around with interest. “A magical weapon. Something called the Kingshammer.”
Tyrian’s face stretched into a soulless smile. “That’s what I thought.” He pointed to the door on the opposite side of the vault. “The hammer is on the other side of that door.”
The sergeant sighed. “Go on, then, open it up.”
“It will take some time. The wards on this door are substantially more powerful.”
“Oh, we have all the time in the world.” The sergeant looked unconcerned. “It’s going to take quite a while to clean the bloodstains out of our new city, after all.”
Tyrian stepped forward to the door, and his horn began to glow once more. The pegasi watched disinterestedly.
Rye frowned. He wasn’t sure what Tyrian was doing, but he knew enough about magic to tell that it had nothing to do with opening a door. The unicorn’s face was strangely blank, and his eyes were shut tight. Rye cast an uneasy glance around, and discovered that the gold and jewels all cast their own tiny glows. He looked up, but the pegasi hadn’t noticed yet.
Tyrian’s horn grew brighter. The sergeant squinted at it. “Tyorjan, what are you doing?”
“Opening the door.”
Rye heard the clink of metal on metal. He looked to his side to find the piles of coins quivering slightly. The pegasi had noticed the light now, as well. He heard one of the soldiers gasp. “What the…”
There was a pop! One of the gemstones shattered like glass, sending dust flying into the air. Rye could feel the magic of the gem, but suddenly it was sucked away and vanished. Baffled, he looked for the source of the drain—and his gaze landed on Tyrian’s horn. Oh, no.
“Oh, no,” muttered the sergeant, echoing his thoughts. “Unicorn! Stop this at once. Douse your horn, or we’ll douse it permanently.”
Tyrian didn’t answer. The sergeant growled, and thrust his spear forward. It collided with an invisible barrier and splintered like it had been thrown at the wall. The sergeant stared at the broken shaft in disbelief.
There were more popping sounds, as gemstones began to explode. The pegasi began to back away. Tyrian’s entire body was starting to glow a bright white, as his horn’s natural color began to fade.
“Sarge, let’s get out of here!” The pegasi turned to flee, but the door behind them slammed shut. The soldier banged on it to no avail.
Rye heard a sizzling sound from the piles of gold. Astonished, he realized they were melting. Tyrian had begun to spin slowly in the air. Rye felt a burst of wind whip past his head. His heart was beating rapidly.
There was a sucking sensation in his chest, and suddenly a wave of heat washed over him. He cringed, and looked to the side to find the pegasi screaming. Apparently he was only feeling a tiny amount of it, because they were clutching their faces and turning away. There was a loud boom, and every gold piece and gem in the vault instantly atomized.
The dust flew into the air and spiraled around Tyrian, who was now rapidly spinning in the air. He roared in pain as the dust whipped around him. His eyes snapped open, revealing pure white light. Rye watched, aghast, as the heat intensified. Tyrian’s face began to blur, as though seen through hot air. It looked like his face was melting. The dust began to glow red.
With a brilliant flash of light, Rye was flung backwards onto the floor. He turned his head to see the three pegasi pinned against the wall. He scrambled to his hooves and off to the side of the vault.
The dust gave one last flash, and collapsed inward in a rush, fusing with the unicorn inside the cloud. Rye felt the sucking cold of vanishing magic, and gave an involuntary gasp.
Tyrian—or the thing that had been Tyrian—dropped to its hooves. It no longer even resembled the unicorn, a vague shadow of a pony, a white phantasm of a unicorn, wreathed in ethereal fire. Its eyes blazed like the sun. It opened its mouth and roared in wordless rage.
YOU WERE RIGHT, YOU PEGATHENIAN MURDERER. THE DEAD CANNOT TAKE REVENGE.
“You’re mad,” gasped the pegasus, giving a scream as another blast of heat rolled over them all.
YOU HAVE DESTROYED MY CITY, MY PEOPLE. I WILL WATCH YOU BURN, PEGASUS.
The creature’s eyes narrowed. And I’ll ENJOY it.
The pegasi burst into flames. Rye winced, and covered his eyes with a leg. The light was so brilliant that they still hurt. The screams didn’t last long.
He lowered his leg to see the creature—the guardian—rise up to its hind legs. It raised its head and screamed into the air. BETRAYERS. NONE OF YOU WILL LEAVE THIS CITY ALIVE.
There was a massive flash of white light, and Rye collapsed to the ground. He lay there for a few moments, waiting. He felt a cold wind catch his cloak. He blinked. The room was dark. Lifting his head up, he saw that the door ahead was ajar.
Standing, he approached. His legs were shaking like he’d just been sick. He leaned against the wall beside the door, trying to catch his breath. At last, he reached out a hoof and pushed open the door.
He stepped out onto the roof of the world. He was far above the storm clouds. The mountain peak was truly the highest in the world, and Rye felt a sense of awe as he looked around. Nothing could live this high above the ground. There was nothing but rock and snow.
And the hammer.
And the guardian.
The ghostly unicorn stood at the edge of the peak, looking down at the clouds below. Rye drew his cloak tighter around himself, and approached.
Now you have seen, Rye Strudel. Now you know why I protect this place.
Rye panted for a moment. He looked back at the door, then up to the guardian. “Is that it?”
The guardian turned to him, an incredulous look on its face. What?
“Is that it?” he repeated. “That’s where you come from?”
Yes. I sacrificed my mortality, my soul, if you will, to take my vengeance against those who had stripped everything from me. I slaughtered them in the halls of Tyorj, painting the walls with their blood as they had my own people’s. Some, like the treacherous Hurricane, survived. They fled south, taking with them legends of victorious siege, and brilliant pegasus tactics. The guardian looked wrathful. Tales of wooden horses, it would seem.
Rye tilted his head, and looked into the guardian’s eyes. His face filled with scorn. “You’re pathetic.”
Livid, the guardian’s eyes blazed. How dare you? You’ve seen what I have lost.
“And I saw what you did. I saw what you became. What you are.” Rye spat. “You’re not a guardian of anything. You’re just a pitiful unicorn who can’t let go of the past. You like to pretend you made a sacrifice for your city, but all you’ve done is let yourself be driven mad by vengeance. The ponies of this city have been dead for eons, as have the ones who killed them. But you’re still here, because revenge is the only thing you know.” Rye shook his head slowly. “No, I don’t pity you, Tyrian. I’m disgusted by you.”
The guardian flinched. But I cannot let go. If I do, the memory of Tyorj, of my city, of my love, my life, my race… it will fade. We will be forgotten in the snowy wastes of Sleipnord forever.
Rye’s face softened. “You already are. Tyorj is just a myth, Tyrian. Nopony even thinks you’re real.”
But… The guardian looked lost.
“Let the past go, Tyrian. What’s done is done. You can’t save Tyorj.” Rye stepped forward. “But you can save her daughter. You can save Equestria.”
If I let you have the hammer. The guardian looked at him solemnly.
“Please, Tyrian. Let go of your hatred. It’s poisoning your soul.”
It’s the only thing keeping me alive.
Rye gave the guardian a long, sad look. “Then it’s time to let go of that, too.”
The guardian’s mouth opened and closed. He blurred and refocused, quiet. If I go… will you remember us?
“I’ll do better.” Rye stamped a hoof. “I’ll take that book back to Equestria. Academics all over the world will learn from it, learn from the books in your library, and the truth of your people will spread. You’ll be a real part of history again. And nopony will ever forget about Tyorj.”
The guardian’s face grew calm and reflective. Passion. Conviction. You speak well, Rye Strudel. It smiled at him. Truly you are meant to be the hammer-bearer. Choose wisely, for the fate of your nation will depend on it.
There was a gust of wind that blew Rye’s cloak aside. The guardian gave a long sigh. Take the hammer. Take the book. Go back to where you belong, and save your home, as I could not save mine.
“Thank you.” Rye looked sadly at the guardian.
I have lived too long already. You are right. It is time for me to move on. I wish you well, Rye Strudel. Thank you for sharing my memories. All I ask… is that you share them with others.
Rye nodded. “I will.”
The guardian shimmered in the air. The ghostly white figure seemed to melt away, revealing a white and brown-speckled unicorn. As Rye watched, the unicorn’s youthful face began to crease with lines of age. His posture drew down as his mane turned gray. Slowly, the unicorn lay down in the snow, and looked up at the sky. Rye turned his head up to see the brilliant lights of the aurora all around them.
There was the faint sound of thudding hooves. Rye felt his breath catch in his throat as he stared upward. Out of the sky came a brilliant white earth pony, with a mane of gold. It seemed purer than Cranberry’s ever had, like string spun out of metal. Tiny motes of light followed in her hoofsteps. The pony landed softly on the mountaintop. It looked at Rye for one long moment, then turned wordlessly to the fallen unicorn.
As the earth pony knelt and lifted him onto her back, he turned his head to face Rye. He smiled. “Remember me.” The earth pony stepped into the sky, galloping away into the lights of the aurora.
Rye stared after them for a few moments. Somberly, he approached the pedestal at the edge of the peak. There lay the Kingshammer, as simple-looking as it had been the last time. Beneath it was a small red book with a diamond shape on the cover.
Rye draped the hammer over his back, hooking the tassel into his cloak’s clasp. He took the book with his mouth. With one last look around at the roof of the world, he turned and left the peak of the mountain forever.
* * *
Cranberry’s eyes blinked open. “Did I fall asleep?”
“A little while ago.” Inger yawned.
She snuggled up against him. “Any sign of Rye, yet?”
“Not yet.” Inger looked up. “At least the weather’s cleared up. That storm’s moved off north.”
“It has been a day,” said Eberhardt tentatively, from across the campfire.
“No!” said Cranberry.
“Don’t even think about it,” said Inger. “We’re not leaving without him.” Eberhardt nodded, acquiescing.
There was a rumbling sound. Cranberry looked up. “Did anypony else hear that?”
The mountainside glowed orange. Lines swirled around on the rock. Cranberry leapt to her hooves. “Rye!” She raced for the door, with Inger and Eberhardt close behind.
The two halves of the door swung outward, and a little gray pony stepped out into the snow. Cranberry pulled up short in front of him, suddenly filled with fear. “Rye… Did you get the hammer?”
Rye gave her a tired smile. He reached back under his cloak and pulled out the treasure they had come all the way from Saddlestead to retrieve. He set it down headfirst in the snow. “Yes. We did it.”
“You did it, you mean.” Cranberry felt the guilt stab her again. “Rye… I’m so sorry. I nearly ruined everything, and for such a stupid reason—”
“No, Cranberry.” Rye looked thoughtful. “Not a stupid reason. I didn’t understand, before, what you meant, about wanting to preserve our history. But now… well, some things shouldn't be forgotten.” He cast a glance back up at the mountain. “And some should. Apology accepted.” Turning back to her with a smile, he reached under his cloak and pulled out…
“Oh…” Cranberry felt tears in her eyes again. “Rye…”
As she took the book and clutched it to her chest, Rye looked up at the sky, where the lights of the auroras danced. She looked up with him, watching the beautiful curtains of color wave. She heard him whisper something.
“Good luck, Tyrian.”
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awesome
And that almost made me cry in the middle of class... Bastard...
so much awesome... also, valkyrie scene reminded me of a samurai jack episode, so much pro
i3.kym-cdn.com/photos/images/newsfeed/000/293/715/e99.jpg
I hope Thane Braki isnt actually evil D:
That even may of what happened with Troy in our world. But. We shall never know.
That was...deep, man.
And then VALKYRIE PONIES.
well played good sir
the Game Too Human called, it wants to give you all his mustaches
That doesn't add up. What Tyrian said agrees with everything Rye knew about Tyorj other than the wooden horse, making it the only unicorn city left inhabited after everypony else went south. And, even taking into account the fact that the Hearth's Warming tale is almost certainly simpler than the actual history, I find it very hard to believe anything but that Platinum, Hurricane, and Puddinghead all arrived in Equestria at about the same time, each leading only a small contingent of their respective races. With peace talks having so recently failed, and with the general lack of affection between the leaders, if any of the three had anything remotely like an army, or time to build defenses, the leaders would never have been anywhere near each other, and even assuming Clover, Pansy, and Cookie were fictional/real but not as important as the story says stand-ins for the grassroots movement to not be enemies, that would still be very unlikely without significant (either in stature or number) representatives of the races meeting in a nonviolent setting, which wouldn't happen. So we conclude that the siege of Tyorj happened after the founding of Equestria, and ask what Hurricane was doing there? She had a new home in a fertile land that was entirely conditional on maintaining friendly relationships with the other races, so why would she slaughter who-knows-how-many thousands of unicorns and then go home and brag about it? There'd be more than enough risk of news getting back if she were trying to stop it. Is she incapable of learning from being frozen solid? Or does the hammer also magically make food and blankets? I can't imagine how else it would be worth the risk.
HOLD ON JUST A SEC
Sometimes you just gotta LET IT GOOOO, LET IT GOOO!!!
Oh-ho, so that entirely pointless effort of the griffons so you could mention Tyorj was just for this, was it? I remembered the story, but I'd forgotten the name. Regardless, I still think your original method for mentioning the besieged city is ridiculous. There were so many other ways you could have approached it, ways that made sense, but instead you had the griffons retreat for no reason whatsoever save to insert a little backstory. Bad form.
For the most part, this was great. I like how Hurricane is depicted as a villain – though I hesitate to say 'evil' in light of what happens in Equestria. Perhaps there's a story there worth listening to, a bit more historical misrepresentation?
When you actually try for it, you are very capable of eliciting sorrow and despair; I wish you'd utilize it to the best of your ability at certain points (the defense of Whitewall comes to mind).
Tyrian had a change of heart way too quickly. One does not give up millennia-worth of hatred and fury just because someone gave a lecture. Still, it's a small hiccup in an otherwise great scene.
And no, this doesn't even come close to putting Cranberry off the hook in my eyes.
I shall continue tomorrow.
Something tells me that when the dust has settled, the pegasi of the future won't take kindly to attempts to revise Hurricane's character for the worse.
Be that as it may, Cranberry still potential seal your mama's fate Rye
. So an apology is not going to be enough as far as I'm concerned
.