Weeks passed, and their little city grew. Alex continued to struggle with managing her own time—she could only teach one group of ponies at once, or only be in one place to fight. The severity of this issue only began to relax after several weeks had passed, and the basic competence of her ponies could be counted on more and more for basic tasks. What took the huddled masses of abandoned refugees months of trial-and-error she could instruct her ponies in days. In time, basic levitation and rudimentary magical proficiency became ubiquitous among her unicorns. Her pegasi became comfortable gliding down from tall surfaces, and were working on flight.
Earth ponies, her alma mater as ever, were the quickest to adapt and some of the most useful. Their labor filled the central park with dense fields and rich produce. Long before they had grazed away all the grass in the park they had plowed the whole thing under for ever-expanding fields. They went to rooftop produce gardens next, postponing the necessity of growing past their single block and broadcasting their presence to all the city. Their first harvest came in, and they turned the lowest level of basement that wasn't flooded into their own little root cellar. Bread joined fruits and vegetables in their diet.
They made other innovations too. Most importantly, Alex stationed watchers at the Bloodgate six or seven blocks away, alert to the arrival of new ponies. Instead of being dumped into the savage city, these ponies could be brought back to safety. Her ponies were reluctant to allow the "savage" outsiders in after all the little attacks they had fought through, but fellow humans from the long-vanished Earth who hadn't had the light of civilization extinguished by hard living were an easier sell. More mouths they might be, but until winter that wouldn't really matter.
They improved in other ways, as well. Pipe and a little diverted river water brought both mechanical power and easy irrigation, drinking, and bathing. Their makeshift blacksmith went from the hundreds of hours of hard craftsmanship, as they devoted most of their time to melting scrap aluminum, scraping away the corrosion, and casting it into standard tools or parts.
It was impressive growth, and even Alex was blown away with the diligence of her ponies. Very few had left to find their families (though for those few, they hadn't come back), and so their numbers had steadily trickled upward. They gradually cleared out the third floor of the apartments, then the fourth, growing more organized even as ponies ceased to be separated into labor teams and instead found themselves specializing in specific tasks. Weavers, potters, farriers, blacksmiths, chemists, doctors, scavengers, farmers, and more.
Alex had never clawed her way up by her bootstraps before, but she couldn't help but grow more and more loyal towards her ponies by the day. Even an insignificantly small gathering felt critically important to her, with as weak as she had felt. It was a shame that nothing had yet come of her message to Ezri or Jackie, but that wasn't entirely surprising. There was no telling how long that might take to arrive, or what they might do with it.
It was unfortunate that her attempts to signal Athena were similarly fruitless. None of her cell-phone contraptions made any headway, and her simple spark-gap transmitters (the best she could manage with some scavenged parts from the now-defunct bus) had not received a reply.
Even so, she was amazed at how well everything seemed to be going for her ponies. They had encountered only individual thieves and criminals, who seemed to rely primarily of the helplessness of their adversaries. Once her ponies started traveling in groups, acting with trained responses in physical combat, and wielding carefully-crafted steel weapons, they were largely avoided.
Unfortunately, Alex could not continue making such an impact on city affairs without repercussions. She knew, as she had always known, that sooner or later one of the larger gangs would discover them and want to take what they had built. That time came just as summer was starting.
The message she received was quite civil. A pony had arrived early in the day, dressed in makeshift armor strung together from bits of scrap-metal and torn cloth, demanding to meet with "the bat-demon." Alex took the visitor in her office.
The office was really just a second floor building with a window and a large map of the surrounding buildings, made with lots and lots of woodcarving. There were no carpets, no fancy rugs or portraits on the walls. Aside from the desk and the large map, it was unadorned, though rigorous cleaning had eliminated even the last speck of dust.
The visitor was an earth pony stallion, and he carried no weapons, no tightly bound scroll of his message, only a smug expression. When the guards brought him in, his smile got wider. "Really? You're the demon everyone is talking about?" He glared across the desk at her, then turned back to the guards who had brought him. "Is this some kind of joke?"
Tom now had the benefit of a full set of armor, which looked like a piece of inhuman sophistication compared to the scraps that their visitor was wearing. Tom, like the other guards, was also well-trimmed, clean, and stern. "Should I remove him, Madame President?"
Alex caught the wink when the messenger looked away, and it was all she could do not to return the smile. Damn you, Tom. Can't you see how serious this is?
The messenger sure did. "I'd like to see you try, dickhead."
"That won't be necessary." Alex did not rise from her desk, even though the visitor towered over her. There was a knife just below it, within reach of her hooves if she needed it. The gun harness was back there too, its mechanisms repaired. But it only had six rounds left, and that wouldn't be nearly enough to kill an earth pony. "Ancient law requires we receive messengers in peace, hear what they have to say, and release them. Zeus deals very unkindly with those who violate guest right."
Tom gaped, momentarily dumbfounded by her response. Take that, old bastard. I can be silly with the best of them.
The messenger's expression darkened. He glanced once behind him, at the guards in the doorway. Archive could see his intentions—this was a refugee after all. Barbarism, desperation, and heartlessness were human traits too. "You would be unwise to attempt it, Damian Morrison," she said, very loudly. "Raise your hooves against me, and I will leave your corpse for the crows." There was no anger in her voice, or any emotion at all. She was merely stating a fact.
Damian's eyes widened. "H-how…" Then he laughed. "The stories were true. You really can see into the minds of men."
Not precisely what she was doing, but Alex wasn't about to correct him. She only nodded.
"Damocles will be pleased." He laughed, glancing behind him at the guards. "If you're such a badass, send the big stallions away. This message was only for you, anyway."
The name was familiar to her, which was why this man had been permitted into the village to deliver his message in the first place. Damocles was at the head of the largest gang anyone knew of. They had at least a hundred members—but unlike the New American Equine Association, every single one of them could fight.
"I will not." Her voice was uncompromising. "This settlement is a democracy, and we keep no secrets. You cannot deliver any message meant only for me, because I will immediately share it with the other ponies here." She folded her forelegs across the desk.
Damian's smile faltered. "If you knew Damocles better, I don't think you would defy him so rashly."
She only shrugged. "The New American Equine Association will not be intimidated, Damian. Either deliver your message or don't."
"You have… what, fifty people?" He glanced around, back through the open doorway. There wasn't much to see, though a distant window had a good view of their field, packed with fruit.
Alex's expression remained completely impassive. In truth, the number was about twice that, though only half were capable of fighting. The other half were either too young, or too clumsy, or too scared to be useful in a fight.
"I will not say."
"We know you have fifty," Damian said, taking a few slow steps towards her. "We've been watching. We know what you're trying to do here. Damocles isn't going to let you.
"Really? You know what we're doing?" She gestured at the window out in the hallway. "You see out there? Those are fields. What I'm doing is putting food in the bellies of the hungry. Giving them warm fires at night and somewhere free of lawless barbarians. That is what we're doing."
"Damocles thinks different," he said. "Damocles says you're luring people into your 'association' with lies to get their loyalty. You're building the next gang here—you plan on taking his city from him. Damocles won't allow it."
She shrugged. "Damocles would be wise to leave well enough alone. If you have heard of me, you must have heard of what we've done to all those who have attacked us. He will be no different."
Damian laughed again, his voice echoing through the hall around them. "You aren't the first to think they could fight. Things will go bad for you if you turn him away."
"What does Damocles want from us?" she asked. "To rule over the settlement? All my ponies as slaves?"
"You keep using that word," Damian said, dismissive. "No, no slaves. Damocles wants the city to know that your settlement is subservient to him. You give an offering of food every week, and in exchange, he protects your settlement. So long as you make the offering, you keep running exactly the way you already are."
"You can't be serious!" Tom spoke from the doorway, breaking his stoic expression at last. "You can't actually be considering—"
"Tom, quiet." Alex silenced him with her harshest glare. "I want to meet with him in person. To discuss the terms and get it in writing. We do everything properly here in the Association."
"He thought you might say that." Damian's smile returned. "The clearing by the doorway, where newcomers arrive. You may bring two men—he will do the same."
"Agreed." Alex extended her hoof across the table to him.
He shook it, his grin getting wider. "I will inform him. He will be pleased to hear it."
The guards saw him out. A few minutes later Tom returned, fuming. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Alex?" he hissed, shutting the door behind him. "You plan on enslaving us to that… monster? You heard what that woman said they did to the town they were starting up near the point. You think..."
Alex waited patiently as he continued. It took a long time.
"You know what will happen even if he does honor a reasonable agreement! Eventually, it changes, not to mention showing the rest of the city we can be intimidated! Soon enough, we'll be back to eating grass, and God only knows what we'll do when winter comes!"
Alex rose to her hooves, walking out from behind her desk. "Are you finished?"
Tom looked a little taken aback. Eventually, he nodded. "Yes."
Alex made her way to her shelf on the far side of the room, where she kept all the weapons she had confiscated from ponies who had fought them so far. "I'm not going to agree to anything. Great job in making it look like my leadership position was insecure, though. That should make this 'Damocles' pony feel even more confident than he already is."
"You're not?"
"Hell no. You're exactly right, about everything. No deal with him would end in our favor, even if it prevents a war." She drew out a long bowie-knife, taken from a pony that had tried to take one of her scavenger's hostage. She took her wooden toolbox—a gift from the blacksmiths and woodworkers—and carried them both over to her desk.
"Then why go to the meeting? You think he's going to let you go after turning him away? I'll come with you… maybe Robert as well, he's a sturdy pony… but he chose the location."
"It's an ambush," she agreed. She removed the steel chisel, complete with a little brace so she could use it with her hooves. It had a mallet as well, and she pointed. "Mind hitting when I say? I can't do both at once without hands."
"Sure." Tom lifted the hammer in his magic. Though he had yet to master any real spells, his levitation was among the best in all the Association. He could manipulate nearly as well as someone with hands. "So what are you doing?"
"I figure Damocles has… I'm not sure, maybe a dozen or two ponies all setting up there as we speak. They won't have guns, but they'll still be armed. He'll capture me, then either kill me outright or extort me into signing an agreement that's hugely unfair to us. One of the two."
"And you let him do it. Without even arguing…"
"Of course I did." She began carving a pattern into the metal as they talked, packing in the runes along the flat of the blade as tightly as she could. "I wanted him to think I was an idiot. I'll do better than just agreeing to everything, either. I'll go alone, no guards at all. I'll look like the biggest fool in New York."
"Alright." He sounded exasperated. "Why?"
"Hopefully so I can convince him to turn the deal around. Plenty of his ponies would be great for the minutemen you wanted to start."
"No, they wouldn't." Tom's expression was dark. "You've heard what they do to the ponies they catch. They keep slaves, they rape, murder… every awful thing you can imagine. We can't have that around when we're already so fragile."
"I don't know how many I would win over, anyway," she admitted. "But the alternative is a war, Tom. A war with a force twice our size, who have been ponies longer than any of you. If they do attack… well, they probably will." She straightened. "Nopony sleeps tonight. Everypony who can is holding a weapon. The ones who can't, they're higher up ready to rain rocks down. There is a distinct possibility they will attack tonight. If I die, it would be the best time for them. If Damocles is wise, he would stand a better chance catching us by surprise, so nothing might happen."
"When we're done with… whatever this is… I'll see to it. We'll be ready to defend ourselves. I know their type… we kill a few, and the rest will break. We're defending our friends, our wives… they're only in it for what they can take. Poor motivator."
"So it is," she agreed. "If I succeed, we might never have to fight a serious threat again. I may inspire such horror that nopony dares threaten us."
"What does this knife do? You haven't showed us any of these markings."
Alex suppressed a laugh. "No, first year students don't experiment with magic like this. Equestria didn't even teach it to us… we had to derive them ourselves. A talented friend of mine… Well, don't try any of this yourself. It will almost certainly kill you."
Tom shivered. "You're something else, Alex. Every time something like this happens… I remember the angel who broke the seventh seal."
"I'm not an angel," she repeated, rolling her eyes. "If I was, I wouldn't need your horn to empower this spell. I'd just… wave my hand, and they'd all vanish. Maybe teleport them somewhere far away… I hear the weather in Alaska is great this time of year."
Tom looked like he was forcing himself to smile. "I'd be happier if you'd just admit it. If you're not… that means God didn't send you. Weapons have a habit of being turned against those who wield them."
* * *
Something was following her in the dark. Alex wasn't sure what gave her that impression—a wisp of shadow moving behind her? An unexplainable sound from just behind a nearby building? She had to resist the temptation to track down the interloper and deal with them.
But Alex's scheme relied on looking as silly as she possibly could. That was why she was wearing nothing but a harness stuck through with a dozen daggers, underneath the repaired gun-harness, each one within reach. It was like something an anime cosplayer might've worn to an ancient convention.
I know you're back there, she thought, without turning around. If it was any other night.
Alex carried no flashlight, no torches or anything else to set her eyes apart from the rest of the dark. It was thoughtful of Damocles to try his scheme at night. Most of his ponies will probably be half-blind. It also meant that she could see her destination through the night, even when she was several blocks away.
There were several large fires, bright enough to light the entire clearing by the gate. As she got closer, she could see the firelight reflected in the steel, off the high windows of nearby buildings, and in the many faces of the ponies.
Many of them were trying to hide, lurking in ditches, in the undergrowth, or in the lower floors of nearby buildings. Many more lingered in the streets, not actually standing in the clearing, but close enough that it would take them only moments to run there. Every single one of them was armed, with makeshift armor that would've fit perfectly on the set of Mad Max.
There were three ponies in the center of the clearing, standing right in front of a gigantic bonfire. Blinding yourselves. Idiots.
There was nothing left to guesswork about which one was Damocles. His armor shone in gold, and the reflection of the flames behind him made his skin look just as metallic. He was an earth pony stallion, with a bright yellow coat and a body like an Olympian. The armor looked far better than anything his followers were wearing—like something made by a real pony blacksmith, not scavengers or even her students back in the village.
He saw her coming. The massive pony raised a hoof, and the murmurs of conversation all around fell silent. There was only the wind, and the crackling of several campfires. "You were wise to do as you were told."
She approached, feeling the tension in her eyes as they contracted. She had still lost a great deal of her night vision by being so close to the fire, though. "I came because it suited me." She kept her voice even, as though she didn't see the danger. It had to be pushing credulity by now—even a fool would've noticed the ponies lurking.
This close, it was a trivial matter for Alex to relax her focus, open her mind, and call upon the power of her office. Damocles would hide nothing from her—she would know his plans, his nature, his past.
She felt nothing. Alex strained, concentrating every stray drop of magic she had, but with no effect. While every other pony around her had a name, a past, a life of turmoil here on Earth since the Event, Damocles had nothing. There would be no cheating at this negotiation.
"I am Damocles." He removed his helmet, setting it down beside him. The face underneath was dark, scarred, and cruel. His eyes were intelligent, his mane shaved to a bare fuzz. "And you are the pony causing trouble in my city."
He looked her over with hungry interest of all kinds—enough that she felt a little sick. "You might impress some with your tricks and lucky guesses. It is not so difficult to gaze into a pretended past and prophecy in the name of dead creatures. You will find me less impressed with your prophecies."
She lowered her voice to a bare whisper. "And then will I profess unto them, I never knew you: depart from me, ye that work iniquity."
His harsh expression broke into a faint smile. "Who are you, 'demon'? Speak the truth to me—I am not like your weak-willed servants. The earth permits no lies to me while your hooves stand upon it."
Was this earth pony really that strong? How many earth ponies had ever won enough of the love of Earth to channel power like that? She never did that for me. "My name is Alex. I am the spirit of forgotten Alexandria, where all imagination and knowledge are assembled."
Damocles was silent for a long time, his gold eyes as intense as a bird of prey's might've been. Eventually he looked away. "Did you imagine your king would allow you to rob the wheat from his fields before it ripens? Better than scarecrows have been watching you."
Alex's mind spun as she put the facts together. A native, wearing native armor, ruling over the largest gang in the city. Crushing each and every attempt at rebuilding civilization. "What do you want from my settlement, Damocles? Put the terms before me, and we'll discuss."
His smile returned. "No terms. I care nothing for your doomed ponies. My only interest is you. The stories are impressive—I hear you killed a dozen ponies with your bare hooves. That your mastery of combat is absolute. I called you here to test that assessment, and make you an offer." He gestured. "Behind you!"
Alex snapped around to look, just in time to see a unicorn about fifty paces away, leveling a primitive crossbow at her.
"Fire!"
She moved by reflex. Her body jerked, magic filling her as her wings flapped. A thick column of air churned around her, deflecting the bolt half a degree to the left. Instead of striking her in the chest, it scraped along the leather of her harness, then flipped and tumbled on the ground to land in front of Damocles.
Alex touched down a second later, not even realizing she had been hovering.
"Impressive." Damocles retreated a few steps, stomping his hooves. "Allen!"
A massive, hulking figure rose up from the darkness somewhere behind him, then taller and taller still. The minotaur had to be nearly seven feet tall, thickly armored with rusting steel in awkward plates, and carrying an axe longer than her whole body. "Yes, Damocles?"
"Kill her."
The minotaur's horns were covered with bits of sharp metal, all tied down at odd angles. He probably weighed half a ton, and the ground started to shake as he advanced. He didn't seem in a terrible hurry.
"Stop him, Damocles!" she shouted, fury boiling in her voice. "Or I will!"
In answer, the huge stallion replaced his helmet, than casually stepped out of the way.
The minotaur charged.
Again, there was no chance to react. Damocles had not given her enough time to run, or to plot out some careful strategy. A massive, monstrous biped was charging down at her, the metal of his armor all glowing orange from the fire.
Alex held perfectly still, pulling her wings close as she centered herself. She caught a few distant laughs—the watching ponies already thought they knew the outcome.
The axe came down, with enough force to split her in half like wood for a campfire. Alex held still until the last moment, then jerked to one side, air billowing about her as she summoned the swiftness of air again. She rolled past the minotaur even as his swing continued, drawing one of her knives as she went. She sliced deep at the minotaur's ankle-tendons, flesh parting easily beneath her touch. She slid another fifteen feet or so in that direction, out of reach.
The axe buried deep in the soil even as the minotaur screamed and toppled forward next to it, frothing rage from his lips.
Once angered, a minotaur could ignore almost any pain, and would fight through fatal injuries. That didn't mean they could ignore the damage, though.
Allen tried to stand several times, and each time he fell limply onto his face in the dirt. Each time he seemed to get more enraged, spraying blood that mixed with the soil from deep wounds. Had she nicked an artery?
The minotaur was beyond rational thought by then. He began clawing his way towards her, abandoning his legs entirely and tearing huge gashes in the ground with each arm as he went. Alex calmly retreated, easily staying out of his reach. "You sacrifice your own men needlessly!" she shouted towards Damocles in his golden armor. "I don't want to kill them!"
Allan stopped dragging, though he was still fuming. A glazed look had come over his eyes, and he no longer seemed to be able to focus on her very well. Well, worse than usual in the terrible mixture of bonfires and moonless night.
"Medic!" Damocles shouted, and at once four ponies approached them from the darkness of a nearby building. All refugees, though Alex's mind was now too strained to sense more. One was a unicorn, and he levitated a dark cloth over Allen's head before they got close. The minotaur screamed and bucked and flailed around in the dark for several seconds more, until he finally relaxed. Then they approached, carrying heavy canvas satchels along with them. They began to work quickly, seeing to his new wounds.
They would not be easy to heal. Unicorn medicine and human surgery could fix a severed tendon, but did either technique survive into a hell like the Nameless City? Alex didn't know.
"The stories are true." Damocles approached again, approving. "Not even a urine stain on your legs, I'm impressed. The king will be very pleased with you."
Alex was still panting, bloody knife braced against one hoof. She wiped it off against the cloth of the harness, before sheathing it again. "What are you talking about?"
"My offer." Damocles sat on his haunches, looking her over again. "You kick against the pricks rebuilding what is already strong in the world outside. What if I told you there was a ship waiting for you? A life waits for you, filled with all the gold, glory, and sex you could imagine. A life where apples and wine flow like water, in exchange for your service in His Majesty's Immortal Guard."
It all clicked then—the reason Damocles was able to command the loyalty of so many of the most despicable ponies in the city without getting gutted in his sleep. The reason he was so brutal with settlements as they rose, but largely left individuals alone. Why he wasn't a refugee and wore such fine armor.
Alex gaped. "You're the jailer."
Damocles laughed. "I am the gardener. His majesty can own the hooves of as many conscripts as he wishes, but those ponies are soft and weak from easy lives. Here in the Nameless City… your lives are not so easy. I cultivate your strength, and send the best of it to his service. I build the best soldiers in all the world."
"And if I go? What do you do to my settlement?"
Damocles shook his head. "You already know. What you have done is not permitted here, but it was no crime of yours. You will not pay for it." She could almost hear the silent words that followed. But they will.
"And if I refuse?"
Damocles laughed, and the bitter sound echoed from all around her. "Then I will send them your pieces! It will be a good lesson for what is coming for them."
Alex drew her dagger—the one that had taken not just Tom's magic, but every other unicorn with the discipline to empower spells as well. Frost collected along the metal as it was exposed to the air, a sign of what was to come.
"I offer you this one chance to surrender!" she shouted, loud enough that her voice would carry. "I don't care what king sent you. I don't care how many soldiers you have." Her voice surged with magic. "All of you who hear me, drop your weapons! I swear to spare the life of every man or pony who surrenders!"
There was powerful magic in the command—as much power as she could possibly summon. It was the Royal Canterlot Voice, a powerful compulsion to anypony who felt loyalty to what she represented.
It would not last, she knew. Damocles seemed surprised that so many had obeyed, though for his own part he only leered. "All who wait, learn the faces of those who surrendered tonight! We will reward them when we finish with her!"
There was no way to know how many had obeyed. Even without the dark as an issue for her vision, there were so many obstructions, so many ponies lurking in corners or behind ditches or in buildings.
"It is a shame to waste your life." Damocles began advancing towards her, unafraid. "You show so much promise. You could've been a great captain in His Majesty's army. Now only pain waits for you."
Archive raised her dagger in a high guard, its runes glowing faintly violet in her vision. She was careful not to touch her unprotected coat with the metal, not even a scratch. One drop of blood was all the spell would take. "When you get to hell, say hello to Odium for me."
Damocles charged. He held no sword but the blades on his armor, and all of them would slice at her.
Time slowed, and the air beside her seemed to shimmer. An old man appeared, his skin rich with wrinkles and most of the hair gone from his face. He wore a flowing, traditional gown, and atop it tightly-woven armor of intricate, ceremonial design.
"I am summoned." He bowed respectfully to her, though his eyes took in her surroundings. Even as Damocles charged, dozens of his ponies were emerging from their hiding-places, their own weapons ready. Many were crude, but some were not. There were at least three crossbows she could see, and probably more she couldn't.
It is a high honor to speak with you, Hattori Hanzo, she thought. She could only move with the painful slowness of accelerated time, her body seemed to melt through molten sugar even with the speed of the air to lift her. I need your guidence. I must win this duel.
The man walked casually away from her, inspecting the massive bulk charging down at her. "The battle does not seem well matched."
Not without you, she admitted. I need only one blow to kill him. But he's so strong that the same is probably true in reverse. His armor is sturdy, and his magic is stronger. Only this dagger will cut him.
"Even the mightiest blow can be turned again. Even the castles of the gods may crumble." He gestured at the charging pony. "There is a gap here, where the helmet meets breastplate. This is how he dies."
The world sped up again. The memories of a thousand thousand hours of training surfaced in her mind. She saw the perfect technique, felt the tension in her body, and jumped.
Damocles charged into her a second later. Alex's blade flew as though it was being guided by magic, straight into the opening and into her attacker's neck. Damocles came to a screeching halt, but not before some of the shattering force of his charge had thrown Archive into the air. She shot a dozen meters up, looping over and over and begging her bones not to break.
She spread her wings wide, slowing even as her eyes were fixed on the golden armor. The pony wasn't dead, but clutching at the knife, trying to remove it from his flesh, struggling with all his strength. It was a hopeless gesture.
Archive glided down to a landing a few feet away from him. Dozens of ponies had stopped in their attacks, weapons lowered in horror as they saw their leader fall. As the clearing became more and more packed with soldiers, any who came close enough to see stopped to watch.
Archive advanced on Damocles, where he lay on his side in the dirt. His breaths came as wheezing, whistling gasps, his back-legs kicking up huge sprays of dirt whenever they struck the ground behind him.
Already she could see the spell taking effect. His eyes had begun to glow red with light, light that was spreading all over his body in faint lines—as though he were made of glass, and magma was leaking out the cracks. "What did… what…" How could he even speak?
Archive saw the knife hadn't pierced the neck, despite the incredible force behind the blow. It had only scratched faintly into his flesh before the magic of the earth had stopped it. That magic was holding him together now, even while a lesser pony would've been long dead.
Thanks to the armor, he was already glowing brighter than the nearby bonfires. "An old friend of mine made that spell." Archive retreated a few steps, closer to a large chunk of concrete on the ground, probably fallen from a nearby building. "It was part of a thermoelectric generator design." Her eyes narrowed. "The generators didn't work for shit—always exploded." She stepped sideways again, putting the boulder between her and the fallen Damocles.
"When I…" She could smell cooking meat now, a stench that had once been so awful she had retched. "When I die… king will… send an army… kill everypony…"
Archive raised her voice again, filling it with the same power she had used seconds before. "You fell to me in one blow, Damocles! What do you think is waiting for your king?"
Joseph's ancient spell, diligently converting magical energy to heat, finally reached a breaking point. Damocles finally died, and in his death came the massive surge of magic that came with all intelligent creatures—the same one the Bloodgates used. The spell consumed it all. But the strain was far too great for it to contain.
For a fraction of a second, the space inside Damocles’s chest became hotter than the surface of the sun. Then he exploded.
Archive was ready, pressed against the back of the rock, not an inch of her body exposed. His men were not so lucky—Damocles’s sturdy steel armor became the shrapnel in a (formerly) living grenade.
Archive's ears pressed to her head as the ground shook. Ponies all around her dropped dead in a wave, and many more were injured.
Ponies were already running. Some had dropped their weapons, while others were assembling on the other side of the clearing.
Archive rose to her hooves, settling atop the boulder and filling herself with magic again. "The same waits for everyone who raises their weapons against my city!" Her voice was so large it seemed to fill the clearing. Many of the armored ponies ran away. A quick glance told her that many more—at least a hundred—had not. Despite the incredible slaughter, despite the death of their leader, they had already formed battle lines. I guess Damocles wasn't lying about the quality of his soldiers.
Something moved in the shadows behind her. "When I heard you had returned, I knew it had to be a lie."
Archive turned, facing into the darkness. There was nopony there—none still alive, anyway. The voice didn't seem to be coming from any of the corpses. It was also immensely familiar.
"If you took the millenium off to go to drama school or something, you should get your money back. That was some really hammy shit there at the end. Just like I remember."
"I thought the demonstration was effective." She gestured sidelong at the crater, and the circle of carnage all around it. She was too weak to drag many of the corpses into the flames, as she wished to do. Even after the monstrous things Damocles and his ponies had done, they deserved at least that much. "If you had a better way, you could've said so."
"Not until we were sure." A nearby patch of particular darkness resolved into a pony that had not been there moments before. A bat pony mare, as tall as an earth pony stallion, and with wings as wide as death. She was wearing a light jumpsuit and boots, though there were slits for her wings. Those were armored too, some kind of light metal that flexed when she bent them. "You aren't the only one who cares about humans. There was this mare over in china, few centuries ago… thought for sure it had to be you. Turns out she was just another refugee, some politburo suit who wanted to recapture the glory of the old kingdom."
"Are you satisfied, Jackie?" Alex took a hesitant step forward—she could still remember when she had been close to the same size as this pony. She now looked like a child by comparison. Yet now that she wasn't hiding, she could see her quite clearly.
Another voice spoke first. Though it came from the same direction, it wasn't Jackie. There was a familiar reverberation about it, an alien tone no pony could quite imitate. "Mom," she said, the voice trembling. "I've been waiting… waiting so long to see you again." Another form resolved beside her, a pony wearing a light exoskeleton, covered all but for her face. It sounded like Ezri, though her coat looked so strange she almost didn't recognize her.
"Sorry you had to visit during such a bad time." Alex retreated a little, finding a pile of rubble beside the crater she could use to shelter from their crossbows. A few bolts had already flown in her direction—misses all, but not something she wanted to invite. It would take great concentration to stop even a single bolt. "I think these ponies might be about to tear me apart."
Jackie reached over her shoulder, into a white cloth bag around her neck, tossing something down on the ground at her hooves. "Gift from a friend."
"We've been hanging onto that for awhile," Ezri added.
It was a sturdy belt, made of the same sort of white material as Jackie's jumpsuit, with a holster on one side. Alex tossed it into the air, catching it around her neck and stepping through with her legs. The belt settled naturally in front her wings, leaving its contents in easy reach. She bent down, and found the gun clung to her hoof, rising when she lifted it without any effort on her part. She held it up, and her bat eyes were able to make it out with clarity.
It was what she imagined a colt .45 might look like, if ancient dwarves had made it based on witness accounts. The barrel was eleven inches of dull silvery metal, connected to a slowly rotating cylinder made of crystal, floating suspended in some kind of magnetic or magical field. The hammer too was another chip of crystal, slightly darker than the cylinder and floating independent of the rest. There was no trigger or guard, no buttons of any kind. It did have a front and rear sight, and a grip that would've worked for hands if she had them. As it was, the black material clung to her hoof like an adhesive. "What kind of gun is this?" There was an engraving set into the barrel, almost too small to read.
Auspicium Melioris Ævi
"You'll have to ask Athena—she made it."
Far away, the battle lines had formed a shield wall, both flanks curving inward. Alex recognized the maneuver—it was one of Caesar's. A fairly competent recreation of it, anyway. They had perhaps twenty seconds before they were overrun. Alex ducked her head behind the rubble, letting crossbow bolts fly freely over her. The other two continued to stand upright, utterly unafraid. "Can you at least tell me how to use it? Then… I mean, if it's not too much to ask… maybe help me fight these ponies?"
Jackie turned slightly to face her. As she did, a crossbow bolt hit her right in the head. Rather, it bounced off the air near her head, shaft exploding into splinters without effect. "If it's anything like Athena's other inventions, it uses your thoughts. Your intentions. Oh, and it probably doesn't have to worry much about ammunition. It's all zero-maintenance."
"Are we gonna run?" Ezri asked, her whole body tensing. "We could fly out of here. These ponies don't look like they could follow."
"No!" Alex turned to face the onslaught again. Their timing was very good—the formation would smash into them from three sides at once. Even with many of their number dead or fled, they kept advancing. Even after watching their leader literally exploded from the inside. That was a terrifying level of discipline. "If we leave, they come for the settlement! They might bring a mob! If I win here… it'll be a story so terrifying that nopony will attack us again! Do I have your help or not?"
"Mine." Jackie drew a long, silvery-looking dagger from a holster on her jumpsuit. "My sweetheart is too innocent to kill."
"I'm still gonna help!" Ezri glared. "I didn't get this stun-rifle as a fashion accessory!"
For the second time that night, the world froze. Caesar! Even Ezri and Jackie, with their strange technology, slowed to a crawl as time advanced for Archive.
A man appeared; middle aged, but tall and confident. His armor was gold, his helmet bore laurels, and a sword was in his hand. Three men fight a hundred! Archive shouted into her mind. The enemy is well trained and coordinated despite the loss of a leader. How can we win?
The man walked slowly up the battle line, poking at armor or weapons with his sword. "Less coordinated than you think. These creatures fight at a disadvantage—most cannot wield weapons well. So they barb their armor and wear thicker plates. This is a weakness." He pointed at the right flank. "There is fear in their eyes. These men are the weakest. Break through the flank to the rear-guard. The darkness and their overwhelming numbers will be their undoing. So long as you fight well and do not let yourselves be held down, you will triumph.”
The world returned to normal speed, and she echoed the gesture. "We're going that way! Stay close to me!"
She aimed, and the revolver fired on its own. The rotating crystal at its center lit up with a brief flash of orange flames, and the earth pony she had been aiming at dropped dead. Even with a headshot, that was too easy. What is this gun firing? Athena wasn't here to ask.
At the crack of her gunfire, the army charged.