Act 2 Verse 7
Confrontation
It’s a short downward walk over untouched, strikingly smooth cobbles. Pillars of a clay-like color adorn each side of the corridor, guiding me forward until the walls, floor and ceiling end, giving way to a view overlooking an insanely massive cavern. Seemingly a dead end, until I spot the set of stairs to the left of the edge and head down. Several twisting flights, at least fifteen stories worth, brings me to a damp patch of rock and soil. What looked like darkened ground high up turns out to be a large subterranean lake, with a lone island near the center and a rotted wooden bring floating between it and the stairs.
Goes without saying, but I got a feeling what I’m after is on that island. And my guide seems to think so, too.
I just know they’re over there waiting. But, there’s something off about this cave.
May I ask what that is?
A kind of magical disturbance. Actually, it’s the lack of magical energies that’s strange. It’s vaguely familiar, but I can’t quite put my paw on what or where from just yet.
I’ll be mindful. Cross the bridge no problem, walk onto the island. Step over dirt and moss, which suddenly gives way to cold solid stone. Taking up the majority of the island is a flat, almost empty space of laid-out marble masonry. There are two towering wall structures to the left and right on the outer edges of the flooring, and set into them are different nooks and crannies filled with an assortment of random things: scrolls, quills, books with tattered bindings, pots, cooking utensils, bowls, jars. Gives this peculiar structure the feel of some manor or forum either half-completed or half-demolished.
It’s no Ritz, but this fellow has some awfully roomy accommodations.
A tapping fills the air. No, it’s more like… clip-clopping. Out from the shadows of the distant left wall there appears a hunched, robed figure. As it gets closer, I note the four cloven hooves that clopped purposefully over the smooth stones. They stop three yards before me, standing idle, as though measuring me up.
“A most interesting visitor has come to my lonely refuge.”
A pair of faded red hands rise from the robe and take hold of the cowl, pulling it back to unveil the bearer of that rickety voice.
“I welcome you, young dragon. Please, make yourself at home. The trip here must have been dreadfully tiresome.”
His face is a lot like a satyr’s: wispy white goatee, stubby horns, silver nose ring. Yet he's very… old. Disfigured with age. But an unnerving pair of yellow pinpricks for eyes. Sorta ruins the kind smile and welcome.
Now it makes sense.
What does? Who is this?
“I was in the midst of making stew,” the satyr-horse continues. “There is ample to share, if you care to have some.”
He turns and trots away. Cautiously I follow behind, though not too closely. At the other end of the platform is a black cauldron I hadn't spotted before, burbling with a small but strong flame. A strong, hearty scent surrounds it. The hermit grabs a wooden spoon and stirs the contents.
“A recipe from my homeland. Comforting, but by no means exquisite. It's the most I can manage with such meager supplies, I'm afraid.”
He stirs a few more times before stopping completely. While his stew bubbles, his head slowly shifts over his right shoulder. “Though… I suspect you had not come here for pleasantries.” A gravelly laugh comes from him. “I imagine that you wished to discuss something. Specifically… the matter of a little lampad in my service.”
That settles that. He drops the spoon, then turns to face me, clasping his bony hands together.
“You couldn’t have found this chamber without the directions of Hecate, and of course she would tell you of her loaned helper. But, a brief introduction: My name is Tirek, a former lord of the surface. And you, young warrior, are Spike.” Must’ve caught the twitch of my cheek. “No need to be surprised. The little servant had done an excellent job in taking detailed notes of the upper world’s political landscape. Particularly the reign of terror that befell the populace for the better part of a decade, ending on the severance of a thousand year-long dynasty. Where so many had tried and failed, you succeeded almost effortlessly. Quite the accomplishment, for an errand boy.”
Triggered.
No, not for that. Been far too long for that to still matter.
“I’m sure you want to press me for something more severe than simple aerial observations and cartography,” he continues. “I won't waste your time or intelligence in denying my actions, nor the consequences that have resulted from them. What I will say is my reasoning for doing what I did: it was done in the name of balance.”
“...Balance?”
“That is right.” He turns aside on those hooves of his. “The shape of the world has undergone a most… unexpected turn in the last decade. It felt to me that history’s course had been shifted by some unnatural force, and great suffering had come to the world because of it. I simply sought to correct this, and restore the harmony that once filled the world.”
“By starting a war between ponies and griffons.”
“War is but the natural by-product of an advanced civilization. If there was but one kingdom in the whole world, it would inevitably turn on itself via civil strife, dissidence and anarchy. But a global conflict between two mighty powers could wipe the slate clean, and throw off the bindings of a cruel, unseen manipulator.”
To think, not only has someone noticed my tapestry of dissonance from the outside, but it moved them into taking adverse action against it. I’m, *sniff*, so touched.
“Before you pass judgment on my character, tell me: has the good lady Hecate told you the exact nature of my crime, or made any mention of it?”
Nod of the head. “Somewhat. Said it was something really heinous. Should it matter?”
“Perhaps not. But you may find it interesting nevertheless.” He turns around completely, leaving his cloaked pony rump facing me. “It’s funny she would say that. In truth, I had not the chance to even commit a crime. I was sentenced away by the Royal Sisters simply for planning one. Wouldn't you say that was a gross overreaction on their part? A rash use of their power?”
With those two? Not at all.
Definitely not.
“I admit, the crime in question was purely one made for selfish gains. But in seeing what the surface world had become, I felt it was my own bid for redemption, meaningless though it may be in this dreadful prison. Though I remain trapped, the ones who are free could have at least been given a chance to awaken and take hold of their destinies, rather than numbly follow the path set by another. And if nothing else, I was at least able to restore a proud race of warriors back to the glory they so rightfully deserved, given their noble heritage.”
Yeah, I’m not buying any of this crock.
As well you shouldn’t; not even I can pull off that much insincerity.
“A lot of people died over what you did.”
“Most of them at your hands. Oh yes, don’t even try to shirk the blame from yourself. It was the last report I received before you came to Tartarus. Though no kingdoms have been decimated, blood had still soaked the earth in great quantity. A good sign of promise for the next attempt.”
“There won’t be a next.” The sound of my sword leaving the sheath made that abundantly clear.
“...Is eternal damnation not enough? Must my life be taken as well, without trial? Truly the surviving princess’s justice at work. Even deep in Tartarus, no one is safe.” A heavy sigh fills the air, while I hold my blade to the side at the ready. “But, you came here to eliminate the danger that threatens your majesty’s peace, her interests and, by extension, her citizens. I understand my fate, and will face it as it is delivered without fear or hesitation.”
He turns around, holding out his arms, looking at peace and accepting of the demise I am to deliver. Until he makes a nasty looking smile.
“But first, permit me a farewell snack.”
He opens up his mouth and a reverse scream comes out, and I feel a sudden pull. My scales prickle as I see a purplish smoke rise from my chest before my legs give out. I hit the floor, my arms feeling like lead and failing to stop my fall. I'm numb all over and finding it hard to breathe; what the hell is happening to me?
When the freaky screech ceases, I feel like I just ran over half of Equestria in an hour. I struggle to lift my head up, seeing the centaur has ditched the robe, showing off a taller, buffer, less aged physique. He's looking at his bright-red hands, flexing his fingers, looking triumphant.
“Aaaaaaah, refreshing. I haven’t had a taste of raw draconic magic in centuries. Topped with a few layers of unicorn spellcraft, and a hint of… chaos? Interesting.”
While he's marveling his fresher look, I spring back up to my feet. Or I would have, if it didn't feel like there were weights on my extremities and I was pushing against several fathoms worth of ocean pressure. Instead I barely manage an arduous, tiring, unsteady rise. My heavy breathing during this struggle brings Tirek’s attention back to me.
“You can still stand after that? Your endurance is impeccable.”
I grunt, and drawing what little strength I have I wobble forward and swing my sword wide. My slow arc gets batted away by an arm, and the other backhands my cheek and sends me toppling over. More stinging numbness hits me, and I can't make out where my arms are. He didn't hit me that hard; why am I so damn weak? What did he do to me, Discord?
...Discord? Discord! Gods be damned, not again!
“Effortless. And much more rewarding than having to wait on my original plan to come to fruition.” Clip clops ring out as he turns to my fallen self. “I believed that a war between two powerful nations would eventually reach the gates of Tartarus, granting me the opportunity of escape. A plan like that would require much time and great patience. I had been lucky in discovering that sorry lot of griffons so early on. I doubt a similar stroke of luck would come just as easily on the next round. But fortune would have it that someone would come to investigate the true source of the conflict, and carrying ample magic on them as well. Now I should stand a chance at getting past that mangy Hecate and crawl my way out of this pit.”
“What, what the hell did you do to me?” I weakly growl, crawling painstakingly around to face him.
“Taking what should have been rightfully mine when I first came to this backwater land. Before my own brother betrayed me to those insipid sisters.”
I get back up, wobble forward, working on getting my sword arm up along the way. Doesn’t even get up an inch before his outstretched arm pushes me onto my ass like a goddamn six year old. My right shoulder hits the floor, forcing my grip to come loose and my sword to clatter away. Dammit!
“You were carrying magic equivalent to fifteen unicorns. Latent, but no less empowering. This will help me immensely… Hmm?”
I keep slipping trying to raise myself on my elbows. More clops, but then a heavy cloven hoof presses down into my stomach. Manage to lock my elbows against the pressure, but that’s no joy when I see his red fingers come down and dig into my shirt, only to pull back with a snapped necklace in hand. He gives it a lookover, his mug deepening into a scowl.
“An Emergency Relocation Charm? You mean you planned on escaping the inescapable Tartarus after killing me?”
“Give that back!”
A surprise burst of willpower pushes me at him, but I’m rewarded with two hard hooves kicking at my shoulders. Hit the ground hard on my side, and I barely move a claw when those hard hooves start going to town against my torso.
“Was coming here and sacrificing your freedom to serve your masters not good enough for you? Such a disgusting act of cowardice, especially when it is with my own brother’s handiwork!”
A side swipe gets me in the face and knocks me along the ground. Eyes black out a moment as the taste of blood starts filling my mouth. Have to… get up, do something. He’s still talking.
“This was a contrivance Scorpan made for pony kind to be used whenever they needed to flee in the absence of any readily available mages. So weak-minded and sentimental, it’s no wonder he came to adore what amounted to saccharine livestock. Ironic that his contribution for their well-being will serve as my own means of escape. And activating it will be no concern, now that I possess your magical signature.” I hear the tinkling of the chain as it’s lowered. “But before I get ahead of myself, there’s still one more thing to ensure.”
I hear him trotting off to the side in the midst of my breathing. Need to steady myself. Recoup. A soft ringing of metal reaches my ear.
“Griffon steel. Expertly crafted. Such a fine blade for what’s supposedly an era of peace.” Clop clop. “You’ve meddled enough in my plans. I cannot leave my freedom to chance, no matter how miniscule.”
Got my other palm down; now to work on my legs. Bend the knee. A grip like iron takes me by the throat and yanks me up. I could only raise my claws and loosely hold his wrist, limply kicking as he observes me.
"In my time, there was a saying I was particularly fond of.” I see my sword rise up. See its deathly gleam from this angle, its edge matching his voice. Heart races. Kick more. “Those who live by the sword…”
One motion, and I feel the piercing pain of having my longtime ally plunged through my chest. My eyes go unfocused as he holds it in there.
“Inevitably die by it.”
With a twist he yanks it back, forcing me to choke up a gout of blood. I see one last sneer before he lets go, sending me to the ground once again. I gasp and cough from the impact, as my steadily numbing arms clutch at the wet, faintly warm hole in my chest. Hear my sword clatter next to me, then more of his talking.
“A fitting end for a swordsman like yourself, wouldn't you agree? Not hung upon the gallows like a lowly criminal, or dashed asunder like some pitiful insect, but to be felled by your most steadfast companion. The very least I can do for you in granting me this opportunity. Be at peace, young dragon. Your time is mercifully at an end."
Despite the pain, I look up. See him step away, craning his neck upward.
“Now to bid farewell to this realm of torment, and greet the world above with open arms.”
Raises the one arm. The arm holding the necklace. No!
“N-no… s-stop…”
Start crawling to him, ignoring the weakness. Have to reach him, stop him! Keep him away from Twilight! Keep her… keep her safe. Reach out for him. Must, stop...
“And give the surface its true ruler at long last.”
In my dimming ears I hear the smash. In my waning vision there's the flash of light, and then he's gone. Back to the castle. Back to Canterlot… no. No, no, NO!
Nooo! No Goddammit! Get, back here! Come back! How could I just—
Anger draining into fatigue; I'm fading fast. I have to fight it; have to get out. Have to get up, have to save them, save her, have to save…
Protect Twi… I have to protect…
...I must save you, Twi… Twilight…
Twi… Twi… help, Twi… Twi… Twiiiiiii……..
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