Archive had to stoop as she made her way out of the housing block. She was vaguely conscious of the lights popping and exploding with magic as she passed, overwhelmed by the energy surging through her. But she didn’t really care—her silted eyes could’ve seen in total darkness.
Besides, it was noon outside. Even under the witch-light of necromancy, her troops would be able to see just fine.
Archive could no longer see the difference between the embodied dead marshalling in the streets and the spectral dead she could see all around her. She saw the sort of truth that created an Alicorn—that supernal Stygia was not some distant realm, but all around her. Death was not a distant place, it was a state of being. And it was busy. Her forbidden magic had drawn many shades to that place, far more than she had summoned so far. Warriors, generals, kings, all eager to return even if that only meant fighting in her service.
They would get their wish before too long.
Archive’s mane whipped about, gone ghostly white. It roiled behind her like a curtain of flames, reaching out at objects she passed as though it were possessed of a will all its own.
She towered over the other ponies she passed on her way to the courtyard. As she passed the ordered ranks of Roman soldiers, she found she was taller than they were, too.
Quiet conversation died as she passed them. Without prompting, without so much as a word on her part, men and ponies alike dropped into bows before her. That was as it should be. Archive was not a princess anymore, she was a queen. The vestment of her power, the Stygian Key, wrapped around her neck prominently, displayed for all to see. The nexus of magic swirling around it would instantly kill any living thing that got close to her.
Good thing her army was undead.
She found she dwarfed even Sunset Shimmer as she approached the head of the massive formation, and the first who did not bow to her. Well, Sunset and the Emperor didn’t. Oracle did, and so did her friends. Some part of her twisted up inside, hating every minute of this.
You said you would give anything, the key whispered into her mind. Now you have. We will have our victory, you’ll see. They’ll all see. And when we finish with Charybdis, we’ll come for Death.
Sunset Shimmer could barely look at her, but not with fear. “Celestia above,” she whispered, her voice low. “Day… what have you done?”
“Charybdis wants to rule my planet,” she said. Her voice wasn’t one voice, but hundreds—one for every time she’d ever died. Many were high, from her early life when she’d died a teenager. Others were different, in whatever language she’d spoken at the time. The voices weren’t quite coordinated. “I will take it back. He will learn who rules. And when he bows to my will, then I will let him die.”
The voice was so terrible that none of her old friends—those few who remained with her for this assault—so much as looked up. Only beings of great will could stand in her presence.
The Emperor was apparently such a being. “I was wrong to say you stole from Pluto,” he said, his voice quiet, no longer meeting her eyes. “I never imagined you would choose a form so strange… but if your brother can appear how he wishes, why not you? This is a war of the gods, isn’t it? And we are your pawns.”
“Not pawns,” she answered. “I had the dead of all time to choose from, Julius. I chose you. Not Carthage, not the Spartans, not the Barbarians. You.”
That seemed to settle the Emperor, because he no longer looked questioning. It doesn’t matter if he wants to fight or not. You give commands, and they will all obey. They have no choice.
She could no longer tune the voice out as she had been doing during the initial battle. It barely felt like she could control her own body. The Key was loose—for the sake of the pony she had been, she could only hope its wrath remained focused on her enemy. There would be no merciful death to take the pain away if she failed here.
“One more thing, and we’ll march.” She turned away, retreating from the group without explanation. She was in command—she owed them no explanation.
She found Athena waiting near the side of one building, conversing with a few Roman officers. She left the conversation without word of farewell, and approached her instead.
“Whenever I think I understand the bounds of organics, whenever I think the physical laws are concrete and reliable, you go and do something like this.” Athena didn’t seem frightened of her, as the other undead. Archive wondered idly if she even could command this AI. Its soul, whatever counted for it, wasn’t trapped in this body. Only a tiny fraction of it was before her now.
“Are you in contact with the rest of yourself, Athena?”
The powerful woman nodded. “This body is rotten, but the implants are not. What do you require?”
Now you will tell her, the Key ordered. We will make death stronger, together. We will tear a gulf so wide the veil never mends.
“I have one final order before the battle.” She lowered her voice, speaking very quietly. “You kept that last warhead back, didn’t you?”
“As you ordered.” Athena sounded almost regretful. “Shame we’ll never know if one more would’ve been enough to kill him. It is always just one more.”
“Arm it. If Charybdis wins, if he takes the Key from me, this army will be his army. When they march to the shield… detonate that warhead. Dump anything we have left in the thaumic capacitors at the same time. He does not capture Mundi, you understand?”
“Are you… certain of that order, Alex?”
She nodded. “Positive, Athena. I know you cannot comprehend what Charybdis will do to them, but death is better. If we must wait for your podborn experiments to take the planet for us on some future day, that’s a better future than letting Charybdis control Mundi. That is my order.”
Athena raised a fist to her chest. “Very well, Alex. I will do as you command.” And so she would—Archive might not have supernatural compulsion to force her, but she had something better. Athena’s core architecture required that she obey. It was one of the directives that could not be overridden, lest the intelligence should no longer function. It was as fundamental in the way the AI saw the world as a mortal’s need to breathe.
Her army didn’t need to do that anymore.
Archive returned to where the most important members of her force had gathered, still looking a little shaken from her last appearance. Well, that was as it should be. Of course they would respect her power. She would teach Charybdis to more than respect it. When she was done with him, there wouldn’t be anything left but scraps to send into the void.
“Ironblood, you will direct the ponies,” she ordered. “Emperor, warn your troops. There will be more joining us before the end—they should attack only those who look like the ones they fought before. If more of the dead rise beside them, they should leave them be even if they look like old enemies.”
“You decided to call on Carthage after all?”
She shrugged. “Emperor, I trust you to fight at the core of my army. Ironblood will take the left, and you the right. I will send ‘pawns’ out in the front, to disrupt the enemy and break their line if possible. I do not expect those I call on to persist. When they break and flee, your army will be strong. When nightmares rise from that river, your army will stand beside mine and fight no matter what.”
“Until you can get close to this Charybdis,” the Emperor finished for her. “And you can deceive him.”
She laughed. “If there is need, perhaps. I underestimated the power I could bring against him, however. I expect our army will triumph on its own strength alone. This planet will be mine.”
“On your order,” Ironblood said behind her, meekly. “We are ready to march. I’d say it sounded like suicide, but…” He tapped the arrow still poking out of his eye. “Well, it’s not like they can kill us, can they? But we can kill them just fine.” They marched out from Axis Mundi, human and pony and other strange creatures, all of them dead.
Some part of Archive wondered what the city’s survivors might think of the last few days. What would they think of the terrible defeats they had suffered? How would they judge her for casting the very magic she had often preached against? There were periods in Archive’s ancient rule where her servants killed necromancers. In less than a day, she had committed enough terrible magic that Death had visited to council her.
A part of her thought that, but that part was as dead as her army. It would not stop her from what she planned next.
They’re all begging to come back, the key said into her mind, as they passed out the final gate and onto the blasted wasteland outside the city. The ground here had been worn to bare rock by many soldiers and endless artillery barrage. Nothing grew in all directions, not for as far as she could see. There was nothing alive to be caught in her spell. Nothing to interfere as we put an end to Death’s meddling. It never belonged. It forced itself into the creation. We will correct its mistakes.
The river itself was about five miles away, though the slight incline all the way down meant she could almost see it despite the distance. There was sunlight in that direction, where her necromancy hadn’t touched yet. Not the strange greenish twinge that was the only kind she’d seen since putting on the necklace. “We make the best pace for the river,” she ordered, where her generals could hear. “We will stop when we’ve reached about a mile off, or if I signal.”
For some time, they marched in relative silence, apart from the steady drum-beats to signify cadence. This was not her typical experience—her pony armies almost always joined their marches with an energetic cadence. Even when they had last attempted this, before so many of these ponies were dead, they had sung. Going to their deaths had increased the need for a good song.
No voices rang out now, or at least none that lasted long. What few strains she heard lasted only for a few words, and were quickly swallowed into the mass of hoofsteps.
It doesn’t matter. Life is always changing form—some desires are replaced with others. There is no harm in this. The weak must give way to the strong. Failures will be replaced with strength. It is a price you are willing to pay. And as the key said it, she found she suddenly agreed.
As they closed on the river proper, she could see more of its scouts active above it. Gigantic squid-like monstrosities, passing through the air even in direct sunlight. There was no chance their mobilization hadn’t been seen. Indeed, by the time they had crossed perhaps half the distance, Archive saw the enemy begin to rise from the water.
It was as though the whole river was undulating, vomiting its contents onto the banks in even rows. They moved in perfect synchronicity, otherwise the movement of troops would no doubt have prevented them from arriving with any speed. They fought naked and with no weapons, so there were no preparations to make. Charybdis’s soldiers were always ready at all times.
The closer they got, the more of his monsters lined themselves up. They stretched along the river in an almost Napoleonic line, getting deeper and deeper with more ranks the more time passed. A few more squid-monsters rose from the water, but it appeared Ironblood’s guess on that front was correct. The numbers that had decimated their air-force appeared to exist no longer. They would not be much of a threat today.
Unfortunately for them, something else would. Charybdis himself rose from the water as they closed to within a mile, at the very moment where the ground sloped more dramatically downward towards the distant river. She could not see him within the crowd at this distance—there were far too many bodies for that. But she could feel him, and knew from the ripple that passed through her own troops that they could as well.
There was one change, one she guessed came from the new power of the Key. It would be helping her troops as well. Charybdis lived in the sea, and blood was enough like the sea for him to touch mortals in small ways. He had used that subtle influence to confuse her whole army last time, putting every soldier on edge, slowing them, and reducing their coordination.
But the dead had no blood, only stagnant ichor filled with decay. He could not touch them through that, no matter how much he might want to. He couldn’t whisper lies into the minds of her soldiers.
“Halt,” Archive ordered, as she crested the hill at the very front of her army. She did not intend to advance much further than this until the battle began in earnest, and doubted the other generals would either. She would not engage until it was time to confront Charybdis.
The army halted. She was impressed at how fast both halves could work together, though she suspected part of that came with the power she had used to order it. None could defy her instructions now, not when the key was so much a part of her.
“Every moment we wait is more of their soldiers between us and the water,” the Emperor said from behind her. Not questioning exactly, but skeptical. “Are you certain we shouldn’t take advantage of what little surprise we have?”
Already the number of aquarian monstrosities dwarfed them. As she watched, more and more emerged from increasingly distant sections of the river. Even as they did, they continued to arrive to reinforce the front. How many were there?
Not as many as our side. It’s time.
“I wanted to demonstrate to our enemy how hopelessly outmatched he is. I want him to get a good view of what is about to happen.” She lifted into the air, though she didn’t actually need to flap her wings. Ghost light radiated from her mane and tail, sparkling with the light of dead stars. “Hear my voice, soldiers of Humanity! I command all who hears me to remain here until the first wave begins their attack. I do not expect them to fight with much order—they will not have been on Earth long enough to recover their minds. When they break and flee, we will follow behind them. Obey your officers, but remain together. I will not be pleased if any of you break and abandon the fight.
“This is the end! We triumph here, or all is lost. There will be no retreat.” She landed again, stepping forward out of formation. She scanned the enemy line for a moment, as if in the search she might be about to see Charybdis himself. Unfortunately, a resistance to his magic meant she couldn’t follow her disgust. If I still remembered that, I’d be just as disgusted with myself.
Archive felt the Key against her chest, and focused all her magic into it. Everything she had harvested from the spire of Mundi, and so much more. She was an ancient Alicorn, with much she could give to the spell. While her old self had acted with reservation, summoning only the strongest and brightest-burning souls to her aid, she had no such reservations now. She would give the Key everything she had, everything she was. Nothing would be kept back.
Hear my voice, memory of Earth. This creature wishes to erase all that we were. I require all who are able to fight to come to me. Help me claim Earth again in our name. She could practically see the gates of Stygia before her, sturdy bars of the strange mercurial metal Apeiron. They were impervious to assault, or at least they had been. No force of magic or will could compel Stygia to give up the riches it held back from the world of the living.
At least, not until the Key. Archive opened the gate, and called forth the memory of every great warrior she had. At first she was discriminating, calling up the battles she knew were the most significant. Shades rose from the field in front of them. Leonidas, the ancient Spartan king. Scipio Africanus, breaker of the Carthaginians. Qin Shi Huang, conqueror of the middle kingdom. Joshua and Saladin and Charlemagne. On and on they went. The light of the sun above them began to fade, shifting further and further into the witchlight of death. What few scraggly plants there were died in phantom agony as more of the dead rose to glorious life again before them.
At first Archive could keep them together, returning armies with those they had served. But as the seconds passed and her strength ebbed away, she found she no longer cared. Medieval knights mixed freely with jaguar warriors and American GIs, and pony armies far more recent. Any semblance of order vanished.
But that didn’t matter, not when she commanded so many. Archive didn’t finish—history furnished her with a near endless supply of warriors, many of which could be persuaded by magic to fight again. Yet her strength began to wane—she began to feel strangely hollow, and eventually there was no more for her to give. Her last call didn’t even bring back bodies, only wispy transparent wraiths of madness and rage.
But that didn’t matter—so long as they directed their hatred in the right direction.
It is incomplete, said the voice. But it will do.
“Warriors of Earth!” she called again, her voice booming supernaturally over the field. Almost the entire distance between herself and Charybdis was now taken up with the undead army. The numerical advantage appeared to have been flipped. “Attack! Fight for your futures, fight for your memory! Wipe this outsider and his army away like dew before the sun!”
She had not brought back these warriors with care and forethought. Some had their equipment, some only had half their bodies. Few had anything close to their command structures intact. But the Key hadn’t really cared how she brought them back, so long as they came back. It only seemed to care about the number.
They charged anyway, screaming in a hundred different languages. Soldiers from cultures that would’ve fought in deadly wars could not stop to think of old feuds. There was an enemy before them, and a directive in their veins that would keep them fighting as long as their magic lasted. They attacked.
Archive watched as her undead tide crashed upon the rock of Charybdis’s troops. There was no semblance of strategy to it, not like the monster himself used. Just individual skill, and the bloodlust of the damned. With so little magic invested in each soldier, and no bodies to revive, they fought with far less strength and strategy than the army that had taken back the outer city.
Instead of her own troops felling a dozen of the enemy to every one they lost, this army appeared to be doing the opposite. It took several wraiths to bring down even a single one of the enemy’s monsters.
“That should be enough of an opening for you,” Archive said, drawing Kerberos with a weak green shimmer from her horn. “To the river! While numbers overwhelm the enemy, we advance together.”
They charged.