Myths and Birthrights

by Tundara


Book Two: Chapter Fifteen: The Duel

Myths and Birthrights
By Tundara

Book Two: Duty and Dreams
Chapter Fifteen: The Duel


The heady smells of sweat and blood left a dry, dusty aftertaste lingering at the back of  Fleur’s throat, as she prepared for the duel. Luna and Rainbow helped her with the straps for her barding, a fine suit of glistening chainmail with a simple peytral and greaves. General agreement held that anything heavier would slow her far more than any protection gained warranted. She looked the part of the knight, a holy champion draped in the dark blue and gold tabard of the Order of the Ascendant Moon.

An ancient, defunct knightly order, the Ascendant Moon, were romanticised as champions of the common pony. Throughout the Old Queendoms, many old foal’s tales centered around the various knights and their daring exploits.

She wished she felt as confident as she appeared. Doubts rampaged across every corner and field of her mind. Her heart refused to slow, and her breaths came sharp and shallow. On the edge of a panic attack, Fleur reminded herself she’d done everything she could to prepare, and was being watched over by Luna and Twilight.

A knock on the door preceded Twilight entering the room. The princess was regal and alluring in her blue and silk dress. A long tassel inscribed in ancient Thulesian script was draped down Twilight’s shoulders, pinned to a voluminous stole by jeweled representations of her cutie mark. In a nod to ancient depictions of Faust, a series of bamboo scroll cases adorned her right side.

Not everything was pleasing about the princess. Her face was pinched with some inner debate, her steps holding a barely contained agitation.

“Twilight, are you well?” Luna asked, keen eyes flitting over her cousin.

Twilight’s fair features contorted with inner conflict, and then melted into a warm but forced smile as she let out a long breath. “No, I learned moments before having to rush here about the Crusaders, and how my… Iridia stole and then lost them.” Twilight shook her head slowly. “I’ve promised AJ to help find the girls. Soon as it is night, I’m going to get the stars looking for them. There has also been a persistent pony praying to me for the last hour. I’m still getting used to ponies asking for my guidance and help. It’s is like a fly that keeps buzzing in my ear. This is over top of the growing cacophony of regular prayers.”

Luna shook out her glittering mane, and gave Twilight a slight nod. “You will get the hang of the prayers, in time.”

Twilight gave Luna a look that spoke of her doubtful hope. Focusing on Fleur, Twilight said, “We’ll see, but, for now, Fleur, I have a gift for you.”

Fleur raised her brow and raised it further when she opened the box Twilight gave her.

The tiara within fairly vibrated with power. Starlight blazed from the blue diamonds, filling the entire room with brilliant glow that cast everypony's shadows in sharp relief. It was almost blinding to look upon, like the sun in a clear sky, and Fleur had to squint and shift her gaze to the side.

“That is new.” Twilight clicked her tongue as she reached in and gingerly picked the tiara up with her aura. “I’ll have to figure out why it is glowing so much and fix it.”

“Non, she is beautiful,” Fleur said in breathless wonder. “What is her name?”

“I call it… um…” Twilight’s face scrunched up for a moment. “Altanairis, for Altair and Marelantis, since they served as the roots for her creation. I debated a few other names, but nothing else felt ‘right’.”

Fleur repeated the name softly as she took the tiara and placed it on her head. Gentle warmth seeped from the wondrous artifact, slowing her heart and calming her fears. Filled with a startling confidence, Fleur smiled and settled into a loose stance, losing her previous rigid anxiety. Taking up the spear and shield offered by Rainbow, Fleur didn’t even lament the missing Pallas and Aegis.

“I am ready,” she said, and then lead the procession towards the arena.

Before long, Twilight and the others broke off to head to their seats in the Imperial box, where they would have the best view of the duel. Each gave her a final word of comfort or advice, and then Fleur was alone.

Each of those final one hundred steps to the gate was poignant with the weight of what was to occur in but a few minutes. Fleur cast her thoughts back over the weeks, months, and years, and settled on the image of Fancy Pants, safe and secure back in Equestria. Her heart fluttered at the memory, and she experienced a sudden longing for some token or lucky charm of his.

She was met at the gate by an assistant to the Master of Duels. A few other zebras waited near the gates for their own duels. Some were confident, others jittered and chewed on the edge of a hoof or inside of the cheek. One zebra wore armour far more glittering and embossed than what Fleur had been given, while the others were in various hodge-podge garb comprised of boiled leather or padded cotton barding. Their weapons were likewise varied in quality, though all had the same style of bladed bridles and spurs on their greaves.

Much like their Earth pony cousins, the options for zebras were limited when it came to battle.

The small gathering turned as one at Fleur’s approach, their expressions a mixture of wonderment and disdain. Fleur stood apart with her heraldry and arms, an outsider intruding on an ancient tradition. Around them, murals of Samalla were etched into the walls, made by those who’d come to the arena over the generations to settle their differences in the Zebra way. One of the younger zebras made his way to one such mural, and lifting himself up ran the edge of a bridle-blade along the lines forming a wing. He was followed one by one by the others, each taking a moment afterwards to kneel and pray.

Fleur only caught a few words, enough to indicate that they were praying to specific stars, Sirius chief among them. For a reason Fleur could not place, Sirius’ name prickled in her thoughts and gave her the sense of something being amiss. What, however, hovered just beyond her grasp.

She had only a few moments to puzzle over it before the Master of Duels’ assistant stepped forward and barked instructions in the rough tongue of the lowland zebras, used by the vast majority of the common folk.

When he was done, the assistant trotted briskly up to Fleur.

He wore a bright red vest, gold tassels sewn along the edges, and an equally vibrant green hat. There was a certain matter-of-factness about the young stallion that somehow provided comfort. To him this was just another day curating the events of the arena.

“Listen. Only saying once. Wait for name. Go in ring. Give speech, or no. Bow to Empress. Bow to opponent. Try not die.” There was a level of rehearsal to the instructions that said the zebra had only the barest grasp of Equestrian, if any at all.

Fleur nodded and continued to wait.

One by one the zebras were called into the arena. Through the dusty gate came the roars of approval and harsh boos of the crowd. None of the other duelist returned, leaving Fleur to wonder about their fates. Given that zebras fought until First Blood, she imagined bruised egos, but not much worse.

The last of the zebras trotted into the blazing sunlight, and Fleur was left alone but for the assistant.

A sort of tranquility settled over Fleur. She’d done everything possible to prepare. Certainly more than she’d have imagined only a few weeks prior. Her lack of knowledge when it came to dueling and fighting in general was rather a problem, one she resolved to correct.  Eyes closed, Fleur rehearsed everything Luna had taught her. If she survived, Fleur decided to take up fencing.

Through the gate came an especially loud roar from the crowd.

And then a longer than usual calm.

Fleur began to fidget, playing with the buckles on her greaves. The assistant looked bored in his corner, waiting for the page to bring word of when to raise the gate for the final time. Fleur tested the heft of her spear, practicing a few thrusts, getting used to its weight in her aura.

She wished there was a nearby clock. It would have told her only a minute had passed since the previous duelist entered the arena. Time crawled along slower and slower. She went to ask the assistant about the delay but remembered that he couldn’t speak Equestrian and doubted his Prench was any better.

To her credit, Fleur didn’t think about backing out or running away. Though, given the heavy doors that were the only other way out of the corridor, she doubted it was even an option. She strongly suspected them to have been bolted shut the moment she’d joined the others.

Eventually, finally, the assistant called her name, and the gate rattled open.

Flipping her head, chin raised, Fleur cantored into the arena proper, and the streaming sunlight. Blinking in the sudden brightness, she was taken aback by the sea of zebras surrounding her. She’d been to a few of the Wonderbolt’s races, but being in a crowd was little like being the center of its attention. The roaring. The stamping hooves. Every eye directed at her, and her opponent. It was… chilling in its intensity.

The Empress’ box jutted out and rose over its neighbors, leaving little doubt who was most important. Awnings fluttered in the balmy, tropical afternoon, and kept the five ponies, and their guards, watching from the box cool.

From somewhere beyond the crowd rattled heavy chains, and additional bright green and gold awnings extended out from the colosseum's roof. A dark ring of shadows crawled across the dusty ground until only a small circle remained.

Five sunbleached pillars formed a ring of sorts, dividing a sandy outer band from hard-packed earth in the center. Chips and knicks marked the pillars broad sides, and the old iron hoops dangled. In ages past, slaves and prisoners awaiting execution would be chained to those pillars. They remained as reminders of the arena’s original purpose. Placed along the wall at even intervals, weapon racks spoke to its current use.

Smiling, Algol sauntered into the patch of sunlight. She wore no armour, bore no weapons, and had no use for either. Utterly at ease, confidence oozed from the fallen star. It was almost as if she was out for an afternoon stroll and only by happenstance managed to wander into the arena.

Moving up beside Algol, Fleur faced the Empress’ box. Twilight fidgeted in her seat, while Luna had adopted the stern frown for which she was known. Around the royals, the Elements of Harmony sat in states of varying distress. Applejack appeared almost sick. Pinkie didn’t look at the arena, instead focusing on Rainbow. For her part, Rainbow stretched forwards as if attempting to get into the arena. Only Fluttershy seemed calm, though it was hard to tell for certain given how her mane hid half her face.

As she stopped, Fleur’s hooves squelched in something sticky. Looking down, she found herself in the middle of a large, still wet puddle of what could only be blood. Her nostrils flared, and her heart leapt up into her throat, beating like the blows of a hammer against her chest. There was far too much blood for whomever it had belonged to still be alive.

“Soon, your’s will join it in the dirt,” Algol purred in the same tone a lover would use. “Hot, crimson, and flowing. And then the mistress will break. Black, grey, and red in her heart. So much red.”

Fleur did her best to ignore Algol’s baiting, calm her racing heart, and faced not the empress, but Luna and Rainbow. Luna gave a slight incline of her head, just enough to silently tell of her faith in Fleur. Fleur returned the nod, and hoped she was ready for what was about to occur.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Uncertainty bubbled in Twilight’s stomach as she led her friends away from Fleur’s room and to the royal viewing balcony. There had to have been more that she could have done to prevent the duel or to help Fleur. If only there had been more time to test Altanairis.

The name rankled a bit, pulled from the air at the final moment. It fit but felt clunky and not really all that appropriate. Now that it had a name, better options kept jumping from the depths of her subconscious. Or, perhaps they were whispers from her stars? Unlikely, as they were all asleep.

A particularly strong prayer hit Twilight mid-stride, causing her to stagger just a little. She caught, “Shield me,” before reinforcing the mental barriers that kept the prayers segregated, and the prayers faded back down to a slight hum. The voice had seemed familiar, but she couldn’t place from where. Not any of her friends or family, and the accent didn’t fit anypony from Ponyville she knew.

Before she could fully puzzle through this new distraction, she found her way blocked by Iridia, Faust a little behind her sister. Worry writ large on her face, Iridia darted glances towards the side passages and back at her sister. Faust gestured for Iridia to continue. Stepping up to Twilight, Iridia cleared her throat.

“Twilight, there is something I must tell you.”

Stifling a grimace, an impatient groan lodged in the back of Twilight’s throat. “Can it wait? Everypony is waiting for us so the ‘festivities’ can begin.” Twilight did little to hide her opinions on the barbaric dueling ritual she’d been trying to avoid contemplating.

“It won’t begin without us,” Iridia replied, eyes flickering to Twilight’s friends. “This is something for you alone.”

“Anything you got to say to Twi, you can say around us,” Applejack snorted, and received a bump and head shake from Fluttershy, though whether it was the sentiment or timing she objected was unclear. Rainbow and Pinkie both aligned with Applejack, and muttered agreements echoed by Twilight.

“Make this quick, please.” Twilight shifted on her hooves, and straightened out a rumple in the sash of her dress.

Iridia made a soft noise of understanding, only to then grow silent. Struggling with something, she opened her mouth a few times, then slowly closed it again with an annoyed snort.

Finally, as Twilight’s impatience again mounted, Iridia said, “I lied to you, at the Galla of the Stars.”

Blinking at the sudden admission, Twilight tried to recall everything that Iridia had said that night. It was long enough ago that much of it was an indistinct blur.

“You asked about your father, and I told you he was dead,” Iridia clarified, unable to pry her gaze from the floor. “I knew it was wrong, but the words just came out. I was jealous and afraid and I wanted you to myself, if only for a short while. When you asked about him, I thought you would go running off and—no, please, let me finish.”

Twilight snapped her mouth shut, cutting off partially formed words. On either side of her, Rainbow and Applejack both vibrated with barely restrained anger, flashing eyes darting from Twilight to Iridia and back. Twilight tapped an impatient hoof, willing Iridia to finish quicker.

Wilting like a desert flower, Iridia shivered, and for a moment Twilight thought she might try to run away. Settling herself with a deep breath, Iridia raised her head to look Twilight in the eye. “I won’t give any excuses that what I did was justified. It was wrong of me to keep you from knowing your father.”

“Darn straight it was!” Applejack snapped, unable to hold herself back any longer.

On her other side, Rainbow chimed in, but Twilight missed what was said, a dull roar entering her ears like wind rushing through a canyon blotting out everything else. She rocked back on her hooves, eyes pinched tight as she fought to control suddenly still emotions as her heart beat harder and harder as if it was trying to escape her chest.

“I bet you kept her secret from him, too,” Rainbow snorted with contempt.

Wings bristling defensively, Iridia snapped, “He knew about Twilight! Quite well, as a matter of fact.” There was an odd hesitancy, a slight hitch to Iridia’s voice that made Twilight’s chest hurt. “After each of my visits to Sparkledale I confided in him, told him all about you. The time you were into entomology and had jars and jars of all sorts of bugs. Or, when you were telling everypony you were going to join the Royal Guard so you could stay near Shining. And, when you were made Celestia’s apprentice. He heard it all, and was so, so proud.”

Twilight’s heart beat faster and faster the more Iridia spoke, and when a lull finally appeared she asked, “Why are you using the past tense?”

Iridia stepped closer, and Twilight saw sorrow etched along the hard lines of her face. “He… died not long ago. During the eclipse. He laid down his life protecting his herd, and the foals of a village they’d encountered. He… I think you’d have been proud.”

Noise exploded around Twilight, a storm of yelling, threats, and stamped hooves swirling around her too calm center. Twilight nodded slightly, having already anticipated Iridia’s answer. Why else would the subject even have been brokered, unless to produce her wayward biological father then and there.

It wasn’t Iridia’s admitted lies and groping attempts at forgiveness that bothered Twilight. No, it was Leviathan’s cold laughter sounding in the depths of recent memories. Her taunting smile flashed before Twilight, so haughty and arrogant, knowing what was to come. Predicting, perhaps, this very encounter, or one similar at least.

“‘Within which mirror will a pony you love die first’.”

The words fell from Twilight unbidden.

Around her the storm grew louder and then quiet as she parsed through the wild emotions buffeting her. Rage. Pain. Betrayal. Failure. They constricted her heart in crushing coils. Her body shook with the effort of containing her feelings, of holding herself back from saying or doing something she’d regret.

It wasn’t the loss of a pony she’d never known. It wasn’t the lies of somepony who should have told her the truth. It wasn’t that she could have saved him. It wasn’t that she was reminder of failing Rarity, or that Fleur was in danger now. It wasn’t that she was going to watch a duel rather than scour the disc for her friend’s missing sisters.

No, it wasn’t any one thing, but all of them heaped one atop the other.

Along the edges of perception her stars began to stir in their slumber. With a long, ragged sigh she centered herself, reminding herself that there were ponies who needed her in the here and now.

“I want you to go away,” Twilight said at last. “I want you to go back to where ever you came from, and leave me alone.”

Jaw tense, a brilliant fire flashing in her eyes, Iridia quietly said, “If that is what you wish.”

“Wish?” An odd, sardonic laugh came from Twilight through her tense throat. She couldn’t help it. “What I wish is that you’d never entered my life. That you didn’t try to shove my real parents away and take their place.”

“That is never what I wanted!”

“But it is how you acted. Moving into Canterlot Castle. Trying to insinuate yourself into my life. Pushing my parents to return to Sparkledale.”

Bristling Iridia advanced a half-step closer. “I never pushed them to leave! It was Velvet’s idea. An attempt to give us time to connect. You were the one avoiding me!”

Around Twilight, her friends pressed closer, giving her strength through their presence alone.

“I am so furious right now I can’t even think,” Twilight closed her eyes, and kept her voice level only through years of mental discipline. Inside she burned, starfire rising through her veins and igniting along the tips of mane and tail. Aether dripped in rainbow sparks from the edges of her wings.

The injustices of the past few months neared the critical point. Her patience frayed to the point of breaking, Twilight said in a far too level voice, “Just, go. Please, just go away.”

Iridia’s features contorted with anguish, lips moving in silent protests. She shrank a little, no longer the grand goddess who presided over the formation of life, but a mare broken by the realisation she’d lost her daughter again. That any chance of reconnecting had been ruined, an impassable rift carved between them by her own actions.

Part of Twilight sparked with joy at seeing Iridia miserable. That same part screamed that Iridia deserved to suffer, to hurt as she’d been hurt. It wanted so much more. Twilight was not prone to fantasies of violence, and deeply regretted every time she’d been forced to fight. Right then, Twilight really wanted to hit Iridia, to pound her until some semblance of justice and sanity returned to the disc.

She settled on merely driving Iridia away.

“I’ll be in Thornhaven if and when you want to speak,” Iridia said, her voice soft and hitching in her throat. Turning to Faust, she said, “Till we next meet, sister, look after my Twilight.”

“Oh, I am coming with you,” Faust answered surprising everypony. “There is nothing left for me to do here, and I told Celestia I’d be with you when she next needed to find me.”

There was a casual indifference to Faust that bordered on flippancy, as if she were wholly disconnected from what was going on around her. If Twilight had not been so angry, she’d have drawn a bit of comfort that Faust seemed to be slowly reverting to her old self. As it was, Faust only managed to stoke the flames of Twilight’s anger higher.

Twilight brushed past Iridia before any more could be said by either of them. A few moments later and there came the tell-tale magic and sudden loss of Iridia and Faust’s pressences hovering along the edges of perception.

Her hooves crashed against the aged stone floor, neck tight. A low growl issued through her throat as she thought of anything to do with any of her parents and mentors over the past few months. Every time she recalled one of the lies, her wings snapped out and in, sending gusts of wind along the corridor.

“I can’t believe those mares! Queens of the ponies, pah! What my Ma would say to them if she were still here,” Applejack snarled, stamping a hoof. “Faust knows where to find my sister, and does nothing. And, after losing them, Iridia is more worried about clearing her conscience than fixing the mess she made!”

“Apple Bloom will be fine,” Luna said from Applejack’s other side. “You have my personal guarantee on the matter.”

“No offense, princess, but I ain’t looking for promises or guarantees. I just want somepony to do something!” Applejack’s hoof cracked against the ground for emphasis.

“Soon as this stupid duel is done we’re going to find the girls, Applejack. I promise,” Twilight shot her friend an emphatic look.

Applejack returned it with a firm nod, and silence fell over the group.

Taking in long, slow breaths, Twilight did her best to find a happy place from which to attack the tumultuous rage writhing in her stomach. The presence of her friends helped, Applejack, Pinkie Pie, Fluttershy, and Rainbow providing anchors with which she could ride the surging hot tide. It was Luna, however, who trotted beside her, and provided a silent harbour into which Twilight could retreat.

Nothing more could be said to provide comfort. Twilight’s friends and family all knew that she needed time to process the grief over stolen opportunities and broken trust.

Her anger had barely abated when she met Maatsheptra in the corridor on the way to the imperial box.

“Princess Twilight, is something amiss?” Maatsheptra asked, concern inflecting her voice.

With a quick shake of her head, Twilight said, “It is nothing important. Just…” Twilight shook her head again, and fell in beside Maatsheptra.

“I’m glad I found you before the ceremonies commenced,” Maatsheptra said, brushing past whatever was upsetting Twilight. Grateful that she didn’t have to explain things, Twilight listened with a half-cocked ear. “You should prepare yourselves. All of you. Things have changed in Zebrica, and these duels will be nothing like you have seen in Equestria. Many who enter that arena die.”

“Wait, I thought this was until First Blood,” Rainbow interjected, shifting nerviously from hoof to hoof.

“‘First Blood’?” Maatsheptra answered with a quizzical lift to her brows. “Ah, yes, you assumed we retained the weak ways of the Mara. No, these duels are until Last Blood, so only those who truly are wronged, justified, or brave will dare enter these grounds.”

Jolted a little by the frank admission, Twilight worked her mouth, while Applejack asked, “What, you really fight to the death? That’s barbaric!”

“It is our way, Lady Apple. The way of the Shali. The way of my clan. I killed a dozen of my kin in such duels before I found my soulmark. The strong thrive while the weak perish. When you are surrounded by enemies who want to conquer you, throw you in chains, tear your foals from your hooves, or just devour you, there is little other choice but to rise to the challenges, or die. The Zebenese and the Shali have this much in common, at least, even if we disagree on everything else. The Mara were coddled in their cities, and grew fat off the rivers’ bounties, and that is why I was able to conquer them and unify Zebrica.”

“But—”

Applejack was cut off by Luna’s extended wing. “My sister will be disappointed to learn her fears that Zebrica has fallen back into its old habits were justified. She held hope you’d continued the peaceful ways your ancestors fought to achieve. This entire episode with Fleur and Algol has already left a sour taste in our mouth. This compounds matters.”

Bowing a little to Luna, Maatsheptra said, “That is your prerogative, Princess Luna, and if Equestria wishes no further dealings with Zebrica I will understand. There are many other nations with which to trade, after all. Equestria is not the only bread-basket. I will have no need of your exported gemstones soon enough. As in the early dawn of my empire, it grows day by day. But, I do have something else to say before we part ways.” Maatsheptra stopped before the grand doors to her box and faced Twilight and Luna.

“I lured you to Zebrica with a promise of information on the location of the final alicorn to arrive during the Celebration of Life. She landed in the domain of the griffons, and was promptly claimed by one of their kings. A filly of no more than two springs, she quickly became an idol around which he rallied his city and set his sights on his rivals. They gave her the name Talona, and parade her through the streets and court. I wish that was the worst of my information. The city that claimed her, Southstone Spires, has been host to the demon-lord Amon for many centuries.”

Luna sucked in a hissed breath. “That monster has more lives than a cat.”

“But, I beat him on Marelantis!” Rainbow Dash protested, brow furrowed into tight bunches. “Kicked his flank with that spear of Fleur’s.”

“Demons are known for being slippery, Lady Dash,” Maatsheptra replied. “What I know is that through the griffons he has been grooming Talona for his own purposes. Southstone is the heart of his power. Every attempt to march on the airie has met destruction.”

“Then we will go and destroy that demon once and for all.” Luna made a cutting gesture and scuffed at the ground with a hoof.

“Why wait so long to tell us?” Twilight asked.

Maatsheptra smiled. “Reasons are unimportant. You have been told now, and I have fulfilled my promise.”

Head lowered in thought, Twilight followed Maatsheptra into the Empress’ box. More a wide platform stretching out and over the arena, it was afforded with the best view. Many emperors, kings, and queens had taken the box as their own over the centuries. In a half dozen alcoves, stern faced imperial guards watched over their empress, beside each a crackling ifrit.

Festive banners and awnings fluttered in the warm morning breeze. Flower petals created brightly coloured paths to the empress’ lounge and accompanying benches where she and her guests could relax in opulent splendor and observe the duels and games below.

A swarming sea of black and white thronged along the narrow walkways and seats in the rest of the grand colosseum. Food vendors moved among the crowd, offering traditional zebrican snacks of dried, chocolate covered fruits in bags. Foals laughed as they pranced around their parents and scampered into seats used by their ancestors stretching back several generations.

A clear segregation became apparent before Twilight had even taken her seat. Noble families had their boxes low and close to the arena, with comfortable benches on which to recline, and bowls of punch and fruit within easy reach. The colosseum's design and networks of passageways and stairs was such that the nobility never had to interact with the lower classes. Above them were the merchants and lower gentry. With a little space in which to relax, they occupied a rather narrow band. Much of the colosseum was given over to the lower classes. Packed together along unbroken stone benches that ran the entire circumference of the colosseum, little thought or consideration was given to their comfort. They still laughed and rejoiced as they entered, creating a great din of noise. The last area was for the poor and downtrodden at the very top where they could hardly see what was happening down in the arena. They stood, enviously watching their social superiors.

From beneath her hooves a drum sounded a moment after Twilight stepped onto the balcony. Eighty thousand faces swung towards her, and in a single voice cried out, “Amu Twilight, Wea em Stella! Amu Luna, Wea em Lunae! Amu Fluttershy, Wea em Silvarum! Amu Weorum! Amu Weorum!”

Surging tides of devotion crashed into Twilight, physical and metaphysical in nature. The energy of the crowd was infectious, and their honest prayers given in a single voice crashed against the walls of her mental fortress. A sensation of weightlessness carried her the rest of the way to her lounge and quieted much of the anger Iridia had stoked. Embers remained, glowing in the depths of her belly, and Twilight knew before long she’d have to do something to deal with emotions.

The crowd’s roars were no less fervent for their empress as she swept gracefully up to her throne with her foals in tow. The prince and princess sat together with Twilight friends, while Twilight was given a place of prominence along with Luna, Fluttershy, and Maatsheptra.

Stepping up onto a slightly raised rune inscribed marble circle, Maatsheptra summoned a spell to enhance her voice. Magic flowed in a graceful cascade down her horn, neck, and settled in over the curve of her throat. When she spoke her voice carried across the entire colosseum in a soft boom.

“My dear subjects, it is that Great Day again where we come together to settle differences and matters of Pride and Honour beneath the gaze of the Sun and the eyes of the Goddesses. No truer has this been than today, blessed as we are by the presence of three of the alicorns,” here Maatsheptra had to pause as the crowd again roared out their greetings and exaltations.

Waiting for the noise to fade with a motherly patience, Maatsheptra continued, “As has been custom since the days before Samalla brought freedom to the three tribes of zebra, casting off the chains the loathsome griffons had shackled to our ancestors, the first day of each month is set aside so that we may resolve our differences that we may be cleansed and refreshed. That Shali, Mali, and Zebenese may work together towards common goals with no ill will and resentment clouding our hearts.”

Again she had to pause as the crowd’s enthusiasm peaked. She smiled sweetly, and motioned for her subjects to calm.

“Without further delay I declare the commencement of these duels. And afterwards, a play detailing the exploits of Samalla for our guests, followed by games of endurance and speed.”

A half-breath after Maatsheptra took her seat, the first set of duelists were called forth, and Twilight was confronted by the harsh depths of the differences between Equestrians and Zebricans. The pair bowed and saluted their empress, the alicorns, and after giving short speeches where-in they listed their grievances with the other, the slights to honour that could not otherwise be reconciled, they proceeded to savage each other.

There was no preamble once Maatsheptra gave the signal for the duel to commence. The zebras charged and tore long lines down each other’s sides. Twilight covered her mouth, shocked by the viciousness of the pair. She felt some small comfort that the duel should have been concluded so quickly, that surely one or the other would quit. To her shock, they spun and charged again, this time crashing together. The crowd roared its approval, hooves stamping in a thunderous cacophony as one zebra fell, and was soundly struck in the jaw.

Aghast, Twilight issued a growl through clenched teeth. “This is monstrous! How can they enjoy this!?”

“Because it is better than the alternative.” Maatsheptra answered with a quizzical lift to her brows. “You have seen my city only as it is today, and not of years past, and so assume that pony and zebra are the same. We are more alike than different, but those differences carve a canyon between the hearts of our races. Unlike Equestria, chaos and upheaval lurk ever in the shadows. Were it not for my rule, even in this peaceful and bountiful age, villages would put to the torch because their stripes are the wrong shades or shape. Because a Mara princess dared to fall in love with a Shali warrior. Or, because a tribe weak a hundred years ago is now strong, and are simply able to hurt those that oppressed them in ages past. Or, foals would starve as their mothers were dragged to a gallows for ‘stealing’ grain cast to the side of the road following a harvest.

“Only here, on these blood stained sands, is there an anchorpoint of stability. Here they may kick, froth, bleed, and be reborn in honourable combat. These games keep greater calamities at bay. Look how they bind my subjects to common purpose.”

Cheers greeted the victor as he took a slow parade around the edge of the arena, flowers tossed down in his path as if he’d been an actor in a grand play.

Dread, horror, and pity all welled up deep in Twilight’s chest, and alongside her anger, left her dazed and confused as to what, if anything, she should do. On the other side of the empress Luna leaned forward, eyes ablaze with keen intensity and lips moving with silent urgings. She missed nothing, and even swayed as if trying to dodge blows herself, and nodded in satisfaction at the conclusion of each duel as she joined in with the applause. In contrast, Fluttershy was quiet with hooves folded in front of her and a curious tilt to her head.

“Fluttershy, if you need to leave,” Twilight began, the offer hanging in the air.

Looking over with a start, Fluttershy shook her head. “Oh, I am quite fine. At least, I think I am. I’ve seen much worse. I mean, Artemis saw much worse.”

She seemed about to add more, but, growing flustered, simply shook her head and  focused back on the arena as the next set of duelists emerged.

The next duelists were young, barely more than foals, and fighting over the affections of a mare both loved. Former friends, they mercilessly faced each other, neither holding back as they fought. On and on it went, zebras came forth, saluted, and gave their speeches. Some denounced their opponents. Some tried to make amends. A few pleaded with the empress or crowd. This third group universally received jeers and Maatsheptra’s stony stare. All ended the same way, with one party victorious, and the other placed on a stretcher.

“We are not completely heartless, Princess Twilight,” Maatsheptra said after the third match ended with both sides unable to continue, to the disappointment of the crowd. “This colosseum has the finest medical facilities in Zebrica, with some of the most talented healers in my empire. Few die once in their care.”

“But how many are killed down there?” Twilight demanded, thrusting a hoof towards the arena floor.

“A few,” Maatsheptra callously admitted.

Bristling, Twilight began to snap a response, but was interrupted by the next duel. She bit her tongue for the remainder of the horrific event, until it was time for the final duel. Any budding affections or desire to spend a moment longer than necessary in Zebrica were permanently extinguished.

Twilight squirmed as Fleur emerged from the dark recesses of the colosseum.

As the challenger, Algol spoke first, her oily words coursing through the arena.

“By the Star’s blessings,” she began, her voice powerful and unironic. The crowd repeated the greeting, a first for Twilight, and she was hit by a small wave of devotion. “I have been wronged, and she who wronged me is too cowardly to face me herself. Important, powerful, arrogant ponies wheedled and whinged, oily green and putrid yellows, to keep her from Justice. They latched like ticks onto any excuse, trying in vain to damage me without retribution. When they could not, when I refused to be thinly spread yellow and accept Equestria’s slight, instead they heaped further dishonour by enticing this mare who has never fought in her life to take the place of Rainbow Dash. A mare they deck out in finery and artifacts, giving her every advantage they can scrape together.

“I am Algol, the Dreamstar, and I am Algol, the Demonstar; and I refuse to quietly accept Equestria’s provocations and brilliant obsidian-red arrogance.”

Algol played her speech to the crowd, but Twilight knew it was intended for her. Her hackles rose. The claims of justice and injustice being so twisted stoking the great rage in her belly. She shook, she trembled, and she glared fire at the fallen star. Whatever part of her Algol formed, or had been formed by, she despised.

So angry was she that she missed the opening to Fleur’s impassioned speech.

“It is neither for Equestria, nor for Prance I fight, but for my friend, and for myself. I am no fighter. Algol is a killer, and I have been told it is impossible for me to win. But, I will fight for my friend. Rainbow Dash saved my life, and though it may be the stuff of romanticised stories, I will repay the debt owed.”

Applause rose from the crowd, a smattering at first, and then increasing to a thunderous din as it became apparent Fleur was finished. Even Maatsheptra stamped a hoof, a first for the duels.

“Fleur de Lis is very brave, and stoic in the face of cruel fate. This we zebras can appreciate,” she said, her voice rough against Twilight’s skin.

There was no time for contemplation, as Fleur and Algol faced each other.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

The duel began with the thunderous clang and searing flash of a lightning bolt. Ozone curled around Fleur, and she stifled a cough. The ground before her was scorched deep black, edges glowing red, and turned into a smooth glass.

Fleur hadn’t even seen Algol cast the spell it had been completed so quick. She’d never seen such spellcraft, nor dared imagine having to face such a practitioner. All her worst fears about Algol were realised and exceeded, and Fleur knew she had almost no hope of victory, or survival in that instant.

Algol planted her hooves wide, and spread her great wings as she summoned her dark magics. Cupped in her wings, she molded emerald-black aether into cutting blades. With a long, rolling motion Algol hurled pure aether. Howling like banshees, they sliced towards Fleur’s throat and legs.

Quick stepping like she were in a ballroom dance, Fleur darted out of the path of the first blade and blocked the second with her shield. Sharp clangs rang from each blow, jolts echoing through Fleur’s aura down her horn and into her teeth. Each felt like a giant had tried to step on her. Only her short fight with Amon could compare with the strength behind the attacks.

The pace of slashes quickly overwhelmed Fleur’s meagre defense. Her valiant attempts were in vain as a series of aethereal blades curved around her shield. Bracing herself, Fleur was unprepared when one-by-one the blades met a thin barrier covering her body, harmlessly bursting into showers of rainbow hued sparks.

Seeing her chance, Fleur rushed to close the already short distance. Her only hope was a quick stroke. Her spear thrust for Algol’s bared breast, silvery head glinting in the crisp noon sunlight. A hoof’s width from piercing Algol, the spear met unyielding resistance. The haft shifted and snapped, and the steel head bent before being flung to the far side of the arena.

Jumping back, Fleur barely flung up her shield in time to catch a black spear of foul, necromantic energies. Death tingled on her tongue and in her horn, leaching through the air and where her aura met Algol’s destructive spell, leaving her numb. The shield began to rot in her grasp, metal turning to rust before her eyes.

With a Prench oath, Fleur threw the shield’s remains at Algol. They were swatted aside with a wing. Algol directed her next spell into the ground, oily grey aether leaching into the dirt.

Fleur snorted, gaze darting around to find the next attack.

Sinuous, barbed tentacles tore up from the ground, green, viscous slime running down pitch black trunks. Surrounded, Fleur hesitated on which way to run. Before she could decide, she was grabbed around the back legs and yanked backwards off her hooves. Her chin struck a stone, teeth painfully crashing together and stars blooming in front of her eyes.

Dazed, Fleur only dimly noticed she was being hoisted into the air, additional tentacles wrapping around her waist, forelegs, and throat. Her eyes bulged, legs straining as she was pulled in opposing directions. She couldn’t breath. The edges of her vision dimming into a hazy fog. Joints popping, Fleur knew she was going to die. She didn’t have the strength of magic or body to fight the tentacles. She couldn’t think. Didn’t know what to do.

So many regrets flitted through her air starved mind. Not being able to say goodbye to Rarity. Losing Athena. Coming on this foolhardy adventure. The argument she’d had with her father the night he died. Never having a foal…

Her last thought before the darkness fully closed around her was of Fancy Pants, and what he’d do when he learned of her death.

And then she was falling.

Physically falling, and hitting the ground with a heavy thud on her side. Sucking in ragged gasps of air. Vision clearing to reveal Algol staring at her in shock and fury.

Slowly, Fleur became aware of a brilliant glow about her head, a luminous halo of singing rainbow hued aether emanating from Altanairis. Her joints popped again as they were forced, painfully, back in place. Clenching her jaw to hold back a scream, she dragged herself to her hooves. The torn, ragged remnants of Algol’s tentacles squirmed as they melted into thick pools of bubbling ichor.

The crowd roared with thunderous  approval. Chants of ‘Fleur, Fleur, Fleur,’ born from a hundred thousand throats filled every space and rolled out over the city.

Every fibre of Fleur’s being ached. She’d only survived by Twilight’s gift. She wasn’t even sure why it had waited so long to save her from the tentacles, or if it would do so a second time.

Licking her lips, Algol purred, “Not so easy after-all. There is a bit of crimson and hardened silver in you.”

The air began to tremble as Algol again called on her considerable powers. Excess aether howled from her wings, scorching the ground and sizzling the ends of Fleur’s mane. Higher and higher the storming aether climbed until it was like a cresting tidal wave. It loomed as a dragon over a mouse, titanic, unstoppable, a force of unleashed nature. Deadly emerald light crackled across turbulent edges, and the air grew frigid as a violent wind whipped across the arena.

Around them, the crowd was going wild.

“Can that crown save you if your very essence is consumed, I wonder?” Algol shouted over the noise.

With a gesture, Algol sent the wave forward.

Fleur gaped, and felt so very small. She could not dodge the oncoming deadly magics. Over or through, those were her only options. Indecision held her fast, bound her to the spot unable to move.

Algol’s spell loomed over her, a deep roar emanating from its obsidian depths.

Wisps of Fleur’s lifeforce tumbled into the black wave.

This time Altanairis would not save her.

Instinct took hold, and Fleur spun on her back hooves. Across the arena she sped, foul energies kissing the tip of her tail and turning it to dust. Angling her retreat, Fleur ducked behind one of the pillars. With a hissing crackle-roar the wave broke against the pillar and was split. Thick globs of twisted magic splashed on Fleur’s flanks and exposed portions of her legs. Pain lashed through her already tired body, fur burnt away and skin scalded as if the wave was composed of boiling oil.

Falling to her knees, Fleur reached out to the weapon racks and grabbed several spears, and a barbed net.

Jumping out from behind the pillar after the wilting wave dissipated, Fleur hurled a spear. Her aim, haphazard in its execution, proved true, and the spear fell towards Algol. Steel glinted brilliantly as it cut a line along Algol’s jaw, and tore across her shoulder. Algol blinked, stunned, and  glanced at the shallow line and red blood flowing through her dark coat.

Fleur was no less surprised after her earlier failure. Unsure why her first spear had been repelled, and not this one, Fleur hurled the next spear as she charged to get close enough to use the net.

Algol remained calm, using her wings to dart back even as she returned to using her initial blades of sculpted aether. Altanairis spent, and her shield destroyed, Fleur resorted to blocking with the haft of a spear. Two blades cut through hardened wood, and another glanced off Fleur’s cuirass.
Serenity fell across Fleur as she crossed the arena, unleashing another distracting spear. Algol coated her wings in tight layers of aether, and crouched to meet Fleur’s charge. This was it, the final moment of the duel. Either she’d succeed, or Algol would cut her down. The crowd thundered, wild exultations filling her with reckless energy even as her mind calmed into absolute focus.

Clarity came over Fleur.

Time slowed.

The disc, the power plays of the great nations, the burdens of everyday ponies and zebras, and the duel all came into sharp relief. Fleur could see Algol’s movements, how she would aim with bladelike wings for her throat. See the very nature of Algol’s magic, aether molded into an efficient  weapon of death. Whispers transcending instincts told her when to duck so Algol’s lethal stroke would miss and cause her enemy to unbalance. How Algol would recover and bring up her other wing in a slash that all but the most proficient would fail to see until it was too late. The path her spear needed to take, and when to release it so Algol’s defensive wards, tuned to react to a unicorn’s aura, would fail to respond.

A few strides away from Algol, Fleur noticed hundreds of shadowy shapes circling above the colosseum on broad wings. Fleur skidded to a stop, and Algol snapped her wings shut, banishing her magic with a casual disinterest.

“You see them now, don’t you,” Algol purred, glancing upwards.

Fleur worked her mouth slowly, dread of a new sort twisting in her gut. She tried to give a warning, to shout for everypony to get away, but it was too late.

In a swirling, invisible cloud, the Thanes descended on Zerubaba.