//------------------------------// // Chapter 56: Machine Pony // Story: Daring Do and the Hand of Doom // by Unwhole Hole //------------------------------// From the door, the hallway descended in a slow stone slope. Conduits led upward from the deaths, and some rusted tracks ran downward over the rough stone. There was no source of light in the hallway; the crystals had burned out long ago. Flock was forced to ignite another magic sphere. This one, instead of racing forward, hovered near him, shedding pale yellow light on the high-ceilinged corridor and casting long shadows that turned and shifted as the group moved forward. The light of the doorway faded, as did Caballeron’s furious screaming. Daring Do was not sure how long Fuzzypoof would be able to contain him. Probably forever. But knowing Caballeron, that was not guaranteed by any means. “I can’t believe her name was Fuzzypoof,” said Rainbow Dash. “That’s so stupid.” “Says the pony named ‘Rainbow’,” noted Flock. “Can we just agree that none of us have cool names?” snapped Sweetie Drops. She stared up at the shadows and the hallway. It was clear that she was not happy in the slightest with being down here. “Daring Do has a cool name,” muttered Rainbow Dash. “Be like the clone and stay quiet.” Rainbow Dash was about to protest, but she turned to Daring Do for help- -only to find her staring intently at one of the walls. “Daring Do?” “Look at this,” she said, pointing. “There’s a joint.” “So?” asked Sweetie Drops. “It’s just…strange.” Daring Do elected to ignore it, although after a few more minutes of increasingly rapid descent, it began to become obvious that she had caught on to something both forgotten and critical in a secret, unknown way. The hall was not the same. The walls were the same size, but they had lost the appearance of Exmoori architecture. There was no longer smooth, gray stone, but rough sandstone that gleamed with reflective grit and strange grains in colors that seemed sickly and bizarre. It had been carved into a complex array of blocks, which had been in turn laid to form the appearance of subtle, snaking figures. Then, suddenly, White stopped. She stared upward into the darkness. “What is it?” asked Daring Do. White pointed. “Flock, more light.” “Sure. Why not.” The light he had produced moved upward and grew in intensity. The hallway suddenly seemed so much wider than it had before; it had expanded insidiously, and none of them had noticed. The light illuminated a pair of statues, each standing well over thirty feet tall. They were hideous in appearance. Each showed a tall quadrupedal creature, a being like a pony- -but not. They were clad in robes of a peculiar design and a style that matched no pony culture, and showed the appearance of armor beneath. Only their heads were visible. They had the rough shape of ponies with short manes, but that was where the similarity ended. Their skin was covered in scales, and their mouths- -their jaws spreading so much wider than any pony’s could, and the edges of their mouths reaching far higher- -were filled with several rows of reptilian teeth. Their eyes had vertical slits, and each of their heads bore three spiraled, unicorn-like horns, arranged in-line starting at the bridge of their nose. “What…what are those?” asked Rainbow Dash, her voice quavering. “I don’t know,” said Daring Do. “I’ve never seen anything like them.” She turned slowly. “Flock?” Flock looked back at her, and she saw that he was afraid. “Can’t you feel it?” “Feel what?” “How old this place is. How very old. This place, it predates the Exmoori.” He stared up at the statues of lizard-like pony beings. “It predates them by far…” “I don’t like them,” said Sweetie Drops. “Neither do I,” replied Daring Do. Quietly. Almost as if the statues could hear. “Come one.” They passed, and the landscape began to change drastically. Perhaps the statues had been meant to guard the entrance to what had once been a very different temple, one that had been buried by eons of glacial action and the erosion of mountains. The long hallways widened vastly, and the edges became ornate. Columns were present, often at strange angles that made no sense for support, especially considering the delicately crafted arches and strange symmetrical domes built into the cavern. Daring Do looked up at them a few times, but soon found that she could not. She was no stranger to unseal angles, and in at least one tomb she had seen some that made no Euclidian sense. This was different, though. These angles made too much sense. They were exact and perfect, bound by mathematical rules and arcana alike that seemed to both interst and terrify Flock to no end. Looking at them made Daring Do’s head burn just behind her eyes, feeling the magic resonating. Every angle had a purpose; every column, every choice in material or seemingly inconsequential carving. It was all a machine. One that had no moving parts, but that was vastly superior in design and complexity to the seemingly anemic and corroded Exmoori conduits that dared to interrupt the elegant flow of the temple. Daring Do was glad for the ugly conduits. Without them, she was not sure she could have kept her sanity. They moved deeper and longer. How long and how deep was impossible to determine, as the path seemed to shift imperceptibly, perhaps driving them straight into the ground or perhaps leading them in circles. Perhaps toward their goal, or perhaps away from it. Daring Do increasingly found herself hoping for the latter. Except that the path never erred. Daring Do could feel it. And She understood in an instant when the final door stood before them. The air seemed to vibrate, and the air was almost unbreathable with the taste of metal and the scent of ozone. The air was so thick with magic that the amulet that Rainbow Dash wore had nearly given up; it twitched spasmodically, but only slightly. Rainbow Dash hardly seemed to notice. The intensity of the magic was so great that even she could sense it, either by intuition or by the device in her chest slowly increasing her heartrate in response. Then the light fell on something blocking their path. Daring Do froze, staring up at it. She heard the ring of silver being pulled from a scabbard, and felt Flock preparing for his retreat. Before them stood another statue. This one was different, though. It had no base, and had not been placed at the side of the path. Rather, it lay in the center. In form, it resembled an enormous Pegasus; had it been standing, it would have been at last five times taller than Daring Do or Rainbow Dash. Its body was made of silvery metal, but metal that had long-since lost its luster and grown covered in tarnish. “What is that thing?” said Rainbow Dash, leaning on her heels, unsure whether she was getting ready to fly or fight. Daring Do walked past Flock, grabbing his light spell out of the air and dragging it forward to illuminate the statue. Rainbow Dash followed. It was apparent on close inspection that the statue was not, in fact, a statue. It was a machine, and a badly damaged one at that. Half of its noble, carved face had been removed and had corroded away to black oxidation. The plating had fallen away in several parts, revealing what Daring Do could only assume was some unfathomable type of mechanism beneath. One rear leg had been almost entirely lost. Only the wings, as tarnished as they were, remained perfect and undamaged. “I think it’s a golem,” said Daring Do. “It doesn’t look like the golems before,” said Sweetie Drops. The tone in her voice was ominous. Despite having her sword drawn, she did not approach it. “It doesn’t match any known design or school of golemcraft,” said Flock. “It’s not Exmoori.” “Whatever it is,” said Rainbow Dash, leaning forward to the half of the face that made the golem or statue or whatever it was look as though it was sleeping. “It’s really messed up. I don’t think it still works.” As soon as she said it, the dinner-plate sized eye opened. Several layers of silver nictitating membranes retracted, and a system of thick lenses and ornate mirrors shifted, bringing Rainbow Dash into focus. For a moment, the lenses of the eyes magnified something deep within, something tiny but wretchedly organic. Something inside the silver Pegasus whirred to life. Through the damage in its carved armor, light of some unthinkable reactor became visible. Then it stood, rising from the ground with little difficulty or effort despite its ragged body. As it did, its wings stretched outward, revealing a tremendous wingspan of pure silver. Despite panicing and reaching for Rainbow Dash to pull her away, Daring Do’s mind for some reason fixated on wondering if this silver creature was meant to fly. Sweetie Drops drew her blade, but the creature ignored her. It instead turned its good eye toward Rainbow Dash. Then it did what Daring Do least expected. It spoke. “You look…different.” Rainbow Dash frowned. “Do we know each other?” “Not that I’m aware of, no,” replied the silver Pegasus. His voice had the barest of accents, one that Daring Do could not place. His voice was beautiful, but clearly created by vocal organs that were incredibly different from those of ponies. Hundreds of delicate mechanisms seemed to whirr as his mouth worked, and even the motion of his eyes carried a kind of effortless complexity. He paused, and looked around at the others. “Where are the small fuzzy ones? You are not them.” “Small…fuzzy ones?” asked Rainbow Dash, confused. “Yes. Like little colored balls of sky-cotton. You are not them. You are different.” Daring Do understood. She stepped forward and addressed the creature. “You mean the Exmoori. Fuzzypoof sends her regards, and her apologies. She and her people have entered the final forever-sleep.” A look of sadness crossed over the creature’s silver eye. “A shame. I thought they were cute. Not like the others. The ugly clever ones.” His eye trailed from pony to pony. “Times have changed. How long was I asleep?” “A thousand years at least,” said Flock. “A thousand years?” The silver Pegasus seemed greatly surprised. “That short? Such a short time for an extinction. Your kind evolves quickly I suppose. Moves on from the past. For better or for worse, I suppose.” “A thousand years,” said Daring Do. She frowned. “If you were asleep for that long, how are you speaking the same language at us?” The creature suddenly leaned forward, his face being held inches from Daring Do’s. “Because your language is the one I dream in these days.” He lifted his head back to its normal position and began walking. One of his front legs was missing most of its armor, and the corrosion had spread to the internal tissue. He limped on that leg. “And a thousand years is not long. Not long at all. I have stood sentry at this door for two and a half million years. I am Solum Finis, the last of the Argasi.” Daring Do followed him, falling into step beside him. Rainbow Dash did as well. Doing so was not easy; although he was injured and decaying, his stride was as long as several ponies. “That isn’t possible,” said Daring Do. “There was no civilization that old. Ponies hadn’t evolved yet- -” “They had,” corrected Solum Finis. “But you were smaller then. And you didn’t talk yet. Supposedly you tasted good. I wouldn’t have known. I don’t eat, as my body is made entirely of metal.” “Are you…a machine, then?” Solum Finis sighed. “Such a dull question. I liked the fuzzy ones better. They never asked stupid questions. No of course I’m not a machine. I’m an Argasus. I’ve already said that.” “Then why are you here?” Solum Finis stopped walking. His head turned so that his eye was facing Daring Do. The expression within it was heavy and profoundly sad, and even without saying it, Daring Do understood that it had not been a lie or an exaggeration. His face had been beautiful once, but now had become haggard with an ungodly expanse of time. It was the face of a being who had outlived his own civilization, and then many, many others subsequent. “I was stationed here,” he said. “After…after the fall of Olympus. The fall of the Aurasi, and the Golden Lord’s sacrifice. I survived. One of few. Now one of none.” He looked up at to what appeared to be a long section of unlit, dark hallway. Daring Do could feel the angles of it staring back at her, the hideous shapes carved by the horns and hooves of creatures that no archeologist or paleontologist had ever known. “That was toward the end of it. What in my dreams your kind calls the Dragon Age.” Rainbow Dash inhaled sharply. Daring Do fully expected a squeal, but Rainbow Dash retained admirable control over her faculties. “The trihorns put me here. To protect he Necroforge. The trihorns are gone now. They were gone a long time ago. Now only I remain.” Flock moved forward swiftly, suddenly interested in the conversation. “What did you call it? The ‘Necroforge’? What is that?” “It is what you are currently standing in.” “That’s not what I mean,” snapped Flock. “What is it intended for?” “To shift the balance of geopolitical power.” “I have no idea what that means,” admitted Rainbow Dash. “Of course,” said Solum Finis, trying to rephrase. “The Necroforge uses the Hand of the Vandrare as a source of magical force. It does whatever the operator asks of it.” “So it grants wishes!” Solum Finis smiled a distant smile. “It grants the kind of wishes that the trihorns wished. Imagine a city. Any city on this planet, at any range. With the Necroforge you could reduce it to dust in an instant along with every inhabitant. You could shatter an army…or create one in an instant. Breed new life, or snuff out a type that already exists. The sorcerers even claimed that given the right circumstances, it could snuff out a star.” He paused. “The fuzzy ones were interested in the snuffing of one particular star, though.” Daring Do knew exactly which star, and to her horror both how desperate and how depraved the Exmoori had become. Their intention had never been to ensure their survival. It had already been too late for that. Their goal had been to win the war that had destroyed them. “But if you knew that’s what it did, why let the Exmoori in here? Why not stop them?” “Because I get lonely. And because the geopolitical situation that existed when I was brought here no longer exists. There is no longer anything worth protecting. Such has not existed for countless millennia. Had the Necroforge been completed, had it been used, things would be different. But the trihorns are gone now. Olympus as well. And the dragons are just a shadow of what they were.” “What happened?” asked Rainbow Dash. “War.” The hallway suddenly opened into an enormous room. Columns wrought in vast spirals reached upward, intertwining into the supports for an unseen and distant ceiling. The room was round, and lit in the middle, although only barely. Daring Do looked out to see where the Exmoori cables converged in the center, along with the rest of their aging equipment. Several pools had been assembled in the center of the room, forming a shape that from above probably looked something like a highly symmetrical flower. The pools were filled with a metallic liquid that glowed faintly but was otherwise perfectly placid and would have been mirror-like save for the few signs that it was flowing lazily. Bridges ran over the pools. There were four of them, arranged symmetrically and carved from the same pale stone as the rest of the area. It was clear that they had not been intended as walkways. The Exmoori, however, had coopted them for exactly that purpose: metal catwalks had been constructed over them, leading to the center, where the equipment converged on a wide violet sphere of energy. The energy sphere was incredibly active. It shimmered and stretched, its surface becoming brilliantly iridescent with impossible blues and golds. A high, almost imperceptible ringing sound originated from it, and the field generated a powerful smell of ozone and something much more acrid. It cast a harsh but pale white light that left the ponies before it looking as bloodless and pale as Solum Finis. Solum Finis approached the device. Daring Do and Flock followed him, but only hesitantly. White stayed behind completely. Her instincts were too well attuned to get any nearer. Sweetie Drops also stayed toward the edge, but began pacing. Rainbow Dash continued forward, almost to the edge of one of the pools. “Oh wow,” she said, suddenly stepping back. “That stuff’s hot, isn’t it?” “It is,” said Solum Finis, dipping the tip of his hoof into the metal and sending out a long ripple. “These pools used to contain metastable fluidic aetherite, but it was already too badly contaminated to start the Necroforge when the fuzzy ones came. They replaced it with a gallium alloy, kept just under its boiling point. It serves as coolant. Remarkably well. Don’t fall in. You’ll melt.” “Noted,” said Rainbow Dash, taking several wide steps back. Flock stared at the pool. For a moment Daring Do had the ludicrous idea that he was about to jump in. He did not, of course, but his eyes slowly turned up to the sphere itself. Solum Finis had not needed to explain what it contained. They all already knew. “This machine,” said Flock, slowly. “It’s dying.” Solum Finis nodded slowly. “Your question, winged one. Why I allowed the fuzzy ones to attempt to rebuild this atrocity. The reason is containment.” Daring Do looked up at him. He looked down at her, the lenses and silver irises of his eye adjusting to keep her in focus. “Meaning?” “Meaning there was a reason the Empire could never make it work. It failed. Badly. But they contained the Hand, though use of a powerful spell. They went extinct, though. There was no one left to continue work. Or continue the spell.” “It must have been a mighty spell to last as long as it did,” suggested Flock, clearly in admiration “Oh, the spell still persists. As strong as ever. But it is failing.” “That makes no sense.” “Not to you. Because you have no idea what lies under that sphere.” “Of course we do!” exclaimed Rainbow Dash. “It’s the Hand of Doom!” “Doom. An appropriate name but a wrong one. But not as wrong as ‘Hand’. Even if it is one.” “Wait. It’s actually a hand? Like, an actual hand?” Rainbow Dash held up her hoof and wiggled it. “No. And yes. That’s the point. It learns. It thinks. And it adapts. Slowly, but it has time.” He looked at the device. “So much time. Can’t you feel it, Daring Do?” “How do you know my name?” “Because I listen. That’s not the point. You can hear it. It has reached out to you. The old spells failed long ago, and the ion field that the fuzzy ponies built is breaking down. The containment is leaking. The Hand is reaching out to the world, calling the living to come to it. To take it. To free it.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” lied Daring Do. Except she did. The dreams, the sensation of something floating in the void, watching her. Always watching. Sometimes whispering, since the day she had learned of its existence. Since she had been brought the information out of nowhere. As if orchestrated by some higher power. “You lie poorly. I understand the Hand better than any being, and I know the reason I was chosen to guard it. Though alive, my body is metal. I have no organic mind. The Hand cannot influence me. It reaches and reaches, but can never touch me.” “I just need to know how to get it out of here,” asked Flock. “Really.” Solum Finis’s voice had suddenly grown icy. “And why would you want to do that?” “Trust me,” said Daring Do, trying to diffuse the situation. “We don’t intend to use it- -” Solum Finis laughed. “Use it? Of course not. There is no way for you to ‘use’ it. The Trihorn Empire could not figure out how to use it, even in their darkest hour. Neither could the tiny engineers. Society has decayed. Technology has decayed. The world has moved on. The ability to ‘use’ it passed. If it ever existed.” “Then there shouldn’t be a problem,” said Rainbow Dash. “Yes. Yes there is. You have not convinced me.” “My job isn’t to convince you,” snapped Flock. “My job is to take the Hand.” “And contain it in what?” “I have a phasic dimension, a parallel reality. If I keep it there- -” “It will end that reality. Devour it. And then it will return. You. You who call yourself Corvius Flock. You of them all understand what it truly is. Yet you still insist on a path doomed to failure.” “I will succeed,” protested Flock through gritted teeth. “You might. But I have greater faith in your competitors. They at least seem competent.” “Our competitors?” asked Daring Do, feeling the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. “What do you- -” They swarmed in instantly and silently, moving with the same efficiency and stealth that White possessed: silver-clad shadows borne on white wings that flitted around the edge of the room, sealing every exit and forming a perimeter. Their weapons were drawn and raised. Sweetie Drops raised her sword and White prepared for attack, as did Rainbow Dash. Flock began to retreat, his eyes darting for places to hide. Only Solum Finis and Daring do failed to react appreciably; Solum Finis because he had no stake in the outcome, and Daring Do because this was exactly her luck. The main entrance was left open, and for a moment Daring Do could see Rainbow Dash considering it. She put her hoof on the younger mare’s shoulder and shook her head solemnly. It was not meant as an exit. It was an entrance. And it was used as such. A mare slowly entered the room, her body seeming enormous and vast in her golden, rune-inscribed power armor. She marched slowly, almost calmly, and her hooves clicked almost elegantly along the floor. On her front right limb she bore the red and white version of the Ancient Sign, and a crest involving a bell. Her mask was down and she showed no skin, but Daring Do could feel her surveying the scene. To her sides stood two white Pegasi: a stallion, and a mare in thin armor- -a mare that Rainbow Dash recognized well, even with her mask sealed. Behind the golden mare came every pony who was not a Queslord, save for one unarmored Pegasus mare with an extensive bruise around one eye and her front leg around a badly beaten Withers, who she was assisting. Caballeron was among them. He seemed pale, and his head was hung low. Daring Do had never seen him so ashamed, and she did not take joy in it. Flock immediately leapt into the air, intending to escape at any cost. There was a flash of light, and an orange bubble appeared around him. He rebounded off the top of it, and then began to struggle, pounding his hooves gains the surface. “Free me at once!” he cried, his voice cracking in a high, panicked shriek. “No,” replied the mare. Her voice was made deeper by her helmet but not otherwise impaired or distorted. Her horn, encased in a single gold spike, was glowing with pale orange as she projected the bubble- -and began a second spell simultaneously. A complicated rune appeared on the floor, drawing itself out in glowing, ornate shapes and ancient unicorn symbols. In seconds a magical circle of immense complexity had been formed, and in a flash of magic- -orange, but deeper in color than the female Questlord’s- -flashed above it, consuming the spell an integrating it into one that was vastly more powerful. The teleportation spell flashed and released a sound like thunder, followed by the dull thud of four metal-clad hooves striking the still-smoldering floor. A second Questlord stood before them. Not one of the silver-clad synthetic Pegasi, but another unicorn, this one even larger than the female beside him. His armor was more expansive but also more simplistic in design. It had the same runes, but was smoother and less vicious in appearance than the mare’s. The reduction in features was extensive to the point where his mask showed almost no indications of even containing a face. He wore a short and seemingly superfluous red cape, but it did not obscure the symbol he carried on his front limb: the same red Questlord insignia as the mare, but also an extremely complex heraldic diagram centering around an instrument that resembled a very long violin. “Grandmaster,” said the mare, saluting him. “Grand Seneschal,” he said, curtly but with clear pleasure at seeing her. “It is good to see you again. Your work is impeccable as always.” “It is admittedly not all mine.” Her mask turned slightly and knowingly toward Daring Do. “It would seem that sompeony completely deactivated the facility’s security system.” “How interesting,” laughed the Grandmaster. He turned his face toward the group of ponies. It was blank and featureless, just a smooth plate of gold. “Don’t bother resisting, wizard,” he sighed, watching as Flock struggled. “Her skill at magecraft vastly exceeds yours. If you have any to begin with.” His mask turned slightly, looking at Rainbow Dash’s chest. “Hey,” said Rainbow Dash. “My eyes are up here.” “Indeed they are. And beautiful ones at that, my dear Element of Loyalty.” Rainbow Dash blushed. “Wait, you know me?” “Of course. You are of course Rainbow Dash, the Element of Loyalty. My personal favorite Element, I might add.” Rainbow Dash blushed further. “Well, it’s just that…you know…most ponies don’t recognize me and all…” “I of course do. As I am not most ponies. What vexes me, though, is why you are carrying the technetium dial.” He turned to Flock. “Despite your appearance- -and your insistence on defiling our nature with the guise- -you are no unicorn. Nor were you ever. Without the dial, you are powerless. A pity. I had a special antimony cage constructed to contain you.” “Don’t speak to me from on-high, you inbred polyploid,” snapped Flock. “When I get out of here I will tear that dial from the genetic inferior’s chest and I will rend you into lard- -” “How pompous you are, knowing that the shield works both ways. Or thinking that it does. But you could barely rend newsprint. There is a reason you were number eight.” Flock fell silent. Daring Do, though, stepped forward. “And Daring Do herself,” said the Grandmaster, clearly smiling under his mask from the tone of his voice. “The one who made this all possible. While your gaze is reproachful, I insist on thanking you.” He bowed. The mare beside him did the same without hesitation. The Pegasi around the perimeter did the same, but never took their eyes off of Daring Do or the others. “Hopefully you understand the significance of this gesture,” said the mare. Her voice was harsh, as though she had just been done an insult. “And are capable of comprehending it.” “I am. And I do. I just wish I didn’t have to.” “Don’t sell yourself short,” said the Grandmaster. “You’ve been far more competent than certain OTHER players.” He looked over his shoulder and glared at Caballeron, who to his credit did not shrink from the gaze of the armored unicorn. “Can we put this in a can?” shouted Sweetie Drops from behind Daring Do. “Formality and formality, is that all you knights know how to do? And what is this? A cape? Gold? Are you in a parade?” The mare stepped forward, charging her horn- -but the Grandmaster stopped her with a simple gesture. “Let her speak,” he said. “She’s bating us but surely has a purpose.” “Or she is an addled farmer.” Sweetie Drops stepped past Daring do and pointed the tip of her silver sword toward the Grandmaster. “You’re a knight, aren’t you? Then I challenge you. One on one. To a duel.” “Drops!” hissed Daring Do. “We’re outnumbered and outgunned,” whispered Sweetie Drops in return. “This is our only shot!” “You have no right to challenge him,” sighed the unicorn mare. “You have no bloodline, no heritage, no claim to nobility. Duels can only be committed between knights.” “No, Carrilon,” said the Grandmaster, waving her back. “It’s fine. As a knight, part of our chivalric duty is to be gracious to the peasantry. And admittedly I’m interested in seeing if she knows how to actually use that vedmak sword. I accept her challenge.” “Of course, Grandmaster.” Carillon, the unicorn mare, shifted. In an instant she had drawn a long, red-colored sword with a serrated back. She held it by the blade and offered it to the Grandmaster. “My sword will serve you well, if you accept it.” The Grandmaster waved it away. “No, Carrilon. Swordwork was never my forte.” He slid off his cape, and the silver-clad Pegasus stallion took it from him with practiced formality, quickly folding it for safekeeping. The stallion, now clad only in golden armor, stepped forward. “Oh how exciting,” said Solum Finis, clapping his front hooves together softly. “On the first day after waking up, too.” One of his wings spread out and pushed the others back. “Give them space for the contest. And mind the pools. Don’t melt yourselves.” The silver-clad Questlords spaced out as well, lowering their weapons. A rough ring had formed, and Sweetie Drops stood across from the Grandmaster of the Order of the Red Bloom. “You know what this sword will do to you if it cuts you, right?” she asked. “Yes. Perhaps better than you do. I never forged one myself, but spent quite a bit of time dealing with those who wielded them. Systematically. And with maximum prejudice.” Sweetie Drop’s eyes narrowed. “Then I won’t accept a yield. You should know that.” “And I will only accept a yield. Despite my position, I abhor violence. However, you have outstepped your position quite badly. So I intend to humiliate you in kind.” “You’ll never get the chance.” She held up her hoof. Rainbow Dash sensed what it meant, and she threw her the amulet from around her neck. Sweetie Drops caught it and slipped it on. Though it was from the wrong school, the effect was immediate. Without a cry or a grimace, she shot forward, her blade whistling through the air. The unicorn summoned a powerful shield spell. On contact, the runes of the vedmak sword ignited with violet light and cleaved the orange field with ease. The unicorn appeared to have anticipated this. He had moved forward behind the opacity of the shield, relying on his power armor to enhance his speed. He parried Sweetie Drops’s blade with the armor on his foreleg. His runes flared with orange light as they met those of Sweetie Drops’s sword, and though of different languages they ignited together, throwing out a plume of multicolored sparks. “Oh WOW!” cried Rainbow Dash. She reared up. “GET HIM! Poke a hole! POKE A HOLE!!” The unicorn twisted almost acrobatically, preparing for a sudden kick. The amulet around Sweetie Drops’s neck twisted imperceptibly, and she reacted without seeing the blow coming. She raised her sword and braced the blade with one hoof, deflecting the block. Despite escaping the blow, she was thrown back. Although the unicorn had no sword, his strength while wearing power armor was vastly superior to Sweetie Drops’s. As was his speed. Which made it a question of agility. Sweetie Drops changed tactics. She formed a sign with her hooves and her body seemed to partially vanish. She rushed forward like the wind, flipping through the air with acrobatics that even White found impressive. The unicorn summoned another shield spell, but Sweetie Drops sidestepped it. She struck him in the head, but to no effect. His horn was armored and protected from blows. “USE A SPELL!” cried Rainbow Dash. “DO IT!” Except that Sweetie Drops could not. Daring Do already knew that. The spells were artificial, derived from the use of the cursed amulet. For Sweetie Drops, they were no more powerful than Daring Do’s ability to use simple zebra rhyme-spells or Flock’s ability to produce lights. Worse, using them injured her. Despite her training, she was no vedmak- -and the Grandmaster seemed to know this. He did not gloat, though. In fact he did not speak at all. None of the Questlords did. They simply watched, almost impassively. As if the outcome were already forgone. The Grandmaster struck again. Daring Do suddenly understood. Though weakened by the use of the amulet, Sweetie Drop’s gambit had been successful. She had learned that although strong, the Grandmaster was not agile. His armor was too heavy and too inflexible. In that regard, Sweetie Drops had the advantage. She leapt up again. He struck at her with a beam, but she twirled in midair, breaking part of the beam with her rune-sword. The Grandmaster took a step back, and Sweetie Drops landed with one hoof on his horn. Due to his strength, his head was not pushed down, but that was exactly what Sweetie Drops had expected. She used him as a springboard to land on his back. For just a moment, she seemed to pause in midair. Daring Do saw her eyes, and where she was looking- -and remembered being in almost the same position, staring at the air-handling systems of one of the Pegasi back in southern Equestria. She had been doing what Sweetie Drops was now: finding a weakness. And Sweetie Drops found one. She drew her sword and slashed. The Grandmaster struck her directly with a wide-field explosion, sending her hurdling across the room and toward the Questlord mare. “Get up, earth-pony,” said the mare, with some level of disinterested contempt. “Do not insult him. Keep fighting.” “Shut your cake hole,” swore Sweetie Drops, lifting herself up- -and smiling as she saw the Grandmaster lurch to one side. Fluid poured out of his armor, boiling into acrid smoke as it touched the ground. Sweetie Drops had cut deep, and although his body had been untouched his armor had been badly damaged. Half of it had now been rendered nonfunctional. The Grandmaster took an awkward step forward, and Sweetie Drops lunged. He raised a spell against her, but she cut through it. He parried, but in his unbalanced state he was nearly thrown over. Sweetie Drops struck again, this time striking a harder part of his armor. The runes protected him, but the sword left a deep gouge. He punched before she could thrust, forcing her to flip and jump back. “Smart,” he said. “Ha, I applaud you, vedmak-girl!” He reached up toward his mask. An exploding bolt detonated in his mask, and it hissed as he tore it off. His long silver mane fell out over his teal face, and his orange eyes blinked in the dim light. Daring Do gasped, because she knew that pony. “Dulcimer?!” He turned toward her and smiled. A welcoming smile, like that of an old friend, with all the awkwardness of an academic with patched elbows on his coat. Daring Do did not understand- -and yet realized all-too late what she had just done. Dulcimer’s eyes suddenly widened as Sweetie Drops struck him in the chest. She pushed with all her might, and he was pushed back- -until the sword burst out his back and sunk into his chest up to the hilt. One of the Pegasi- -the only one strong enough to not be silenced by her horror, the one who secretly called herself Absence- -screamed. “GRANDMASTER!” Sweetie Drops smiled and looked the unicorn in the eye. Then she twisted the sword hard to the left for good measure. Dulcimer’s head slumped. “I told you,” she whispered through her ragged breath. “I told you I wouldn’t accept a yield…” Dulcimer looked up without a hint of pain on his face and smiled. “And I told you I intended to humiliate you.” There was a sudden flash of motion as Dulcimer’s hoof- -the one that had moments before been nearly paralyzed by the failure of his power armor- -slammed into Sweetie Drops’s chest. Her eyes bugged and her mouth shot open, showering Dulcimer with saliva. She was thrown backward with such force that the white Pegasi were barely able to duck in time to avoid her striking the stone wall behind them. The distance was at least four meters, and Dulcimer crossed it in two strides. He struck again. Sweetie Drops raised one of her forelegs to block. When Dulcimer struck it there was a horrible crack, and the force of his blow completely ignored her outstretched limb and continued into her face. Sweetie Drops cried out in rage and desperation and flailed with her other hoof. A mighty earth-pony punch landed on Dulcimer’s cheek, one so loud that Daring Do could almost feel the force even at a distance. Dulcimer’s head turned almost imperceptibly from the force. Sweetie Drops struck again in the same spot. Once again, Dulcimer barely reacted, apart from pulling back his hoof and driving it directly into Sweetie Drop’s chest where her ribs met her belly. She did not cry out, but her legs buckled. She fell, grabbing desperately at Dulcimer as she did, trying to claw at his armor. He stamped her again, and she was still. Breathing, but still. Dulcimer stepped back. Sweetie Drops’s sword was still inserted in his chest with its point still emerging from his back. He looked down at it and linked his hoof through the silver loop in its hilt. “I’ll never understand why earth-ponies have such an insistence that they monopolize physical strength,” he said. He was not out of breath, tired, or in pain- -or seemingly injured in any way. With one swift motion he pulled the sword free of his body. He twirled it with far more precision than would be expected from one who never studied swordsmanship. “I don’t know what you expected this to do. If the white horn of an accursed false-god through my heart could not slay me, then what could this do?” He laughed, and held the sword aloft in his magic. The runes resisted his magic, igniting with force against the spell. The sword shook, but Dulcimer’s grip on it only tightened. Their glow rose from violet to white hot, ringing out as though the sword were screaming. Sweetie Drops, still conscious, could do nothing but watch. Dulcimer did seem to even notice the sword’s rebellion and how it reacted to his spell, or how brightly the sword had begun to glow. His magic never faltered. The air was filled with a high, final ring as the runes overloaded. The sword was ripped apart from within, reduced to white-hot slivers of silver that ignited in the atmosphere, raining down as shining ash. From across the room, Daring Do saw Sweetie Drops close her eyes against the tears within them. Dulcimer smiled, and then kicked her one last time. Just lightly, though. Then he turned back to Carillon, walking across the floor with no difficulty even as his power armor resisted every step. “Grandmaster,” said the pony Absence. She bowed deeply. “Congratulations, your lordship. Such an impressive victory. All of us here are honored to have witnessed it.” “It was hardly a victory,” snapped Carillon. “A minor diversion. Do not speak out of turn, daughter.” “And do not be so quick to dismiss her, Carillon. Had she a horn on her brow, she would be standing in gold and at your side within as little as five years. She even twisted. But a duel is a duel, and it must be served to its honorable conclusion.” “You call that honorable?!” cried Rainbow Dash. Dulcimer turned slowly toward her and smiled. “Yes. Yes I do.” “Alright! That’s it! I don’t care if you ARE guy-Lyra, I’m going to bop you one square in the snoot!” “No you’re not.” “Like Luna’s starry fetlocks I’m not- -” There was a sudden blur of silver and white. In an instant, an armored Pegasus appeared in front of Rainbow Dash. “Absence?” “I’m sorry, Rainbow Dash.” Absence jabbed, her hoof striking the dial in Rainbow Dash’s chest. Rainbow Dash’s eyelids fluttered and her whole body quivered. Then she fell limply to the floor. “DASH!” cried Daring Do. Absence bent down and held a hoof to Rainbow Dash’s neck. “No pulse,” she said, her voice immediately wavering and her hoof suddenly shaking. “Of course not,” said the Dulcimer. “She has advanced iocane poisoning. She’ll be fine.” His eyes met Absence’s optics. They were cold, but at the same time mild enough to make him appear mildly bemused. “What did she call you? ‘Absence’?” “A name?” snapped Carillon. “Mother, please, I needed it to maintain my cover- -” Carillon held up her hoof. Absence stiffened and fell silent, and then bowed without a further word. Dulcimer was not looking at her. He was instead staring unblinkingly at Daring Do. Strangely, Daring Do wondered if she had ever seen him blink at all. She took a breath, trying to calm herself. She wanted to run forward herself and, as Rainbow Dash had so quaintly phrased it, “boop him in the snoot”. That, of course, was an impossibility. She had already seen what had happened to Flock, Sweetie Drops, and now Rainbow Dash. The only one left other than her was White, and if Daring Do went down, White would have nopony left to protect her. “Dulcimer,” she said. “You betrayed me. So much for Loyalty, huh?” Dulcimer smiled and shook his head. “Dishonesty is not the same as disloyalty. I have no allegiance to. There is nothing to be loyal to.” “And here I thought we were friends.” “I like to think we are. And admittedly I do feel somewhat ashamed for coming to you under false pretenses. However this could not have been accomplished without you, or with your far less competent rival.” “You’ve been pulling me the whole time. Showing up, telling me things. Letting a little bit of information at a time. But you already knew. You knew the whole time.” “I did. And as expected, you brought me right to the Hand of Doom.” “Hence why he thanked you earlier,” noted Solum Finis, who clearly sensed no danger in this situation- -and whose help Daring Do knew she could not count on under any circumstances. He seemed to have already chosen as side, or was just too neutral to be able to see the difference between them. “But how?” Daring Do glared into Dulcimer’s orange eyes. “That’s the question I can’t answer. You were always there. Showing up right where I was. And showing up here. Caballeron couldn’t have figured out where we were. But you did.” “Not actually. If you must know, I used a locator spell. I gave it to you in Singapone.” “Impossible!” cried Flock, suddenly standing and scratching at his magical prison. “The golem- -I took it from her! I insulated it! You couldn’t have possibly tracked it!” Daring Do’s eyes widened with realization. “The figurine…” Dulcimer laughed and with surprising speed approached the sphere that contained Flock. “Because by then I already understood that you were involved, and taking her side. And unlike her I know exactly what you are.” “You have no idea what I am. Or what I’m capable of.” “No. I know both with great precision. For example: I knew that on seeing my shiny, intricate little golem, you would be distracted by its workmanship and quality. At the adorable little clockwork mechanisms and how much effort and skill it took to inscribe such a powerful spell onto something so small. But you’re no unicorn, and no mage. It never occurred to you that the golem was just the vector.” Flock’s eyes widened, and he began swearing in a complicated clicking language. Dulcimer just laughed and took a step back. “You’re still infected with the spell, Ms. Do. And I’m afraid I’m going to have to use one of its secondary functions right now. We will talk, of course, but at the moment there is a great deal of preparation to attend to.” His horn glowed, and Daring Do suddenly felt her whole body being overcome with a strange feeling. It was like something cold had just moved through her veins, and her whole body had tightened in response. Then the world faded and she fell, just as Rainbow Dash did. The last thing she saw before being rendered unconscious was White staring back at her. She wondered if it would be the last time she ever saw the girl. Then there was nothing except sleep. White was left as the last pony standing. She looked out at the others. She was surrounded completely, mostly by her brothers and sisters. Brothers and sisters that she loved- -and yet now was so very afraid of. Something hurt inside her that she did not understand. Had she known more words, she would have known that she felt deeply betrayed. Absence approached where Daring Do lay. Absence, the eldest sister. Not the oldest, but the most important, the most beloved. Absence, who had been the only one of them smart enough and brave enough to take her own name. A name that White wondered if she had truly earned. White hissed and covered Daring Do’s body, forcing Absence back. She lashed out, striking with her power-armor covered hoof. Absence was fast, but rather than parry or attack, she simply stepped back. Her helmet retracted, and a pair of perfect red eyes stared back at White. Eyes that nopony had felt the need to replace. “Sister,” she said. “Please. You’re confused, and perhaps injured. Stand down.” White tried to growl. When that did not work, she just hissed again, defending Daring Do from the approach of her confused siblings. Siblings who must have hated her, even though she knew what she was doing was right. “Sister,” repeated Absence. “We just want to help you. This is your last warning. I will fight you, if I have to. And I will win.” Carillon placed a golden hoof on Absence’s shoulder. “No,” she said. “Absence, was it? Stand down yourself. I’m interested in seeing how this turns out.” Carillon retracted her own helmet. White shuddered with emotions that were strong but unnamable when she looked upon the familiar face of her mother. The which was the only one she had seen with her own eyes, staring out through thick glass before she had even been born. “Daughter,” said Carillon. Her voice was even and authoritative, but not hateful or angry. Carillon took a step forward, and White took one back- -or nearly did so, as any retreat would leave Daring Do exposed. “If I am correct,” continued Carillon, “you are right now experiencing a very unusual paradox of emotion. In a technical sense, your imprinting aspect is badly defective. You love your sisters and brothers, but you’ve imprinted on me…and her as well. It should be impossible but it has happened.” White glared at her, and then gestured with a shaking hoof to the scars in her throat. Carillon smiled. “Yes,” she said. “I’m the one who took your voice. And your eyes. And some other things you’ll only notice when you grow a little bit older. But I’m also the one who gave you life. From my own flesh. From an unbroken but diluted link to the Heartstrings bloodline.” White shook her head. She knew what was coming, and she knew that she would not be able to do what would be asked of her. Carillon’s voice began to rise with excitement, although only imperceptibly. “Now you’re faced with a paradox. To save her, you have to fight me. Refuse to fight and you lose her. My programming applies to us both- -but which will you choose?” Carrilon’s sword emerged from its scabbard and she took it in her magic. She pointed it at Daring Do, and White threw herself in front of the stationary point. “Self-sacrifice is not adequate. Self-sacrifice is NEVER adequate. I did not build you to be a martyr, I built you to be a tool. You are advancing my science, helping me determine how to mate your siblings for the next generation. CHOOSE, daughter. Choose or lose both of us.” White took an angry step forward, but then another one back. She shook her head in agony, trying to clear the emotions- -but she could not escape them. She had begun to weep silently. “Mother,” pleaded Absence. “Please. Please don’t ask this of her.” “Please,” said another. “Mother, she loves you.” “We all love you.” “Please don’t hurt our sister.” “Don’t make her strike first, she can’t.” “None of us could.” “Quiet,” said Carillon, calmly. “Quiet all of you.” They obeyed. Even Absence, who had given herself a name, obeyed their mother. Yet White only did because that very same mother had taken her ability to speak. The ability to ever be heard, to say what she was feeling. To connect to another pony, whether it be Sword-horse- -who now lay unconscious and badly injured- -or Pretty-Dash, who did not even fear the fact that her heart no longer beat- -or the Wizard, who White desired nothing more than to scream obscenities at and hurt as he had hurt her. And Daring Do. The pony that her mind called ‘mother’. Because of her real mother’s programming. It was an illusion, to both of them, and White finally understood this- -but it was a shadow as hard as iron that ran through her entire being. They were both her mother- -but they were different. One had stood by her when others doubted her, accepted her when she was strange and violent, and done her best to protect her. A mother who had sat by a fire with her and talked about how sad life had made her. The other had done nothing but take from her- -and from her beloved brothers and sisters. One who saw her as a means toward an end. She loved both, but understood that the decision had been made. White drew her pocket knife. She unfolded it and, with tears running from her synthetic eyes, charged Carillon. There was a flash of orange. Horrible pain as her nervous system overloaded. White felt herself fall forward, the blade dropping from her hoof. She landed on Carillon’s shoulder. Carillon looked at her with her one eye that still saw, and then unceremoniously shoved her to the floor. “Interesting,” she said. “How very interesting.” She sighed. “Such a waste, though.”