//------------------------------// // Chapter 5: That Which Remains // Story: To Serve In Hell // by CoffeeMinion //------------------------------// Rarity broke the silence: “How did you know her?” She turned her head, studying Dash’s face, watching her swallow, and seeing the skin around her eyes pull tight. “Compose yourself, Sergeant,” Sassy said. “Your new responsibilities won’t see to themselves.” Dash stepped backwards, jaw moving soundlessly, eyes darting to and fro. “R-responsibilities,” she said, breathing deep and fast. She shook her head again and winced, pressing a hoof to her forehead. “No… the Guardian, Zecora, and now—” she gestured towards the prone filly “—her?” “I said, compose yourself!” Sassy shouted. She drew back a forehoof, aiming it at Dash’s face. Rarity lit her horn and grabbed Sassy’s foreleg with her magic. Sassy turned, meeting Rarity’s eyes. “She's just witnessed a good mare being cast into Tartarus,” Rarity said in a faltering voice. “Not everypony’s heart is cold enough to bear such sights dispassionately.” Sassy bristled as if she’d been struck. “How dare you speak of me as if I don’t care! I’ve no desire to watch the Mistress dole out punishment. I simply refuse to compromise my standards for the sake of mere sentiment.” “Lower your hoof,” Rarity ordered. “As you wish,” Sassy said as she pulled her hoof back. Rarity released it from her magic. “Now if we’re quite done, we should secure the Hellshard in the Mistress’ vault and make ready to depart for Canterlot. I shan’t need to prepare; I like to keep a bag packed. Who would like to carry our young charge?” “Wait,” Dash said. Her eyes were still wide, and her muscles still seemed taut, but there was a plaintive aspect to her expression as well. “Sassy… you carry her. I need some time. To, uh… talk to Rarity.” “Excuse me?” Sassy scoffed. “You think to order me around, as you would a mere servant?” Rarity drew herself up and met Sassy’s eyes. “Recall that she now occupies both of our stations.” A tense moment passed between them. Sassy grumbled, but backed away, and turned to pick up the filly. Rarity took a deep breath. “Sergeant Dash, the Hellshard.” Dash slowly reached down and raised the coffin-shaped piece of dark metal in a trembling hoof, regarding it as if it might bite her. A few moments later, she tucked it into her armor. Rarity and Dash set off walking ahead of Sassy, who seemed to be slowed by her burden. The ponies walked in silence for several minutes, accompanied only by the sounds of hooves on stone, the faint creaking of armor, and Dash’s heavy breathing. They turned corner after corner, eventually arriving at the guardpost before the entrance to one of the castle’s tallest towers. A small squad of guards eyed them briefly before waving them on to the tower’s antechamber, which was bare but for the steep spiral staircase that ascended until vanishing in the stygian heights. “I’ll understand if you prefer to fly,” Rarity said. Dash flexed a wing, then grimaced and folded it back up. “N-no, I’d rather walk with you. If that’s all right.” “It is. It could even be a chance to talk, if you still wish it.” After taking a long, ragged breath, Dash nodded. “Y’know how most of the ponies who followed you when Nightmare Moon destroyed Ponyville made it out in one piece?” Rarity gave a small sigh, then started up the staircase. “Zecora didn’t.” “Yeah, but that’s different,” Dash said, moving to catch up with Rarity. “Do you remember when Nightmare Moon attacked the… the Princess?” Her last word was but a whisper. “How could I not?” Rarity squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, unable to suppress the mental images of City Hall crumbling around her, or the ground opening up in pools of fire, or ponies being swept down into Tartarus dozens at a time. “I also remember helping organize the Summer Sun Celebration, inviting all of Ponyville into that small, confined space, and even helping to secure the Princess’ attendance.” “You were just doing your job,” Dash snapped. “You couldn’t have known what would happen.” “I take that as cold comfort,” Rarity said, fighting a tremor in her voice. Dash’s shoulders sagged. “I’m sorry. Look, the filly… her name’s Scootaloo. I don’t know why, but she always looked up to me. Like I was more than just a washout from the Cloudsdale Weather Institute. Like I wasn’t just some loser crashing on a friend’s couch, trying to figure out what to do next.” Rarity turned to look at her one-time friend, studying the patterns of shadow on her taut face. “I take it she was one of the ponies your group lost when you tried to surrender?” “I failed her,” Dash said, her voice breaking. "I failed all of them. And I knew she’d been in Tartarus ever since, but now… now I have to find something to say to her, if she’ll even be able to understand me. I mean, I’ve heard about some of the others who came back…” “I understand,” Rarity said, trying not to dwell on what had become of poor Diamond Tiara. “But we each saved who we could, and none of us could’ve anticipated the fire and insanity that have since come over Tartarus.” Dash didn’t meet her eyes. “I thought Zecora died forever ago.” “Yes, that was rather the idea. Redheart and I didn't know what to do after she was condemned; we couldn’t free her, but neither could we stand by, doing nothing. Though I fear the Mistress may be right about what we ultimately accomplished.” “It was good of you to try,” Dash said. “Neither of our groups would’ve lasted as long as they did out in the Everfree without Zecora’s help. I just wish… I dunno. I never figured out why she didn’t like me.” Rarity raised an eyebrow. “Whatever do you mean?” “I don't know. It wasn't anything she said… it was how she looked at me. Like she kept expecting me to do something.” They reached a small landing at the top of the stairs. A pair of torches burned in sconces set on either side of a large, ancient metal door with a sturdy brass handle. Dash reached into her armor and took out the ensorcelled keyring. She hoofed through the keys for a moment, then paused and glared at them. “Seriously, how am I supposed to know what all of these go to?” She gestured toward Rarity. “Do you mind?” Rarity hesitated. “The first thing you must know about bearing those keys is that the Mistress will know—and will likely be displeased—if they should leave your possession, just the same as with the Hellshard.” She studied the keyring for a moment, then pointed at a key that looked particularly heavy and oblong. “I believe it's that one. And don't worry, I’ll leave you with instructions about the ones you’ll need most often.” Dash raised the chosen key to a keyhole at the center of the door, turned it, and heaved at the door’s handle. Rarity’s ears flattened as it protested even more loudly than the prison doors had. Within was a pitch-black chamber whose features were only barely suggested by the few stray lances of light that shone in from the outer sconces. Rarity turned to Dash, studying the thestral’s look of uncertainty, before turning back and lighting her horn. Tiny reflections glinted back at her from the cavernous room’s long rows of glass display cases, and from the precious artifacts therein. Rarity strode into the room, first eyeing a set of jeweled daggers, before turning her gaze on a pair of heavy-rimmed goggles displayed upon a plaque that bore the eight-pointed star of Chaos. A faint nagging buzzed at the base of her horn. She turned her head on instinct, looking for the source of the feeling, if it even had a source. Though uncertain of whether she was on the right track, Rarity found her eyes drawn toward another display case—this one fairly large. She paused and examined the five head-sized stone orbs held within. They were smooth and nondescript, but each bore outlines of different, simple images carved upon their surface. “I recognize these,” she said, furrowing her brow and leaning closer. “They were among the Princess’ effects that she brought to the Summer Sun Celebration—” She startled as the door began to squeal again, closing seemingly of its own volition. “Well that’s not creepy,” Dash deadpanned. “Another of our Mistress’ security measures.” Rarity glanced back at the stone orbs for a moment, then shook herself and looked around the vault again. “Ah, here we are.” The pair approached a set of small, square, marble-accented doors set at head-height in one of the walls. Each door had a single keyhole inset into their otherwise smooth surfaces. “I believe the ones on the right are mostly empty,” Rarity said. “Sergeant Dash, if you would? It’s going to be one of the very shortest keys.” Dash fumbled with the keyring, but after several failed attempts, she found a key that fit one of the doors. It opened slowly, swinging on cleverly concealed hinges to reveal a long, empty safe deposit box. “Good riddance,” Dash said, dropping the Hellshard into the box, then closing the door and locking it. “Now, wanna bet Sassy stopped following us at some point and decided to get some more practice with tripping over her own hooves?” Rarity stifled a chuckle. “The door, please, Sergeant.” Dash rolled her eyes, but smiled, before crossing to the door and grasping its handle. Again, with much effort and the protestation of metal, it began to swing open. Light from Rarity’s horn shone out upon the landing at the top of the stairs. “Hold on,” Dash said, looking back at her with furrowed brows. “Did you magic out the torches after we went inside?” “No,” Rarity said, frowning. She approached the door and peered around it, first spotting Scootaloo lying on the ground, then— “Well, finally,” said a familiar voice. Rarity looked over at a cloaked figure at the far side of the landing. One of his forehooves pressed the unconscious form of Sassy Saddles against the wall. Something shiny glinted in his other. “Miss Rarity, you oughtta know this hasn’t gone the way I planned,” said the stallion who she’d first seen down in the dungeons. “I’m sorry that your friend here had to go and make things complicated. How’s about we cut her down to size?” And with that, he drew a slash of livid red across her throat.