The Epic of a Diamond Dog

by Ravencrofte


Ch. 15 part 3 Monsters, Old Enemies, and Fire

I didn’t move so much as react: drawing my sword and driving it into the zombie’s skull. The zombie still thrashed about, just now resembling a unicorn with my sword sticking out of its head. I stepped forward to retrieve my blade, but my paws began to shake uncontrollably.

Finally, Honey Apple stepped in and lopped off it head. She removed any parts of the zombie from my sword and handed it back to me. “Are you alright?” she asked.

There was no way I couldn’t be alright. There was no other option but to be alright. We were in the middle of a battle. We had to keep on fighting. We had to win. At least I told myself all of this, even as my world started to tilt sideways and swim in and out of focus.

I started to answer but screams and shouts erupted all around us. Right before us, a pony backed away from a zombie rising from the ground, only to be bitten in the heel by another. Honey Apple ran over to help.

“Ember? What’s happening to you?” asked Kitty Hawk. Her words were thick and distorted. They came in waves and booms.

“I’ve got to get through this,” I mumbled to myself. “I’ve got to keep moving, I’ve got to keep fighting.” My sword betrayed my trembling paws. I tightened my grip, but that only made the shaking worse. I gripped it tightly with both paws.

“Ember?” persisted Kitty Hawk.

Whatever she had to say didn’t matter. There was no way I could stop. I had to keep going. I had to get her home. “Keep fighting,” I told myself, “have to save Kitty Hawk.”

Kitty Hawk was shouting something, waving her arms frantically. I couldn’t even hear her. Sound and sight were shifting through fields of grey.

I kept repeating my words over and over, turning it into a mantra: “Just keep fighting. Just keep fighting. Just keep fighting.” My legs were beginning to shake. I stumbled but caught myself on one knee.

Two hooves reached over and gently pried the blade from my paws. The sword clattered to the ground at my feet. I was gently guided to a passing cart.

“Fluorescent Nightingale,” came Honey Apple’s voice somewhere nearby. “Ember’s in a bad way. Load him up with the wounded and see what you can do.”

A magical field snatched me up and deposited me in the cart. Said cart was filled with four ponies, all in bad shape: two were missing limbs, one had a bloody bandage wrapped around his head, and the last had been run through with a spear. The speared pony chose that moment to start coughing up blood and pieces of lung.

Fluorescent turned on the pony, fire raging in her eyes. “Don’t you die on me!” she roared, horn glowing bright. She ripped open a package and shoved a cocktail of liquids down the ponies throat before binding his wounds.The poor pony couldn’t even protest his rough treatment.

There was a clatter at my feet. I looked down to find my sword. Picking up the blade, my paw automatically conformed to the rough bound handle. I looked to the wounded ponies. Compared to the rest of the poor whelps in the wagon, I was still in good shape. “I can still fight,” I protested and started to rise.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Fluorescent Nightingale turned her fury upon me. She began her examination, finally locking eyes with me. “That's a hell of a concussion,” she concluded and started pulling out more potions. My protests were drowned in a mixture that burned and bubbled on its way down. I was left hacking and coughing.

Fluorescent Nightingale nodded in satisfaction. “That should elevate most of the symptoms, but if you keep this up, it’s only going to get worse. Just sit and rest.” She turned to her other patients.

A head and two hooves appeared over the lip of the wagon. The skin hung loosely to one side of the face. The stench was overpowering. It two black eyes settled on me. “There you are,” said the zombie. It started to pull the rest of its rotten self up and over.

Twin hooves smashed into the zombie’s head. Bone crunched. The ruined face turned towards its attacker, only for Fluorescent Nightingale to launch another pulverizing buck. Its head shot back, neck snapped, and the zombie collapsed to the ground.

Only once the zombie was burning did Nightingale turn her wrath on the poor soul hitched to the wagon. She shouted, “Get this bucket moving or I’ll cut you into little pieces and feed you to the zombies myself!” The threat flew over the head of our decapitated driver.

Fluorescent roared at the corpse, rage rolling off of her in great waves of steam. She ripped the body from the harness and strapped herself in its place. “It’s going to be a bumpy ride,” she hollered. The cart shot forwards, and I tumbled backwards, striking my head against the wooden railing.

My head was ringing again. It throbbed inside my skull. Each bounce only intensified the pain.

For a moment, I couldn’t remember where or who I was. There was a wooden railing in front of me and a smoke-filled sky overhead. It was impossible to move, so I just listened: the thunder of hooves, the ring of metal on metal, the strain and groans of the wagon.

My face repeatedly smacked against the rough wood of the cart. There was a big bounce, and I went airborne before crashing back down. My sword was getting in the way, so I grabbed it.

Why did I have a sword? And why was I in a wagon? There were ponies, and Kitty Hawk, and Fluorescence Nightingale, and a battle. I finally sat up. Fluorescent Nightingale was screaming again, “Get out of my way,” and carved through a zombie with a beam of fire.

Another zombie lunged at her but collapsed halfway as if its strings had been cut. Black mist rose from its body and condensed into a black cloud. “He’s coming back!” shouted Honey Apple. Previously engaged ponies now took flight. Pegasi hovered overhead.

Scrap, once more a monstrous dog, scanned the ground before centering on me. “Now I’ll kill you!” he boomed. Scrap dropped to all fours. Instead of charging after me, he collapsed to the ground. Scrap looked and discovered half of his right arm was missing. “What kind of trickery is this?” he yelled, waving the stump in the air.

“The kind where you burn!” Honey Apple hurled another bag of Liquid Fire at him. An arrow zipped in, but Scrap caught it in his hand. The bag of Liquid Fire was absorbed by his body.

“You’ve caused quite enough trouble,” said Scrap, and he struck Honey Apple. His massive paw lifted her off the ground. She sailed through the air, hit the ground once, twice, and rolled to a stop in a cloud of dust.

“Honey Apple!” The cry had barely left my lips but I was already out of the cart and stumbling towards her. I had to get to her side. Silently I uttered, “Please let her be alive.”

Each step felt like the ground was trying to swallow me up. My head throbbed. Darkness once more crept into my vision. Somewhere Fluorescent Nightingale was hurling death threats at me.

Honey Apple was lying on her side, her green coat and yellow hair slowly turning red. There was no movement.

I knelt in the dust by her side. Slowly, tentatively, lovingly, I rolled her towards me. A trickle of blood escaped down the side of her mouth. Her tongue rolled to one side. With great apprehension, I placed my ear on her chest. Her heart was beating slowly and her breathing was labored, but she was alive.

“You know, you should really take a mare to dinner first before getting this close.”

If I could have done so, I would have leapt away, but it hurt too much. A fierce blush was rising to my face, and I forcefully pushed it back down. In the end, I settled for not looking too embarrassed.

The words were on the tip of my tongue. There they squirmed and fluttered, trying to escape the confines of my mouth. I mulled them around, debating, and finally caved. “I care,” I admitted. “I had to make sure you were all right.”

Her grin was pained. Those sparkling eyes brimmed with tears. She reached up a bloody hoof and touched my cheek. “It hurts to breathe right now, but Fluorescent Nightingale will fix it.”

Rocks jumped. The ground shook. Towering high above, Scrap advanced on our position. “Time to finish this,” he said.

The air filled with the mighty roar of a thousand screaming voices. Then a lance of fire split the sky. It sliced through Scrap’s head and into his belly where it ignited the Liquid Fire trapped there. The subsequent explosion spewed flaming bits across the landscape.

Fluorescent Nightingale collapsed next to me, still strapped into the wagon, her blackened horn smoking. “I’m done,” she said and promptly passed out.

“Ember,” said Honey Apple through clenched teeth, “I suspect there will be another wave of zombies. You need to get out of here. Leave us and go.”

“Not very likely,” I said and got to my feet. Grabbing Honey Apple around her barrel, I heaved her into the cart. Next to her I placed the unconscious Fluorescent Nightingale.

“What about the zombies?” asked Honey Apple.

“While they’re gnawing on my ankles, I’ll chop their heads off.” The complicated pony harness would require more time to figure out than I had to give. Instead, I grabbed the lead rope in my mouth and started to pull.

The cart was heavy with its load. Its wheels creaked and wood groaned. But soon we were up to speed, with my passenger bouncing along. I set my sights on the river.

A zombie’s head burst above the ground and snapped fiercely at me. I stepped on the offending head and pushed on. A jerk on the rope shifted the cart just enough for a wheel to pass over and crush the zombie’s skull.

Something smashed into the cart. The rope was ripped from my mouth, and for a moment there I thought it would flip. The cart rolled perilously on two wheels, before crashing back on all four. I looked and saw two more zombies throw themselves against the wood. Once again, the cart rocked dangerously to one side. Tearing myself from the cart, I drew my sword and advanced. “Come and taste my steel!” I cried.

The zombies turned towards me, lowered their heads, and collectively charged me. Then something zipped out of the sky and pinned one zombie to its neighbor. Each tripped up the other, and they crashed.

A young pegasus hovered nearby, reloading his crossbow. “I’ve got you covered. Get across the river!” he called. I nodded in thanks. Once more I grabbed the rope and pushed on.

Another zombie came at me head on. A feathered shaft took the zombie in the leg and stitched it to his side. The zombie continued on three legs. “Don’t you have any fire?’ I called to the pegasus.

The former garbled a “No” around his bowstring as he locked it into place. “I’ve got arrows,” replied the pegasus as he notched another and fired. This one knocked the zombie off his hooves.

“I’ve got one!” shouted a white fuzzball as she flashed in overhead. Kitty Hawk had to flare her wings before taking aim and dropping her payload. The bottle burst and covered the zombie in flames.

The great clear waters of the Friendship River lay just ahead. Many ponies stood apprehensively on the opposite bank. I didn’t need to count to know that many comrades were missing.

Something broke inside. I wept and cried and shouted for the ponies who lay dead on the field behind me. They were gone, and for what? Because an old enemy of mine wanted revenge. Silently I took a vow: no more, save one, would die today.

I doubled my efforts, putting on a burst of speed. The wagon bounced violently behind me. My head was throbbing, my chest ached, and once again darkness clawed at my vision.

“Here come more!” shouted the pegasus. Five zombies moved to cut us off from the river. I growled in anger but turned away. Somewhere there had to be a ford I could cross.

“I’ve got them!” said a new arrival at my side. It was a mare, bloodied, but still carrying her spear and shield.

“Protect the cart!” I shouted at her through the rope.

“But I can help drive them off!” shouted the mare.

Honey Apple appeared at the edge of the cart. She spat blood and then yelled, “Do as he says, Honeysuckle. We need help getting across the river.”

“You got it, boss,” replied Honeysuckle.

Up ahead was a large, shallow pool. I turned and plunged in. The freezing water soon was up to my chest. I strained for the bottom, tugging and pulling, moving ever forwards.

The wagon slowed in the soft river mud. Quickly it sucked in the wheels and refused to yield. Honeysuckle pushed fiercely from behind but achieved little.

There was a multitude of splashing behind me. I turned and saw the zombies coming in after us. Hastily, I turned to face them, swords in paw.

One zombie was ahead of the rest. The former unicorn lowered its head and tried to skewer me. I slashed at its face, but my sword got stuck in its skull. Now the unicorn was on top of me, and we plunged underwater.

My back hit the body bottom, casting up a cloud of silt. I tried to first roll and then get my legs under me. Four hooves shoved me back down. They pinned into place while the water pressed in from all sides.

That precious breath of air was quickly running out. My lungs burned with the effort. I grabbed and clawed at my attacker. Each movement was slow and sluggish.

His oppressive weight pushed me down into the river. Deeper and deeper I sank. The surface sparkled up above. Desperately, I stretched a paw out to reach it.

Then the weight was lifted. I shot to the surface and gasped. It was now my opponent's turn to be underwater, pinned there by Honeysuckle’s spear and the mare standing proudly, if tired, on top of him.

“Fire!” The approaching zombies were instantly turned into pincushions as many arrows pierced each one. Several wings of pegasus swooped in with spears and swords. Whole zombies were carried out of the water where they were dismembered into smaller and smaller pieces.

“We’ve got wounded here!” I shouted.

More pegasi moved in and carried out the wounded. Honey Apple only mildly protested. Another pegasus moved in and offered me a hoof. I declined, instead retrieving my sword and trudging towards the opposite bank. I emerged from the water: wet, freezing, half-drowned, exhausted, but triumphant. The same could not be said for those around me.

The wounded were laid out on the ground. They screamed and shouted and cried for loved ones while a multitude of ponies, mostly pegasi, attended to them. Other ponies just sat, hugging themselves or others. Grizzled veterans just stared off into nothing. A pony threw herself into the river; the water turned pink as the blood and gore was washed from her armor.

It was too much. One faulty step, and the ground rose up to meet me. Darkness opened her arms. Consciousness wavered. Sounds and sights moved in a blur. My only focus was simply breathing: in and out, in and out. Time faded.

“Here he comes!” shouted some pony.

“Fire!”

“I’ll kill you all!”

“Ember!”

I was roughly grabbed and dragged away from the river. My rescuer grunted and groaned. “Can you get any heavier?” they cursed.

Scrap howled at us from the opposite bank. His once-monstrous body was thin, almost wispy. He pounded the ground in rage with his stumpy arms. Scrap’s one good leg looked comical when compared to its half-sized partner. “I will kill you!” he shouted.

I wrenched myself free from my rescuer and dropped to all fours. The ground once again tried to claim me. I stood fast until the wave of dizziness had passed. Now I raised myself up and stood defiantly before my old enemy.

“Scrap!” I bellowed across the distance. “I am your target. I am your enemy. Come and try to kill me. Or are you all bark and no bite?”

Scrap bared his rows of fangs. “I’ve tried: time and time again, I’ve tried to kill you, and yet you persist. How do you do it, Ember? How do you keep living? How do you keep fighting? How, Ember? How?”

“Never give up!” I hollered back at him. “Persist until the end. Fight with your last breath.”

Scrap barked at me. “I did! I tried to kill you at every opportunity, and look where it got me: a rotten abomination made from the dead. My only purpose left is to kill you.”

I planted my feet and drew my blade. “Then come and get me, you gelded whelp! This ends now!”

Scrap roared with fury and charged into the water. “On that we can both agree!” The ground shook with his approach.

Honeysuckle appeared at my side. I glared at her. “This is my fight. I can do it alone. No one else needs to get hurt,” I growled.

“There are three things you should know about ponies,” she said as she leveled her spear. “We are cute as heck, we’re more stubborn than mules, and we do things together.”

Another pony appeared at my side, and then another. A wing of pegasi took position overhead, crossbows primed and ready. Honey Apple hobbled up beside me. She gave me a warm, blood-filled smile before turning her attention to Scrap. She wiped a swath of pink foaming blood from her muzzle and said “Get over it, Ember. You’re part of a larger family now.”

I growled at them all. Couldn’t they see that I was trying to protect them? “Don’t blame me if you get hurt.”

“We’re explorers: it’s an occupational hazard.”

“Fire!” Bowstrings thundered. A hail of shafts shot forth. They all hit Scrap with a collective “thack”. The monster faltered for a moment.

“Charge!” I shouted and rushed at my enemy. Hooves pounded all around me. Spears pierced the black ichor. Scrap stumbled and fell, crashing onto the ground. Several ponies were absorbed into his body.

I leapt into the fray, slashing with my blades. The ichor parted easily. I hacked and slashed until I could grab ahold of a pony and pull them out. Then I rescued another.

Scrap came flying up, scattering ponies in all direction. He smashed at anything in his path. “Damn you! Damn you all!”

I cut into his leg, just above his knee. A second slash cut the appendage, and Scrap fell. I waylaid into his other leg and severed that as well. The amputated limbs quickly dissolved into dust.

More spears stabbed into him. Swords cut away both his arms. Arrows filled his form. Ponies were freed from his body as it was carved into smaller and smaller pieces. Scrap screamed in rage.

I stepped before the wiggling worm that was my enemy. The once mighty, lording Scrap could only spit hate and curses at those around him. He turned to me and screamed, “Damn you to the afterlife, Ember! Species traitor! Lowest mutt! Leaderless tramp! Flea-bitten cur! He-Who-Copulates-With-Prey!”

There, between his eyes, was a large mass darker then the rest of him. It was difficult to make out as Scrap writhed about, but I thought I saw a face, ears, and eyes. An idea quickly formed. “Spear!” I commanded, and one was pressed into my waiting paw. I stepped forth.

“Scrap!” I roared, and the dog focused on me. “Once you were a proud dog and roamed the lands of our empire. Look at you now: a rotten, festering wound. It is time that you took your pleas for vengeance to our ancestors. I pray that they send you to the deepest fire pits. May you burn for all of eternity.”

“Curse you and the fruit of your loins! Curse you and all your relatives! Curse you and your pony ilk!”

I took a step forward and thrust into the dark mass, putting my weight behind It. The spear struck something solid. Scrap had to cross his eyes to see the pole sticking out of his head.

A pinprick of light appeared. It spread across the black ichor, the body cracking and splitting. Scrap started to scream. His shrill note filled the air, shaking the ground, and reverberating inside my throbbing skull. His voice reached a fevered pitch. Then his body exploded into a cloud of dust.

Silence gripped the land. The wind rustled the grasses at my feet. The flames of battle carved their way through the distant meadow.

I took a breath, and then another one. Scrap was gone. The ponies were safe. Kitty Hawk was safe. I was free from the Empire.

Another breath, and then another. I handed the spear back to its owner. “Well done, everypony. Well done.” My head felt like it was slitting at its seems. My limbs and back throbbed with pain. Gore and dust plastered me from my ears to my toes. I nodded to Honey Apple. “I’m going to lie down,” I said, took one step, and collapsed into darkness.