//------------------------------// // Chapter 5: Dead Air // Story: Luna is a Harsh Mistress // by Starscribe //------------------------------// Cinereous Gale sat at the back of the high table, surrounded by ledgers and records. The Nightmakers were more than just a faction of barbarian marauders—they were an open rebellion against Princess Celestia and Equestrian authority in general. Of course every member was more important than Gale—his service to the princess might be eternal, but he still refused to kill for her. So instead he managed her finances, so her troops could keep eating while they killed. Even without his tactical experience, without even looking at the map, he could tell from the faces of everypony here that the war was going badly. “Skyforge has fallen, Princess,” said General Night Stalker, his voice flat. “We were unable to hold back the legion. Their solar device evaporated the clouds, and the city fell.” A city of fifty thousand ponies. Not all of them had been loyal to Princess Luna, only their rulers had. The princess no longer hid her face, but dressed in the same royal armor that she’d once worn to parades and rituals in the capital. Where they’d once been shiny and perfect, the armor was dented and scratched, mended and reforged a hundred times. Luna led from the front. “And how many escaped the city?” “Of our troops? Twenty thousand warriors, Princess. Twice that many citizens of Skyforge as well, all flown here to Datura.” “More mouths to feed,” somepony else muttered. “Who let them in? We’re full.” Uncomfortable, frustrated mutters filled the room, as ponies blamed one another. Finally Gale rose. He still wore his monk’s robe, though there was a rank pin stuck through at the breast. It was still lower than anypony else in this room. “I did. I’m master of stores—I decided it would be better to suffer the hardship than let word spread that the princess allows her allies to starve.” More uncomfortable muttering, with various dark words from the lips of generals Gale didn’t know and liked even less. Eventually it was the princess herself who silenced them. “I support Quill’s decision. Last I checked, half the great cities were still undeclared. We will have to find a way to weather the short-term disadvantage in the interest of winning more of Equestria to our side.” Gale sat down, returning to his wall of books and trying very hard to be unseen. These ponies didn’t care that he existed—he was a nuisance, the one who stood between them and ridiculous requests for their troops. Sooner or later he was going to wake with a dagger in his back. “And the Legion’s losses—” Luna continued. “I’ve seen reports that they’re making for Trottingham. How many did they lose?” Silence descended on the room again, much more swiftly this time. Ponies glanced awkwardly between each other, and again only Night Stalker was brave enough to finally speak. “Just over… one hundred thousand, Princess. They march slowly, seizing the grain from farms and villages to supply their advance. But we can use this to our advantage—they’re in unfamiliar territory, cut off from supplies. Once they steal all the food they can find, they won’t have any left for themselves. They can’t besiege Trottingham for long enough to break our supplies.” “Our brave soldiers can be there first?” Luna asked. Stalker nodded. “All of our soldiers can fly. The Legion… not so much.” Yes, but how long until they turn that against us? Gale had warned against this tactic—and been completely ignored. Forming an army of pegasus ponies alone, and only using the others to reinforce static positions was bound to segment the army. When they did fight together, Luna’s soldiers fought as two groups—the pegasi, and the land folk. They didn’t see themselves as the same faction. “We have… five thousand souls defending Trottingham,” Luna said, inspecting the map. “Even if our forces make it there, we’ll still be outnumbered four to one, isn’t that so?” “It is,” said General Stalwart Shield, in a thick accent. She wasn’t even a flying pony, and as a result could visit the fortress for a meeting like this only with the aid of her unicorn magic. “Every brave stallion and bannermare is worth ten of them, Princess. You’ll see.” It isn’t enough, Gale thought. We can’t keep suffering losses like this without losing morale. He wasn’t the only one who thought so, because another pony spoke near the front of the table. Aminon said even less during these meetings than Gale did, though his interruptions were always more welcome. “There is an alternative, Princess. A thaumaturgic solution to this martial problem. Every student of war learns that magic always triumphs against mean force.” Gale looked up from his books, at where Aminon had risen to stand in his seat. Even at this distance, Gale felt a shiver of discomfort in his presence. Aminon was one of Star Swirl’s own apprentices, or he had been. Gale didn’t know what had happened, but now he was blind in both eyes and his mane had gone white. Yet he still seemed able to see. “I am always open to considering other avenues,” Princess Luna said. “But we’ve already tried that kind of intervention, Aminon. Star Swirl’s protection cannot be overcome.” “Against their soldiers, yes,” Aminon admitted. His voice was bitter, and his glassy eyes seemed to glare down in a direction none of them could see. “But we didn’t consider the solution might be the reverse. If we cannot attack the Legion with spells, we can augment ourselves. Then boasting like Stalwart Shield’s here might be true.” “How?” Luna whispered, tone desperate. Gale knew that voice as certainly as he knew anything—the princess was going to agree no matter what Aminon wanted. “With the Sun Tyrant’s restrictions lifted, I have studied in domains she would forbid. I have plumbed far and deep in search of allies, and I think I found one.” Night Stalker cleared his throat, glaring at Aminon. “Princess, my stallions and mares require no arcane crutches. They will triumph for you on their own.” Princess Luna silenced him with a wing. “Tell me.” “It was not easy to find a creature with sufficient power to serve us, but with enough eye for mortals to care what becomes of us. The one I discovered calls itself Nightmare.” Was it Gale’s imagination, or did the candles at their table flicker and dim at the mere mention of the name? The clouds under their hooves kept drifting, blown towards Trottingham by the brave pegasi outside. “Be cautious, Princess,” Stalwart said, her voice nervous. “I’m no great wizard, but I have heard… never to traffic with spirits. They always take more than they ask.” Princess Luna stomped one hoof, glowering at her. “Thank you for your advice, Stalwart Shield. But I have been studying magic since before your mother’s grandmother was born. I’m aware.” She gestured over one shoulder. “My ponies of war, return to your preparations. Do not concern yourself with this. I will converse with this Nightmare and return to you if its terms are agreeable. Trust in the wisdom of your princess.” They rose as one, bowing to her. Gale remained where he sat, however. He wasn’t a general. Technically, he hadn’t been told to leave. Nopony seemed to care that he was left behind. As the captains filed out, Gale wondered if they were hoping that Aminon would make him disappear next. She didn’t continue until they were all gone. “What does the spirit require?” she asked, as soon as they were alone again. “I do not know,” Aminon said. “But we could ask it now. It gave me its secret name—I can call upon it whenever we require.” Princess Luna levitated the large map of Equestria off the table and onto a nearby shelf, pushing aside the histories and books of strategy. Aminon walked away, gathering his cart of possessions from near the far side of the room and carrying it back in his magic. He settled a circle of candles on the table, and began marking it with powder. Not chalk as would be used on the ground, since chalk and clouds didn’t tend to work well. He set a wicker cage in the center of the circle. Gale winced at what he saw inside—a gray squirrel, lean and terrified. Its eyes darted around the room, as though it knew what was coming. Luna looked up, noticing Gale on the far side of the table. “You’re still here?” He nodded once. “Are you here to judge my rule? You know my sister has left me no choice. She’ll sacrifice any number of lives at the altar of stability and prosperity. While the ponies who love her prosper, thousands of others are crushed under their hooves.” Gale nodded. He didn’t get up, barely even met her eyes. After a few seconds, Luna looked away, losing interest in him. That was just as well, though just now it wasn’t the princess that Gale feared. She could kill him whenever she wished, so that wasn’t a change. Aminon took a long breath, then started chanting. Gale retreated a little behind his books, unable to understand but still shuddering at the sound. Whatever it was, he was saying things that no pony was meant to hear. He lifted a knife in his magic, and there was no mystery about where it would go. When a faint, pained squeak echoed from the little cage, he knew the source of it too. The room darkened around them, until the circle of candles was nothing more than faint specks. The sunlight streaming in from outside was shifted so far red that it barely lit the room at all. He could only see the princess by the occasional twinkle of her mane, the only thing immune to the effects. But while he couldn’t see whatever was happening in the circle, he could hear it. A voice—not a pony’s voice, not male or female or describable according to any other terms familiar to him—but a voice nonetheless. It spoke strangely, with a cadence of unusual pauses and diction. Like a pony who had memorized several books on Ponish without ever meeting a pony. “The light dwellers come to me, as they always did. What can one who serves do for those who live?” Princess Luna stared straight forward into the circle on the table. “My sister rules Equestria with a neck of iron. She lives so high up in her tower that she can’t see the suffering of the ponies below her. I want to stop it. Take Equestria for the ponies without a voice.” There was a strange sound—not laughter, though Gale couldn’t tell exactly what it was. Something similar, maybe. “The living speak of generalities. We are not… well-equipped to see thus. Even the concreteness of physicality is anathema. Describe in what is seen, and what is needed. Then we will decide.” Luna hesitated for a moment, then continued. “I need my army to be invincible. I want soldiers that can fight for days with low supplies, fight through night and snow and thirst and famine. I need soldiers that don’t break with fear when they are outnumbered, and their friends die around them. Most importantly, I need to be the pony who leads them. Only I can repair what my sister has broken.” Maybe it was Gale’s eyes adjusting to the gloom, or maybe the darkness between them was just growing more distinct. Either way he could see it now, the sparkles of an outline—an Alicorn shape, though far smaller. It seemed to be overlapping with the princess, its mane covering hers. Its eyes were frightful, and it had sharp fangs. It dissolved a second later. “Your request is great,” the Nightmare said. “The price will be equally great. Will you pay it?” Luna didn’t hesitate. “I will.” Iron Quill woke from the nightmare—but in some ways, he never could. His wings were still tight skin against his sides, his eyes well suited for the gloom at the center of the moon. If it wasn’t for his adaptation, he might be dead now. But he wouldn’t be thanking the Nightmare for it. “Master,” the voice spoke again, quiet and nervous. It was Watershed, one of his supply ponies. Despite his new appointment, despite a week of life these ponies couldn’t have expected and certainly didn’t deserve, they’d given him no additional resources. Not one set of hooves to help him. He groaned, then sat up in his folding cot. “What is it, Watershed?” The voice that answered was terrified. “Uh… it’s her. She’s waiting for you in the command tent.” Iron Quill rolled out of bed instantly. His own tent wasn’t that different from any of the others tucked away in the center of the Moon, although it was lit with unicorn glowstone instead of candlelight. He removed his cloak from a hook, then lifted the crown from beside it and settled it on his head. There was no time for personal grooming—their princess was not a patient mare. He didn’t gallop so much as fly to the command tent, though at least there wasn’t far to go. The torches outside burned low, but still they provided blinding light for his sensitive eyes and ears. Penumbra fell into step beside him as he pushed through the doorway, as though she’d been beside him every moment. It doesn’t matter how quick and stealthy you are. I would’ve felt you in my bed. Sure enough, Nightmare Moon stood beside his great table, looking down at the ledgers and maps with a quizzical, disinterested eye. She had something with her, a bundle of dark cloth that filled the tent with a strange scent. What was it, and why did its outline repulse him so much? “Lord Commander,” she said. “You kept me waiting. I don’t like to be kept waiting.” He nodded awkwardly—it was the only thing he could do. An argument with the Princess of Nightmares had only one ending. “Apologies, Princess.” “You’re sleeping in the middle of the night?” She raised an eyebrow. “I’ve had many an inattentive Lord Commander, but I expected better of you.” “I… I wasn’t aware.” He looked down. So far he knew, he wasn’t the only one having difficulty with natural rhythms since arriving on the Moon. But just because it was happening to others didn’t mean he could use it as an excuse himself. “Apologies again, Princess.” “Is that all you do? Bursts of brilliance, punctuated with long hibernations of failure?” He shrugged. In her eyes, he saw fires reflected, and thousands of empty eyes watching him. “Yes, Princess. I told you I was a poor choice for this post.” “And yet…” She circled around him, glancing briefly out the open tent window. “Your competitors are building war fortifications in a cave. They work their stallions raw preparing for a battle we certainly won’t be fighting here. The realities of your failings are not as convincing as the impression.” He said nothing, voice down. “How may I serve you, this… night, Princess?” “Not me,” she said, gesturing at the bundle she’d left on his table. “Do you know what that is?” He walked over, dreading every step. He was right to dread—inside the wrapped bundle was a foal. Its eyes were open and staring in death, strangely bloodshot. Its lips were blue, and its little horn stumpy and uneven as all foals were. Yet there was no blood on the bundle, or other signs of trauma. Nightmare Moon hadn’t brought the dead infant for any dark purpose. Then why… “You saved my army for me once, Iron Quill. They would be dead in the sand above our heads, and you acted. Another threat approaches, one subtler and more sinister. It takes the young first, then the weak. In time it will take you all, and once again I will be left to madness on this dead rock. I require you to solve it for me.” Iron Quill reached out with one wing, gently closing the baby’s eyes before covering its face with the cloth. Then he turned back to face his princess. “With respect—Princess Nightmare Moon, you are wiser than I, stronger, and you have the power of an Alicorn. Why risk so many lives on a pony with so many failures?” “Because… I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I don’t know how to solve it, just like I didn’t know how to save these ponies. You discovered this lava tube, you sealed it and kept my army safe here. If it had been left to my wisdom, the only loyal ponies left to me in all the world would be dead. You gave me a miracle, Iron Quill. I need another one.” He nodded slowly, settling down in his chair. “Do you mind if I…” He looked back at the body, shivering once. Nightmare Moon shrugged, ambivalent. So he stomped one hoof, waiting until a soldier emerged from outside. “Guardsman, take this child.” He pointed. “Return them to their mother for a proper burial.” “I took her from the camp followers,” Nightmare Moon whispered. “Near the cavern’s highest point. You’ll find the mother with the whores and dancers there.” The soldier saluted, lifting the bundle with great reluctance. Soon he slipped back out of the tent, leaving the two of them alone again. “What killed that child, Princess?” “Suffocation,” she answered. “It is… difficult to explain to you. Equestria lacks the very concepts that would make these ideas understandable. You know now that the air you’re breathing is a precious resource. Protecting it is one reason this cavern made for such an opportune solution.” He nodded. “I do now, Princess. Thanks to your teaching.” “Now you will learn further. The air is not a single substance, that can sustain life forever. It contains three components of relevance: nitrogen, oxygen, and carbon dioxide. Do you know of them?” He shook his head. “Of course you don’t. You’re a child of ignorance—this state cannot continue. So listen and hear. Most of the air we—” “Excuse me!” A voice called from outside the tent, a voice that Quill instantly recognized. The guards would let Sylvan Shade pass without request, since they knew the importance of his help. He was part of the reason they were alive. “Excuse me, but I can’t help but overhear subjects of relevance being discussed in…” He trailed off, ears flattening and tail tucking as he saw the ponies inside. He gulped, retreating a step. “Forgive me, Princess—” A faint glow gripped him around the neck, dragging him up to the table and slamming him against it. He fell limply, bleeding faintly from where it had cut into his side. “Do you know this oaf, Iron Quill? Is there any reason I shouldn’t kill him for interrupting us?” The glow around his neck tightened, and he gasped, clawing weakly at it with his hooves. Whatever he was trying to say was completely lost in that desperation. “Yes!” Quill exclaimed. “Oaf he might be, but this is my alchemist, Sylvan Shade. He assisted in finding this home for us. I’m sure I’ll be unable to solve this next crisis without him.” “That is a shame.” Nightmare Moon sounded reluctant. She watched Sylvan struggle, smiling with satisfaction at his kicking and hacking. Then the glow vanished, and he slumped limply against the table. Whatever thanks he might’ve wanted to offer were lost completely in his coughing. “I suppose we can leave him here to listen. Whether he knows these things already or not, soon everypony must if we wish to survive.” She returned to her casual sitting position, disinterested in the pony who had nearly suffocated at her hooves. “Aside from the nitrogen you’re breathing, one part in five is oxygen. This is the gas absolutely required for life—without it, you will all die.” “And it’s depleting,” Quill supplied. “Without replenishment from… wherever oxygen comes from in Equestria.” “No.” It wasn’t the princess who answered, but Sylvan Shade. “We use it slower than you think. A pony trapped in a tight space will suffocate not because their oxygen runs out, but because they’re poisoned by everything else.” How he managed to say that—or anything, for that matter—after nearly suffocating, Quill had no idea. But Nightmare Moon seemed pleased. “That’s correct. Avoiding the technical details you do not understand, it isn’t the absence of oxygen that is our first fear, but that final substance, carbon dioxide. Ponies produce it just by being alive, but they aren’t the only ones. All animals exhale it, as well as every flame. “To survive, we must find a way to remove it from the air around us, and replace the slowly draining supply of oxygen.” Iron Quill scratched down everything she’d said on a scrap of paper. “How long do we have, Princess?” “To solve the first problem? Days. I don’t have the sensors, but that newborn suffocated. I have heard many of my soldiers complaining of headaches, stomach sickness, nausea. This is the result of heavy exertion in our depleting air. These effects will spread to all of you in time, slowing your thoughts, impairing your judgement. The weak will continue to die, and movement itself will be difficult. At the present rate, I give you two days until you’re too impaired to act. Two more before you perish, in agony.” “You mentioned fires,” Quill said. “We should order them all extinguished at once, and all construction halted. Ponies should be ordered to rest in the dark—this will extend our time, will it not?” Nightmare Moon only shrugged. “Do whatever you think is necessary. I can tell you only what we cannot do. I know no spells to simply remove the poison from the air, or to acquire more air from the planet to replace what we spend. Celestia’s banishment is… so far… unbreakable. I will continue to attempt to break it anyway. If I am successful, then I may be able to return us, solving this problem for you.” She rose, turning her back on them. “But I do not anticipate success in time, Lord Commander. If I’m right, you will be dead a thousand times over before I can return us. Give me my miracle.” “I will,” he promised, without knowing or even suspecting how he would. “Somehow.” The princess stalked away, letting the tent swish closed behind her. “I had no idea our ruler was such a… delightful mare,” Sylvan croaked, rolling onto his back and looking up at the ceiling of the tent. “Save the world twice in one week? Does she think you’re an Alicorn too?” “Thankfully not,” Iron Quill muttered. “Or she’d probably try to kill me first.”