//------------------------------// // Chapter 6: Fiery Stone // Story: Luna is a Harsh Mistress // by Starscribe //------------------------------// Iron Quill deflated visibly as the last of the messengers finally left his chamber behind. He slouched into his chair, tossing the Lord Commander's crown angrily to the table in front of him. "I’m not sure what the point of this damn thing is if nobody is going to bucking follow my orders. I save their lives days ago, and suddenly I'm not worth listening to now?" Sylvan Shade was gone now, off to retrieve his equipment and "some friends" from Moonshadow's camp. But since he hadn't yet returned, Quill was alone with Penumbra and his angry thoughts. "You should be pleased. In a way, they're seeing the world further ahead than you are." He raised an eyebrow. "They're planning for a military defense of a cave on the Moon. Explain to me how that's seeing further ahead." "Simple," Penumbra stalked around him, brushing past him with a wing. She'd removed the wrapping from around her face, as she seemed to always do when the two of them were alone. Quill couldn't blame her—she didn't have the monastery anymore, and there were so few of her kind left. He'd get lonely too in her position. "You're seeing only as far as the battle for our immediate survival. They're looking to what comes after, in the continued struggle for position within the army. They have an eye on taking your crown." Quill growled under his breath, a string of profanities he didn't dare speak louder. "The princess told them I was right about the last disaster. What witness is better than their own princess?" She stopped on the far side of the table, looking down at the camp's new map. They'd had to make substantial adjustments to make it fit in the long and thin cave, but they'd done it. "You're a bigger fool than you appear if you think this army is won by witnesses and achievements. How long have you been serving our princess?" Cinereous Gale's shoulders tensed, and suddenly the dagger on his belt felt like it was pressing him into the chair. "A while." She waved a dismissive wing. "Then think about what you saw. Nightmare Moon doesn't convince her ponies that she's right, she commands their will and delivers death to those who oppose her. These generals prospered under that system. To really earn their respect, you'll have to prove you can work within their system. What punishment have you exacted for defiance?" Only his silence answered. He rose from his chair, shoving past her and opening the ledger and showing her. "See this?" She stared down, expression blank. "Words." You can't read? But he wasn't going to insult a pony who was helping him. He couldn't let the past distort in his mind until he forgot the advantages he had. Luna's soldiers, even the Voidseekers, wouldn't be classically trained. "I have twelve soldiers. Not twelve battalions, not twelve platoons. Twelve." He tensed again, seeing back through time through the screams and a flaming sword. "They're good stallions, legionnaire trained. But those generals have thousands of raping, barbarian louts. What am I supposed to do to discipline a general whose troops could destroy us in moments?" Penumbra moved so fast Quill couldn't see her as anything more than a blur. A dagger sunk straight through his ledger, right down to the hilt. "You have the power of life and death, Lord Commander. Those who defy your will spit in the face of our princess. I will kill them for you." "Absolutely not." He turned his back on her in disgust, returning to the table. "If I ever kill anyone, they'll be on their feet. And they'll be armed." "Lord Commander!" Sylvan Shade's voice came in through the tent outside, eager. "Tell your guards to let us in! I brought friends!" I could use those right about now. "Send them in!" he called, settling back into the head of the table as dignified as he could. Penumbra wrapped her face again, though he could still see her disapproving eyes. "Noble," she whispered harshly. "Your enemies won't be." Quill couldn't meet her eyes—she was right, of course. It was a series of little miracles that he was still alive, with as many stupid mistakes as he'd made. In another life, you should've been the one fighting Luna's army. You'd be a hero right now, instead of trapped up here. Sylvan came in first, pulling a familiar cart of laboratory equipment. He wasn't alone this time—a gaggle of ponies followed him, half a dozen in all. Quill knew instantly why the guards had been skeptical of letting them back in—these ponies didn't belong to any of the companies. They were camp followers. Bells jingled around the hem of the unicorn's cloak, in a cheap imitation of Star Swirl's hat. Exaggerated nighttime shapes were sewn into her dark robe. The others were similar—the sort of ponies that another general would’ve left out on the lunar surface to die. Quill hadn't, but now he wondered. Celestia temper my judgement. "Friends!" Sylvan said enthusiastically. "This is Cozen the Sorceress of Greenheart. And this is Smokey and Freefall." Quill stopped listening as he introduced the others, his eyes glazing over a little. If there was one consolation here, it was that half of these were unicorns, a rare resource in the camp. I wasn't allotted any by the army, so I had to requisition them from camp followers. They're going to whisper about this. "I'm glad," Quill said, and wasn't sure he fooled anyone. "Forgive my curiosity, but… we don't have much time. Why was it necessary to bring them here?" Sylvan winced slightly, then took one of the nearby chairs, gesturing for the others to sit as well. Most of them didn't, bunching up near one wall. Only Cozen was brave enough to join them at the table. "That depends on whether you want to die or not," she said, voice flat. "I don't see you coming up with a solution in your command tent." His eyebrows went up—there were generals who would kill her for language like that. Can even the mummers tell that I'm too spineless for that? "I'm used to managing resources," he said. "But I don't know how to budget what I can't see. Do you have a solution for us?" Sylvan Shade rested one hoof on her shoulder, silencing her. "We did discuss some options on the way. Our feelings on the utility of each were not universal, however.” Cozan levitated something off the back of the cart, settling it down on the table between them. Quill stared intently at the contraption, searching for some clue as to what it could be. “This pot here, with the black stuff around the rim, this is a… it’s trapped lightning.” He tensed, pulling the pot suddenly closer. He could see a little glass from inside, and sure enough, there it was. The Maker’s Mark of Skyforge, and the swirling blue lightning inside. In days long gone, Luna’s soldiers had an endless supply of Skyforge weapons, and could dismantle any fortress with them. “I thought we had requisitioned every surviving storm cell,” he said, raising his voice just a little. “I happen to know there are precisely sixty-two of these in existence. How many do you have?” Cozen rolled her eyes, yanking it away from him with her magic. “You can’t be serious, Lord Commander. I have a solution for you, and you’re suggesting that what matters is that we held material from confiscation. Everypony does. If my shows aren’t entertaining, ponies don’t come. I don’t eat. I starve, your troops get bored and don’t fight well, etcetera, etcetera…” Cozen was lucky it was Quill in charge, and not Permafrost. With him, this would be the end of the conversation. “Right. I suppose you could tell me about these changes you’ve made. I’ve never seen the jars opened again after lightning is trapped inside. I assume there is a reason they use different metals as well.” Her eyebrows went up. “Our Lord Commander knows something other than how to murder ponies with an army? You didn’t say so, Sylvan.” “Our Lord Commander deserves more respect,” he said. “You’d be dead without him, Cozen. Please.” She deflated, settling back into her seat. “I apologize if I’m somewhat… sharp. I haven’t felt myself in the last few days. I think it’s the cave. I’m not a bat like you. Sometimes it feels the walls are closing in…” “You’re not at fault,” Quill urged. “But that isn’t why. You’re being poisoned. I don’t know how much Sylvan explained. In healthy ponies, mental effects are first. Changes in mood, difficulty concentrating, disorientation… it’s a reminder we are running out of time. Quickly, so if you wouldn’t mind getting along with the rest of this.” He leaned in close, inspecting the machine she had built. There was a large glass vessel, split down the middle with a metal plate. Thin metal string ran from the lightning into either side of the glass vessel, where large upside-down jars had been waxed into place. “Sylvan and I assembled this. I provided the, uh… energy. And he provided the expertise.” Sylvan nodded eagerly, relaxing only when it was clear that Iron Quill wouldn’t be attacking his friend for her contraband. So he shuffled around in his cart, and emerged with a scroll in his mouth. He deposited it on the table between them. “I’ll assume you don’t know alchemy and be quick. There are six elements—air, fire, water, earth, life, death. Everything in the world is made of some combination of these, and thus, transformed from one to another. “It’s easiest to transform along the edge of the wheel. If we’re running out of air, to make more we need to transform fire or water. Given what the princess said about flames, and your orders… water seemed the wiser choice.” He pointed with a hoof. “Look closely at the wire, you’ll see. Bubbles of air forming as the water is transformed, lifting into these two containers. There’s only… one minor difficulty with the reaction, which I’m sure I’ll perfect in time.” “You’re wasting time…” Cozen muttered, sitting down with a thump and looking away. “But go on, keep wasting it.” “Difficulty… how?” Quill inspected the mechanism again. “Your lightning is depleted too quickly to make this sustainable. Or… perhaps we lack the heat to melt enough ice to keep this up. Is that it?” “No, you’re… taking it too far already.” Sylvan Shade pushed over a dead candle from the side of the table. They used glowstone now, held in a mesh bag overhead. Candles were brighter, but Quill followed his own orders. “May I light this?” At Quill’s nod, he just pushed it towards Cozen. “May she do all the work,” she muttered darkly. “Sylvan, we should’ve showed him my solution first. Yours is the second thing we need. Please, Lord Commander. The flaws with this solution can be worked out later. You need to know how we will solve the sooner problem. It is the poison that matters, not the lack of air. Is this not so?” “It is,” he admitted. “Very well. You know how to remove the poison our princess called carbon dioxide from the air. How is it done?” “Well…” Sylvan Shade pushed the mechanism away, settling the chart in front of Quill. “In principle it is easy. It is known that poison is composed of fire and death. Our unique flavor of it involves a little air as well, to keep it invisible before us. We need a more exacting transfiguration—into earth, as this is closest to death and fire. To water, if the air is more dominant.” “He’s leaving out the important part.” Cozen flung back the large sheet on the back of her cart, exposing several wicker baskets. She settled each of them on the table, making Quill’s face twitch slightly as dirt fell onto the records and ledgers… But Cozen either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “We’re not transmuting the principle elements anymore, but compounds. This requires a salt—the symbol at the center of the chart. We need to find a salt that is the precise inverse of the ratios of fire, air, and death. More importantly, we need a salt we can find here in this Harmony-forsaken place. These are our choices.” There were a dozen baskets here, each one with different minerals inside. None of them seemed to contain the white powder used in preserving foods, but Quill didn’t question. “So do it then. Find the right salt, transform the poison into earth. Let’s get started.” “Well…” Sylvan winced, suddenly avoiding his eyes. “We’re working on it, but there are some…” “We can’t transform something we don’t have,” Cozen said, voice flat. “Yes, I know it’s in the air. But what we’re breathing now is… small amounts, yes? A wisp and a breath, or else we’d be dead already. How are we supposed to experiment with the proper reagents? We need something more. We need the poison itself, in its strength.” “Which we don’t know how to get,” Sylvan finished for her. “If we did, we would already have the solution to this problem. Producing the poison in a form other than air would mean we could bury it, or hide it away from ponies. We can’t.” Iron Quill rose to his hooves, turning away. “I’ll get it for you. Take whatever resources you need—I’ll be sure to authorize Silver Needle to give you anything you require. We have less than two days, so work quickly.” “Uh…” But he didn’t even stay long enough to hear their response. He slipped out of the tent. By the time he’d passed his orders on to Silver Needle, he felt Penumbra slip in beside him. She thought she was clever and that he hadn’t noticed, but… “Well? How’d I handle that?” She didn’t show any shock, or any sign she was impressed. “You want praise from me for basic competence?” He winced, but didn’t argue. Maybe Voidseekers and assassins just weren’t capable of being friendly. Unfortunately for him, he needed her to be just now. “I need your help on something, Penumbra. No, not killing.” “Then I can’t imagine why you would need my help. We seek the void, Quill. That’s all I’m good at.” Now who’s lying? “Aminon is still alive, isn’t he? I saw him the day we arrived, and never since.” “Yes,” she answered, voice flat. “It’s forbidden to share our missions with outsiders, even the Lord Commander. I have been allotted to you, Aminon has not.” He rolled his eyes. “I know, I know. I’m not… look, we’ve known each other a long time. He—” sold out our monastery to the rebellion, sacrificing hundreds of lives. “Knew me before he was a Voidseeker. Before he founded your order. I know his skills—he’s a master of all poisons, all forms of death. I need to speak with him. Can you arrange it for me?” Penumbra looked him over for a long moment, eyes lingering on his crown, and the lump of the dagger emerging from his robe. “I can, for a price. I want you to burn that awful robe and wear some armor.” “The Lord Commander has forbidden fires until the current difficulty is resolved,” he said, smiling faintly. “But I can promise to burn it two days from now.” She groaned, then stuck out one hoof. “Then by stars, it is sworn. Let them punish ruthlessly all that break their oaths.” Iron Quill snapped his hoof back, eyes going wide. Those weren’t just oaths, that was the magic of the Voidseekers. It was the kind of magic used to bind informants to truth and spies to dedication to their cause even through torture. Why use it on him now? “Find a place so dark even your bat eyes cannot see,” Penumbra said, grinning smugly at him. “By the time you do, Aminon will find you.” She took off, flying up into the massive vaulted space. There were fewer fires burning now—though still plenty of watchmen’s torches and pointless lighting in the tents of camp dignitaries in distant sections. The Lord Commander had been disobeyed, again. But just now he wasn’t looking for a solution to all that. He walked past them all, past the edge of the enormous center of the cave where he took the Moon’s hollow core to be. Then past it, to one of the thinner tube-like caves that met their own. Its sides were hard and vaguely metallic, unpleasant against his hooves. Perfect place not to find anypony. After only a short distance and a single slight twist, the last of the camp’s light was gone. But Quill was not recently transformed, and so he understood how to use his other senses, clicking and listening carefully for the responses. He slowed in his walk, listening to the return echo of the floor in front of him. How far should he go? He’d been walking for what felt like hours before he finally noticed another behind him. Aminon’s touch on the stone was so light that he didn’t hear it at all. But he didn’t need to—he felt the weight. The universe worked a little worse when this pony was around. He might not be a unicorn anymore, but that hadn’t stopped his magic. I don’t need to experiment to find out what alchemical compound he is. He’s all death. “Lord Commander,” Aminon said, open mockery in his voice. “I’ve been told you wished to speak with me. A long time since we did that, old friend.” He shuddered with disgust, spinning slowly around. There was only blackness there—total and complete, like a physical force against his eyes. But he could still feel Aminon there, without his ears or eyes. “Our friendship ended a long time ago, Aminon,” he said. “But we are allies, and I require your alliance now. The army of our princess will be destroyed without it.” “I am always pleased to serve her,” Aminon said. “But I make no oath to you that I will obey your instructions, should I find them lacking. Whatever words you whisper to me, she will hear.” And every demon still desperate enough to think you will grant it power. “I need a poison,” he said flatly, before this could slip back into an old argument. “A very specific poison, in order for my alchemists to remove it from the air around us and stop the army from dying.” “All the army won’t die…” Aminon muttered, advancing slowly towards him. Quill held completely still in the silence, wincing as the other pony advanced. He had no way of knowing if this ancient enemy was coming to slit his throat, or just to listen more closely. He hadn’t brought a glowstone or a torch. “The Voidseekers will live on, far beyond all those who were too cowardly to make our vows. When you are ashes, Cinereous Gale, my service will go on. If you suffocate here beside all the others… my service will go on. I will return beside my princess to take her rightful vengeance on the Sun Tyrant and put out her star.” Quill shuddered again in open disgust. You’re a madman, Aminon. She meant that the rule of the night would be eternal, not that she wanted to stop the sun from rising. You shouldn’t swear so many oaths to spirits. But he couldn’t say any of what he felt when he wanted help. “So you aren’t going to help? I’d reconsider, Aminon. Who do you want digging latrines? Who do you want moving boxes and cleaning camp? You? Or your peons? You might be eager to sacrifice their lives… but it would be better to preserve us. You don’t want my job.” He laughed, taking a step back. “True enough, old friend. Your, uh… wisdom is as poignant as ever. You want poison, and I will grant you poison. The Nightmare is always near me, always listening. Watch.” He lifted into the air on strangely skeletal bat wings. “Nightmare, hear the voice of your loyal servant!” Quill felt it bubbling up in his chest—the revulsion he always felt, the fury. This being was the reason that Princess Luna was gone, it was the reason they’d been banished here. And some small part of it was in him, too. I am always beside. This world will be ours in time. In the air between them, something appeared. It wasn’t light, somehow the opposite, casting reverse-shadows of greater gloom that bent the wrong way. “Yes.” Aminon landed again, eyes focused on the dark patch. “We require the terrible poison that is killing those who haven’t yet sworn your promise. Enough of it to preserve their lives, long enough to make your choice correctly.” It is not a poison only that you ask—like all things, you ask for only one link in the chain. What leaves your mouths flows again into the leaves of your grain, feeding your armies. What is poison to you is critical to them. There are no dreams without Nightmares. “Will you grant it to us?” The darkness before them deepened. A pair of faint red dots appeared in it, like the eyes of an unseen Alicorn. The already-chilly cave rapidly got worse—his breath was blowing out in front of him, though he couldn’t see it to confirm. A fierce wind blew from behind, lifting his fur and that of his companion. An object formed in that darkness, a growing mountain of… ice? Its shape was outlined by the terrible parody of light, much larger than a pony and still growing. It towered until it blocked half the cavern. From the lungs and cells of every animal, condensed before you to ice. Fumble with it in your ignorance, if you can. Die if you must. The demon vanished a second later, leaving the two of them alone. Iron Quill’s nausea settled back to tolerable, joined by a faint shivering focused on the mass of not-ice before him. “There you are,” Aminon said. “The Nightmare grants your request, and so our conversation is concluded. Use it, or die, as you prefer. I think we both know what I prefer.” He took off silently, vanishing into the darkness. Iron Quill could not see him go, but he could feel the moment where there was no longer something terrible beside him, and that was enough to relax. Cautiously, he leaned forward, feeling for the massive block of poison. He found it, touching it with the soft frog of one hoof. He pulled back sharply, wincing at the feeling. It was cold, but hot at the same time! How could cold burn? He searched around the cavern for a moment, until he found a stone, then chipped at the block of poison. He removed his robes, and used them to catch the biggest chunk of poison he could. That went into his saddlebags, and finally he could make his way back to camp. With luck, it would be enough. Iron Quill deposited his dangerous cargo on the conference room table, jostling the strange mechanism these ponies were testing. He couldn’t begin to guess at how it worked—tubes and pipes all waxed together, leading from tiny containers to heat crystal and the lightning. “This is it,” he said, nodding towards the robe. Here in the glowstone’s faint light, the bundle seemed to fizz slightly, a thick fog that dropped down off the table instead of rising around it. “The poison in the air.” He unwrapped the bundle with the edge of a hoof, careful not to burn himself this time. He opened the robe, revealing a chunk of strange ice, chalky white. There wasn’t a drop of water around it, just the strange fog rising from it, now released to pour off the table and onto the ground around them. “You converted it to earth,” Sylvan Shade muttered, nudging the edge of it with a hoof. He winced, pulling it back. “Buck, and fire! Solid fire.” Cozen levitated a chunk off the mass, depositing it in a wire mesh container. “I don’t suppose you can repeat this process and solve the problem for us?” “Sadly no.” He shook his head. “Nightmare gave it to me.” Even as he said it, the glowstones faded just a little, and the tent got darker. It was whispered by many creatures that one ought not speak its name—Quill ignored those rumors. But maybe he shouldn’t have. “If the spirit could be persuaded into saving our lives, we wouldn’t need to go to all this effort to save ourselves.” His ponies both nodded, looking back to the sample. “It doesn’t seem to want to be earth very much, does it? It’s transforming back to air before our eyes. I’ve never seen passive transmutation this fast.” Something rested on Quill’s shoulder suddenly, and he looked up. There was Penumbra, her leg gentle but unyielding. When she spoke, it was with two voices overlapping. Sylvan Shade and Cozen stopped to stare. Quill felt his breath start to fog out in front of him again, just as it had when the spirit last spoke. “I could save you, Gale. My offer is there for every pony in this army. Only your persistent refusal guarantees your death.” Penumbra let go a second later, shaking her head as though she’d just bumped into something. She wobbled a little, then caught herself on his shoulder. “Did I miss…” “No.” Iron Quill didn’t push her away. “Whatever this is, finish it quickly. We don’t have much more time.”