//------------------------------// // Chapter 24 // Story: The Dusk Guard Saga: Hunter/Hunted // by Viking ZX //------------------------------// To Sabra’s surprise, the sewer was far more pleasant than he’d expected, if a little cramped. It seemed that whoever had designed the city’s sewage system had come possessed of the forethought to make them as hassle-free as possible. Something the architects of the cisterns at the monastery would have been blessed to possess, he thought. Once more their path took them down a steep set of stairs, the sound of their hoofsteps echoing off the crystal around them like a faint, distant drumbeat. Granted, the comparison was hardly fair. The monastery had been established thousands of years earlier, before even The Breaking, and the water and sewer system had served faithfully all that time, barring the occasional act of maintenance. However, while it had functioned and functioned well, when the time had come for that maintenance, things had proven … difficult. The sewer they were now in, he’d noticed, didn’t appear to suffer from that problem. While hardly spacious, whoever had designed it had clearly been a master architect. Even with their limited light, the way the channels of the city moved around one another, each carefully positioned, spoke of a careful attention to detail. Detail that had not been spared when considering where one who would work on the system or examine it would go. They’d yet to be forced back by spot so narrow they couldn’t get through it—though they had left plenty of scrapes on the crystalline walls—and rarely if at all, did they encounter running water. Almost everything was in thick crystal pipes that ran for miles before vanishing into blocky, crystal constructs that were likely pumping stations of some kind, though how they worked he couldn’t say. And while they had found several open water sources, Dawn had noted with a watchful eye that it was “grey water” and therefore not intended for consumption or usage in normal fashion … Though she had also pointed out that there seemed to be some form of low-level sterilization magic at work on the canals and conduits themselves, likely as part of a water purification system. However, if there had been anything similar on the walkways and accesses themselves, it had long since faded. The passageways had clearly not been cleaned in years, and more than once the team had found their way helped by the worn hoofprints of another runner crisscrossing the tunnels. At the same time, more than one set of hoofprints had led them astray, and they’d been forced to backtrack once they’d realized their mistake. Working off of what was essentially several smaller, personal maps blended together came with plenty of missteps, it seemed. “All right, Dawn,” Steel said, the twin beams of his helmet-lights ahead coming to a stop. “We’ve got three options here. Left, right, and straight ahead. Which one do we take?” Dawn pulled up behind Steel, the orange glow of her horn providing a softer contrast the harder, white light of the captain’s headlamps. “Give me a moment,” she said, a faint note of displeasure in her voice echoing down the tunnels around them. “We’re in a section with three overlays.” Sabra came to a stop, turning and glancing behind them as he did so, his ears twitching. Nothing but distant echoes and the sound of running water rolled past him. And the echoes, while distorted, were definitely their own. They were alone. As they had been for the last hour. “Blasted artists,” Dawn said, rotating the map in her magic. “Would it have broken them to simply build a conventional sewer system with right angles instead of something based off of a snowflake? We get it. You’re built in a snow plain. You’re very clever.” She let out a faint snort as she rotated the map once more. “If I’m reading this right—and once more I must reiterate that this is often a delicate ‘if’—then we need to go … straight.” “All right,” Captain Song said, stepping forward. His armored hooves—especially the gauntlets—let out sharp rings as he followed a set of steps up and over a large collection of pipes. “Straight ahead it is.” “From there,” Dawn continued, moving forward to follow the captain, her own steps far less heavy. “This line should meet up with one of the main arms of the whole system. We should be able to follow that for a half-a-mile …” The map twisted again. “At which point we’ll be able to take a junction that should bring us to the tower.” “Good.” That was all that was said for some time as they followed the sewer passage, the sound of their hoofsteps a constant echo around them, but the only sound after that of the occasional gurgle or trickle of open water. I will have to mention these crystal pumps to Sky after this is all over, Sabra thought as they passed another one of the “pumping stations,” where dozens of pipes met, merged, and moved into large boxes before splitting and breaking off once more. I expect she would find their engineering fascinating. He could already picture it in his head, the sight of her carefully but excitedly taking apart one of the pumps and rushing around, letting out an excited squeal each time she found something new and explaining it to him, even when she sped up and started throwing around words he’d never heard in Equestrian before … He smiled as a warm glow moved through him. She would love every minute of it. In fact … It would be Hearth’s Warming soon, and it was traditional, he understood, to give those you cared for a gift. I wonder how much one of these pumps would cost? Certainly they must have spares somewhere. And most—really all—of his wages simply went into an account he had little use for outside of the occasional need. Then again, he thought, ears flicking as Captain Song began to slow. Given the status of this kingdom, they may count as precious museum antiquities. “Okay, we’ve got a junction,” Steel said from ahead, his words pulling Sabra’s attention almost fully back to the present. “Not a big one either.” “What?” Dawn’s voice echoed down the tunnel, her magic brightening slightly as she sped up. She let out a snort as she reached the captain’s side, the combination of their lights revealing a pair of perpendicular openings in the side of the sewer. “This can’t be right then,” she said as Sabra caught up and once again gave the darkness behind them a quick listen. Nothing but their own echoes. “Wait …” Dawn said, turning the map. “Horseapples. We made a wrong turn.” “Do we need to go back?” “No,” she said with a toss of her head. “If we go right, and then take our next left … it should bring us to the main tunnel we wanted to find in the first place.” “So this way?” Steel tossed his head toward the right opening. “I … Yes,” Dawn said with a nod. “That’s it. Then the next left we find. Should be a partial left, as we’ll be rejoining a fork.” Again they moved on, Steel leading the way as they made their way down the much tighter and narrower right-hoof path. Before long, however, and true to Dawn’s reading, they came to a join in the tunnel, their passageway meeting up with a large one that led them to— “This has to be it,” Steel said as the path they were following opened up to a sort of crystal catwalk stretched across a space that, if not large, was certainly bigger than anything they’d seen so far. “Compass check?” “One moment,” Dawn said, her horn flashing for a moment. She turned, facing diagonal toward the right wall of the large shaft. “North is that way.” “So we’re in the right spot,” Steel said, stepping out onto the catwalk. “We just need to head northwest.” “I concur,” Dawn said, following him out onto the catwalk and peering around at their surroundings. The roof was only a few feet above both of their heads, Sabra noticed, and there didn’t appear to be any stairs or ladder down to the floor of the larger tunnel. “Does anyone see how we get down?” “Simple,” Sabra said, stepping up alongside her and then ducking his head under the safety railing. “As Dusk Guard do.” He dropped off of the catwalk and fell for just an instant before landing in the clear space between the pipes below them with a soft thud. He waited for the echoes to die down, ears twitching just in case he caught some faint reaction to the sound of his landing, and then looked up. “Just jump.” “Yes yes, I gathered that,” Dawn said, ducking under the railing and leaping down. A bright orange glow rippled over her body as she fell, slowing her descent, and though she landed with a thump, her impact far lighter than his. Steel’s impact, however, was louder than the both of them put together, the gauntlets on his forelegs sending an almost deafening ring reverberating down the sewer in both directions. “Sorry,” he said as soon as the sound had faded. “I realized how bad an idea that was the moment I jumped.” Sabra held up a hoof as the light from the captain’s headlamps tinted his visor. “Which way?” “That way,” Dawn said. Steel’s lights spun away, and Sabra dropped his hoof. “According to the map, this is one of the larger arms of the entire network. It should run straight to the center of the city.” “Good,” Steel said, nodding. “Let’s get to it.” He strode off, his hoofsteps echoing off of the crystalline pipes around them. The large tunnel had been built with piping on both sides, rather than one like some of the smaller tunnels, the central walkway in the center. It was, Sabra reflected, a bit like being in a valley, save that it was large collections of pipes rolling up on either side instead of mountains. The clop of their hoofsteps echoed off of the pipes like distant bells, rolling up and down the tunnel like faint thunder. The tunnel ahead of them stretched onward, never deviating from its path. Are we under one of the main roads? Sabra wondered, glancing up as he followed behind Dawn. The map had looked almost identical to the road system, but he hadn’t taken a good-enough look to be sure.  His ears twitched, and he paused for a brief moment, coming to full alertness as both pivoted forward, honing in on the tunnel ahead of him. There was a countering sound to the echo. Small, and distant, but something nonetheless. Something that wasn’t in sync with either their steps or the piping around them. He let out a short, quick hiss. Dawn and Steel both froze, and a moment later both their light sources winked out. Sabra waiting for the echoing sounds of their hoofsteps to fade, ears straining as he listened. He could hear both of the them breathing in slow, measured breaths, but past that … There it is again. A faint, almost unnoticable thump far off in the distance. Almost unnoticeable. He crept forward through the darkness, skirting around Dawn and nearing the captain as his ears strained for another tease of the noise. There! It echoed down the tunnel again, a very faint thunk sound that, while distorted, was … Wood, he thought. Wood hitting something hard and stopping with a bang. Crystal maybe? And why wood? Unless … There was one easy conclusion to reach from it. A door, perhaps. Opening and then closing. He took another few steps forward, past Steel, still alert and waiting. A faint rumble reached his ears, so distant and quiet he almost couldn’t hear it, even with his special talent being what it was. And though he couldn’t make out any details, he could hear the steady rhythm to it, as well as the rising and falling cadence that could only be one thing. Voices. And hoofsteps. Someone else had entered the sewers. Who or why he couldn’t say yet. But they weren’t alone. And … He took another quiet step forward. Are they getting closer? His ears strained as he listened, his own breath coming in slower, steady pulls as to not distract or interfere with what he could pick up. It was difficult. But as the seconds ticked on, and the faint murmur grew gradually louder, the direction became clear. Whoever or whatever was making the sounds, they were coming closer. “Voices,” he said quietly, stepping back to the captain. “I cannot make out how many. But they are coming this way.” “Dawn, low light.” The sergeant complied, a faint orange glow lighting their immediate area. After such utter blackness, it was a welcome sight. “Everypony up on the pipes,” Steel said, pointing at the walls. “Try to get somewhere out of sight in case they have light. If they’re Order, ambush. If there’s more than double our number, let them pass by. We don’t want anyone tipping our hand.” Sabra nodded, Dawn following suit a moment later. Then he turned and began climbing up the pipes as quietly as he could manage. Again, a situation that makes me wish we had Nova along with us. Sneaking around was his skill, far more than anypony else on the team. One hoof slipped slightly as he climbed, the rubbery cover over his hoof failing to grip one of the pipes, and he adjusted his positioning, clambering upward as far as he could and then slipping into a gap below several small pipes and atop a large one. Lying on his belly he could just fit without his Fimbo or the rest of his gear striking the small pipes above. Steel had not been so lucky. A few soft scrapes came from the other side of the tunnel as the captain pressed himself down between two pipes, leaving only his shoulders and head exposed. Dawn, meanwhile, had secreted herself further back. A moment later the glow of her horn went out, and once more darkness claimed them. Uncomfortable darkness. It was one thing to lie in a dark room, beneath blankets, and another to move freely even in a blackness that seemed almost all consuming. But to be wedged into a small space amid utter blackness … At least there have been no signs of life down here. Monstrous life, anyway. The sound of voices was growing steadily louder, though he couldn’t quite make out what anyone was saying yet. Then there was a sharper tone that, even indecipherable due to distance, was clearly a command to be quiet, because afterward, the echoes faded. Of their voices, anyway. He could still hear … hoofsteps. Yes, they were definitely hoofsteps. Now if only I could relay that to Dawn and Steel, he thought as the sound rolled past him. But they’d likely figure it out on their own before long. Twelve hooves, he thought as the echoes became more distinct. Three ponies then. A faint glow of purple light, so faint he doubted he would have noticed it had it not been so vastly dark, pricked at his eyes from the end of the tunnel. Dim at first, but growing brighter with each passing moment, illuminating forth from an opening some distance off, near what looked like the end of the tunnel they were in. The tower, then, he guessed. That was where Dawn had said the tunnel led, if he was remembering her words correctly. A smattering of chatter began to echo down the tunnel again, quieter than it had been the first time, but much more identifiable as voices due to the distance. His ears twitched again, trying to make sense of the dull rumble. He made out a few scattered words, such as “go” and “why,” but nothing coherent. Then the speakers stepped into view, the purple-white glow bathing the end of the tunnel. Unicorns, all, and wearing familiar-looking armor. The Order, Sabra thought as the group stopped. And only three of them. “Right!” the one behind the two leads said, his voice echoing down the tunnel. “How far away is the divide?” “Near a quarter of a mile,” one of the other two replied, pointing with her hoof. “A quarter-mile?” The first pony looked up at the ceiling of the tunnel. “You jest! There could be iceworms down here.” “The shinies never get eaten,” the third pony pointed out. “Who would know?” the first pony replied, his tone disdainful. “They are shiners. For all we know they come down here to rut under the ground like dirt-eaters. There could be a whole chamber full of bones down here and we would hardly know.” “So … What are you saying, exactly?” one of the lead ponies asked, turning to look back at the first. “That you will stay here while we go check the tunnel?” Please don’t, Sabra thought. Three in a group they could handle. Two with a rearward “guard” would be tricky to take down without one escaping to sound an alarm. “Yeah,” the third pony said, her tone mocking. “All alone?” “Do not worry,” the second said, her tone just as mocking as the third’s. “If we hear your screams, I’m sure we will be able to make it back in time to aid you. Before an iceworm consumes your innards from—” “Enough!” The sharp command echoed down the tunnel alongside a flash of magic from the unicorn’s horn. “Your points, if mocking, are valid. I shall come with you to the junction. After all, it would not do for two juniors—” They stressed the word, stretching it out, presumably matching it with a sneer or a glare. “—to be caught unawares in the event that there were any real danger.” “Oh shove it up your backside, you pompous oaf,” the second replied, turning her back on the stallion and flicking her tail. “You may be a senior mage, but there is a perfectly valid reason you were assigned to scout the sewers with us.” “Yes,” the third said, mirroring the motion as the first began to sputter. “Because Argent believes you to be an ass.” “How dare y—?” “Wait!” The third spun around quickly, her shout echoing down the tunnel. “My apologies, senior mage. I misspoke.” “Well, I should think so you—” “Argent knows you are an ass. That’s why you’re down here following us, and not up there planning with the rest of the mages.” “Why you—” Whatever the unicorn had been about to say was buried under mocking laughter as the two juniors began to gallop forward down the tunnel, leaving their “leader” sputtering behind them. A moment later his shout echoed after them, and the pair slowed, but not enough that he didn’t have to hurry to catch up. Dissension, Sabra thought as the trio grew closer, the light from their horns gradually nearing his hiding place. I wonder if the captain can use that? There was no question about taking the group down, however. The three of them were moving toward their position, and clearly some kind of scouting party—though from the sound of it, either sent mostly to keep them out of trouble. Or to keep the third out of trouble, it was hard to say which was accurate. Either way, it doesn’t matter, Sabra thought as the trio grew closer, the two mares in front laughing and bantering among one another while their superior caught up. He let out a barking command as soon as he was close to them. “Keep quiet!” he ordered. They were close enough now that Sabra could see the mares roll their eyes. “The sounds echo down here.” “We are aware of this, senior mage,” the second of the pair said. “But with all of your shouting, we were not aware that you were.” “You—!” The trio was near his position now, purplish-white light shining across his armor. Hopefully, shoved into the pipes up above eye-level, none of them would notice or even be able to see him. “Relax, senior mage,” the other said with a shake of her head. “We will not find anyone down here. Even if there are any shinies down here, they run like cowards whenever they hear us patrolling. They know what would happen if we caught them.” A valid reason for why the center of the map was fairly unknown, Sabra thought as the trio passed right by beneath him. He turned his eyes to Steel’s position and caught sight of a very faint nod. A signal to act. Slowly, carefully, he began to slide out of his position between the pipes, one hoof reaching for his Fimbo. “It is no wonder you two are assigned to such duty,” the senior mage was saying as Sabra stood atop one of the pipes, gauging the distance as they moved forward. “You’re both just—” Sabra leaped just as one of the lead mares began to turn, his unextended Fimbo gripped in one hoof. He saw her eyes begin to widen in surprise … and then he brought his staff down against the side of the senior mage’s head, the force of the blow throwing the unicorn to the side. The mage slammed into the pipes as Sabra landed, ready to spring forward at the last two. He didn’t need to. Before the one mare could even begin to shout, ropes snaked up around her out of the darkness, what would have been a scream morphing into a grotesque gurgle as they tightened around her throat and limbs. Both her and her companion hit the ground in a tangle of limbs and rope. “Secure them,” Dawn said, her voice so cold it almost sent a shiver down his spine, but he was already moving. “Horn locks only. I have more rope.” As he watched, the thin lengths began to tie themselves into knots, rapidly tying down and tightening even as the two mares struggled. One lit her horn, likely readying a spell, but one of the ropes cinched tight around her throat, and she let out a pained choke, the light winking out, leaving only Dawn’s soft orange illuminating the scene. “Quickly.” He nodded, ignoring the fearful, panicked look in the mares’ eyes as he slid a horn lock down over each of their horns. Only once the horn lock was secure did the rope around each mare’s throat ease back and then slide away. Then he turned, checking the stallion he’d hit on his way down. “Out cold,” Steel said, rising from beside the unicorn’s limp form. “And I don’t know how long it’ll be ‘till he wakes up. Good hit, lousy helmet.” He pulled a horn lock from his saddlebags. “We’ll tie him up anyway.” “I’ll examine him,” Dawn said, stepping past Sabra. “If he dies here, it means he can’t be imprisoned later.” “Meanwhile, these two can still talk,” Steel said, stepping over to the now-silent—and thoroughly terrified-looking—Order mares. “Let’s see what they can tell us about the tower. “Nothing!” one of them blurted. “We will not betray our ruler to …” She paused, staring up at Steel. “What … are you, anyway?” “We are the Dusk Guard. Of Equestria,” Steel said, staring down at the pair. “Then it’s true,” the other mare said. “There is an army here.” “True enough,” Steel said, his voice cold. “How many of you are left in the tower?” “More than you will ever be able to handle, no matter how many of you there are,” one mare practically spat at him. “King Sombra will return soon, and whatever the strength of your forces, they will fall!” Steel let out a sigh as the mare finished her rant with actual spit, the thick drool dripping down the front of his armor. “Well,” he said, wiping it away with one hoof. “I’d hoped that in light of how little you cared for your superior—” One of the mares let out a scoff, but the captain ignored it. “—you’d be a bit more willing to tell us something that could help your case later.” “Save your breath.” The mare who hadn’t spit spoke, eyes flashing. “Reed is no one’s superior, but Argent …” She let out a short, almost chilling laugh. “Say or do what you will, Equestrian. It will not help you in the end.” Sabra watched as Steel simply shrugged. “We’ll see,” he said, as if the mare hadn’t spoken at all. “Anything else you want to tell us?” “We have not told you anything!” the first mare almost shouted, jerking against her restraints but accomplishing little more than flopping against the ground. “You will—” “Actually, you’ve told me quite a lot,” Steel said, his words carrying enough weight that they somehow shut the mare up. He crouched, far enough back, Sabra noted, that neither of the mares would be able to lash out at him with their hooves, but close enough they could almost certainly see his eyes. “You didn’t shout when my sergeant removed the ropes choking you, so that means you don’t believe that there is anyone guarding your retreat that could hear you, even with as much as sound carries in these tunnels.” “That, and you only talk about Argent or your deposed king,” Steel continued as both mares gaped, one’s mouth opening and closing like a gasping fish on a dock. “It’s either one or the other. Which means that there can’t be much of an effective, senior command left, or you’d be naming one of them. And since your king is being taken care of—” Sabra didn’t miss the panicked look the two shared at that revelation. “—that means taking care of Argent is our job.” “Anything else you want to tell us?” Steel asked, his cold tone becoming a bit more jovial. “Maybe the name of the commanding officer who let you two foals believe they were trained soldiers of some kind?” For a moment the pair were silent, and the the spitter spoke. “Go rut with your mother, mud-pony,” she said, her words so fiery that Sabra wouldn’t have been surprised to see smoke form in the air had she still had her magic. “Insults then. How very … clever,” Steel said, rising and stepping back. One of the mares spit at him again, though this time it fell short. “Very well. Sergeant?” “He’ll live,” Dawn said, stepping away from the comatose body of the unicorn Sabra had struck. “He wouldn’t had I not been here, however. That was a heavy blow, spec.” She glanced in Sabra’s direction. “Though not undeserved. With luck, he’ll awake with a newfound respect for others. Or, failing that, some minor brain damage that makes him a more agreeable individual. But I’m far too good a doctor for that. Whether that’s a misfortune or not depends on one’s view.” As she spoke, several lengths of rope slithered out of her pack in the glow of her magic, tying the unconscious pony into a tightly-wrapped bundle. “So you’re done?” Steel asked. Dawn nodded. “Good,” he said. “Then let’s get moving. This time, though …” He turned toward Sabra. “I want you out front, spec. You’ve got the ears, and I’ll be keeping my headlamps off. No sense in getting ambushed by anypony sent to look for these three.” He shot a quick glance at the two mares. “Though from the sound of it, they’re not important enough to warrant anyone worrying about them anytime soon. Not when the Order has bigger problems.” “Go to Tartarus, rock-licker.” “Somepony might come looking for them,” Dawn said, glaring at the pair. “After all, they display such charming speciesism.” “Coward.” “As I said,” Dawn continued. “Charming.” Steel nodded. “Spec? Anything to add?” Sabra shook his head. “No.” “Then let’s move out. Take point, and see if you can find where those two got in.” “Wait!” one of the unicorns said quickly as they began to move, a hint of panic in her voice. “You are just going to leave us here? In the dark? We cannot make light without our magic.” “Don’t worry,” Steel said, not looking back. “I’m sure somepony will come to collect you for your inevitable trial … eventually.” “But … There could be iceworms, or rats, or—” “Oh, I wouldn’t worry too much about them,” Steel said, slowing and finally looking back. Sabra slowing, watching as the captain stared back at the two mares, almost lost to the darkness already. “They’ll see you’re unicorns and … wait, they’re not speciesist.” He shrugged. “Guess you’ll just have to hope there’s nothing more to those stories than stories.” He turned forward once more. “Come on, team. Let’s go.” “Wait! You cannot do this! How dare you leave us? You filthy rock-lickers! You and your families will burn! You hear me!? Burn!” The other mare began to shout as well, their cries overlapping and filling the tunnel with a cacophony of noise. “Team?” Steel said, glancing at both of them. “We might as well run for a bit. No one’s going to hear us over that mess anyway. Sabra, take point, Dawn, middle. I’ll cover the rear. Go.” Sabra nodded, dropping into an easy gallop, hooves steadily eating up the length of the tunnel. Only once he was underway, ears twitching as they hunted for any sound out of the ordinary, did he let his mind fall back on what Dawn had said. You nearly killed that pony. But … didn’t. He hadn’t meant to, anyway. The blow had been meant to incapacitate, not kill. But if they had fallen, dead … Would I be at ease with it? He couldn’t say. The last two days had been … trying, at best. Would one more soul fallen matter so much to me? He slowed as the echoing yells behind began to fade at last, though still loud. He could hear the resonating return of his own hoofsteps coming ahead of him, which meant that the end of the tunnel, and the opening the Order unicorns had come out of, was close. Behind him, Dawn and Steel’s hoofsteps slowed as well. I expect it would, he thought. Which means I’m fighting for a far better reason than he was. The end of the tunnel was close now, the echoes of his hoofsteps reflecting back at him almost instantly. A few steps later, the soft glow of Dawn’s light bled into a shadowed hole against one side, the pipes around them lifting into the air or folding out of sight. The opening they passed through, Sabra thought, taking a few steps into it and listening to the ring of his hooves. Narrower, and branching off at an angle like the others, though steeper. But at the same time, there was something else to the sound as well. One part of the echo was dull, the sound coming back slightly off from everything else. He turned, glancing back at Dawn and Steel, then motioned with one hoof. This way. They moved to follow with faint nods. Down the tunnel, he could still hear the echoed screams of the two mares, but they sounded a lot less distinct now, little more than incoherent rambling. Maybe they’ll come to an epiphany once they calm down, he thought as he began making his way down the side shaft, eyeing the narrow walls and tight cluster of pipes to his right. He was getting two results from his hoofsteps now, one the same deadened effect he’d heard before, while the other … It’s this tunnel meeting up with one of the other, larger ones, he realized after a moment. That makes sense. This close to the center of the city, with the major passages coming out of the center, like spokes on a wheel, passing from one to another would be relatively short. Which means we must be close. Sure enough, he could hear the deadened echo coming closer, and he slowed, eyeing the edge of the shadows made by Dawn’s light, he could faintly see a lip to the wall coming up on his left. Once again he motioned to Dawn and Steel, this time for silence, and moved forward. A plain wooden door was set into the wall, unadorned save for a single, heart-shaped carving at its center. Which, he noted, had been marred by a singular burn mark cutting across the wood. A symbol of the former rulers of the empire, maybe? There was no handle. He frowned, eyeing the door for a moment before pressing one ear up against it. Silence. He waited to the count of five, straining as he listened for any sign that there could, in some way, be a rear guard, before reaching out and giving the door a light push. It let out a soft click, bouncing slightly under his hoof, and then swung inward, revealing a dimly-lit stairwell passage ascending up. As well as a chorus of pipes, one of which he managed to place his hoof on before the now-free door could swing into it. That explains the bang I heard earlier, he thought, gently easing the door into the pipe with one hoof. He motioned to Dawn and Steel, waiting until they were in the doorway to show them both the door and the pipe behind it, flashing the sign for “Danger.” Both of them nodded. With Dawn’s light so close, he spared a single glance at the frame the door had been resting in. It was actually smaller than the door, with some sort of mechanical latch built on the inside edge. A matching groove in the wood of the door showed where the latch had caught against it. Different, he thought, before turning and starting up the stairs. They were small and dusty, the space tight and cramped. One of the pipes let out a loud gurgle as he passed, liquid rushing through it, and suddenly he realized he knew where they were. The “legs,” he thought as he climbed upward. The central tower had been open at its base, most of the structure hanging over open air on several large crystalline supports that once again had seemed to echo the snowflake motif. That’s what we’re inside. One of those legs, climbing up to the tower proper. A faint chill ran down his spine as a memory of the fate of the last building with legs they’d gone on a mission inside came to mind. Hopefully that isn’t what we do here, he thought as he continued to climb. For starters, that would do much more damage to the city. Then again, if he could think of it, so could the Order. It may be worth watching out for. He passed under a soft but dim light, noting the number of cobwebs crawling along it. Each of them was thick with dust. Well … that’s a good sign. Dust means that nopony has been this way to clean. Which in turn means that there’s a good chance we’ll be able to move without being spotted. Up ahead, the stairs finally terminated in another door, this one like its sibling down below, bare of handle or any adornment save the carving of the heart at its center. Again the carving had been disfigured, this time by a series of craters. Somepony definitely doesn’t like that symbol. He put his ear to the door, listening carefully. Running water … airflow? Ventilation maybe? And … He could just make out two sets of faint, repetitive, thuds. Hoofsteps. But faint. And lacking the sharper echo that would mean they were in the same room. He smiled despite himself. He still remembered the first time he’d caught a fellow monk unaware with his ability to make such a distinction. Focus, he chided himself, smile vanishing. He needed another meditation session. A long one, if his attention was slipping that much. Worry about it later. For now, keep to the moment before you. The door let out a faint click as he pressed his hoof against it and swung open revealing … Another dimly-lit, dusty service corridor, he thought as he peered out. Just without stairs. It also wasn’t quite straight. It stretched on in both directions, narrow and cramped, but with a just barely visible curve to it he wouldn’t have been able to see if not for how long it was. Circling the interior of the tower. But likely not on every floor. Bolt had spoken about that once, about how much space was wasted internally when a structure ran hallways around the outer edges. But in this case … He let his eyes slip to the piping that moved out of the shaft behind him and along the wall. They must have chosen to do it for this level because of the way the legs were built. Interesting, but whether or not it was helpful to their cause, he wasn’t sure. He stepped further into the hallway, ears searching for the sound of the footsteps he’d heard. The floor beneath his hooves was solid, but coated with some sort of heavy cloth that gave a degree of softness to his hoofsteps. It wasn’t hard to find another door that led deeper into the tower. Not far from the exit he’d used was a thin, tall, narrow door, lacking a handle like the others he’d seen. One ear pressed against it was enough to source the hoofsteps he’d heard as from a pair of ponies growing more distant by the second. A patrol, perhaps? Or ponies just passing by? Either way, the sound was growing more distant. He moved back to the door to the steps, motioning for Dawn and Steel to follow through. “Nicely done, Sabra,” Steel said, his voice so low it was almost inaudible. “We’re in. Dawn? Any traps?” “No,” she said, shaking her head even as her horn glowed faintly. “Understand I’m not quite as good as Nova at this, but I didn’t feel any wards or enchantments along the stairs aside from what I presume were normal for the operation of the piping. There is, however, an extraordinary concentration of ambient magic around us, and what I believe are wards off in that direction.” She pointed down the hall to the left. “A trap?” Sabra asked, but the captain shook his head. “Not theirs, Sabra. Ours. That direction is the front door of the tower, if I have my bearings right. Which means …?” “They have prepared for an army,” Sabra said, nodding. “Just as you hoped.” “Just as we all worked for,” Steel said, returning the nod. “We dealt them such a blow last night that they’re under the impression that they must be facing a large force. Everything’s been pulled back here, to wait for a seige. Except …” Despite the helmet, it wasn’t hard to see that the old warrior was grinning. “They don’t know that’s where we want them.” He turned to Dawn. “We won’t have much time before they start to wonder where our army is and send out scouts. Or Captain Armor arrives and gives them one. Dawn, what do you need for that gas to work?” “We need to ascend,” Dawn said quickly, looking up at the service passageway ceiling. “The gas is heavier than air, so it will sink. For maximum dispersal, we’ll need to get as high in the tower as we can and disperse it into whatever air circulation system they have. If they don’t have one, we’ll simply need to let it out in an open area and hope for the best. I can surround us with a bubble that will keep us from being affected. The actual gas should wear off before long, while the effects will linger.” “All right,” Steel said, nodding. “So we need to find a way up. Let’s circle around inside here before heading out. If we can find a passageway up that leaves us scurrying through the walls like rats, so much the better.” “I’m not sure I appreciate being compared to a rat,” Sabra heard Dawn mutter as he turned and began making his way down the circular passage. “Very dangerous rats,” Steel replied. “Even so.” The passageway was narrow, but not so narrow that he felt cramped. Not like some of the passages in the sewers. Here and there he spotted more signs of what the hallway was used for: A small tray set by a door here, a single small plate atop it alone and covered in dust. A forgotten, discarded tool sitting atop a set of pipes. And a ladder, climbing up through a narrow opening in the ceiling alongside a thick set of upward pipes. Sabra motioned to Dawn before peering up it. The ladder extended upward in darkness before being lit at the very end. Much further than a floor away, unless the floors were much larger than normal. It skips levels. That’s how they deal with the loss of space. He’d have to thank Sky for her impromptu explanations of space utilization on airships. As he’d guessed, the ladder seemed to pass through multiple floors, the pipes breaking off in a small junction at each one. Below him, he could hear the rest of the team climbing after him, their hooves making the crystalline rungs ring faintly. A ladder made of crystal. That, he expected, would earn a mark of disapproval from Sky. It tasted of … what was the word she used? That’s right. Overkill. Or maybe it had been overengineered. What was the difference again? The thought occupied him as he followed the ladder up to its end, poking his head through an open, railed hole in the floor to see another interior crawlspace similar to the one below. Save narrower, and a bit further in. Because we’re ascending, he thought, clearing way for Dawn and Steel and peering up and down the curved accessway. The tower narrows as we move toward its peak. Down one end of the hall, he could see another ladder climbing up, but on the inner wall. Logical. One of the narrow access doors was nearby, and he moved over to it, careful to keep his hooves as quiet as possible. A single ear pressed up against the door told him nothing. Well, nothing save that there was little noise to be heard on the other side. All that may mean is that any patrol or guard may be on the opposite side, he thought, lessons from the last few months of training taking over. Never assume that because you cannot hear a guard, there isn’t one. Nova and Hunter had both taken great pleasure in teaching him that lesson. Repeatedly. He turned away from the door as Steel pulled himself off the ladder. “Anything?” the captain asked, his voice barely audible. Sabra shook his head, then motioned down the hall to the next ladder. There was no point in finding out if there was anyone on the floor they were on. Not at the moment anyway. Steel nodded, and once more they moved for the ladder, Sabra taking the lead and climbing up the crystal rungs. The rungs, thankfully, weren’t slick, leaving him with little to do but climb higher and listen to the faint sound of his own breathing inside his helmet. The next exit found them again climbing out next to the outer wall, in keeping with the slow, inward curve of the tower. Again they were in a dimly-lit service passageway, one slightly wider than the last, but filled with small trolleys. Storage, Sabra noted, taking care not to catch his Fimbo on any of them. Once more, he moved to the nearest door, but this time he could hear noise though it before he’d pressed his ear up against it. Loud clinks and bangs, underscored by the faint rumble of running water and voices. “—that will you?” somepony was saying. “Get it yourself. My hooves are full.” “So are mine.” There was another loud bang, followed by a cascade of crashing sounds. Cutlery and plates. So they were behind a kitchen. That explains the trolleys. He kept his ear pressed up against the door. Are these ponies friend? Or foe? “This is disgraceful,” a different voice said. “So you’ve been saying.” “Why do we have to cook their food and clean up? The fault is not ours that the servants ran the moment things went crazy.” “Shut up.” He didn’t have to be in the room to hear how tightly the words had been hissed out of somepony’s mouth. “I am just raising the point! We are not unicorns, but we still are members of the Or—” The words cut off in a pained cry, overshadowed by what Sabra estimated were roughly two stacks of twenty plates each tipping over as someone crashed into them. “Open that mouth of yours again with such dangerous speak, and I will seriously consider cutting out your tongue.” The voice belonged to the same one who had ordered the pony to be quiet earlier. “Better you than all of us if Argent or one of the other mages hears you speak. Am I clear?” There was a pause, and then much louder “Am I clear?” Sabra couldn’t quite make out the mumbled response over the sound of running water, but it must have satisfied the pony in charge. “Good,” he said. “Now, let us return to work without any more talk that could see us thrown out on the street. Do any of you want that? To be at the mercy of these Equestrians? I, for one, do not intend to. So everypony shut your yaps and get scrubbing.” For a moment all was quiet. Then somepony else spoke. “Do you really think that there are Equestrians out there?” “Somepony took out all those posts last night. And no one has returned. The mages are worried.” “What the citizens are saying cannot be true, can it? That Sombra is gone?” “Shut. Up.” Again the command hissed out, only this time it was obeyed. “And someone pick up those plates.” Sabra pulled his ear away from the door as the sounds of cutlery and plates cascading over one another resumed once more, along with subdued chatter that seemed more to pass the time than anything else. From by the ladder, Steel fixed him with a look that seemed to say “Well?” He moved away from the door before answering. “Kitchen,” he said. “Six ponies, crystal from the sound of them.” “Slaves?” “Collaborators,” he answered, and both Steel and Dawn’s faces darkened. “Should we move for the next ladder?” “No,” Steel said quickly. “Just crystal ponies? You’re sure?” He nodded. “One stated they weren’t unicorns. The staff fled. During the battle with Sombra, from the sound of it. So the Order is forcing them to cook.” “Naturally,” Dawn said quietly, her disdain clear. “And their collaborators find out exactly how close to the Order they really are.” “Did they sound like they’d be sympathetic to our cause?” Steel asked. He shook his head. “No, not from what I heard. They’re scared of us, worried about our presence. But they are still Order.” “All right,” Steel said with a nod. “How quickly do you think you can take them all down? Consciously, so we can question them.” His question caught at his lips. “You wish to question them?” “The ponies who just served our enemies a bunch of food and know right where they are?” Steel replied. “You bet I do. Take that room, spec. Quickly and quietly.” “Yes sir.” Sabra turned toward the door, feeling the familiar rush of adrenaline spill through him like a cold wave of ice-water. He pressed one ear up against the door again, listening to the crystal ponies chatter while they worked. Two on the right, he thought, drawing his Fimbo and extending it to its full length. Hoofsteps echoed across the floor, one of the ponies carrying dishes away from the sink. Island, I think, for the cleaning station. Two ponies by it. And two more … carrying dishes away? Or at least on that side of the room. He would need to move fast to make sure one of them didn’t alert anypony else. They were alone in the room, he was sure of that. But if one of them got away, or their yells carried … He smiled. He had a good idea how to avoid letting either happen. Fimbo at the ready, he gently pressed against the door, feeling it bounce beneath his hoof before swinging outward into the kitchen. No one inside the room noticed. Ahead of him was a cleaning station, just as he’d guessed, water flowing from a large tap, one crystal pony washing, another drying. The faucet handle was barely tilted to one side, but the sound the water made filled the room. Two more were passing them dishes on the left, while two on the right were taking the dried dishes and placing them on large racks to be stored. None of them were looking in his direction, and the nearest door he could see was a good twenty feet from the furthest crystal pony. Perfect. He stepped into the room, his hooves silent against the crystal floor, and brought back his foreleg. One of the crystal ponies caught sight of him out of the corner of his eyes and began to turn. Far too late to stop Sabra’s Fimbo from slamming into the faucet handle, knocking it to one side. Water practically exploded out of the sink with a roar, the dishwasher yelping in surprise and stepping back. Sabra’s slide took out his rear legs, dropping him to the ground. A quick shove, and the dishwasher was up, flying uncontrollably into the dryer. Both went down in a tangle of limbs, but Sabra was already moving away, kicking up and over the cleaning station to get between his targets and the door. One of them tried anyway, letting out a shout and lowering her shoulder as if to tackle her way past him. He swept her hooves from beneath her, dropping a hoof to the back of her head for good measure to help drive her chin into the floor. Not enough to knock her unconscious, but enough to daze her. The mare behind her had been his next target, but when she fell to the ground, hooves over the top of her head, he settled for catching one of her hooves in his own and swinging her up and into the tangled dishwasher and dryer. All three went down in a pile of hooves. A plate bounced off of his armor, skipping off into the kitchen and shattering against the floor. The last two ponies were backing away, each holding plates in their hooves and throwing them as quickly as they could. It wasn’t fast enough. Not that any of the plates were large or heavy enough to stop him. He shattered two with his forelegs as they flew at him through the air, and then darted forward, hooves lashing out in rapid, light blows. Both ponies fell back, dazed. He glanced back once, then flipped up and over the cleaning station, scooping up his Fimbo as he went, and bringing it around in sharp arc, one end striking the ground just in front of the nose of the pony he’d dazed. They stopped crawling for the door in an instant. An orange glow wrapped around the faucet handle, turning the water back down to a trickle, the roar vanishing. The trio in front of the station finally extricated themselves from one another, only to look up and see both Dawn and Steel standing above them. “Now,” Steel said, his gravelly voice low but no less threatening. “I think all of you can guess what will happen if any one of you so much as looks like they’re going to scream, but in case you don’t …” He held up one hoof, the spikes on his gauntlets snapping out around it. There was a loud crack as he broke one corner of the cleaning station off with a single blow. “Get the picture?” “What do you want to know?” It was the dish dryer that had spoken, their magenta hooves shaking as they held them up. “Floors. Positions. Ponies.” Steel’s voice was quick and clipped. Sabra glanced at the dazed mare he’d cut off, but her wide eyes were fixed on the green-clad earth pony. “Tell us where they are, and we’ll just tie you, gag you, and leave you in the service corridor.” “And what if we don’t?” Sabra recognized the voice of one of the one who’d reprimanded the rest of the kitchen earlier. They rose, giving Steel a defiant glare. “Well, you’re all probably going to prison as collaborators anyway,” Steel said, not even looking in the direction of the standing pony. “Unless some of you have even worse crimes for the empire to ascribe against you. Do you really want to be singled out as the one who tried to make trouble?” He turned, staring right at the standing pony. “Well? Do you?” For a moment the pair stared at one another, and then the defiant pony slumped to the ground, scowling. “Good,” Steel said. “Now … Who wants to talk?” A few minutes later they were back in the service corridor, the kitchen staff trussed up, gagged, and left around the bend, where they’d be out of sight. Steel had, in a move that Sabra had thought was almost twisted in its cleverness, tied the captive ponies in a circle, limiting their range of movement so that if they tried kicking against anything but the floor, they’d be hitting one another. “Old campaign trick,” he said as they moved to the next ladder up. “Should keep them quiet.” He gestured toward the ladder. “Climb. We need to go at least another floor up.” Dawn nodded, though Sabra didn’t miss the way her eyes shifted slightly at the captain’s news. Are we simply going to trust what they told us? He had heard the pauses and catches in the collaborators’ voices, moments of hesitation and delay that all but guaranteed they were lying. “Climb,” Steel said again, nodding at the ladder. “We need to move.” Sabra nodded, though he couldn’t help but glance in the direction of the ponies they’d left tied up. Several of them were watching them leave. No doubt planning on informing any rescuers exactly where they’d gone. Once more he began to climb, the ladder again starting on the inside of the wall and popping up on the outside several levels up. This time, the corridor was quite a bit narrower, and the curve that had been gradual down below seemed much sharper, the bend closer. We’re getting closer to the top. He checked the closest door, listening for voices. Nothing, though for a moment there was a sound that could have been faint hoofsteps. A guard? Or just another crystal pony running errands? Whatever it had been, the sound had thankfully been distant. He turned as Steel pulled himself off of the ladder. Dawn was standing next to him, clearly perturbed. “Captain—” Steel lifted a hoof, cutting her off. “Sabra?” he asked. “Nothing,” he said, shaking his head. “Perhaps a guard or somepony walking past distantly, but—” Steel didn’t let him finish, signaling that the group should move down the corridor, ignoring Dawn’s signed protest and once again signing that they should move. Once more, Sabra took the lead, frowning as he pressed through cobwebs, the passage narrowing around them as various pipes overlapped with one of the strange pump boxes, similar to but smaller than the ones they’d passed in the sewers below. It let out a faint hiss, water rushing through it, and Steel cleared his throat. “This is good,” he said as Sabra turned around, only to find himself almost shoulder to hip with Dawn. “All right—” “Captain,” Dawn said quickly. “You must realize that you can’t trust anything those ponies had to say. Their interests run counter to our own.” “I understand that,” Steel said with a nod, his eyes moving to Sabra. “Spec? What’s your analysis?” “They lied, captain,” Sabra said, nodding. “Sergeant Triage is correct.” “Lied about what, spec?” For a moment he hesitated. “Sir?” Steel eyes said he was grinning beneath his helmet. “You’ve got the best ears of any of us, and I could hear some of those pauses when they were thinking up fast ones. But when were they?” “When …?” He threw his mind back, momentarily thrown off by the shift. If he knew they were lying, why—? Wait … “They showed … signs … of lying … when they were talking about ponies.” The smile in Steel’s eyes seemed to grow wider. “And the rooms? The layout? What about when they were talking about those.” “No …” he said, a smile of his own growing as comprehension dawned. “No, they did not.” “Wait, so they didn’t lie?” Dawn asked, her attention jumping between the two of them. “Forgive me for not keeping up, but why wouldn’t they lie?” “Of course they lied,” Steel said. “About the ponies. About the stuff they could think up on the fly. But the rest …” He glanced at Sabra. “They were concerned with making up information about the Order,” Sabra said, running his mind over the conversation. “Telling us who was in what room, and how many ponies there were. But the captain is correct. They only gave signs of hesitation when talking about ponies, not locations.” Dawn nodded, a look of understanding coming across her face. “They were so focused on telling us untruths about their allies that they didn’t bother or think to falsify facts about anything else.” “Crafting a coherent narrative, especially in a short amount of time, and between several allies you can’t confer with is difficult,” Steel said with a nod. “In order to have the best chance of keeping their stories straight, the easiest way would be to lie about the ponies we were interested in.” “And not the rooms,” Sabra said, giving the captain a more rapid nod as he let the thought roll through him. “Those details came quickly. Without hesitation. And they did not disagree with one another.” “So unless all of them were paying close attention to one another …” Dawn ventured. “We have a somewhat reliable layout of the next few levels,” Steel finished. “As well as a rough idea of what levels the Order does occupy. Sabra, how many levels up did they say the offices were?” He paused, counting backwards in his mind to account for the level they were on, as well as the one they had passed. “Three levels up.” “Then we go four. On the odd chance they were lying about that, too. Then—” His focus moved to Dawn. “We spring the trap.” His eyes snapped back, and Sabra felt a faint tingle of apprehensive pride roll through him as he met the captain’s eyes. “Lead us up, Sabra.” “Yes sir.” He turned once more, sliding past the pump and pressing through a collection of old cobwebs that draped over his armor like strings of cloud. The higher we go, the less-used these passages seem. He brought up one hoof, trying to rub away some of the dust clinging to his chest, but only succeeded in smearing a track across the plate. At least my armor is grey, he thought, stealing a quick glance back at Dawn and the captain. The dark, olive-green of Steel’s armor hadn’t been too shrouded by the dust, but the marring across Dawn’s pink armor was far more obvious. Even if he had been taking the lead, the dirt and dust they were encountering were leaving her with the worst to show for it, simply by virtue of the shade. Then again, he thought as the passageway widened once more. That shade has struck me as too much in the past. I get that Sky wanted our armor to match our coats, but … He peered up the ladder well, eyeing the dimly-lit opening above. Pink, even subdued, seems a little attention-grabbing for how much sneaking we do. He could hear voices before he crested the next floor, and he slowed, ears twitching as he focused in the sound. Deadened, so it’s through something. Access door most likely. Or a thin wall. From the tone they were raised as well, though not to a level that was an outright shout. Closer to somepony keeping their voice in check, he thought. Trying not to raise it but letting their emotion leak through. Strain in spoken form. He eyed the lighting, checking for any signs of movement—shadow moving across shadow, or across light. There was nothing. He pulled himself up, through the opening and out into a narrower passageway than the ones they’d passed through so far. The ceiling was lower was well. Because we’re moving up? he wondered. Or for some other reason? As before, there was a nearby door, and he moved over to it slowly, one ear twitching already at the muffled sounds coming through it. Definitely a couple of ponies arguing, he thought as he listened to the sounds from the other side of the door. With some distress, as well. The voices were still muffled, which meant that there was at least one other door or wall in the way, judging by what it sounded the volume was like, but even so … Somepony is displeased about something. But whatever it was over, it was keeping them occupied. And hopefully, against one another. He turned and waved toward Dawn, offering her the all clear signal and moving past the door, down the corridor. He found the next ladder without issue, noting that this one actually tilted inward slightly, toward the center of the tower. Not remotely enough to be considered a set of steps, but enough that he didn’t quite feel like he was climbing straight up anymore. Almost. There were more cobwebs this high up as well, the signs of disuse and neglect all the more apparent. Twice a hoof threatened to slip free of the ladder as he placed it on a particularly dusty patch, and he waved down to Dawn and Steel, miming his hoof slipping to warn them before continuing on. And when he reached the top … Nothing. He pulled himself out into the narrow passage, as cramped as the last. His ears twitched, turning this way and that, but the only sounds he heard was his own slow, steady breathing and the quiet clang of hooves climbing the ladder behind him. The door came next, his ear pressing right up against the crystal and listening for the faintest sounds of movement. Nothing. Not a breath, not a hoofstep, nothing. He pulled back from the door, looking towards the ladder as Dawn climbed over the edge. He motioned toward the door, then tapped the front of his helmet, right where a horn would be if he had one. Magic? Dawn focused for a moment, eyes narrowing and a faint wisp of orange lighting up around her horn that was matched by similar lines on her undersuit, but then she shook her head. Good. He waited until Steel had made his way into the passageway to open the door, just on the chance that the faint ring of crystal armor against the rungs would give them away, then slowly pressed the door open. Only to be greeted by an ordinary, if somewhat shiny, hallway. Covered with a plush, pale blue rug that somehow still looked like crystal. It even sparkled under the light. And yet, as he set one hoof on it, it still felt like a rug should. Soft, slightly cushioned, with a little give. Light sparkled as the strands moved around his hoof. Focus. He pulled his eyes away from the strange covering, ignoring the question of how something that looked like crystal could be so soft. Part of him wanted to suggest that it was water, but— Focus. He peered down the hall. It was wide and well lit, heading straight into the structure with doors on either side, as well as some oddly-angled hallways. Wait, no … He stepped into the hall, leaving the door open behind him as he stared at the hallway junctions. It’s a snowflake. Just like outside. Impressive. Their devotion to the architecture is … almost awesome. Doubtless it had made the construction difficult, but if there was a fulfilled function to it, decorative or otherwise … One thing it did not allow them to do, he noted, was easily guess at where they were or see others in relation to their own position. I can only see the spoke, he thought. Anything off of it or around the curve will be out of sight. Still, there was something at the “end” of the spoke, occupying the central point of the floor. He couldn’t quite see what it was, only that it looked like the hallway opened up into a larger room. There was motion from behind him, and he pulled his head back to see Steel giving him a pointed look. He knew what it meant, and he signaled quickly with one hoof. “No foes seen.” Different from “no foes.” The captain nodded, then signaled back. “Recon.” Sabra answered the command with a quick “Understood” and ducked out the door, keeping his body low to the floor and his ears forward. He could hear … something. Chatter maybe, almost casual. But distant and muffled. And more … His ears flicked once more, eyes narrowing as he focused. It’s coming from straight ahead, he thought, ears flicking back to their prior positions. And not in a way that says it is from somewhere nearby. But it was still distant. Interesting. He moved down the hall carefully, stopping at each door to place his ear up against the wood and listen for a moment before moving on. No sounds emanated out from within, either in the slow rustle of habitation and papers being pushed across a desk, or the faint hoofsteps that would have marked someone moving around. Not even faint snores or sounds of somepony nickering slightly in their sleep. Which meant that the rooms were either unoccupied, or that they were inhabited by somepony being absolutely as silent as possible. The former was much more likely. He moved quickly, finding himself at the first intersection in moments. The branching hallways did indeed break off of the main spoke at sharp angles that bent toward the outer part of the building, and he paused for a moment before simply electing to poke his head around one corner near ground level and check the hall. Nothing. The hallway he set eyes on was identical to the one he’d just traversed save in size, being only slightly narrower. Interesting. For a moment his mind shifted to the shape of the rooms around them, but then he jerked his focus back at the same time he did his head. Worry about it later. Or rather, don’t worry about it at all. The opposing hall was much the same, and he glanced back down the way he’d come to see Steel and Dawn waiting by the door. He motioned to both hallways, gave the “no foes seen” signal, and then continued on, heading for the center of the tower. The closer he came, the more he could hear through the opening, soft, muffled sounds that grew ever more distinct even as strange parts of them stayed muffled. Baffling, he realized as he neared the end of the hall. Magic baffling not unlike that in the clubs that performer plays at. There must be a spell or enchantment of some kind over the halls, or maybe over this central room … He could see more of it now, and with a moment of recognition he understood. The tower is laid out just like the city, he thought. A central point from which all the roads—or in this case halls—originate. Which means that—There! The space ahead of him was a circular chamber. Or, rather, shaft, the very center open and circled by a single rail. As he reached the end of the hall, his viewing angle widened, revealing a matching pair of spiral staircases opposite one another winding up and down the center of the tower. Everything is centralized. Just like outside. The open space was empty, and he took a moment to look around before stepping out and glancing down the other nearby spoke entrances. They were as empty as all the other halls. How large must this tower be? he wondered. How many ponies could it hold when the empire was at its prime? The hallways checked, he then moved to the stairs, ears alert. He could hear hoofsteps moving up one of them, though distantly. Several sets. But distant. He could tell that much even through the baffling. From there he moved to the railing and, as slowly as he could, eased his head over the lip. A sense of vertigo threatened him almost immediately. The shaft narrowed as it rose, a glance upwards showing that in another floor it vanished entirely, but below them, it was open all the way to the main floor. It was an incredible feat of engineering talent and skill, almost enough to marvel at. He would have, if not for the red banners hanging from every open surface. Or the small army of unicorns and crystal ponies spread across the ground floor. Steel had been right: They’d been preparing for a siege. Barricades had been set up, Order ponies waiting behind them and chatting amongst one another. The defenses were layered, angled so that anypony entering the outer entrance would be forced into a small, tightly defended area—or as the captain liked to call it, a killbox. From there, each was laid out in successive rows, widening and then narrowing again around a grand staircase that seemed to be the primary conveyance to the second floor. Box them in, then fall back into successive defensive positions, all while keeping your attacker in a small, confined area from which they cannot maneuver. It was exactly the kind of thing the captain had lectured the team about when discussing strategy. As well as something many historical records of battles in the Plainslands played out again and again. Because it works. Any force trying to barge in the front doors would suffer immense losses. But if somepony got in behind the opposing line … He turned and signaled down the hall, motioning for Steel and Dawn to approach. “Down there,” he said quietly as soon as they’d reached the railing, pointing. “It’s open.” “Just like I thought,” Steel said, taking a quick look. “That’s a lot of defensive emplacements. Dawn?” “I can’t feel any magic leakage from here,” she said, peering over the side. “But that’s to be expected. I would presume that there are a large number of aggressive, dangerous wards hidden by the defensive barricades.” “The gas?” “Give me a moment.” All three of them were peering over the railing now, as Dawn’s horn began to glow. Sabra let his eyes roll back and forth across the wider lower levels, catching sight of a number of unicorns on the higher levels. Some were even waiting around the railings. Intending to ambush intruders from above, he thought, noting the more ornate robes and barding they wore, as well as the red bands around their horns. Superiors in the Order, maybe, giving themselves a safer vantage? Dawn cleared her throat quietly. “A moment,” she said, her voice low. “I need to examine the airflows.” Her horn began to glow slightly, a look of concentration coming across her face. “Take your time,” Steel said quietly. “We only get one shot at this.” “I am aware, captain,” Dawn replied, her tone level. Sabra stepped back, pulling his eyes away from the faint glow, instead glancing down the nearest spoke and then doing a slow circuit of the landing, peering both up and down as well as down each hallway spoke, ears twitching this way and that as they hunted for any sign of activity. He saw and heard nothing. The only sign of activity came from the central shaft itself. What was this floor used for, I wonder? he thought as his circuit brought him back around to Dawn and Steel. The captain gave him an expectant look, and he shook his head. Before the Order? Offices? Guest rooms? Dining halls? Without peering into any of the doors there was no way to tell. But seeing the halls empty and in some cases encrusted in cobwebs was almost … sad. This building is a work of art, he thought as the light around Dawn’s horn winked out at last, only to return in a series of short pulses. And under the Order’s hoof, it’s merely become a fortress. Not that the two were mutually exclusive. The Fortress of Kito had been as much a work of art as it had been a stronghold in its time. Though currently it was more of a landmark, a beautiful if sobering reminder of the wars fought anciently across the Plainslands. But again, that had been a work of art in that it was intended to be something incredible to behold and crash against. This tower, however … He turned again, trotting a quick circuit in the opposite direction and then stealing another glance down the central opening. It was meant to be a thing of beauty in appearance. Not of war. The glaring red cut of the banners strewn across the lower walls only reinforced the jarring nature of the tower’s current usage, their swaths ugly and harsh compared to the symmetrical, soothing lines they covered. “We’re in luck,” Dawn said, stepping back from the railing, her voice just loud enough that he could hear it. She looked at the captain, her horn glowing once more, saddlebags opening and several small, thick-walled vials floating out. “There’s a current of warm air rising along the walls of the shaft, but the center is cooler and dropping. I’ll combine the vials in the center and hold them there while the gas drops down. I can’t say how well it will spread to other levels, but the spiral of warm air widens as it goes down. The gas should spread fairly well across the lower levels as it drops, then mix with the warm air and rise through the rest of the building.” “Which means,” she said, her eyes snapping to Sabra’s. “That you will both need to stay close. I’ll provide a barrier that will wick the gas from the air, but if any of us is outside of it, a single breath could be enough to cause disorientation or even unconsciousness. Once we see the first ponies start to drop, we should have about ten minutes before the gas is diluted enough that its effects will no longer be harmful. Understood?” From the way her gaze was fixed on him, it was clear who the question had been focused at. “Ndiyo, sergeant.” “Good. Move over here then, so I can shield you, and we’ll begin.” A soft, whitish dome fell around her and the captain, barely noticeable but ever so slightly blurring their forms. Sabra nodded and moved under it. Only then did the glow around Dawn’s horn brighten, the two full vials floating out past the railing and to the center of the shaft. “Now,” Dawn said, her voice sounding as much for her benefit as it was for his and Steel’s. “I just need to carefully, slowly pour one vial into the other at a steady rate—” Sabra’s ear twitched as something changed about the muffled sounds he was hearing, a slightly shift that made him cock his head to one side. “—just enough so that the two mix but evaporate before overflowing—” Dawn was saying, one vial ever so slightly tipping into the other, a faint haze of bubbles appearing at the top of one vial as the two began to mix. He pushed her voice out of his mind, closing his eyes as the shift in the sound grew more pronounced. There was something different about the sounds coming from the central shaft, something that made his coat stand on end. Something hidden behind the baffles, something he wasn’t quite picking up, something … His eyes went wide, head snapping up just as he heard the first shout of surprise. Not from below, but from above. Two Order unicorns, one blue, one red, were standing in shock on the stairway across from them, a level-and-a-half up, both wide-eyed, and both already lighting their horns, magic swelling forth. He wasn’t sure what happened first. Only that he saw the flash from one’s horn at the same time that he saw the crystal railing bend and flex like a snake, twisting toward them. That he threw himself into Dawn’s side, the strength of the impact shoving her away from the incoming magic. The shifting, moving crystal railing cut through the air just missing his head. Then a powerful concussive blast lifted him from his hooves as the other unicorn’s spell hit the ground behind him, the force flinging him out into open air, over the central shaft. And then he was falling, wind whipping at his tail as he dropped after the vials.