The chains around the lunar pegasi limbs clanged as they walked. Behind them, Smoky and Sulphur marched, with Sulphur barking orders and pretending to kick Moonlight when they sighted the undead guards.
“Get your butts in gear, stupid ponies!” Sulphur sneered.
“Halt!” one guard called in draconic, a half-skeletal youngster wielding a halberd. “State your purpose.”
“We caught these ponies snoopin' around the foot of the volcano,” Smoky replied in the same tongue, pulling Spectre's chain taut. “Figured they were tryin' to escape.”
The guard narrowed his eyes at Smoky. “I dunno, they look pretty shifty,” he said. “You sure they weren't up to no good?”
“Who cares?” Sulphur shrugged. “Just chuck 'em in the mines like all the others. What d'ya think they'll do?”
The other guard dropped to one knee, getting a better look at Spectre. The pony's head hung limp, his knees shaking with fear. “Like all the others...” the guard muttered, scratching a rotten scab off his nose as he stood up.
“Look, they're chained up and everythin',” Smoky groaned, tapping his foot impatiently. “If they step outta line, they'll get the beatin' of a lifetime, just as ordered. So how's about you let us through already, huh?”
The guards exchanged an uncertain glance, then shrugged, pulling back their halberds. “Fine. But Lord Toch sent his deployment orders yesterday. You'd better get on that, if you don't wanna be left behind.”
“Err, where do we get them orders, again?” Sulphur asked, scratching his head to further feign ignorance.
“What, did your brains rot before resurrection?” the first guard groaned and rolled his eyes. “All written orders are sent to the guard's chambers. That's where they always are!”
“Which ones?”
“I don't give a shit!” the guard slapped Sulphur with the flat of his halberd's blade. “Just pick one or ask Garble. Now, get these ponies working before I change my mind!”
“Alright, alright, we get the picture,” Smoky said defensively. Flicking the chains like the reigns on an antique carriage, he yelled in Equish, “Get a move on ya stinkin' mules. We've got work to do!”
The Lunar Guard shambled forward, waiting until they were out of earshot to drop their act.
“Did you have to snap the chains so hard?” Spectre groaned toward Smoky, rubbing his slightly bruised hoof.
“Sorry, but I had to make it convincing,” he shrugged. “So, where to now?”
“First off, we find the slave pits,” said Moonlight. “You and Sulphur can sweet talk the guards, while Spectre and I get some intel from the slaves.”
“And maybe we can bust 'em out when the guards' backs are turned?” added Spectre, hopefully.
“Absolutely not,” she snapped, giving him a stern glare. “Stick to the plan. There's no telling what the guards will do if they recapture slaves, and we can't risk the air ship getting shot down. We aren't prepared for a rescue mission.”
“What's going on down there?”
Moonlight froze, silencing her allies with a raised hoof. A bloated, obese dragon came plodding down the hallway. It was a smaller variety of undead, but carried the same grotesque proportions of its larger relatives, waddling forward on legs too small to support its massive girth, barely able to fit through the tunnel.
“Ma'am,” Sulphur and Smoky saluted.
“Oh, cut it with the formalities,” the undead dragon said in draconic, rolling her eyes. “I'm not much higher in rank than you. What are you doing out here anyway?”
“Catchin' runaways,” Smoky grinned. “Guards just let us back in. We'll grab our orders once the ponies are back in their proper place.”
“I was just going there, myself,” The bloated dragon scratched her chin. “Want me to escort you?”
“Sure, why not?” Sulphur forced a smile. “We're kinda lost, actually. Easy to do when it ain't your regular volcano.”
“Too true,” the bloat dragon laughed. “My name's Putrice, by the way. Don't remember my original name, don't much care.”
“Nice to meet you, Putrice,” Smoky lied. “My name's Smoky,”
“And I'm Sulphur.”
“A pleasure. Follow me.” Putrice leant on her right leg, slowly turning on her heel to face the other direction. Despite her pace, it only took a minute to arrive at the slave pits. There, hundreds of ponies were chained together in long lines, chiselling away at the volcanic rock. Streams of magma burst from tactically opened cracks, channelled into run off trenches mere millimetres away from working slaves. Cuts and burns were amongst the most common injuries slaves suffered, with many ponies sporting dirty bandages wrapped around the affected areas. It was first aid at its most basic, but it did the job, allowing them to continue their work.
But what struck all members of the Lunar Guard the most was the heat; the one thing Twilight’s vision couldn’t account for. Already, Moonlight and Spectre were sweating like pigs. If they didn’t get out of their cloaks soon, they’d almost certainly become just another victim to Torch’s brutal slave program – a fact not lost on Sulphur and Smoky. Though they kept up their veneer of confidence, they both knew their charade couldn’t last forever.
“Hey, looks like you’re in luck,” Putrice gestured to the spiral strip’s head. “There's a space at the top, just opened.”
“Another one drop dead, huh?” Sulphur said with an exaggerated sneer. “Why bother keepin’ such weak creatures alive?”
“And waste valuable magic?” Putrice scoffed. “They’re not worth the trouble. Anyway, speaking of slaves, what'll be their punishment?”
Smoky stared blankly. “What?”
“Y'know, punishment? For escaping? You're lettin’ your slaves off scot free, are ya?”
Smoky and Sulphur looked at each other. “Now that you mention it,” said Sulphur, “I guess we'll think of something. Just a matter of how much we wanna rough 'em up.”
Putrice shrugged. “Whatever. Not my problem. You need anything else, or can I go back to patrol duty?”
“Actually, there is one more thing,” Smoky rubbed the back of his head. “Where're the guard's chambers again? We’re a tad lost.”
“Oh, that's easy,” Putrice pointed toward a tunnel entrance to her right. “Just down that hallway, can't miss 'em. Better get there quick, though. General Fume wants all new recruits to be prepared for deployment ASAP.”
“New recruits?” Sulphur asked.
“You are the new recruits right?” Putrice cocked an eyebrow. “The old guard knows these tunnels like the back of their claws.”
“Oh! Of course, of course,” Sulphur added hastily. “We've been here a while, but not enough to be considered 'new', y'know?”
“Those cultists are pretty strict with their ranks, eh?” Putrice laughed, slapping Sulphur on the back. “I bet they’ll send you into the desert with the rest of the young ones. Then again, if you suck up to General Fume, you could get some great privileges, like I did!”
Privilege is one way to put it... thought Spectre.
“Anyway, I should get back to patrol duty. If you need anything, give me a holler, okay?”
“Sure thing,” Smoky turned his attention to the bat ponies. “Alright maggots, pick up an axe and get to work already!”
Heads hung low, Moonlight and Spectre skulked over onto the spiral. Grabbing a pair of pickaxes with their teeth, they half-heartedly began chipping at the rock like every other slave in the chain gang.
“Put a good word in to the guards for us, would ya?” Sulphur called as Putrice turned to leave.
“Sure thing, buddy!”
Once Putrice was out of sight, Sulphur gave the signal, puffing three consecutive rings of smoke toward his squad.
Right away, Spectre tore off his cloak and threw it into the lava. “Damn, that thing is stifling!” he groaned, snapping free of the fake chains. “So, what did the ugly thing say?”
“Our orders are in the guard's chambers,” Sulphur explained. “We've gotta be fast, though. The new recruits are due for inspection by a general.”
“Did they mention a specific time frame?” Moonlight asked.
“Nope, just 'soon',” said Smoky. “I would've pressed her for specifics, but she started getting suspicious.”
“Understandable,” Moonlight gave a reassuring smile. “We'll search the first unoccupied chamber we find. Smoky, I suggest you and Sulphur lead the way. Spectre and I can hide in your shadow.”
“Got it, let's go!”
“Wait!” the strained voice of an elderly stallion cried out, his chains clanging tight. “I... know your kind. You're Lunar Guard ponies, aren't you? Please, set us free... The dragons can't take us all on at once!”
“I'm sorry...” Moonlight replied, biting her lip. “We cannot.”
“Why?” Another pony yelled, a younger stallion with front hooves wrapped in bandages. “You are Princess Luna's finest warriors! Your exploits are legendary, even before the fall. Please, save us!”
Now an entire row of ponies were pulling against their restraints, all desperately crying to be set free. A fresh pang of guilt surged through Moonlight's gut. She knew this was coming, it was an inevitable consequence, but that didn't lessen the dread she felt over the slave ponies' fate.
She had joined the Lunar Guard many years ago, proudly taking the responsibility of watching over Mother Moon's subjects in the waking world, while she traversed the realm of dreams. Every instinct told Moonlight to shatter open the shackles of the suffering, to deprive the dragons of their workforce.
But she knew better. Where would they go? There was no room on the airship, even if it could land safely amongst all the dragon patrols. There were very few pegasi among the slaves, and those that were here were in no state to fly.
“C'mon Moonlight,” said Spectre with a bitter edge to his voice. Surely his leader wouldn't recklessly break her own rules, would she? “You said this isn't a rescue mission, so what are we waiting for? Let’s get those plans and get out!”
Moonlight sighed. Trotting over to the brave elder stallion, she sat down and held up his forehoof in hers. “Listen, we can't help you right now, but do not lose hope. Equestria is on the cusp of a war, and we're here to give the Princesses every advantage they can get, no matter how small. It will be hard, but make no mistake; we will emerge victorious, and we will come back for you.
“Do whatever you need to survive, even if that means helping the dragons in their war effort. Keep your faith in Mother Moon, and one day soon, your prayers will be answered. I swear by her name, we will return. For now, remember and live by these words: friendship is magic; magic never dies.”
“I—” the stallion began, cut off by a sudden fit of coughing. “I will do what I can, thank you. My name is Silver Soil. I hope we meet again one day.”
“Quit your blabbering, puny ponies!” a dragon's voice bellowed from the exit tunnel, catching Silver's attention. “You'd better not be slacking off!”
Silver turned to warn the Lunar Guard, but they were already gone. For an all too brief moment, he had allowed himself to hope for rescue, and for his torment at the claws of Torch to be over. However, what he had been given this day was still a valuable asset: knowledge. Knowledge that Peridot's final letter had reached Princess Twilight and intended, and that the pony settlers of the Dragon lands had not been forgotten. That, and he now had a new mantra to maintain both his sanity, and the feeling of hope among his fellow slaves.
Picking up his pickaxe again, he began to chant, “Friendship is magic; magic never dies.”