The sun shined down in the west, casting long shadows. The only sound Daring Do could hear was that of the wind through the empty streets, and the soft sound of the armored thestrals as they moved into their final positions.
They had reinforced the southern end of the town with whatever they had. Stone, sandbags, and trash had been piled high, and the armored soldiers were waiting behind it. Sometimes, Daring Do could hear them weeping, and the sight of them made her profoundly sad. Almost all of them were children. She understood that each and every one of them knew that this was their purpose, but she also knew that each and every one of them was terrified.
Many of them had the weapons that Wisdom had provided given them, although others held the ones the Arabian merchant had provided. They held Storm Kingdom staves and blades, awkward changeling rifles, and whatever swords and blades they could find in the empty buildings. Most if not all of what they had were antiques that none of them had the slightest idea how to use.
A wheel squeaked as two thestrals arrived with a hastily constructed tachanka with some kind of changeling weapon bolted to the top. They parked it and then hid behind it. One unfortunate child—barely old enough to have his cutie mark—had been forced to remain on top, being tasked with firing the massive gun when the time came.
Daring sighed, because she knew this was wrong. This was not what ponies were meant for, and not a thing that was supposed to happen in a sane, orderly world. She wished she could summon real soldiers, but she had made her decision. There was no time left.
She looked behind her, down the long street that led to the fort built upon a rocky outcropping. Beyond it sat the zeppelin field, its mooring tower looming over the entirety of the town. At its top, she saw the glint of a scope.
The merchant beside her, clad in heavy robes and in the process of loading a crossbow, looked up.
“It’s time,” he said.
Daring Do turned sharply. To the south, she saw it, emerging from the waves of heat rising off the desert. A vast colossus of bending legs and sand, sprinting at incredible speed across the desert. She heart as the thestrals gripped their laser cannons even more tightly.
It ran toward them, horribly and unnaturally quick. Then, as it drew closer, it began to fall and collapse, the assembly's body turning to sand and dust as the platform atop it lowered. Seht descended, allowing his creation to return to the dust, no more than mounds and reddish stains remained of it. In the distance, he looked so tiny, but his eastward pointing shadow was vast and of an especially dark shade.
And he began to walk. Slowly, casting a shield around himself to keep out the sunlight, he marched toward the city.
“You were a soldier,” said Daring Do to the merchant beside her. “What do you think our chances are?”
“I was a sky-sailor,” replied the merchant. “I was never engaged on the ground. I watched from a distance.” He held up one of his bolts. The tip was not made of steel, but an unusual green metal. “Although they were sure to train us, I suppose.”
“And?”
“And what? If it is a monster, our chances are good. Ponies always win against monsters in the end.”
“And if...he’s not?”
Both Daring Do and the merchant looked out at the desert, watching Seht slowly approach.
“I can feel it,” said the merchant, coldly. “Something...unnatural. You are asking me if we have any chance against a mage.”
“Do we?”
“It depends. Wizardry is indeed a hard thing to predict. Some can cast no more than sparkles and lights. Others, though? Others can level kingdoms, or drive them to rise again from the limitless fallen. Some can challenge Celestia herself. But none of those have been born in some time, or will be again. The world moved on.”
“We should have gotten more unicorns. Summoned everypony we can to fight--”
“And it would have been for naught. You do not sense what that thing is. The...coldness of it.”
An idea occurred to Daring Do, and she started to turn. “The librarian! Twilight Felt! He’s an ancient pureblood mage--”
“He is an old fart who can scarcely lift his own quill. At his age, he will be useless.”
“Oh...” Daring Do looked back out at the desert. At the silence of it all, and the dark figure, now only a few hundred yards away. “And how much magic do you have?”
“I was a pilot, not a battlemage.” He drew his curved sword. It was steel, without runes. “But I will still stand. May my beloved never set eye upon that hideous thing. For we must stop it here.”
“You never answered my question, though.”
The merchant looked to her. “If we have a chance, you mean? With your militia of sickly, untrained children in unaccustomed armor? From my professional opinion as a former officer of the Saddle Arabian Royal Guard, none. We shall meet our end here.”
Daring Do groaned. “Did you have to tell me that? You’re demoralizing me.”
The merchant shrugged. “You asked.”
Daring Do winced and stared out at the desert. Seht was now close enough for her to see the definition of his mask, and the darkness of the shield he cast around his western side, darkening out the light to cast his shadow. At the same time, she also saw that he had developed a limp—and that he was not moving as quickly as he had before.
Honor, perched atop one of the buildings, drew his borrowed sword and pointed it at the approaching monstrosity. “First line! OPEN FIRE!” he ordered.
The thestrals did, their strange weapons erupting with red light as lasers cut through the desert. They were oddly silent weapons, but even at a distance Daring Do could feel the heat of the strange light.
They were barely on target. Most of the beams missed, but those that did hit their mark—or rather, hit their mark’s shield.
A red bubble of light had appeared around Seht’s body, shielding him from the blasts. Some would occasionally break though, but they were attenuated did not even leave the barest of wounds. At this point, his pace did not even slow.
“Were not the weapons supposed to be effective?” asked the merchant, his desperation beginning to seep into his voice.
“They were supposed to!” cried Daring Do, feeling herself beginning to panic—but at the same time, feeling oddly relieved. “Wisdom said they would, that--” Her eyes widened. “But if he didn’t know the weapons...what if...”
Seht stopped walking, absorbing the blasts from their weapons with ease. He stared at them, as if confused, and then lifted one hoof. An asymmetrical symbol appeared before him, etched into the air. It held for a moment, suspended, and he gently tapped it with one of his dark hooves. Daring Do watch as the runes in the thestral’s armor suddenly ignited with their own corresponding light, and before she could do anything to help them Seht turned the symbol on its side.
The plating of every suite of armor retracted, separating and folding back in upon itself, leaving only a bare frame around the thestrals beneath. With their skin exposed, there was first only confusion. Then came the screaming.
“SUNLIGHT!”
“It burns, it burns! TOO HOT!”
“GAHH MY SKIN! IT BURRRRRNS!"
They immediately threw down their weapons, with those strong enough to try to escape fleeing for shade. Others, though, were wracked with pain and fear so great that they simply fell down into the hot sand, covering their eyes and screaming, trying to hide their heads from the burning rays of the sun.
A pony dropped down beside Daring Do, her oversized rifle clattering to the ground. Daring Do realized to her horror that it was Curiosity.
“Miss fluffy wings it HURTS! IT HURTS SO BAAAAAD!” Curiosity writhed on the ground, her dark skin almost seeming to steam in the sunlight. Steam, or smoke. “Why? WHY DOES IT HURT SO MUCH?! WHY DOES CELESTIA HATE US?!"
The unicorn merchant quickly removed part of his clothing and threw it over the girl, while Daring did her best to hide Curiosity in her shadow—but that was just one of the so many ponies. Of the entire force, defeated by one spell.
A spell that had linked to their armor. Daring Do’s eyes widened as she realized the implication of what they had done, and how their decision had already doomed them to failure.
Seht began to walk again—only for his shield bubble to suddenly ignite with brilliant red light. The force of the impact was so great that he was forced backward, all four of his feet digging tracks in the sand. Even then, the shield was not enough, and the impact penetrated with enough force to reach his head, leaving a dent just below the chin of his mask—directly below the slit beneath the headdress portion of the mask.
The crack of the rifle reached them as the second shot reached Seht’s shield, driving him backward once again. Then another—as Daring Do saw Seht’s shield shift. Not in a way she could understand, but in a way she could feel.
The thanatanium round struck it, slowing him but this time not penetrating the remodulated sheild. Seht began moving once again, ignoring the next shot entirely as it came. The bullets he had caught had started to deform and incandescence as he melted them in his grasp.
He had once again begun to move—and showed no sign of stopping.
Wun, from the highest level of the airship spire where her own corsair was docked, watched with tingling excitement through her scope, seeing events unfurl in the great distance through her ornately carved crosshairs.
It was the definition of perfection. A being of such astounding hideousness, and at the same time of such profound beauty. A monstrous juggernaut, a muscular, powerful being that stood as the very definition of what it meant to be a member of the unicorn race. This particular tingling was not at all innocent. Wun increasingly and desperately wanted to produce numerous children with that level of power and resolve.
She removed her eye from the scope, ejecting her magazine. She had depleted it of its contents. For a moment, she looked out at the world. She saw the clear blue sky, and the desert stretching out forever. In that instant, she supposed she at least partially understood the beauty that her younger sister saw in the world.
Below her, though, she saw a zeppelin suddenly shift. It was a small craft, a low-grade but fast yacht, perhaps something owned by a wealthier local. On it, a familiar-looking mule was yelling at a one-eyed griffon and a bruised Pegasus, the latter of the two struggling to unmoor it as the engines popped and whined to life.
As it detached from its own mast, it turned toward Wun, and she locked eyes with the pilot. She could not help but smile at the boldness.
“I see somepony does not like getting paid.”
She chuckled to herself as she watched the zeppelin depart, reaching maximum speed in a southerly direction. It did not truly matter. She had already sighted what she truly wanted, the most valuable portion of the Pyramid.
“It is hard for me to do this, almost,” she sighed, picking up a second magazine. This one contained the same enormous rounds as the other, but instead of lead, the objects that should have been bullets were made of glass. Glass that glowed from within, ignited by swirling magic and the figures that had been cast within them. The bullet on tope, a blue one, seemed to hold a pair of tiny iridescent dragons.
She slid the magazine in and slammed the bolt forward.
“I suppose it is medieval of me,” she mused, “but I request, my dear, future beloved, that you prove yourself to me. Or else, I suppose, taxidermy will be adequate...”
She sighed, and then took aim.