The Trials of Shmarity: an Ogres and Oubliettes Story

by TheMessenger


24. Fester and Burn

24. Fester and Burn

“Ah.” Rarity coughed, clearing her throat that had tightened. “Well.”

“Yak,” agreed the yak with a grim nod. He rubbed his hooves together and rolled his shoulders as he continued to stare down the center tunnel.

“Well, I suppose we have all the more reason to leave now,” Rarity said. She had to raise her voice in order to be heard over the sound of the approaching creatures, far more than the number they had just dealt with if the noise that was being made was any indication. “Let’s get going.”

The yak snorted and picked up his axe. Instead of starting toward the hall they had entered from like Rarity was, however, he made his way around the block of stone and stood so that he directly faced the middle passage. He answered their growing chants with a loud roar, and he pounded away at his chest and slammed the end of his axe’s handle against platform’s floor, issuing his own challenge.

It was a frustrating display of aggression and masculinity, but based on what little time Rarity had been forced to spend with the yak, it wasn’t entirely unexpected. “Are, are you serious right now? You want to stay and fight?”

“Yak!”

“You’re hurt, and that was just after fighting off four of them! There must be dozens heading this way, possible even more. You can’t seriously be planning on taking them all on.”

“Yak!”

She shook her head. The stubbornness of yaks was well documented, and Rarity had interacted with enough of them for enough time to have personally experienced their inflexible nature, but this? This was on a whole other level that Rarity had no interest in entertaining. She had done what she could, but the yak had clearly made up his mind, and there was no reason for Rarity to stick around and share his fate, especially not when her friends still needed saving. Still, she took no pleasure in leaving as she turned her back to the yak and ran toward the exit.

She had only halfway across the narrow path when the hall’s entrance was sudden covered and blocked by a massive spider web. A metal bolt whizzed past her cheek and buried itself into the wall, and Rarity flung herself down to the floor in time to avoid several others that flew mere inches overhead.

“None of you are leaving here alive!” Rarity heard someone croak out. Slowly, she turned herself around and raised her head. Almost half of the entire room was now occupied with equine bodies in the same black cloaks and silver masks as the ones they had first encountered here. They too had blades at their sides, but many also had crossbows out, loaded, and ready. Rarity scrambled back to the platform and took cover behind the altar as some took aim at her and opened fire.

“You dare trespass on our sacred place, to steal our wondrous blessing?” the gravelly voice continued. “Bah! Which band of heretics sent you? I will feast on their still warm innards while they watch.”

Rarity looked over the top of the stone and stole a peek at the speaker who stood front and center. He, like everypony else, wore black and had much of his face hidden by a mask, but his was golden instead of silver and had a medley of colorful gems around the eye holes. It also did not cover the pony’s features completely, unlike all the other masks, and left the bottom of his face clear, giving his big bushy white beard plenty of space to be free. He held a polished staff with glowing symbols carved into the wood and a large piece of crystal on the end that he was pointing in Rarity’s direction. The ponies beside him also carried staffs and wands, though theirs were simpler and lacked such decorations.

“Yak!” exclaimed the yak as he struggled against the webbing that stuck him to the front of the altar. The stallion in the golden mask made a gesture, and one of his nearest subordinates raised their crossbow and released the loaded bolt. The yak roared as the missile’s sharpened tip found its way into his shoulder.

“You shall tell us who you’re employers are or else you shall know suffering like no other before you pass on.”

“Yak,” the yak spat out.

The ends of the pony’s beard bristled. “So be it. Have it your way.” He gestured again, and a second bolt soon followed. Then a third and a fourth as the cloaked figures lined up and took turns aiming at the stationary target, forcing Rarity to duck back down behind the stone block as a few of the shots went wide off their mark. Each bolt that struck true caused the yak to cry out in pain until eventually his throat became hoarse, and he was left panting with his head hung limply.

The apparent leader of the bunch raised a hoof, and those with the crossbows lowered them. “I know you’re hiding back there,” he growled. “You have to the count of three to start talking before we finish turning your comrade into a bloody pincushion. And should you not value his life, just know that you will be next. One.”

“Wait! Just, alright. Don’t shoot.” Slowly, Rarity stood up with her hooves raised high. “Please, this has all just been a huge misunderstanding. We didn’t mean to trespass on these, ugh, sacred grounds, and we certainly didn’t come here to steal anything.” She tried smiling. “I’m sure we can all come to a peaceful agreement. There’s no reason to continue this violence.”

Some of the ponies snickered. Their leader, however, lacked any of his underlings’ humor and simply put on a deep scowl. “I have no desire to make peace with a heretic harlot—“

“Excuse me?” Rarity snapped, forgetting herself and her current position. “That was completely uncalled for. Were you ever taught manners or did they just decay from your time down in these sewers?”

“Silence!” the stallion screamed. He slammed his staff into the water as the crystal started to glow red. Those nearest him inched away. “I will not be interrupted by the uninitiated! Another unwanted word from your lips, and I shall strip the flesh from your very bones! I’ll ask you the same thing I asked your companion. Who sent you after us?”

Rarity didn’t have the answer to such a question, and she didn’t think she had enough information about the situation to make up a convincing lie. She doubted this group was the reasonable sort that would’ve been satisfied with the truth, that she had just been an innocent bystander who had been forcefully dragged into all this, and even if they did believe her, it didn’t seem like they would just let her go free. Her sole escape route was directly behind her, but in her way was a big white and sticky obstacle. In the corner of her eye, Rarity could spot the torch she had dropped a little ways away, but while its flame still burned, she wasn’t sure it’d be enough to get through the webbing, and even it was, who knew whether she’d even reach the entrance before she was caught in the rain of crossbow bolts.

Her mind raced as she tried to keep up an air of calm. The yak’s weak breathing which reminded Rarity of his presence was not helping. Even if her exit hadn’t been blocked and she wasn’t being targeted by so many crossbows, making her escape still wouldn’t have been so simple. She may had been willing to leave the muscle-bound meathead behind before, and it may had been completely his fault that he was even in this state, but the thought of abandoning an injured creature for her own sake was something Rarity found utterly distasteful. Coming up with a way of getting the both of them out of here safely was most ideal, but right now she was having trouble thinking of a plan that would at least guarantee her own safety.

“Well? Answer me!”

“It, it was from the adventurers league,” Rarity tried.

“Yes, obviously,” the bearded stallion said, the roll of his eyes almost audible. “I would have expected as much from meddlesome adventurers like yourselves. But who posted the job? Who’s providing the reward?”

“I, don’t know. It was posted anonymously.”

“And you just accepted this job without knowing who the client was?” the leader asked, the disbelief clear in his tone.

“It, the reward I mean, it was too good to pass up.” The crowd was beginning to stir impatiently. Rarity was losing them. “Ah, but!”

The room went quiet for the first few moments following Rarity’s desperate, lone conjunction. “But?” the group’s leader cued with a wave.

“But! But, ah, aren’t you, um, curious? Yes, curious!” Rarity stalled. “Aren’t you curious as to, how we, ah, found your secret place?”

“You mean, you weren’t just told to come here?”

“Well, no. No, of course not,” Rarity said with a shrug. “Our mysterious client, they didn’t give us any instructions outside of finding your cult. I mean.” She chuckled softly. “This place is so well hidden, it’s not like anyone, outside of your group of course, could have discovered it on their own.”

Beneath that wild beard, Rarity saw the stallion’s mouth twist into a frown. “You’re suggesting that one of our own helped you get here?”

“Yes! Yes, that’s exactly what I am suggesting,” Rarity shouted over the loud whispering of the crowd as many of them turned to their neighbors. “And, and I-I’ll only tell you who it was if you let us both leave. And we’ll never come back here again or tell any creature about what happened here, I promise.”

The mutterings swelled in volume. Those standing at their leader’s sides, the ones with staffs, leaned toward him to discuss in hushed voices, but they were waved away. “Enough!” he yelled, slamming his staff down once more. The water and its contaminants muffled most of the impact against the floor, but it was enough to call for silence from his followers. ”Let you leave, hm? No. No, I don’t think we will.” He pointed at the restrained yak. “Finish off the big one,” he ordered, “then thoroughly interrogate the mare until she has nothing left to say.” To Rarity, he smirked. “Don’t delude yourself, fool. You’re in no position to bargain. Eventually, you will be telling us who this supposed traitor is.”

“Wait, wait!” Rarity cried out as the crossbows came back up. “Just, I would like to say one last thing. Please, just allow this last request.”

The crossbow ponies hesitated and looked to their leader for instructions. The bearded stallion in the golden mask huffed. “Make it quick,” he said, gesturing wearily.

“Yes, well.” Rarity cleared her throat, then dove for the torch next to her. A couple of the surrounding ponies shouted and some reactively shot their bolts at her as Rarity grabbed the burning stick and tossed it to the side. Her heart nearly stopped when the flame flickered and almost went out in the air before it landed in the water with a plop.

Suddenly, the surface of the floor was no longer covered in sludge but instead a sea of fire as the torch’s heat ignited the volatile gases and materials in the gunk. Panicked screams filled the chamber as the flames climbed onto everypony standing ankle deep in sewage, the wetted sleeves and hems of their cloaks serving as easily accessible footholds for the rising inferno. The organized rows broke as the ponies scattered and tried futilely to beat away the flames which only cause the fire to spread further onto their bodies. Many fled down one of the three passages they came from. Those that tripped or were shoved down by others in their haste to escape fell into the burning liquid fuel where they were quickly and mercilessly consumed.

Rarity had to look away from the few remaining, withering bodies that continued to burn where they stood, but try as she might she couldn’t completely block out their horrific cries. Slowly, the screams and crackling of the fire died down as glow and the heat surround her lessened. A few smoldering flames still lingered, but none were large enough to threaten her at this distance, and the room was now devoid of any cloaked ponies.

Taking a deep breath to calm herself was a mistake, Rarity quickly learned as she coughed out the inhale of ash and noxious air she had pulled in. She had to sit down to avoid collapsing as her shaking legs were on the brink of giving way. “Sweet, Celestia,” she breathed as she fought the rising urge to gag. It was all too much at once, the smell lingering in the air, the memory of the screams echoing in her mind, the images of the bodies twisting like wood in a bonfire, and Rarity leaned forward and opened her mouth to retch.

Nothing spilled out save for a bit of spit, and after some increasingly embarrassing and less than ladylike dry-heaves, Rarity settled back down. That discomfort was already fading, and a weak grunt at the altar reminded her of more pressing concerns. She approached the trapped yak and started to peel away at the webs that held him in place.

It was a surprisingly easy task, with the silky strands essentially melting away at her touch. The difficulties came when the yak’s heavy body fell on top of Rarity and all but crushed her. He nodded his thanks to her as she managed, with all her strength, to push him off and set him down on the floor. Once comfortable, the yak then proceeded to rip out the metal bolts still stuck in him and toss them into the fire, at a pile of ash that propped up the warped remains of a crystal tipped staff.

“I, ah, don’t think,” Rarity started to say as the yak took out another tiny red flask. The punctures the bolts had left behind shrunk until they couldn’t be seen beneath his fur once the potion took effect. “Oh, er. Well, never mind then.”

She didn’t have to wait very long for the yak to return to his hooves. Before Rarity could even inquire of his status, he slammed a hoof on his broad front and grunted heartily. “Yak,” he declared and stared at Rarity as if expecting her to retort. When she didn’t react, the yak tried again with another prideful thump and smirked, giving Rarity the first smile she had seen him wear.

The silence between them stretched on for a time. Finally, Rarity responded with a tired sigh and a shake of her head. “I would very much like to leave right now. If for whatever forsaken reason you want to stick around, fine. I, however, am going to go now, but before I do, I want to make sure you to understand something.”

Rarity carefully took in a breath before continuing. “I did not want to be down here to begin with. I never wanted to be down here in this dirty place full of disease and degenerates, risking my health and safety. but here I am, and it’s because you forced me. All I wanted was a bath, just a bath with warm water, nothing excessive, maybe a massage afterwards, but instead, because of you, I’ve been attacked, shot at, threatened, ruined my mane and coat that I had just gotten cleaned, and have been forced to do something I will forever be haunted by in my nightmares.”

She paused and stared the yak squarely in the eye. “I want to be clear, I’m not asking for compensation. I honestly couldn’t imagine how much it would take this right or even if that were possible, and quite frankly, you don’t look like you’re carrying much to begin with. No, I just want you to understand what you put me through, what I had to do because of you, and, and you’re ignoring me. Again. Wonderful.”

The yak had turned his back to her and walked away even as she was speaking. As he bent down to pick up his axe, Rarity‘s face turned red. The inconsiderate oaf was finding more interest in that dull block of stone he had been glued to than in her impassioned words. Her cheeks swelled as she drew breath and readied to unleash every last bit of her frustration and anger, to scream and shout and yell and rant and rave until her throat was raw.

Instead, all that came out of her mouth was a single extended exhale that left her spent and exhausted. Rarity sighed again. “You know what? This isn’t worth it. Farewell.” She turned and started toward the exit, the webbing that had been in the way having dissipated.

The yak’s axe came crashing down onto the altar behind her without warning. Rarity jumped with a yelp at the sound of loud impact of metal on rock, the blow being barely a foot or more away. She spun around with eyes wide and knees bent, half expecting a second strike directed at her. She flinched as the yak lifted his axe and swung it again, but again it struck the altar’s surface where a growing gash was beginning to form in the stone.

“What are you—“ Rarity started to say, but she was cut off by a roar and a thunderous third strike that spilt the top of the altar in two. The yak then unceremoniously shoved the stone halves onto the floor where they landed with a heavy and dusty thud. Beneath the removed surface, there was a large and obvious opening for all to see, a hole big enough for an adult pony to squeeze though that led to a cavity concealed within the altar. And inside that now revealed compartment, Rarity’s eye caught the distant glint of something bright and shiny and familiar.

Her desire to leave at once diminished slightly as Rarity’s curiosity was admittedly piqued. She moved a little closer to get a better look at the altar’s interior and discovered trove of treasure that rested before her wide and awed eyes. Piles of gems of every color and type reached up to her, from bright green emeralds and smooth jades to brilliantly blue sapphires and aquamarines, rubies and garnets, opals and pearls, onyxes and zircons. And the diamonds, there were so many diamonds, from black ones to blue ones, greens to reds to whites, with some being as large as her entire hoof. By the looks of it, the collection went well past the bottom of the altar and into the platform beneath her hooves itself.

Topping it all, as it sat at the peak of the largest, most visible pile of gemstones, was a statuette of a multi-headed serpent, five in total with each head expertly carved out of a differently colored diamond. No, not a serpent, Rarity realized as she saw the legs coming out of the winged body made out of your standard clear and colorless diamond that connected the heads together. A hydra perhaps, though she wasn’t sure whether hydras had wings. Maybe a dragon with multiple heads then, like the one Spike had dressed up as some Nightmare Nights ago?

A less experienced mare might have been overwhelmed at such a sight, and even Rarity, with all the time she had spent in caverns that had walls literally made up of beautiful and valuable gemstones, had to be impressed. She herself owned numerous chests of gems, mostly reserved as dress materials, but this was more akin to a dragon’s hoard than a collector’s accumulation or an enthusiast’s cache. It felt appropriate then that the miniature statue of the strange creature with five heads sat on top of it all, like a little guardian prepared to attack anyone foolish and daring enough to try to steal from it.

The yak went and ruined the scene by stepping forward and pulling the statuette up and out of the altar. He gave it a quick once-over, turning it over and examining its sides and underbelly, then with a satisfied nod, he stuffed the diamond idol into his bag and started towards the room’s exit and the hallway’s entrance. He stopped twice along the way, once to pick up his weapon and sling it over his back and once more right before stepping over the chamber’s threshold.

There he paused and turned to Rarity. He gave her a slow, deliberate nod and laid a hoof first on his shoulder before bringing it down to the center of his chest.

“Yak,” he said one final time and walked on and out of Rarity’s sight before she could say anything in response, leaving her alone with the heaps upon heaps of magnificent jewels and the ashy remains of their foes.