//------------------------------// // 35. Old Bones and Older Tomes // Story: The Trials of Shmarity: an Ogres and Oubliettes Story // by TheMessenger //------------------------------// 35. Old Bones and Older Tomes “Sorry for the short notice,” Elkraps said as she led Rarity down a spiraling stairway. After they had met up at the front desk, Rarity was brought through a series of winding corridors until they had reach a set of doors that were chained shut. Several complete suits of armor designed for quadrupeds such as themselves flanked the sides of the door, and at two mares’s approach, those empty husks of steel sprung to life, unsheathing their swords and brandishing their pikes. From her cape, Elkraps took out that miniature shield adorned with a red star and said something in some strange and unintelligible tongue. The suits of armor returned to their posts against the wall, and the chains that were wrapped around the doors fell away, as if released from some invisible grasp. On the other side was the staircase they were currently traversing, their way visible by the light of burning torches that hung off the walls. “Getting an audience with the school of necromancy dean wasn’t exactly easy, even with my new position. Necromancers tend to keep to themselves, and it seems like they‘re all busy dealing with some sort of incident,” Elkraps explained. “It took me all this time just to get five minutes with Sergei, that’s their dean, and he was downright dismissive of your whole story up until I mentioned those scrolls of Valmeyjar you were sent here to find. Guess they must have meant something. Still, I don’t know how long his interest in this will hold or when your next opportunity to meet with him will be, so we really should speak to him now, while he’s still somewhat invested.” “And this Sergei,” Rarity said between steps, “you believe he will be able to help us?” “If he doesn’t know what we’re looking for or isn’t willing to reveal anything, I’m not sure if there’s anything else we can do,” Elkraps admitted. “Well, I suppose there’s still the necromancy headmaster, and I think they have a council of advisors or something, I‘m honestly not entirely familiar with all the details, but I do know that we have absolutely no chance of speaking to them.” “I thought you had just spoken to the head.” “Ah, no. Sergei and I, we’re deans,” said Elkraps. “We handle the day to day administrative matters, class registrations and curriculum standards for the undergraduates, our relations with the town businesses and visitors from outside the schools, those sort of things. The headmasters and their selected deputies are in charge of just about everything beyond the surface level, a lot of which I’m actually not allowed to talk about in front of an outsider.” She glanced at Rarity over her shoulder, and the stern, dark look on her face was enough to deter any curiosity into the subject. Instead, Rarity asked, “How much further is Dean Sergei’s office?” She was by no means unfit, but the seemingly endless stairs were starting to take a toll on her, and her breathing was becoming a little more labored with every step down. How long had their descent already taken them? Hours would probably be an exaggeration, but it certainly felt that way. “Oh, we’re not going to his office. He said to meet him in the necromancy department,” Elkraps related. “Each school has one. It’s where the more specialized research and studying is done. Anyways, there should be someone at the entrance that’ll take us to him.” Rarity waited for the unicorn to say more, to answer the question of how much further there was to go, but when Elkraps added nothing else, Rarity, not wanting to waste her increasingly precious breath, decided not to push the issue. When the end finally came, it came without warning, and Rarity nearly stumbled on her last step as her hoof unexpectedly struck a level surface instead of dropping to the next stone stair below. It was an understandable blunder, the large empty space they had stepped into was almost in complete darkness, and the colored light of the torches on the walls barely made a dent. “This way,” Elkraps instructed and moved forward. As she followed after, Rarity realized that the stairway had led to a hall that seemed to curve around the stairs. Each torch they past was lit with the flames of a different color, from varied shades of red to blues to greens, and though Rarity could barely see her own hoof in front of her, the grand murals on the outer wall were as bright and clear as they might have been outside on a sunny summer day. The first depicted a figure in green fending off hissing shadows and torrents of wicked fire with a glistering emerald shield. The second came a few steps after, and it was of two massive armies facing one another on a ruined battlefield. A single figure similar to the one in the first mural was all that stood between the two armies, though this one was glowing gray instead of green, and those struck by the light the being was emitting were in the process of fading away regardless of which side they were on. The third one showed yet another vague figure distinguishable only by their color, this time orange. The figure was bent over a sprouting plant while a flourishing metropolis expanded behind them. The next mural was far simpler, and yet it also struck Rarity as oddly complex and puzzling. All it had been was a figure in white sitting before a large glass ball, but within the glass Rarity saw the exact same scene. There, right there, was the white figure, and again, there was that ball of glass, and there, in the glass, was the same scene once more. On and on it went, and with each recurrence the image shrunk until it could no longer be observed. Elkraps had walked briskly past the first few paintings, but at the fourth one, her steps seemed to slow. This one was of a violent storm, with bolts of violet lightning crashing down and setting trees and structures a ablaze, creating a sea of flames, and in the center of it all was a figure of red who appeared calm and unbothered despite all of the destruction around them. There was a look of recognition and even an odd glint of pride on Elkraps’s face in the half second she had spent to stare at the tempestuous scene before continuing on. The next image they past was clearly meant to be a portrait, but like with all the others, the posing subject was nondescript and could only be vaguely described as a figure, though this one was a blend of colors that left Rarity feeling confused and uncomfortable. The one other distinctive feature the figure did have was a blurring mask covering its face that was painted to look as if it was in the midst of changing form, and for a brief moment Rarity thought she saw her own face on the figure. The moment quickly passed with a blink, and at Elkraps’s calling, she moved on, walking by the sixth mural which showed a figure of purple sitting on a seat of gold surrounded by pillars of wood slowly being covered in coats of silver. When they arrived at the seventh and final painting before the hall looped back around to the stairs, Elkraps came to a complete stop and motioned to Rarity to do the same. There, standing in front of the picture of a shadowy figure helping a skeleton rise out of a grave and onto its feet, was a pony. The stallion was tall, for a pony at least, and in his dapper vest and dress coat he might have looked dashing had it not been for his discolored, decaying face. All of the fur was gone, and the flaking gray skin was stretched tightly over his skull. A pair of glassed over eyes were trapped in those sullen sockets, and when the stallion, if the horrific thing before them could even still be considered a stallion, turned to face Rarity, she, fighting back a shiver, noticed a faint glow coming from behind those eyes so very devoid of life. She wasn’t sure which was more unsettling, that glow or the obviously fake mustache that was cruelly stapled to his face, but worst of all was undoubtably the state of his poor mane and tail. The color had all but completely faded out, and Rarity didn’t think she had ever seen hair so dry and dead; it was like straw. She heard Elkraps click her tongue in annoyance. “Did Sergei send you?” “He did,” the creature hissed out of his lipless mouth. “I am to bring the both of you to Master Sergei—“ Rarity couldn’t help but flinched. She had no idea that two little words could carry so much venom. “—unharmed, untouched, and, without question, alive.” The creature scowled. “The master was, adamant about the last condition.” “Is that right?” Elkraps sighed. “Very well, let’s not keep your master waiting much longer.” The creature squirmed and grumbled before turning around to face the mural behind him. He pressed a hoof against the picture, and suddenly the image of the skeleton and the dark figure vanished as the wall that had been its canvas split apart. The stallion then stepped through the newly created entrance without another word or glance toward Rarity or Elkraps. “Alright then,” Elkraps said, stepping forward. ”We don’t often get the chance to visit the departments of other schools, and this will actually be my first time at the necromancy department as well. Should be, hm, interesting.” She put on the same excited grin Twilight would have on whenever she came across a new subject of study or a particularly challenging puzzle. It wasn’t the most encouraging facial expression, but the familiar sight it did help Rarity put enough of her unease to rest that she was able to follow after the unicorn and into whatever laid hidden behind the wall. The first thing Rarity noticed was an immediate drop in temperature. She pulled the ends of her robe and her scarf tighter around herself, but still her body shook from the cold. The sudden chill did little, however, to numb the shock of stepping into what appeared to be the square of some village. The dark stone walls of the circular hall beneath the cathedral had given way to a dreary, sunless sky and a number of modest cottages. Open fields of frost surrounded them, and Rarity could spot several crowds of creatures huddled together out in the distance as well a few monolithic towers and large block structures. Stuffed sacks of burlap littered the ground before them, some of which were piled haphazardly against the huts nearby, and Rarity felt a sense of tingling trepidation as she noticed the outlines of equine bodies in many of the sacks. A moan behind Rarity nearly caused her heart to jump up her throat and escape through her mouth, and she turned and found herself face to rotting face with a walking corpse. Much of its facial features had decomposed long ago, and the skin and flesh of its lower jaw had since peeled away to reveal the bleached bone underneath. The rest of the body was hardly in any better condition, with uneven sections that were bloated and swollen between holes where the tips of ribs protruded out. Like with Dean Sergei’s servant, the body was an unnatural, sickly gray color, but she could at least tell that the servant had once been a living stallion. Too much of this unfortunate monstrosity was already gone, and the best Rarity could say was that it was the body of a pony. It was an utterly repulsive sight that was only somewhat mitigated by a strange lack of gore. Any rotten innards one would realistically expect to find spilling out of the open cavities seemed to be hidden by a murky layer of darkness. Somehow, despite there being a gaping opening in its neck and also the whole not being alive part, the corpse groaned again, and Rarity quickly got out of its way. It shuffled off, dragging one of the those sack behind it, and as it slowly made its way to a great bonfire in the center of the square, it joined the many additional animated bodies walking around and even some skeletons stripped complete bare, all busy bringing fuel to feed the burning pyre. Mixed into the morbid parade of decayed flesh and bone were a few creatures dressed in black cloaks and robes who appeared to be directing the walking dead with small gestures. Some were ponies of varying shape and size, but Rarity also thought she saw a griffon’s claw being raised, and there were a couple who were clearly standing on two legs. Most had their hoods pulled over their heads or had on masks like the ones Equestrian healers used to don long ago, but the faces that Rarity could see all appeared drained and exhausted. A sneeze pulled Rarity’s attention to the mare next to her. “Hm, it’s a bit chilly, isn’t it?” Elkraps said with a sniff. “Makes sense, I suppose. The cold would slow all of the decomposition, I can see why they’d have it this way.” “W-where are we?” Rarity exclaimed, her teeth chattering. “W-what happened here?” A low chuckle from the undead creature in the dress coat answered her. “Oh, just another careless fool who thought himself in control. He was, gravely mistaken.” He smirked, exposing a row of stained teeth. “Now, come along,” he said as he started down a dirt trail that led away from the cottages and into the fields. Rarity turned to Elkraps who grimaced. “Yeah, you remember me mentioning there being something of incident?” The unicorn nodded grimly toward the cloaked creatures and their grisly work. “There’s a reason why a lot of wizards outside of the school of necromancy don’t bother with undead animation,” she said as she and Rarity followed after the stallion. “If you’re not being attentive, you can easily lose control of your creations and end up in scenes like that.” “Is this something that happens often?” Rarity asked with a quick glance back to the bonfire. “Often enough that it gives this school its less than stellar reputation,” said Elkraps, shrugging. “Or contributes to it anyways. There are plenty of reasons why necromancy is so unpopular, but I’m sure losing a huge chunk of your student body every couple of years or so doesn’t help.” They walked on, their hooves crinkling the frozen grass as they passed rows of zombies standing at attention. After a little while, it became clear that they were being taken to one of the solid cubes that were strewn about the place. As they got closer, Rarity noted two individuals standing at their destination, and to her relief they were both very much alive. One was a gaunt stallion dressed in the same black robes as the others. He had no mane atop his pale tan head, though a dark red tail could be seen peeking out from the hem of his robes. A curled mustache of the same coloring with some gray peppered into it covered his upper lip, and like Elkraps, he had grown out a lengthy beard from his chin. No horn extend out of the stallion’s forehead, but with those thick, heavy robes in the way there was no telling whether he was a pegasus or an earth pony. The creature next to him was something of a surprise as Rarity had not noticed their kind walking the streets of the town outside. They were a beige blue furred diamond dog, short and stocky, no taller than the stallion or either her or Elkraps even, and with lengthy arms that drooped past their knees. They wore a dark brown jacket that was more pockets than cloth and had on a high-crowned, wide-brimmed sable fedora. Despite wearing no pants, the diamond dog still had a belt around their waist which carried a multitude of pouches and packs along with a coiled up whip. They appeared to be conversing with the pony in the black robes, or at least trying to, and spoke animatedly and with enthusiasm that didn’t match the annoyed look that the stallion had on. Rarity only caught a few words out of context, something about temples and tombs, but whatever was being discussed, it was clear from the stallion’s scowl that he had little patience for the diamond dog. A look of relief spread across the stallion’s face as he noticed her and Elkraps’s approach, and he raised a hoof to cut the diamond dog off. “Yes, yes, all very good,” he said loudly, his voice deep and booming and with pronounced accent on his vowels. “You’ve given me much to consider, but, ah, we’ll have to finish this at later time.” He waved his hoof toward Rarity, Elkraps, and the undead stallion that was leading them. “As you can see, I have another appointment that I have to get to. Do understand, I am a very busy pony.” The dog frowned at this interruption, but after a small sigh, they nodded. “Mister Sergei will remember to get back to Bones, yes?” The voice, while still gruff and scratchy, was higher in pitch than any other diamond dog Rarity had heard before. “You not forget?” “Of course, of course,” the stallion said with a dismissive gesture before turning to the creature in the suit. “Jeeves, bring Miss Bones untouched, harmed and unquestionably alive back to, hmm. Well, you’re not allowed up top so just bring her to the department entrance. I’m sure she can figure out the rest of the way to my office. Darn mongrel somehow found her way in here of all places,” he added under his breath once the diamond dog and the grumbling wight were out of earshot. “Who was that?” Elkraps asked. “She didn’t look like a student.” “Oh, her. That would be Athkatla Bones. Supposedly world famous archeologist, explorer extraordinaire, renowned treasure hunter, and a busybody with far too many connections.” The stallion sighed. “Someone must have let it slip that I‘m the head of the archeology bureau.” He let out a bark of laugh, as if the statement carried a joke with a punchline only he was privy to. “Well, on to more, intriguing business. Dean Thigliwt,” the stallion said with a nod toward the unicorn before turning to Rarity. “And you must be the sovereign of Spiketopia, Princess Shmarity.” “Hello sir.” Rarity took the offered hoof and noted that it was covered in thick cloth wrappings. “And if I’m not mistaken, you must be the dean of this school.” “That I am. Dean Sergei von Zarovich of the necromancers.” His mustache twitched as he put on a small smile. “Now, my colleague here has already told me about your situation, but I’d like to hear it from you, please.” Just as she had done with Elkraps, Rarity started to retell her first morning in Spiketopia, but she had only begun to mention being trapped in the Squid Wizard’s tower when Dean von Zarovich interrupted her. “Let’s skip to your meeting with this Queen of Fey of yours. That’s what I’m interesting in learning about. Your experiences as a prisoner, your dead friends, I don’t need to hear about any of that.” The stallion was unbothered by Rarity’s glower as he motioned her to proceed. Remembering what was on the line, Rarity took a moment to calm herself with a quick breath and softened her expression then jumped straight into her dream of the Queen of Fey and all the powerful being has relayed to her. Throughout her recount, she kept an eye on Sergei von Zarovich, trying to read his reactions. He seemed amused by her description of the Queen’s appearance and the surrounding dreamscape, and when Rarity got to the Queen’s instructions, there were a few times when he had opened his mouth to interject only for Elkraps to stop him with a held out hoof and a glance. When she had finished, the stallion shared a look with Elkraps before loosening the wrappings around his leg. Embedded deep into the limb was a large piece of red crystal that started to shine as von Zarovich muttered something under his breath. He turned to Rarity and asked, “Was that your first time ever hearing of necromancy?” “Yes,” answered Rarity. The dean of necromancy’s eyes narrowed, and Rarity squirmed as she felt something seemingly burrow into the back of her head. Reaching back, her hoof found no wounds or any signs of entry, but that feeling of intrusion remained no matter how hard her head shook. “Don’t resist,” von Zarovich ordered, and Rarity stopped moving around. Slowly, her headache dulled, and eventually the feeling faded away as well. “Hm, and was it also the first time you had heard of Valmeyjar?” “It was.” There was that probing sensation again. ”And this your first encounter with this Queen of Fey?” “Yes.” “And did they ever speak to you after that?” “Just one other time. They appeared when I had fallen overboard on my way here, and I believe I must have used their magic to save myself from drowning.” “Ah yes, the magic stored within their symbol.” The light of the crystal in von Zarovich’s foreleg petered out, and the last of the tingles in Rarity’s head vanished. Setting the cloth back over his leg, he asked her, “May I see the symbol your Queen left you?” Rarity shot a few questioning glance over at Elkraps, and when the unicorn gave an assuring nod, Rarity removed the chain from her neck and presented the pendant to von Zarovich. From his robes he pulled out a monocle made from a shiny green material, possibly jade, and set it over an eye. As he carefully held the silver snowflake up to the lens and his squinting eye, his frown deepened. “So it is real. How, curious. Tell me, have you tried bringing your friends back to life with this?” “Well, no, I can’t say the thought ever occurred to me,” Rarity admitted. “Though with how few instructions I was given on how to use the Queen’s magic, I’m not entirely sure where I would begin to do so.” “Fair enough, I suppose,” the stallion said, chuckling as he returned the pendant and put away the monocle. “Well, Sergei? Are you satisfied?” Elkraps demanded. “Now can you help us?” He sighed. “Dean Thigliwt, I am well aware that this subject isn’t your specialty, but you must know that necromancy doesn’t work that way. Making a corpse move, act, or even think and speak is one thing, but to return a soul to its deceased body, that’s a tall order. Nigh impossible in fact, even for the headmaster, I’d imagine.” Rarity’s entire body slumped over limply as her heart sank down to her haunches. “Please, t-that can’t be right. The Queen, I was told, there must something you can do.” In desperation, her hooves found their way around the front of the dean of necromancy’s clothes. “Anything, please!” Sergei von Zarovich pulled away from Rarity’s grasp. “If you would calm yourself, I was going to say that there is one thing we can try,” he said irritably as he smoothed out the newly formed wrinkles of his robes. “It’s not pretty, there will be a steep price, and I can’t promise that it’ll work, but there is a chance.” “This method of yours,” Elkraps began while Rarity’s limbs turned to jelly from relief, “you are sure that it won’t turn Garbunkle and his companion into just another mindless ghoul?” “If it works and everything down to the smallest detail goes according to plan, then yes,” von Zarovich answered. “But if something, anything, goes wrong, well, I can’t make any guarantees.” He shrugged and turned to Rarity. “It’s the best I have to offer you, and like I said, it will not come cheaply.” “If it means saving my friends, I’m willing to pay whatever the cost.” A smirk broke across von Zarovich’s face at Rarity’s declaration. “I’m not referring to gold, Princess. This isn’t something money can buy.” “And my answer goes unchanged,” Rarity responded, her head held high as she stared directly into the eyes of the dark magician. “I am not leaving here without a means to bring back my friends.” Their gazes held for several moment until Rarity broke the silence with a simple, pleading, “Please.” The gray eyes of Sergei von Zarovich retreated from Rarity’s blues as he sighed and turned away. “Very well, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He pressed against the big black box behind him, and a simple door of wood formed over the surface. With a hoof on the handle, he gestured Rarity toward him. “Just her,” he said when Elkraps had taken a step forward as well. The unicorn raised an eyebrow and frowned, but the steely and determined look that von Zarovich had on kept her at bay. “I wouldn’t dare ask you to divulge the secrets of evocation. Surely you can provide me with the same respect.” Elkraps looked to Rarity, and at Rarity’s nod and silent assurance, she crossed her forelegs in front of her and stood back. “Very well, but if anything, anything at all happens to Princess Shmarity, I’ll make sure there’ll be nothing but ashes for your successor to animate.” “Oh, I’m sure you’ll try,” von Zarovich said with a mocking grin as he opened the door and went inside. Rarity followed swiftly after, and the door immediately slammed shut behind her, causing her to jump. Once her heart returned to a more manageable rate, Rarity tried to look around and get a feel for her surroundings, a task that proved so very difficult when all she could see was pitch black darkness. Suddenly, just as Rarity was about to speak up, light blue lights flared alive, illuminating the rows of shelves with small circular compartments that populated the room. The lights flickered and danced like flames despite the lack of wind, but when Rarity approached for a better look, she saw that there were no torches or any sources of fuel attached to the floating lights and felt no warmth from them. If anything, it was even colder in here than it had been in those frozen fields. “Few members of my own school have ever stepped inside this chamber,” von Zarovich said, and as slow and as soft as his voice had been, it still put Rarity on edge. “Fewer still, if any, are the outsiders who get this privilege.” A shadow crept over his features as he stood next to a light. “I trust that you will be, discreet with what you will learn here.” “What is this place?” “Oh, just where we keep the secrets to the origins of the schools of magic and perhaps to all magic as we mortals know it.” He chuckled. “Well, I say secret, but most creatures here know the story of the long lost precursors, descendants of the first pantheon, the first settlers of this plane of existence. Of course, to most it’s nothing more than that, a story.” He began making his way further into the room, and Rarity hurried after him. “For whatever reason, the school of necromancy was put in charge of studying what remains of the precursors. Something to do with our apparent fascination with the dead, I imagine.” A snort from von Zarovich echoed out and lingered in the air as it bounced off the walls and ceiling. “It’s mostly an afterthought, honestly. Many of their ancient structures are still partially intact and nearby, the tower you must have entered through to get to the schools is one of them that’s been refurbished, but working in those ruins is for the most part dull, tedious, and unrewarding, and then to complicate matters those ruins like to move locations every other month or so or even disappear for a few years. Top it all off with a shortage in both willing volunteers and budget, and you can see why there’s little interest in this subject.” “Then, if you don’t mind me asking, why all the secrecy?” They stopped in front of one of the shelves. “Because, on occasion, we find something worth keeping silent about.” The stallion ran his hoof along the shelf until it reached one particular cubbyhole, and from it he removed a closed scroll. “Spells that the precursors developed and sealed away, magic that we have yet to completely understand. For instance, in the right hooves or what have you, the spell contained in this scroll can cause the earth to quake with such force that fissures in the ground can be formed.” He put the scroll away and pointed at another. “And this one, oh this one, launches three massive fireballs all at once that will never miss their targets. Oh, I can’t even begin to imagine what went into developing something like this or what Dean Thigliwt and the entire school of evocation would be willing to give up just to take a small peek at it. “At the schools of magic, knowledge of the subject is power,” von Zarovich continued. He stepped back and wave at the other shelves. “Evocation, enchantment, illusion, transmutation, conjugation, abjuration, and yes, necromancy. Having these ancient spells in our procession gives us something to hold over the other schools. Bargaining chips, if you will, something to trade for favors, so I would most appreciate it if you didn’t share this with anyone from any of the other schools.“ “I understand. Is there a magical oath you would like me take or some sort of ritual that we need to perform?” “Just your word will be sufficient,” von Zarovich said with an amused smile. “I believe the fates of your friends will be enough of a motivator to ensure your continued silence.” “Then I promise not to speak of this chamber’s contents to any creature,” Rarity swore, drawing a cross over her heart. “I do have to say, I’m a little surprised with how forthright you are being with me considering all this necessary secrecy. Which I most certainly do appreciate,” she quickly added as von Zarovich’s grin flipped upside down. “Yes, well,” he began with sigh, “normally I wouldn’t bother entertaining this venture of yours at all, but your benefactor has already revealed to you one of our more guarded treasures, and I’d rather mitigate any damage you might cause through your own independent investigation. I suppose I could have just made you, go away, but with how busy things are right now, I’m not fully prepared to deal with the ire of Fey royalty.” “This treasure,” said Rarity, keeping a straight face as she ignored the implicit threat and the completely relaxed way he had presented it, “you’re referring to the scrolls of Valmeyjar.” “That I am.” The stallion led Rarity down to the very back of the room towards yet another shelf. “These over here were found in what remains of a temple dedicated to the deity Valmeyjar. Or maybe Valmeyjar was the high priest or a major sponsor or something, it’s not all that clear nor does it really matter all that much to us. A barely legible name on some fractured fresco is hardly relevant in the light of what we discovered hidden inside.” Carefully, von Zarovich took out another scroll, but unlike the previous one, this roll of parchment was also encased in a rounded protective canister made of glass. “Magic that’s necromantic in nature but like nothing any of us had ever seen or read of and that is possibly beyond any of our capabilities.” His eyes were shining with a look of utter reverence as he held out the scroll. “This particular spell, for instance, appears to be able to revive a creature whose body has completely ceased functioning within a minute of expiration. “There are some limits. The cause of death cannot be from old age, anything vital must still be intact, and it won’t work past that first minute, so, ah, I suppose it’s not exactly what you’re looking for.” He started to put the scroll back. “No, I suppose not,” Rarity said, frowning. There was something strange about learning that there was indeed a way to bring a dead creature back to life and being disappointed. “Please tell me you have something that isn’t so limited.” “Oh, we do,” said von Zarovich. He patted a higher section of the shelf. “But these, however, we’ve only managed to find a few, so naturally it will have to take something extraordinary to convince me to part with even one of them.” “Name your price.” The calm and steady tone that carried her statement was a clear reflection of Rarity’s determination, but as von Zarovich continued his leering, Rarity grew less and less confident. Those calculating and appraising gray eyes of his slowly battered against her steely nerves, eroding away at them inch by inch until her unwavering resolve started to shake. In desperation, she turned to her memories of Spike, of their gem hunts and all those times he would act as her assistant for little more in return than some kind words. The thought of never again hearing his voice or his dry little laugh or seeing those bright green eyes gleam with an eagerness to please or to help or to just spend time together with her, of him forever unmoving and unresponsive as she had last seen him, lent her strength through a sudden burning, righteous fury, and she forced herself to glare right back at the necromancer. At last, von Zarovich stopped rubbing the front of his mustache. “I require, a lock of your hair.” Rarity nearly tripped over her own shock. “T-that’s it?” “I’m not finished. That’s just something that’ll help me keep tabs on you later on,” he said. “No, what I would ask of you is the body of the creature who took over your kingdom.” “You want, the body of the Squid Wizard?” “That’s correct. I’m assuming that you’ll be wanting to retake the throne, and I can’t imagine that you’d be able to do so without a bit of bloodshed. Just be sure to secure the corpse if you do succeed and try to keep it all in one piece,” von Zarovich instructed her. “This creature, this Squid Wizard, doesn’t sound like anything that I am familiar with. It’s magical, that much is obvious, but there’s also what appears to be a high level of intelligence.” A hungry grin flashed across his face. “I’d love to pick it apart and see what I’ll be able to make out of it.” “I’m, sure something can be arranged,” Rarity said uneasily. The stallion was right in that a peaceful resolution was unlikely, and in all honesty, after what that squid did to her Spikey-Wikey, Rarity wasn’t so sure she wanted this to end in the same amicable way her and her friends’ adventures usually did. Still, while she understood having to defend herself, she was no cold blooded assassin, and von Zarovich’s proposal of murder, presented as casually as a simple transaction at the Ponyville farmer’s market might have been, did not sit well with her. And then there was the matter of leaving the corpse with the necromancer to perform whatever dark and nauseating experiments he fancied. The skin beneath her coat crawled as she recalled the sights that were just outside. From the way that von Zarovich was staring at her, with one eyebrow lifted and a hoof tapping away, it seemed that he was waiting for a more definite answer. Rarity sighed. “Very well. If it comes to it, I will do my best to get you the Squid Wizard’s remains,” she assured. “Excellent.” He clapped with almost childlike excitement. ”Don’t worry about the sending the corpse back here. I’ll make the necessary arrangements. You just concentrate on making that body dead and leaving it intact. Oh, and there will be one last thing I’ll be needing of you, just one more thing.” Rarity bit back another sigh. “What is it?” “Something you’ll find much, much simpler.” He pointed a hoof at Rarity and let it slowly fall and rise along Rarity’s height. “Your body.” “I beg your pardon?” “Once you’re done using it, of course,” von Zarovich said, as if that made anything clearer. “That Fey queen of yours seemed to suggest that they were responsible for your birth. If that’s the case, I’d like to thoroughly investigate to see if they made any alterations to your body’s structure. Fey creatures don’t tend to leave any physical remains, so if there is anything Fey inside of you that’s left behind, well, it’ll certainly be interesting to work with, and the chance to do so is worth its while.” Rarity grew faint at the suggestion. She had never given much consideration to what would happen to her body once her own morality finally kicked in, but the more she was forced to confront the question, the more horrified she became of von Zarovich’s proposition. To leave her body with a stranger in some distant land, far from the home and the ones she loved, was unthinkable, and the thought of any creature rummaging around inside of her was a sickening one. Rarity’s stomach churned and threatened to expel its contents as she pictured her once immaculate now decaying body joining those undead hordes, her meticulously styled mane and tail falling out from the roots as her glamorous looks rotted away until her face was utterly unrecognizable. Rarity’s disgust must have made itself apparent as von Zarovich scoffed and said, “What difference will what happens to your body make to you once you are already dead? All it will be doing otherwise is taking up space in some cemetery, slowly wasting away into soil as the worms eat away at it. I can at least make sure that it’s being put to good use. It’s not even as though if I’m asking you to rush to your death, just whenever it so happens to happen. But if this is really too much to ask of you, then we’re done here.” He started to walked away from the shelf of magic scrolls. “I’m not giving away something this precious without making sure I get something of similar worth in return.” Rarity grabbed onto the edge of von Zarovich’s black garbs, stopping him. “A-alright. In exchange for a way to revive Sp-, I mean, Garbunkle and Captain Wuzz, I will provide you with the body of the Squid Wizard and with—“ She winced. “—my own body upon my demise, to do with as you will.” “Wonderful. Then we have a deal.” He reached into the sleeve of his robes and took out a knife with a wickedly curved blade. Rarity flinched, and her hoof instinctively went for her own weapon, but all he did with the knife was simply extend its hilt toward Rarity. “For your mane,” von Zarovich instructed. “Or tail, either works. I just need a good hoofful of hairs.” Taking the knife in between her teeth, Rarity made a careful slice through her tail, removing its tip. Even just that small of a cut left her tail somewhat unbalanced and its curl incomplete, but hopefully, it wouldn’t take long before that little piece grew back. She scooped up the fallen strands of indigo and placed them and the knife into the waiting hoof of von Zarovich. “Is this enough?” “It’s plenty.” He stored the hairs in an amber flask then put it and the blade back into his robes and returned to the shelf. After some seconds of searching, he removed two scrolls sealed in crystal from their compartments and held them out to Rarity. “And here you are. You’ll be needing one for each of your dead friends.” Rarity carefully took the heavy scrolls and cradled them awkwardly in her forelegs. Getting these up the stairs back to the campus building’s ground floor like this was going to be next to impossible. How she wished she had brought her saddlebags with her today. “So, um, how do I make sure these won’t just turn my friends into zombies?” “Hm? Oh right, that.” He dismissed Rarity’s concerns with a shake of his head. “Don’t worry, there’s no danger of that happening.” “But you told us—“ “I said that to see how you would react and to mislead Dean Thigliwt,” von Zarovich explained with a wave. “There just the matter of figuring out how to activate it, but once that’s taken care of, you just need to make sure the corpse hasn’t been a, well, corpse for more than ten days and that it isn’t too damaged.” “I’m sorry, could you repeat the last part?” “Well, the spell can’t bring back anything that’s missing, so if the head or the heart or anything else that’s necessary is gone, it won’t work.” “I meant the part before that.” “Ah. Well there is a time limit, up to ten days. The spell won’t look work on anyone that been dead for longer than that, but there shouldn’t be any issues as long as you get to them before then.” The scrolls slipped out of Rarity’s grasp, and with a loud gasp von Zarovich dove forward, catching them before the glass shattered against the floor. “Careful!” he shouted, his cry ringing through the room as he slowly stood back up with the scrolls pressed against his chest. “What’s the matter?” Rarity swallowed hard as she tried to restore some moisture to her mouth and return feeling to her limp tongue. “It took me three weeks just to get here.” “Oh?” Slowly, von Zarovich’s eyes widened with realization. “Oh. How unfortunate.” He made his way back to the shelves and began to put the scrolls back in their proper places. “Is there anything else here?” Rarity asked, her tone choppy and uneven as she struggled to quell her rising desperation. “A spell with a more generous time limit, perhaps?” “I’m afraid not. We do have something that’ll preserve a corpse and essentially make it so that no time passes for it, a fairly simple ritual really, but it won’t do you any good now.” He paused briefly as he tilted his head to one side in thought. “However, I will admit that our collection here is most likely incomplete. Much of Valmeyjar’s temple remains unexplored, especially the crypts below. There’s a magic barrier that prevents undead from getting into the lower levels of the temple, which is odd considering all of the necromantic magic we’ve managed to find in there, and we haven’t been able to dispel it as of yet.” “What about living beings like ourselves? Can we get through this barrier?” “We can, sure, but no one here really wants to get their own hooves or claws or whatever else they have dirty or risk getting hurt in some trap over something like this, it’s why we have zombies and wights around, and asking another school for help could potentially rob us of our one advantage over them.” He let out a low hum and brushed a hoof along the bristling end of his mustache. “However, I suppose there’s no real harm if I were to allow an outsider who’s unaffiliated with any of the other schools like, say, yourself take a look, and if you did find anything useful, it would be to the both of our benefits, wouldn’t you agree?” Rarity nodded as she quickly caught onto what von Zarovich was suggesting. “And you think there’ll be something deeper within this temple that can save my friends?” she asked. “It’s certainly possible, we found all of these in there, after all,” von Zarovich said with a gesture to the shelf behind him. “Who know what that barrier is guarding. Just, ah, a fair warning. I doubt the magic keeping away the undead will be the temple crypt’s sole defense. I believe I mentioned there possibly being traps?” “You did. Is that something to be expected?” “From what we’ve experienced in all the other ruins, oh yes. The vault where we found that triple fireball spell I spoke of earlier? I almost had to rebuild my entire legion from scratch after that was finally explored in its entirety.” He looked away to hide his shudder then turned back to Rarity and cleared his throat. “Now, if you’re willing to accept some danger and make sure to keep all that you find between us, I‘ll grant you access to Valmeyjar’s temple and show you how to get there. Luckily for you, it’s location has been stable for some time now. Just be aware that beyond that, any additional assistance from myself or my school will be limited.” “Hm, and I’m assuming that I can’t seek any help from Elkraps?” Rarity asked. “You assume correctly,” snorted von Zarovich. “Not a word to Dean Thigliwt nor to anyone else from any of the other schools. If you can find other beings who aren’t part of the schools and would be willing to accompany you, I suppose I could allow that. It shouldn’t be an issue, it’s not like they’d be able to understand anything there anyways.” Well, it was better than having to explore some dark, dangerous, and most certainly dirty crypts all by her lonesome. Steel Nerves probably wouldn’t need too much persuasion beyond the promise of possible action and excitement, and maybe Biala Diyn could be convinced to come along as well. “How quickly can we begin this expedition?” Rarity asked as von Zarovich led her back to the chamber’s entrance, past the shelves of secret spells. “As early as tomorrow morning, if you so wish. The sooner the better for you, I’d imagine.” He stopped to give Rarity a glance over his shoulder. “Or will you need some time to prepare?” “No, tomorrow morning should be fine,” Rarity answered, and the two of them continued onward until they had reached the room’s end. A gate appeared at von Zarovich’s touch just as it did when they had first entered, and stepping through it, they returned to the fields of frost and the walking dead.