//------------------------------// // DEATH BRIDLE Chapter 19: Blood Sport // Story: Haycartes' Pluperfect Method // by Kris Overstreet //------------------------------// Canterlot had a lot of mansions with high walls and fences topped with iron spikes, less about defending the city and more about keeping the peasant ponies out of the homes of the rich and powerful. Celestia’s palace was different only in that the walls of the castle didn’t have spikes on top, and the main gate was never shut. Large parts of the city had been dedicated to the idea that certain ponies belonged on one side and other ponies belonged on the other. But when Princess Celestia had established her School for Gifted Unicorns, she’d made absolutely certain there would be no wall around her school, or indeed any of the buildings around it either. Education and learning, under her rule, was free for everyone, and even if you weren’t accepted as a student you could still come in for research or for conference with the teachers and researchers on faculty. This included the athletic fields, which the students used for exercise and sports practice. Actual sporting events were held at the Ponydrome on the other side of the Old City, so when the students weren’t using the fields, they were often used by individual ponies for their own exercise, workouts, or other athletic activities that wouldn’t be workable in the city parks. But after sunset those ponies would leave, the last few faculty members would lock up the school doors, and the area would be as empty as any part of Canterlot ever got. All of that made it an excellent meeting place for Canterlot’s underworld figures- both Johnny Respectable’s underworld and mine, though almost never at the same time. “Are you sure you won’t let Harriet do this?” Leedie was walking by my side as we passed the darkened schoolhouse… but not too close, not after the close call in my apartment that morning. “Not that I’m saying you’re… um…” Twilight, still in control of my body, moved my lips. “This is just as much my fight as hers,” she said. “And I’ve been in my share of fights, and I know a lot more magic than Harriet does.” Looking at him, she asked Leedie, “What about you? Still on top of your little problem? Or do you need another cold shower?” “I’m fine,” Leedie said, sounding just a little bit annoyed. “And tell Harriet I don’t much care for mysterious voices getting between two close people.” “Neither do I,” Twilight agreed. “And I can’t wait to get out of here myself. And the sooner we get done with this nonsense, the sooner that happens.” And then there lay the main hoofball field, lit up by arc lights from above the small grandstands the students used for school events. About a dozen or so dark figures stood or sat in those stands; no doubt members of the Nightmare Court, here to witness Little Nettle’s victory over me… or, more likely, to guarantee it. And there, in the middle of the pitch, stood four figures: the little filly and living archive Ivy Walls, the stout Thornbush guarding her, Little Nettle in his priest illusion, and Napping Cicada, looking like he would have rather been anyplace than here. Well, that makes it unanimous, Twilight thought at me. Thornbush greeted us first. “Cap’n,” he said solemnly. “What happened to your second, ma’am?” “Winter Wisdom couldn’t make it,” Twilight said. “This is Hot Lead, a pony who is familiar with our dispute. He is my new second, unless there is an objection?” “No indeed,” Little Nettle murmured, his eyes absolutely riveted to Hot Lead’s light pelt. “Aye, sir,” Thornbush said, nodding. “At this point I must ask if there is any possibility of reconciliation between the two parties that would enable them to avoid the effusion of blood?” That’s not quite how the line goes, I thought. It’s word for word how it goes in my time, Miss Daresden, Hornsparker’s voice chipped in. Napping Cicada spoke up. “My party demands the life of Harriet Daresden. Nothing less.” Thornbush turned to look at me- at Twilight. I felt my eyebrow rise. “What do you think, Thornbush?” Twilight asked, laying the irony on thick. “Had to ask, ma’am,” Thornbush said. “If both parties are resolved, we shall proceed.” Ivy rested her hooves on the lid of a box almost as tall as she was. “Contained inside this box,” she said, “is a thing from Outside. It is a tool used in the making of our world. It is also capable of un-making parts of it.” “Like the Sketchbook of Tiveen?” Twilight asked. “This is far more powerful than that artifact,” Ivy said. “Also much more dangerous, since it can be used by any pony with sufficient willpower to overcome its inertia. This is the contest.” She pushed the lid of the box off of it, her horn lighting up as she focused on whatever was inside. “The two of you shall attempt to move the object until it touches your opponent. Whoever the object touches first will be at the total mercy of the other. You will understand what to do when that happens.” A glowing arrow- not an archery arrow, but a white arrow not unlike what you might see on a street sign- floated up and out of the box. “Magic is forbidden in this duel,” Ivy continued. “The first pony to use magic will automatically forfeit the duel and their life.” Oh, you have GOT to be kidding me. What? How do you recognize an Outsider artifact? I’ve never seen one myself! I think someone from Ponyville must have met your author and told them about the time Trixie got the Alicorn Amulet. Not helpful, I thought. What does that mean in brass tacks? That thing can pluck pieces off a pony, painlessly, Twilight said. And then move them, or even delete them. I was able to give Pinkie Pie back her muzzle, but- Could it delete the whole pony? Of course it could! Twilight snapped. And that’s going to happen to us if we lose! So quit talking and let me focus! “Ready?” Ivy said. “Begin!” The arrow pivoted on a vertical axis almost instantly, lunging towards me for a moment before Twilight stopped it with a silent effort. No magic was involved- merely the focused willpower of Twilight Sparkle and Little Nettle, which made the arrow jerk back and forth like a kite in a wind eddy. Even separated from my own body as I was, I could sense the sheer effort my mental hitchhiker was putting into- Quit narrating and HELP me! Would that not be cheating? Both of you are also me! Me as I might have been if I’d been born in your fictional words! So it’s still me versus him! Now if ALL of me would get off their flank and start pushing, that would be GREAT! I couldn’t shrug while Twilight had control of my body, but the emotion was there. I didn’t know if it was even possible to add my will to hers, not tucked away in the back of our shared mind-space like this. But she had a point. After all, if she lost, so did I. So I focused my full attention on the arrow, making it all I could see, and thought: Go THAT way. And suddenly I could feel the inertia of the thing, and the hard pressure of Little Nettle’s will pushing against me. It felt exactly like pushing against a wrestler, with surges back and forth as each side weakened a little, then reinforced their effort. The difference was, even though Little Nettle’s will was just about a match for Twilight Sparkle’s, now there were two of us pushing, and every surge and sway of that glowing arrow moved it away from me- away from us- and towards the thestral lord. The thestral’s illusion flickered- he was putting so much effort into our mental battle that he couldn’t keep his true self concealed anymore. Spittle dripped off his bared, jagged fangs, as his bat-wings spread and flapped for balance. One of his rear hooves slid slowly backwards, as if I were pushing him instead of the floating arrow. Then his horn flared with light- Look out! A violet shield flashed to life in front of me, just long enough to block the bolt of magic that otherwise would have smacked me right between the eyes. Or so it looked at the time- I might have been mistaken, since I couldn’t see anything clearly except that arrow, and I was still pushing at it with everything I had. Since when did you learn a shield spell, Hornsparker? If you consort with hallucinations long enough, you begin to pick things up from them, Hornsparker snapped back snarkily. The arrow stopped trembling, as a willpower far stronger than either of ours took control of it and levitated it away. “Little Nettle, you have violated the rules of the duel,” Ivy said coldly. “She used magic too!” Nettle hissed, lunging at me. “She used it to defend herself,” Ivy said. “You used it to attack. Your life is forfeit.” She lowered the arrow back into its box, then lifted its lid and slid it back into place. “Thornbush?” “My life is not forfeit, little one!” Little Nettle’s attention turned from me to Ivy, and he leaped at her, jaws wide, fangs shining under the bright field lights. Two thick, broad rear hooves intercepted the thestral mid-leap, striking out and sending him flying. Thornbush continued his roundhouse spin on one forehoof, and by the time he’d completed a third rotation he’d used the other forehoof to pull what looked like a large wooden stake out of his oilcoat. “Miss?” he asked, hesitating before jumping after Nettle. “I am well,” Ivy said. “But the others.” Oh, yeah, the others. Little Nettle’s flunkies had left the stands. About half of them were galloping across the grass, while the others circled overhead. “Did you think me a fool?” Little Nettle shouted. “Daresden, you were never going to leave this field alive! Now the body count will just be a little higher!” He bent his neck back and shouted at his subordinates, “Kill them all! Don’t leave a single-“ A ball of fire exploded at his hooves. My head snapped around to look at the schoolhouse. There’s something moving on one of the turrets, Twilight thought. I could just about make out a shadow leaning against one of the pennant staves, and then another ball of fire erupted from it, coming crashing down among a cluster of galloping thestrals. “Vespers,” Leedie said, and with a snarl not far removed from Little Nettle’s voice he flared his own horn to life, sending a magic blast skywards. More magic blasts came down in response, and Twilight threw up a large shield spell to block them. My body shook as the bolts struck the shield, but it held firmly. Meanwhile more fireballs fell down among the thestrals, as Thornbush, who had dropped the stake in favor of a large blunderbuss, stood over Ivy Walls and sent shotgun blasts at whichever was the closest target. It wasn’t often I had the luxury of taking in the tactical situation during a fight like this- usually I was too busy running, dodging, or casting spells to think about what anyone else was doing. But with Twilight running my body, I found myself with nothing to do- Lucky you! Now shut up! I can’t hold this shield forever! That was part of the problem. Even with the heavy hitters we had on our side, we were still outnumbered more than two to one, and Twilight had me tied up supporting that shield to keep the flying thestrals from blowing us to the next world. As it stood, we were just about holding our own, with three or four of the thestrals out of the fight, and if we could keep from taking any hits for a minute or two the odds would probably swing back in our favor. But that was because nobody was leading the Nightmare Court. If Little Nettle had been giving orders, directing his flunkies, we’d have gone under in less than a minute. So what is Little Nettle doing?? How am I supposed to know? You’re controlling the body! Find out! Where is- The turf shook. Little Nettle’s voice echoed over the field, and with every word the ground under our hooves shook more violently. “Blood to earth,” he said. “Earth to blood. Life to death, death for life. Bring us death, our lord. Bring us life, our lord. Bring us victory over our enemies and renewal to the earth to which we belong!” The fighting stopped, mostly because nopony could keep their hooves. Even the thestrals flying overhead seemed to shake in midair, like apples in a tree mid-buck. “Blood magic,” Ivy said, calm despite being practically bounced off the ground. “Blood magic of ancient Mexicolt.” And then I saw Little Nettle, sitting on his haunches, one hoof upraised, blood dripping from a large, jagged bite in his leg. “By this blood we call on thee!” he shouted. “By this blood we pledge to thee! Come, our lord, for we summon thee!” And then, midway between us and Nettle, the turf split apart, and something rose through the crack, something bigger than a pony, bigger than ten ponies, that looked like bits and pieces of random ponies, unicorns and pegasi were glued to an enormous skeleton that dripped blood in bucket-sized drops. “Oh, shoot,” I heard my own voice say. I agreed with Twilight’s sentiment, though I would have used stronger words. The floating monstrosity turned its head, looking down at us- at me, specifically. “AH, MY GOOD CAPTAIN,” it said, its soft voice shaking me like a doll. “DID I NOT PROPHESY WE WOULD MEET AGAIN?” Captain? I thought. Who the hell is that? Hornsparker’s voice answered: Xipe Totec.