The Wind Thief
Part 2: The Switch
The meadow was filled with wildflowers and sunlight.
Sly tiptoed through the tall grasses. Her prey, a monarch butterfly, perched carelessly atop a daisy a dozen yards ahead. It fluttered in the wind as it sipped nectar from the yellow blossom. The brilliant orange and black patterns on its wings stood out like a flag against the brilliant blue sky.
She crouched low and snuck forward, trying not to disturb the grass as she moved. It was a lonely game, catch-the-butterfly, but there were few foals her age left to play real games with. Instead she played catch with the bugs, tag with the wind, and hide-and-seek with the sun. If her parents regretted the lack of playmates, they hid their feelings well.
The butterfly was just a few paces ahead, she judged. She gathered her legs beneath her, took a deep breath, and pounced through the grass like a cat.
The butterfly was gone. She looked up, and saw a flash of orange and black fluttering through the sky.
“Sly!”
She let out a loud groan and considered hiding again. Although she could pretend she hadn’t heard the call, hiding from her parents never ended well. They just got upset with her, and sent her to her room. So she trotted through the grass back to her mother.
The older mare gave her a well-worn scowl. “Sly, you know you’re not supposed to go off by yourself. It’s dangerous.” She looked up at the sky, her eyes tight with worry.
“But mom--”
“No buts! If you want to play outside, at least stay in the town.”
“But that’s boring!” Sly protested. “There’s nothing to do!”
“I said no buts. Now come on, your father’s worried sick about you.”
She would have argued more, but her mother had already turned back toward the town, in the clear expectation that Sly would be at her hooves. She grumbled to herself and followed. Behind her, the butterfly fluttered back to its flower, unnoticed.
Sly hurt.
She focused on the pain, not because she wanted to, but because her thoughts were too muddled and disordered to do anything else. Stray images drifted through her mind, occasionally breaching the ocean of pain to occupy her attention for a brief moment, before the waves crashed over her again. A dragon. A flame. A river. A butterfly. The last image seemed somehow out of place, and she held onto it as long as she could, until it too was lost in the chaos.
Eventually the stabbing pain in her head receded, giving way to the chorus of pain that sounded from the rest of her body. Her horn hurt. Her legs hurt. Her lungs hurt. Everything hurt. Even her tail hurt.
She tried opening her eyes with mixed results. Her left eye was too swollen to budge, but she managed to open the right a crack, revealing the darkness around her. A shadowed stone ceiling flickered above her in the dim light of a campfire. The bare stone floor was swept clean of dirt and debris, most of which had ended up in a pile near the wall. She could hear the sound of somepony working with tools, just a few feet away.
She took a chance. “Twilight?” she managed to croak. Her throat felt like somepony had shoved a log down it.
“Sly!” There was a crash as something dropped to the stone floor. “Hang on, don’t move.”
She felt hooves under her jaw, gently cradling her head. A purple blur rose in front of her, and the cold, hard rim of a bottle forced itself between her lips. She tried to spit it out.
“It’s a potion, Sly. It will make you feel better, I promise.” The voice had a worried, shaking edge to it.
She relented, letting the cool liquid dribble into her mouth. It tasted like strawberries and fresh grass. A radiant warmth flowed down her throat and settled in her heart, then spread to her extremities. The web of pains that ensnared her faded into a collection of dull aches. Even the sharp pain in her head subsided to something more tolerable.
She licked her lips, tasting blood. “Twilight?” she asked again. “Where--” a cough wracked her chest, delaying any attempt conversation.
“We’re safe,” Twilight Sparkle said. “Just try to sleep. You were hurt badly.”
Hurt? Sly tried to remember. Her head protested her attempts to think, and after a few fruitless minutes she took Twilight’s advice.
When she woke later only a hint of the pain remained, mostly in her head. Both of her eyes were able to open fully, and she looked around the cavern curiously. The fire had died down to embers, but was still bright enough to fully light her surroundings. The stone ceiling was lower than she expected — if she were standing her horn would brush against some of the stalactites. Hanging moss covered the walls, behind which she could see water-slick stone glimmering in the firelight. The floor was clearly pony made; irregular flagstones had been crudely fitted together to form a level surface. It didn’t look like anypony had lived there for a long time.
Twilight was asleep, lying so close to her that their coats brushed together with each breath. Sooty streaks covered her body, and her forelegs were splotchy in places. Sly stared at her for a while.
Eventually Twilight stirred. She twitched in her sleep, then jerked abruptly, her head and neck rising from the floor as she gasped. Wide eyes stared around the dark cavern for a panic-filled moment before settling on Sly. She let out a ragged breath, and put on a small, strained smile.
“You look better,” she said. “Much better. How do you feel?”
“Um, better?” Sly guessed. “What happened? Where’s the dragon?”
“Still in the river, for all I know,” Twilight said. “It was dead when I found you. I assume you killed it somehow.”
I killed it? She stared at Twilight, stunned into silence. She remembered releasing the arrow, and the dragon’s obliterating fall. Everything after was darkness, until the cavern.
“It was close,” Twilight continued, not noticing the uncomprehending stare on Sly’s face. “The water was nearly boiling around you. You weren’t moving. I thought...” she trailed off, and cleared her throat weakly.
Sly remembered Twilight vanishing in the dragon’s flames. She remembered the shock, the disbelief, the fear. Her body began to shake, and in a burst of uncharacteristic willpower forced her body to stillness, knowing if she started she wouldn’t be able to stop. Deep breaths, Sly. Deep breaths.
“It’s okay,” she said, giving Twilight a smile. “All better now, right? I take it you found my potions.”
Twilight sniffed and nodded. “I figured most of them were healing potions.” She paused and looked down at her crossed forelegs. “You were right about being prepared, I guess.”
Sly grinned. “I think you’ll find that I’m right about most things, Twilight. I’ve been doing this for a while, you know.” She reached over and ruffled the other mare’s mane.
Twilight’s eyes narrowed slightly, and her horn glowed. A small purse floated out of her saddlebags to hover between them.
“I also found this in your saddlebags,” she said. “I was starting to think I’d left it back in Canterlot. Any ideas how it got there?”
“You dropped it,” Sly said quickly. “I picked it up. I was going to give it back but--”
“You shouldn’t take things from other ponies,” Twilight cut her off. “Especially not friends.” She sniffed and floated the purse back into her own saddlebags, then closed and cinched them extra tight.
Friends? Sly felt herself flushing, and hoped the firelight was too dim for it to show. She mumbled something apologetic-sounding and lowered her muzzle to the floor. For a while they were silent. Are we friends? When did that happen?
The uncomfortable silence stretched from seconds into minutes. Sly pushed a pebble around with her hoof, taking care not to look in Twilight’s direction. Next to her, so close and yet so far, Twilight passed the time staring into the dying fire’s embers.
“So, that magic thing you did was pretty neat,” Sly finally said, chancing a glance at Twilight. “With the boulders,” she added helpfully.
Twilight’s eyes flicked over to her, then back at the fire. “Just levitation,” she said quietly. “Nothing any unicorn can’t do. I didn’t even hurt it.”
“You distracted it.” She leaned forward, trying to catch Twilight’s eye again. “I’d have been toast if you weren’t there. And that shield thing you did was amazing.”
It was Twilight’s turn to blush. Her face darkened almost imperceptibly beneath her purple coat, and she turned away in embarrassment. “It’s just something I picked up,” she mumbled.
They were quiet again, though the silence was less strained, less fraught with tension. Sly let her attention drift back to fire, losing herself in thought.
“This is more dangerous than I thought it would be.” Twilight broke the silence this time. She stirred the ashes with a stick, setting sparks floating through the air. “We haven’t even entered Curalmil’s tomb yet and we both almost died. Do you think we should go back?”
Sly shook her head. “We’ll be fine, as long as there aren’t any dragons in the tomb.” She reached out and knocked a hoof against one of the logs lining the fire. “Prepared, remember? On that note, how many potions do we have left?”
Twilight gave her an odd look. “Er, none,” she said. “I used all of them on you.”
Sly gawked. There had been at least a half a dozen of the potions in her saddlebags. “You used all of them? Do you know how expensive those were?”
Twilight frowned at her. “You were hurt,” she said. “You needed them. I didn’t even use one on myself. And don’t tell me you actually paid for any of those.”
“They still had resale value!” Sly protested. Then the rest of Twilight’s words hit her, and she looked at the mare more closely. She was covered in soot, but there didn’t seem to be any major injuries, except for the odd mottling around her forelegs. Almost as though the skin beneath her coat was blistering, she thought.
Twilight noticed her stare. “Like I said, the river was nearly boiling when I found you,” she said. “You were scalded all over your body. We’re lucky the potions we had were enough.” She glanced down at her own legs, and winced. “Almost enough,” she corrected.
Sly’s mouth was suddenly dry. She swallowed a few times. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. Are you...” she trailed off.
“I’m fine,” Twilight said, too quickly. “Dibs on the first potion we find, though.” She gave Sly a weak grin, as though unsure of her own humor.
Sly let out a quiet breath. “Deal.”
Twilight smiled at her, then yawned. Her teeth were a brilliant white against her soot-stained coat. “Sorry,” she said. “Guess I’m more tired than I thought.”
“Get some rest, then. You earned it. I’ll keep watch.”
Twilight gave her another smile, then settled her head down on her forelegs. Her eyes closed, and within a minute her breathing became slow and regular.
Poor thing, Sly thought. She really did a lot today. More than I thought she could. She considered scouting around their little cave, as she had in the tree the previous night, but the fire was a little too comfortable to abandon so quickly. In any case, few creatures were likely to be wandering around so soon after a dragon attack.
She thought back to the dragon, and a goofy grin appeared on her face. A dead dragon! I killed a dragon! I did! I killed it! She couldn’t help a tiny giggle of elation.
“What’s so funny?”
Sly jerked at the sudden voice. Twilight was looking at her curiously.
“Oh, uh, just thinking about the dragon,” she said, rubbing the back of her neck with a hoof. “Killing the dragon, I mean. Dragonborn, that’s me! You owe Celestia an apology, huh?”
Twilight stared at her, then looked away and bit her lip. “I guess I should tell you,” she said after a moment had passed.
“Huh? Tell me what?”
Twilight sighed. “Celestia doesn’t think you’re the Dragonborn.”
The cave suddenly felt very cold. Everything seemed far away. “What do you mean?” she heard herself ask.
“Celestia doesn’t think you’re the Dragonborn,” Twilight repeated. “She thinks... she thinks Luna is. That Luna will be reborn as the mythical warrior who will save us. That Luna is going to forgive her and everything will go back to the way it was before.”
“But she said I might be,” Sly said weakly. “She sent us to get the jewel. She said there was a chance—”
“I’m sorry, Sly,” Twilight interrupted. “Believe me, she means the best for all of us. But she doesn’t think you’re the Dragonborn.”
Sly tried to swallow. “I see,” she said slowly. “And what do you think?”
Twilight was silent for a while. The fire crackled as the last bit of wood collapsed into the embers. She stirred the ashes one final time, then turned to look directly at Sly. Her eyes were wide and shining.
“I think Celestia misses her sister very much,” she said.
Sly remained awake long into the night.
They set out at first light.
Banks of haze and smoke still hung over the valley, drifting toward them from the charred forest they had fled the day before. A vast black scar disfigured the tranquil winter landscape behind them. They moved quickly to escape it.
The river narrowed as they followed it back to its source in the center of the Everfree. Foothills rose around them, concealing the morning sun for hours past its rising and adding to the quiet gloom of the forest. The bare trees, standing in silent guard, stretched out on either side, ahead and behind. Their black trunks were like bars; the forest a prison. Sly picked up her pace.
Twilight Sparkle followed gamely, though she walked with a slight limp. Her forelegs were wrapped in white bandages stained yellow in places. Despite the injuries she walked with more confidence, as though having already bested the worst the forest had to offer, she had little left to fear.
They nearly missed the tomb, so thoroughly had the trees and snow concealed it. The only part left above ground was a stone dome about ten feet high, covered in dead weeds and vines. A small nook filled with dirt and leaves was the only blemish on its otherwise perfect surface. It was barely large enough for a pony, and they spent a short while clearing the detritus out. A stone door, flush against the dome wall, was hiding beneath the leaves.
“Do you think you can pull it open?” Sly asked. She stepped back from the stone door. After a second’s thought she levitated her sword out, pointing it at the door.
“I can try,” Twilight said. She planted her hooves and leaned forward, her face scrunching in concentration as her horn began to glow with a brilliant purple light. The door creaked. Dust and stone fragments spilled from the edge as it began to move. It slowly backed out of the hole, then toppled onto the ground with a thud that shook the earth. The branches above them swayed in response.
A perfect black hole beckoned them forward. Twilight gave Sly an expectant look.
Sly licked her lips. “It looks awful dark in there.”
Twilight rolled her eyes. “It’s a tomb. What did you expect?”
“Right, right.” Sly took a deep breath. She crept closer to the hole, the sword held in front of her. Still dark, she noted. “It’s just—”
“Oh for Celestia’s sake, are you kidding me? You think you’re the Dragonborn, but you’re afraid of heights and the dark?”
That stung. “I’m not afraid of the dark,” she said defensively. “I’m afraid of dark tombs filled with who-knows-what kind of undead monstrosities. Like any normal pony.”
Twilight gave her an annoyed glance, then pointed her horn at the portal. A tiny purple spark leapt from its tip and zipped through the doorway. There was a flash, and a gentle light spilled from the entrance.
“There, now it’s light,” Twilight said. “Your turn.”
And there goes the element of surprise, Sly grumbled. On the other hoof, if opening the door hadn’t alerted anything inside the tomb to their presence, it was unlikely that a simple light spell would. Leading with the sword, she slipped through the doorway, with Twilight a few steps behind.
The inside was surprisingly spartan. A simple stone altar stood in the center of the tomb, covered with the rotted remains of linen wraps and other offerings. Rubies and emeralds glimmered in the faint light of Twilight’s spell. On the far end of the chamber a stairwell led deeper into the crypt. Spindly, pale insects skittered away from the entrance, taking shelter in the cracks and crevices marring the walls.
“This is amazing,” Twilight whispered. “To think, we’re the first ponies to see this in hundreds of years! The Royal Historical Society will want to catalogue every—hey, don’t touch those!”
“Huh?” Sly looked up in surprise. She had already collected half the gems from atop the altar, and was in the middle of levitating the rest into her saddlebags. “Don’t touch what?”
“Those are offerings!” Twilight hissed, scandalized. “And more important, they’re historical artifacts. They need to be catalogued and collected properly, not just dumped in your bags!”
“Right, well, how about... actually, we’re just going to have to disagree on this one.” She scooped the rest of the gems into her bags, ignoring Twilight’s angry huffing, and poked through the rotting leavings on the altar for anything else of value. A glass bottle, still clear and sealed despite the centuries, rested beneath a scrap of cloth. Sly raised it in triumph.
“Well hello, healing potion,” she said to it. Twilight’s head snapped around to stare at the floating bottle. “I’d love to take you with me, but Twilight says you’re an important historical artifact. I guess I’ll just put you back until we can get a historian here to catalogue you.” She set the bottle down on the center of the altar.
Twilight scowled at her, then snatched the bottle up. She yanked the cork out and downed the potion in two gulps. Her eyes closed, and a look of pure bliss replaced the annoyance on her face.
Sly gave her a moment. “Better than sex, isn’t it?” she said with a grin.
Twilight spluttered, her eyes popping open. The bottle fell to the stone floor and bounced away. “Sly!” she said. A dark blush appeared on her face beneath her coat.
“Just teasing,” Sly said. The smile remained on her face, despite Twilight’s glower.
Twilight looked like she was about to say something, then harrumphed and tilted her head up. Sly snickered and went back to searching the room for valuables, without any more luck. Eventually she came to the staircase. It descended back and down into the earth for a dozen feet, ending in a thick wooden door with a large plaque upon its lintel. Unrecognizable characters had been deeply incised in the stone.
The stairway was wide enough for both of them. They stopped in front of the door, staring at the plaque. Twilight’s horn glowed to light their way.
“What is it?” Sly said quietly. Behind them Twilight’s light spell went out, plunging the crypt into darkness. Only the circle of light emanating from Twilight’s horn remained.
“It’s Old Equuish,” Twilight said. “Odd to see here, though. Even during Curalmil’s time it had been replaced by Middle Equuish. I assume they were using it for ceremonial purposes.”
“Can you read it?”
“I think so.” Twilight stood on her rear hooves, bracing her forelegs against the door. She strained to get her horn as close to the plaque as possible.
“Ageund, se te fustiir, a no fustiiren est patri—”
“I meant, can you translate it?” Sly asked. She didn’t bother to keep the annoyance from her voice.
“Oh! Right, sorry,” Twilight cleared her throat. “Ageund, third born of the blood, third born of the sun, third born of the gods. Ageund, third to betray the blood, third to betray the sun, third to betray the gods. Ageund, brute, monster, traitor. Ageund, be bound here forever. Ageund, guard in death what you stole in life. Ageund, stand watch until sun and moon and stars cease to be, and in their ceasing forget at last your crimes, Ageund.”
Of course it would be a cursed tomb. Sly licked her lips nervously as she glanced around the dark stairwell. The circle of light suddenly seemed much tighter around them. “Ageund?”
“It’s a name,” Twilight said. “One of Curalmil’s sons. The youngest, I think.”
“But this is... are we in the right tomb?” Sly tried to remember the markings on the map.
“It has to be,” Twilight said. “Curalmil’s sons were defeated and ruined within days of his death. None of them would have been given a burial like this.”
“So what’s with the plaque, then?”
Twilight shook her head. “I don’t know. The history didn’t mention anything about this.” She perked up. “We’ll find out inside, I guess.”
Sly wasn’t sure she wanted to find out, but it was a bit too late to back out now. Raising the sword to her shoulder, she unlatched the door and pushed it open.
The stairwell opened into a wide corridor, lined with stone alcoves holding the mummified remains of ponies. Huge urns, some broken, some intact, hugged the walls between the alcoves. Part of the corridor had collapsed at some point, spilling rock and dirt across half the floor. Bones, knocked from their resting places by the collapse, littered the length of the room. Large charcoal braziers provided more than enough light to see by.
Sly stepped carefully over the bones, moving down the corridor at a slow pace. It branched in two directions at the far end; from further ahead she could hear faint shuffling sounds. Behind her, much louder, came the sound of Twilight tripping over loose bones. She winced at the sudden noise, and shot Twilight an annoyed glance.
Twilight ducked her head. “Sorry!” she whispered. “Didn’t see it.” She trotted as quietly as she could to Sly’s side and crouched beside her. “What do you think?”
“Draugr,” Sly said. “Any of these corpses could be undead, but there are at least a few already up and moving. We may have disturbed them when we came in.”
Twilight gave the alcoves a worried glance. “Are you sure?” she asked. “Not every crypt is haunted, I mean. This could be normal.”
“Well, who do you think’s keeping the torches lit?”
Twilight’s gaze shot from the alcoves to the braziers. If anything, she managed to look more concerned by the fires. The light they cast suddenly seemed menacing, as though it shared a portion of the evil that tended them. The shadows seemed deeper, darker.
“Just stay behind me,” Sly whispered. “If anything comes at you, just do what you did with the dragon.”
“Toss a boulder at it?”
Sly had been thinking more along the lines of her shield spell, but that worked too. She gave Twilight a small nod, and started down the corridor. Her hoofsteps were silent as she hugged the wall, crouching so low her belly brushed against the the floor. As she approached the branch in the corridor she could make out the shuffling sounds down the path to her left. The rightward branch seemed empty and quiet.
She waited until the sounds faded, then darted across the open corridor to a hollow between a stone column and a burial urn. An unseen form around the corner further ahead cast vague shadows on the walls. Definitely draugr, she thought. She could smell it.
The bow would’ve been better, but all her arrows were back in the forest. She levitated the sword by her side and started to creep toward the corner.
Before she could take more than two steps, there was a loud rattle behind her, like a bone skidding across the floor, followed by a muffled curse. Sly sighed to herself. This is going to be a long delve.
The draugr apparently heard the commotion as well. The shuffling grew louder, and the shadows swept across the corridor as it came around the corner ahead of her.
It had been a large pony in life. Even in its current state, dessicated and shrunken, it towered above her. Its coat had long since fallen out, leaving only dry brown skin stretched to breaking over its bones. Milky white eyes stared straight ahead as it lumbered down the corridor, a large iron sword held in it mouth. Despite the rot, she knew it was neither deaf nor blind, and possessed a terrible strength capable of tearing her apart.
She crouched against the wall, allowing it to pass without noticing her, fixated on the commotion of Twilight’s clumsy steps. Sly slipped behind it, fluid as flowing water, and raised her sword. The weapon hovered by her head, flat to the ground, its tip pointed at the back of the draugr’s neck. Slowly she crept along behind it, drawing ever closer, waiting for the right moment to strike.
Twilight provided the opportunity. She stepped around the corner, the glow around her horn flickering and dying as the sight of the draugr broke her concentration. Her eyes widened as the draugr’s head rose, drawing back its sword.
It never followed through. Sly’s blade slid neatly between the plates of armor covering the back of its neck, through its spine, and out the front of its throat. The draugr exhaled a cloud of putrid dust, stumbled forward, and collapsed. The sword fell to the floor with a loud ringing clatter that echoed in the stone chamber for seconds afterward.
Twilight stumbled back. Her hoof rolled on a leg bone and she landed hard on her haunches. She yelped as a sharp piece of bone jabbed her somewhere particularly uncomfortable.
Sly poked her head over the fallen draugr. “You okay?”
Twilight nodded, still staring at the draugr. She slowly came to her hooves and walked toward it, her face filled with a mix of disgust and curiosity. “This is a draugr?”
“Yup,” Sly said. “Persistent, but not very smart. Most of them, anyway.” She yanked her sword out of the corpse, and gave the draugr a quick search for anything of value. No gems, she noted sadly, but it carried a quiver of arrows that she appropriated for her own use. Twilight nearly gagged as Sly peeled back its armor, but said nothing.
“Some are more dangerous than others,” Sly continued. “I’ve heard stories of unicorn draugr that can still cast spells.”
“What animates them?” Twilight asked. Noting Sly’s puzzled glance, she elaborated, “I mean, why do they rise? Most ponies stay dead.”
“Oh, lots of theories. Ancient curses, or geas like the one you read back there. If Ageund is down here, he’s probably a draugr too.”
Twilight walked around the fallen draugr. Already it was beginning to decay, its skin flaking away as the last of the magics holding it together faded. Her eyes tightened slightly as she inspected it, before turning toward Sly.
“Are they still in there?” she asked. “Are they still... them?”
Sly shrugged. “It wouldn’t be much of a curse if they weren’t. Whatever’s inside them hates us, though.”
“Us?”
“Yeah, us. The living.”
Twilight gave the corpse a final glance, then turned away with a tiny shudder. “Let’s keep moving,” she said.
“Sounds like a plan.” Sly put her sword back in its sheath, levitating the bow out in its place. Holding it ready at her side, she continued down the corridor, Twilight a few paces behind.
The corridor twisted and turned without any immediately obvious purpose. The only constant was the steady downward slope. The remains in the alcoves on either side grew steadily more decrepit and rotten as they descended. Water trickled down the walls, and formed a steady stream beneath their hooves, preceding them as they travelled deeper and deeper into the crypt. The solid walls, composed of massive stone blocks, soon gave way to the limestone of a natural cavern.
No more draugr accosted them, though they occasionally found corpses lying in the middle of the corridor, weapons lying by their side or still clenched between their teeth. They gave the bodies a very wide berth.
Eventually, after a seemingly endless descent, the corridor ended in huge metal door. Elaborate designs had been carved in its surface, forming flowing swirls like some foal’s idea of waves. Hoof-deep water had collected into a stagnant pool at the door’s base. Some unseen drainage allowed enough to flow past the door, otherwise the corridor would have long since flooded entirely.
“There’s more?” Twilight asked, frowning at the door. “How big is this place?”
“One way to find out,” Sly answered. She gave the door a tentative poke; it didn’t appear to be trapped. Mustering up her courage, she grabbed the handle in her teeth and pulled with all her strength against the weight of the backed-up water. The pool swirled and flowed through the opening door like an undammed river. The flowing water echoed in the darkness beyond.
The door opened onto a rough stone ledge overlooking a massive natural cavern. The ledge curved down the wall of the cavern to their left, makings its way in a gentle spiral around the room to the cavern floor nearly fifty feet below them. Bulbous, faintly glowing mushrooms clinging to the walls filled the hall with a gentle blue light that washed away colors. Sly’s coat appeared ghostly white in their light, Twilight’s a dirty grey.
Water continued to trickle past their hooves, running across the ledge and spilling over it in a miniature waterfall. The sound echoed in the cavernous space. They moved to the edge of the ledge together, though Sly chose to stay a few feet further back from the drop than Twilight. Below them, in the center of the cavern, a stone sarcophagus rested atop a raised platform carved from the rock floor. A quartet of braziers, one on each corner of the coffin, gave off a flickering orange light that failed to dispel any of the cavern’s shadows.
Twilight looked around the cavern, her eyes wide. “It’s bigger than I expected,” she whispered.
Despite their circumstances, Sly couldn’t help the snicker that escaped her lips. “Remember that. Mares don’t get to say it very often.”
Twilight turned away from the cavern to give her a puzzled look. “Huh?”
“Nothing, nevermind,” Sly said. “Do you think the jewel’s down there?”
“If that’s Curalmil’s sarcophagus, then yes. All the signs point to it.”
Sly took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Alright then. Stay behind me. And try to be quiet this time.”
Twilight frowned at her, but at least she was quiet. Sly led the way down the spiraling ledge, keeping her bow nocked and pointed at the bier in the center of the cavern. Water turned the stone beneath her hooves slick, and hundreds of years worth of mushroom spores squished unpleasantly with each step. The ledge wrapped fully around the cavern as it descended, ending in a gentle ramp that swept toward the center of the massive room. Falling water, from the ledge above them, formed a gentle rain that pattered on the rocky floor and dappled their colorless coats. In front of them a series of paving stones led to a set of stairs that ascended the platform.
They stopped at the bottom of the stairs. The platform was just below head high, giving them a clear view of the coffin at its center.
“Wait here,” Sly whispered. She licked her lips, then set a careful hoof on the first step. Nothing exploded, shot or fell on her. Taking that as a good sign, she crawled up the stairs, placing each hoof deliberately and slowly.
She felt terribly exposed atop the platform. The stone bier was less than a dozen steps away, and there was nowhere to hide on the flat surface. The weak glow of the braziers seemed to cast further shadows upon the sarcophagus, rather than light it. A huge stone slab rested atop it, carved with the image of a pony lying in repose. More of the ancient script, similar to what she had seen on the sign above the tomb entrance, was carved along the slab’s edges. She moved closer, trying to get a better look.
A faint sound behind her caught her attention. She turned to see Twilight waving a hoof. The mare whispered something, but it was too quiet to hear. Sly shrugged at her, mouthing the word “what” soundlessly.
Twilight pointed a hoof at the sarcophagus and mouthed something back. Whatever she tried to say was completely lost on Sly, who shrugged again.
Twilight rolled her eyes. “The sarcophagus says ‘Ageund,’ not Curalmil!” she hissed.
Huh? Sly turned back to the coffin. What did that sign say? Ageund, guard forever in death—
A deafening crack interrupted her thoughts. The stone slab atop the sarcophagus split in two down its middle, sending each half tumbling to the side. The crash as they hit the platform shook the cavern floor, and blasted a cloud of dust into the air. A deep growl filled the cavern as the echoes of the crash faded; something moved within the darkness.
Every Celestia-damned time. Sly swore silently and dove off the platform, landing in a roll that carried her further from the sarcophagus. Behind her Twilight stumbled away from the stairs and huddled against the ramp, a look of shock briefly occupying her face before her eyes narrowed.
The creature that stepped out from the dust was straight out of a nightmare. It was monstrously huge, easily as tall as Celestia, but where the princess was graceful and lean, this pony was a mass of muscle and bone undiminished by death. Black iron plates were strapped to its body with chains; a wicked, shining horn rose from its helmet. Most concerning to Sly was the axe held in its mouth. Its half-moon blade must have weighed as much as she did. Despite the passing of centuries beneath the earth, the axe still appeared sharp.
The draugr looked between them. Unlike the lesser undead they had killed earlier, its eyes glowed with a pale fire that left faint trails in the darkness as it turned. His gaze fixed on Twilight’s trembling form, and he took a step forward.
Crap! Sly levitated the bow in front of her, pulling back on the string. “Ageund!” she shouted.
Ageund turned to her just in time to catch the arrow directly between his eyes. The steel arrowhead bounced harmlessly off the helmet and went tumbling off into the darkness. His head snapped back from the force of the hit, and for a brief moment she thought he might go down that easily.
It was not to be. He recovered almost instantly, fixing her with a murderous glare. Forgetting Twilight, he pawed at the stone floor, then charged toward Sly.
She dove to the side, easily avoiding his axe. That’s right, big and clumsy, she thought. Can’t catch me—
Ageund turned with impossible speed, his rear legs lashing out as he passed. Her thought came to a premature end in a searing jolt of pain. The world went black for a moment, and when she came to she was lying in a heap against the wall of the cavern thirty feet away. Her chest felt like somepony had run over it with a wagon. She gasped for breath, and choked out a scream as the jagged ends of broken ribs ground together in her side.
Behind her, at the edges of her vision, Ageund spun in place as his legs returned to the floor. He gave her a measuring look, then turned to Twilight. Smoke curled from his nostrils as he snorted.
“Sly!” Twilight cried. Her horn flared and a bright purple flash enveloped her body, followed by a nearly simultaneous flash as she appeared standing next to Sly. She staggered for a moment before finding her hooves. “Can you get up?”
“I’m fine,” Sly grunted. She managed to get her front legs beneath her, and lurched to her feet. Her side felt like it was on fire. “Watch him.”
In the center of the cavern Ageund appraised them warily. He paced across the floor, putting himself between them and the ramp, then slowly strode toward them, his massive axe held high above their heads. Its blade was a shining silver crescent, as bright in the cavern as the moon in the night sky.
Sly’s bow was back where she had dropped it, almost halfway across the cavern. She gripped it with her magic, notched an arrow, drew and fired. Lacking any form of aim, the arrow went wildly off course, skidding across the stone floor behind Ageund and breaking against the stone wall. He didn’t even pause to glance at it as he advanced on them.
Damn, Sly thought. “Ideas?” she asked Twilight. She tried backing away from Ageund, but only made it a step before her rump hit the stone wall. Tiny glowing spores, knocked from the mushrooms, drifted to the floor like luminescent snow.
“Yes,” Twilight said. “Stay here.” Her horn glowed again, and she stepped purposefully toward Ageund, stopping a few feet away. She craned her neck up to look him in the face, the light of her horn briefly outshining the hellish sparks in his eyes.
The monster looked down at her; if anything, it seemed taken aback by her bravery. The massive axe held in his jaws swung around as he tilted his head, but for the moment he withheld his strike.
I knew it! She is a brave pony! Sly leaned forward, wondering what fantastic destructive spell the mare would use. She envisioned a massive fireball blasting the draugr apart, or a wave of acid melting it into a puddle. The pain in her ribs was forgotten for a moment as she rose on the tips of her hooves in anticipation.
None of the above, it turned out. Twilight cleared her throat, and spoke.
“Hello sir,” she said. Only the faintest quaver in her voice betrayed her fear. “I am Twilight Sparkle, faithful student of Princess Celestia...” she trailed off into silence as Ageund’s blade rose above her head, her eyes widening in surprise.
What the hell— Sly dove forward, ignoring the searing pain in her ribs as she slammed into Twilight’s rump with her chest and knocked her to the ground at Ageund’s hooves. His axe whistled over their heads in a vicious diagonal arc that would have cleaved Twilight in half had it landed. Instead the blade crashed into into the floor, sending stone chips flying as it cut a deep gouge in the rock. A tuft of Sly’s powder blue mane drifted to the floor.
Ageund ripped the axe from the ground. His head was just inches from Sly’s, the metal horn fused to his helmet nearly brushed against hers. Hot breath burned at her face; its sulfurous stench choked her. The blade rose again above the two mares.
Sly stood without thinking. Her ribs screamed in pain as she inhaled deeply, more deeply than ever before in her life. The breath collected in her lungs, and a tiny bit of her soul chased it out as she Shouted.
“FUS!”
The word exploded from her mouth, the spark of her soul setting it ablaze as it erupted forth. A wave of force blasted the draugr, tearing the axe out of his mouth and lifting him up onto his rear legs. For a moment he teetered as the remnants of her Shout tore at him, then finally he toppled and crashed against the stone platform. Behind him the Shout rocked the braziers, casting their embers into the air in a fiery swirl that lit the room before just as quickly extinguishing, leaving only a suffocating darkness dimly broken by the glow of the mushrooms.
Sly was already moving. Her bow zipped across the room to her side as she dashed toward the fallen draugr. She bounded over him, the pain in her ribs forgotten as adrenaline coursed through her body. Ageund had barely started to move when she landed on the platform just above his head, spun in place, and nocked an arrow in the bow. His glowing eyes turned to glare at her as she drew the bow back and released it at point-blank range.
The steel-tipped arrow hadn’t even left its shelf when it struck him in the right eye. The shaft punched deep into the socket, through his brain and skull, and out the back of his helmet before hitting the stone floor. Ageund twitched, then sank to the floor, the fire in his remaining eye going dark.
“Ha!” she shouted down a him. “Haha! Not so tough now, are you? Oh, look at me, mister monster pony, going to guard—”
The fire in Ageund’s eye re-lit as quickly as it had extinguished. A growl rumbled from his chest, and he rolled to his hooves with a fluid grace that should have been impossible for an undead monster, much less one his size. The tip of his metal horn nearly impaled her head as he rose; she jerked back in time to merely receive a deep cut in her chin.
Sly jumped away, barely feeling the wound. One of her hooves caught on something large and metal as she landed, however, and she toppled backward. She caught a brief glimpse of Ageund’s fallen axe resting on the stone before her head slammed into the stone sarcophagus in the center of the platform. Bursts of light filled her vision, momentarily driving out the darkness of the cave. The cavern spun as she tried to get her legs beneath her.
The clank of metal upon stone broke through the cotton in her ears. Ageund was back on the platform. He paused to pick up his axe, then strode toward her, his one eye glaring at her with centuries of pent-up malice. The shaft of her arrow still protruded from his other eye; drops of thick, black ichor ran down his cheek and fell to the ground. The tiny splatters they formed on the rock smoked.
Sly tried to stand. Instead the cavern flipped itself upside-down, and she found herself lying on her side, the acid tang of vomit coating her tongue. She tried spitting it out, then remembered there were more pressing concerns. Ageund’s massive steel-shod hoof, nearly the size of a dinner plate, crashed to the ground beside her. She twisted her head up; he loomed above her like a mountain, his axe raised for the finishing blow.
Perhaps it was the concussion, but the cavern seemed to grow brighter again. Ageund paused, and had just begun to turn toward the glow when a tiny ember, bright as a star, flew across the cavern and struck him square in the chest. The ember erupted in a fireball that washed around the draugr and swept across the platform. Sly’s world vanished in a flash of heat and light.
When she recovered again the platform was empty. A smokey stench filled her nostrils, and she noticed her coat was stained black with soot. She managed to stand this time, though the cavern still swam unsteadily in her eyes. Leaning against the sarcophagus seemed to help.
Suddenly, Twilight was at her side. Where the hell did she come from? Sly stared at the mare, trying to get her mouth to make the shapes that would form real words, rather than the mumbling she was currently producing. No luck on that count.
Twilight gave Sly a worried glance. “Are you... actually, just stay here. Don’t move.” She gave Sly a long look, then turned toward the darkness behind the sarcophagus. Something back there stirred. Sly shook her head, trying to clear it, then followed Twilight’s gaze.
Ageund wasn’t looking too good. His exposed skin was charred to a crisp, riven with fissures that cracked and widened as he moved. The edges of his armor glowed a dull cherry red with the heat from Twilight’s fireball. Beneath the plates his flesh sizzled and smoked in the brief quiet as he rose to his hooves. The silence was shattered as he drew back his head and roared, shaking the cavern and sending drifts of stone dust floating down from the walls and ceiling high above.
“Twilight, try casting that fireball again,” Sly said. At least, she tried to say. What came out was a slurred jumble of vowels and consonants that would have done a drunkard proud. Twilight gave her another worried look.
Ageund took a shaking step toward them. One of his forelegs had burned clean down to the bone, and trembled as it struggled to hold his weight. His axe had vanished somewhere in the blast, though from the murderous look in his remaining eye, Sly guessed he would be quite happy to tear them apart with his bare hooves. The arrow impaling his skull smoldered; the ichor leaking from the ruined socket boiled.
Twilight stepped around the sarcophagus, her horn flaring with a purple light that shone in the cavern. A tiny red spark appeared at its tip and seemed to swallow the light, growing larger as it filled the air around the unicorn with darkness. The spark flickered, then shot from her horn toward Ageund in a blinding streak. Sly started to duck behind the sarcophagus, expecting another massive explosion.
Instead, Ageund lifted a hoof and swatted the spark aside. It burst into a spray of embers that just as quickly vanished. He let out a chuckle that shook the walls, and started toward them again.
“I’ll distract him!” Sly shouted as she stumbled around the sarcophagus toward Ageund. Judging from the shocked look on Twilight’s face, she had actually managed to say the words correctly. She had no idea where her bow had ended up, so she drew her sword instead. It cut a shining arc through the darkness as she swung it at the draugr’s neck.
Ageund leaned back, avoiding the strike, then lashed out at her with a hoof. She managed to avoid the blow, but not his shoulder as he charged at her. The still-hot armor scorched her coat before she could roll away from him.
A red glow filled the air behind her, but no fireballs struck the draugr. Sly lashed out with her sword again, trying to buy time. Ageund parried the sword with his bare leg; her sword barely broke his skin. Still no fireball.
“What are you doing!?” Sly shouted. “Cast the damn spell!”
“You’re too close!” Twilight yelled. “It’ll hit you too!”
Ugh! Sly swung the sword wildly, trying to keep Ageund at bay. Her sword was like a toothpick to him. “Just do it!” she shouted.
“No!”
Well, fine. Sly dove to the side, barely avoiding a crushing stomp that cracked the rock floor. She planted her front legs and kicked back with all her strength. Her hooves struck Ageund’s ribs and bounced clean off; she might as well have bucked the wall. She rolled away as his horn slashed through the air where she had been standing.
Come on! She jumped forward again, the sword held in front of her like a spear. For once Ageund was too slow, and the blade’s tip slid neatly between the armor plates covering his chest. He roared as the sword sank in to its hilt, and stumbled back against the cavern wall. Now or never, Twilight!
A red streak zoomed over Sly’s head, striking the wall high above Ageund. A massive explosion shook the cavern, and the ledge leading to the door high above cracked and fell in a thunderous rumble of stone against stone. Thousands of pounds of rock crashed down onto the draugr, filling the air with a cloud of impenetrable dust. Blinded, deafened, Sly staggered backward and fell into a ball, her hooves pressed against her ears in a hopeless effort to block the cacophony.
For what felt like an eternity the cavern shook as more rocks fell from the wall. It was all Sly could do to hope that the roof itself wasn’t going to cave in and entomb them all. Slowly, far too slowly, the dust began to settle, and she chanced a look around.
In the center of the room a faint purple light shone through the haze. Twilight was curled like a foal against the sarcophagus. As Sly watched she slowly lifted her head, and gazed around in confusion. “Sly?” she called.
“Yeah,” Sly said weakly. Her throat felt coated with dust. She tried coughing, and spat up a smear of black phlegm streaked with blood. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Twilight said. “Where is he?” She stared around the darkness, her eyes wide. A faint red spark began to build at the tip of her horn again.
“He’s dead!” Sly shouted. “No more fireballs!” She sighed with relief as the red light flickered and went out.
“He’s dead?” Twilight said slowly, as though unsure what the words meant. “He’s dead!” she said again, elation filling her voice. “Sly, he’s dead! We did it! We...” her words tumbled to a halt as she took in Sly’s condition. “Um, maybe you should sit down,” she suggested weakly.
“I’m fine,” Sly said. It was a lie. She barely made it another step toward Twilight before stumbling to the ground, and she decided she wanted to lie down for a bit. The last thing she saw was Twilight’s worried face above her before the room went dark.
Footnote: Level Up.
New Perk: Bladesmare -- Attacks with swords have a 10% chance of doing critical damage