* * * * * * *
Canterlot Statue Garden
Celestia glowered silently beneath her helmet, any pretense of serenity now abandoned. She had never particularly liked her Solaris Armor. The gold-enameled adamantine plates weighed a literal ton, encumbering even her prodigious strength. Instead of simple holes for her wings and horn, it possessed bladed sheaths that felt unnatural and constrictive on those sensitive limbs. And the glow! Oh how she hated the way it blazed like the desert sun, telegraphing her presence to anything with eyes and many things without. That even the most basic of technology had to be delicately shoehorned in and it still offered nearly-unparalleled protection in a firefight only seemed to rub salt in the wounds she would surely never receive.
Still, physical discomfort was but one reason for the princess’s foul mood. There was also the startling change that had overcome everypony around her. Omar’s normal stride had been replaced by a predatory lope as his head swiveled in unceasing sweeps, followed perfectly by the heavy machine-gun harnessed to his back. The other ODST had followed suit to lesser degrees, ranging from Martha’s almost-relaxed swagger to Jason’s distant, hawkish vigil (at least, she assumed that was what it was; she actually had trouble keeping track of him even with her supernatural senses).
Even Shining Armor, one of her native Equestrians, seemed to have taken on an air of restrained fury as he trailed her dutifully.
As much as she wished to confront him on this new temper, the final source of her own disposition was now in sight: Discord, leaning coolly on the shadow of his own statue. Freeing him was the only task left to her before battle was joined; she had made quite certain of that. She had even donned this damnable armor first!
He’ll probably be flattered that I’m willing to endure an unbreakable wedgie just to avoid him, the princess thought with a short-lived smirk. The statue remained exactly as she had left it: frozen in a display of abject terror, arms outstretched in a futile attempt to ward off the Elements of Harmony. The draconequus himself on the other hoof regarded her as one might a relative known for bringing presents. Considering the subject and gift, she found the look nigh-insufferable.
A few quick strides brought her to within reach of the stone figure, but there she hesitated. Did she really want to do this? After the struggles to seal and re-seal the rebellious spirit, could she actually trust him to cooperate? True he would probably do anything to keep from being imprisoned again, but if something happened to remove that threat over the course of the battle…
No, there was no time for such doubts. She was already receiving reports of contact on the eastern seaboard. It would reach Canterlot soon and the caverns and tunnels below still bustled with refugees, the evacuation ships not even half full within the hollowed-out mountain. The Covenant couldn’t be allowed to destroy them, at any cost.
Even if one of those costs was annoying beyond belief at the best of times.
Sighing in resignation, Celestia pressed her horn hard enough into the effigy’s stomach to leave a divot and carved a small hexagonal sigil into the stone. With the final flourish the mark began to glow with a shifting rainbow of light, but the alicorn spared it hardly a glance before obscuring it with a gold-clad hoof. For once she was thankful for her stuffy beacon of a helm, for it hid her brief look of consternation as she forced a mental command that she prayed she would not live to regret.
Open.
The living draconequus flared with blinding light as his petrified counterpart shuddered and somehow turned an even duller shade of off-white. An ominous, triumphant cackle split the air, its supernatural insanity causing even the hardened ODST to tense in unease. Shining Armor stepped back in fear as the flash faded and he saw for the first time the wild, towering form of Discord at full power. Only Celestia appeared unfazed as she lowered her hoof, revealing her rune to have dimmed to near-lifelessness.
The princess turned to address her Captain of the Guard, but paused when his attention remained fixed on the still-laughing Discord. She quickly dismissed being baffled by how such an overextended chortle managed to entrance somepony as dutiful as Shining Armor, and instead decided to not waste patience on the chaos spirit’s antics.
“A-hem.” Everypony’s focus immediately snapped to Celestia and many of the native guardsponies offered reflexively-sharp salutes as well. Discord turned to the east with an equally serious face, but was ignored while Her Majesty spoke, “Have the Discord statue loaded onto one of the evacuation ships; strap it to the hull if you have to but make sure it leaves this planet. In addition, leave a note for Luna: is she receives word that Discord has betrayed us or does not receive word from us within one month, He is to be sealed again by having somepony place their hoof on the rune like so,” she replaced her hoof on the deadened sigil and allowed herself a well-concealed grin, “and think Close.”
The draconequus vanished without a sound, leaving only a colorful afterimage fading in his place. The statue shook again, more violently than before, and took on a sheen like finely-cut marble.
“Other than that, she may handle the statue however she wishes as long as it does not break,”Celestia finished without giving any indication that she noticed the resealing, adding, “Perhaps set it up in the embassy once that’s finished,” as an afterthought. Before removing her hoof however, she fixed her prisoner with a threatening glare. Open.
Discord reappeared in another rainbow-colored flash, awe-tinged disbelief clear on his face and clearly directed at the alicorn. For a strange moment, the gaze was held. The Spirit then burst into laughter once again, though it was now that of one fairly bested at his own game. Celestia watched in confusion and barely noticed the statue levitate away between two guards. She knew they would perform their duties, but she was hesitant to ignore anything Discord found funny.
“Oh-hoho, you have been learning, haven’t you?” he eventually gasped out to everypony’s continued bewilderment. A few deep, giggling breaths later, and he had regained enough control to offer an exaggeratedly deep bow. “Bravo! Not only do you have me by the throat, but you’ve already got plans to keep me under control. Why, you could count the number of times this has happened on one hoof! You and your constant plotting have my respect.
“Of course, I’ve already sent your little scheme to the moon,” he admitted, sidling up to and leaning confidently on the princess. “A matter of principal, you understand.”
Celestia let out a defeated sigh, knowing anything she tried to do to the spirit was now futile. The two stallions that were supposedly carrying Discord’s stone self came rushing back, but several glares that wordlessly shouted, “We know,” silenced them before they could speak.
“Fortunately for you, I’m willing to cooperate anyway.” That made everypony jerk their heads up and stare at him, which earned another chuckle from the surprisingly-un-rebellious spirit. “Hehehe. I love that look, like reality has sprouted another head and you just don’t even. In fact…” He hooked his tail under the back of Celestia’s helm and lifted it — as well as the only other face-concealing helmets present, those of the ODST, out of place to the sound of slide-whistles. The cheeky grin he had sported froze on his face when he was met with five level gazes and a scowl.
“Discord,” Celestia growled patiently. “There is no time for your jokes.”
“Oh, come now; why so serious? It’s the end of the world! We’re all going to die, and I for one want to go out laughing.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be some sort of god or something?” somepony called out. “Can’t you just, y’know, blast all the ships to smithereens?”
Discord hmmed in thought for a moment, then gripped his yellow eyes like a pair of binoculars and turned to the east where a set of shimmering purple mountains seemed to be rising out of the edge of the world itself, visible to the naked eye even at such distance. Everypony who followed his gaze paled, many of them gasped, and at least one guardspony fainted from fright, but he paid them no heed. It was not until after the largest of the shapes had fully breached the horizon that he lowered his eyes from his face.
“Nope,” he declared without bothering to turn around. “I might have been able to handle some of the little ones back before The Deal, but now? Against those monsters? Wouldn’t even scratch the paint.”
Celestia snorted in irritation. “We don’t have to destroy the ships; The Cannons will keep them out of the picture. We just need to defend them and the evacuation ships for as long as possible. Surely you can accomplish that after your stunt in Ponyville last year?”
“Don’t expect anything so grand,” the spirit replied, pouring his eyeballs into his mouth and gargling. “I was pushing my limits redecorating that one little town. Stretch me across an entire planet…” He physically stretched himself out, becoming thinner and thinner until he disappeared altogether. “… and I may as well not even be there,” his voice finished from everywhere. He returned to normal with the sound of snapping elastic and finally swallowed his eyes. They reappeared a blink later in each-other’s sockets.
Celestia rolled her own eyes as she stomped away. “Just do whatever you feel like,” she shouted back. “That’s all you ever do anyway.”
Soon the city’s guns came alive, working in furious vanity to thin the sea of aircraft descending on Canterlot. As the comm-lines came alive with noise, Omar’s ears grabbed at one word in particular that kept cropping up: “Brutes.” It’s about fucking time.
“Omar,” Commander Johnson’s voice warned as if reading his thoughts. “Stay focused.”
“Will do, Commander,” he replied absently, his thoughts drifting to the last bare spot on his bloodstained machete. “I always do.”
* * * * * *
CAS Crucible of Faith
several minutes later
Arga frowned slightly as he pondered the trio of icons that had suddenly appeared on the combat map. They were clustered relatively close together in the center of the region labeled Equestria. One was titled “Elements,” and sat on top of the city of “Canterlot” near the tip of a large mountain. The second, called “Bearers,” occupied most of a small village nestled in a valley of those same mountains. Finally, “Tartarus” marred a vast forest to the south of both other marks.
None of those words held any particular meaning to the fleetmaster that would call for their use there.
“What are these?” he asked the obvious culprit. He could not see the Nightmare at the moment, but knew it could hear him. It seemed to know everything he did and said.
“Points of interest,” was the reply as sure enough the familiar black cloud billowed out from a nearby panel —much to the terror of the officer manning that station— and flowed into its usual spot of encompassing him just shy of actual contact. It was yet another habit that he found wholly unsettling, but he grit his teeth and shot the daemon a look slightly more irritated than questioning.
“The Elements,” it elaborated, “are a set of artifacts that, if triggered, could cause serious complications for our forces.”
“Artifacts?” Arga asked as the entire bridge focused its attention (somewhat unwillingly) on the Nightmare. “There are relics of the Forerunners here?”
The resulting laugh was as usual cruel and mocking, but also held a hint of what could hesitantly be called genuine amusement. Several Sangheili growled indignantly, but it continued heedlessly. “Ahaha! I sometimes forget the naiveté of you mortals,” it derided, “thinking that everything revolves around your faith. Even I am old enough to have watched your gods,” the word oozed sarcasm, “crawl from the primordial muck, and the Elements of Harmony are older still.
“But that is beside the point. The Elements must be captured, not destroyed. If they somehow break, they will reappear on their respective bearers and activate immediately. At that point victory may be very much in doubt, if not impossible.”
Even the Fleetmaster’s eyes widened at that. A force capable of halting their holy onslaught in its tracks? It didn’t matter what the Nightmare said, such power could only have come from their Lords.
However, it was correct that that issue was irrelevant for the moment. “And how do we prevent these weapons, these… Elements of Harmony from firing?”
The Nightmare fought to suppress another chuckle at the irony of the most powerful tools for peace being placed in the same group as common firearms, especially given how accurate that was under the circumstances.
“Simple,” was the response as it sank an ephemeral tendril into the projector. Twelve images suddenly overlaid themselves on the map: six members of the local civilized species known as ‘ponies’, each paired to six pieces of jewelry; five golden collars and a wiry tiara all set with colorful gemstones that matched the markings on their flanks. Arrows shot out from the ponies and converged on the icon marked “Bearers,” while the finery was similarly connected to the “Elements” icon. Even an Unggoy could not have missed the implications. “Kill the bearers.”
Arga grinned savagely and flexed his claws, eager for the glory of killing such mighty foes. “I will lead the hunt for them myself. Even these living weapons can’t defeat the full might of the Crucible of Faith.”
“That won’t be necessary,” the specter dismissed. “Without the Elements themselves, the Bearers are only as dangerous as the average pony, give or take. Send some of your own warriors if you wish, but most of them will likely be needed to take the final point: Tartarus.”
“What does the High Chieftain of the Jiralhanae matter here?” one Sangheili asked, clicking his mandibles in confusion.
The Nightmare actually formed a set of eyebrows simply so that it could quirk one in bemusement. “He doesn’t,” it stated flatly. “In the local language, the word literally means ‘Prison of the Damned,’ and a sizable host of my own forces is trapped there.”
“And you think it will take the entire complement of an Assault Carrier to take a single holding facility?” Arga accused, unable to keep the incredulous tone from his voice.
“They’ve had months to build defenses and lay traps,” it hissed back, “aided by the most cunning and powerful spell casters on the planet, not to mention whatever tricks and weapons the humans might have supplied. Besides, overkill is my favorite strategy.”
That at least appealed to Sangheili sensibilities. “Very well, if you have nothing else to impart-”
“Actually,” the Nightmare started before Arga could issue his orders. “If you still wish to take the field personally, I know of an enemy more than worthy of you. Guarding the Elements of Harmony is a being many revere as a goddess, and with good reason. She could easily hold off your forces for quite some time if left to her own devices.”
Many officers glowered at the word ‘goddess,’ and a few even managed to quash their fear long enough to glance at Arga as he derisively snorted, “How long could one blasphemer possibly forestall judgment?”
“Several days at least, maybe as few as three if your soldiers are lucky and she isn’t well rested.”
Professional diligence gave way to astonished, fearful mutterings. Some laughed at the apparent exaggeration, but they were few and soon fell into nervous silence. A handful, the fleetmaster included, made no noise at all as they wrestled with a sense of dreaded recognition.
Arga suddenly whirled back to his command console, muttering, “It couldn’t be,” as he reared up to bring both forelimbs to bear on the holographic icons.
“Couldn’t be what?” The Nightmare asked. Of all the reactions it had thought bringing up Celestia would cause, it hadn’t even considered this one. Fear, yes, but it was as if its apprentice had just been told he would be fighting the Boogiemonster. That the Sun Princess had personally slain that particularly vicious masterpiece was beside the point; what terror could possibly make an ‘ascended’ zealot fret like this?
“Since the beginning of our war on the Humans,” he recounted with foreboding, “there have been reports of Demons, abominations they call the Spartans. Few alive have seen them; fewer still have faced one in battle and survived. Wherever they appear, ships fall from the sky and entire legions vanish in the night. It is said they call fire from the earth with a gesture and tear down mountains on a whim, that they can fight for days on end and can never be slain. A heretical few even cite them as proof that our war goes against the will of the gods.”
Impressive, it admitted to itself as it watched Arga turn to the main display and wait for his frantic command to bear fruit. “Have you ever spotted one of these Spartans?” it probed, but the screen lit up before it could receive a response.
The image, identified as Phantom 9932029 “Obscure Adherence” forward turret camera, was skewed to a strange angle and partially obscured by debris and distorting static. Through the haze they could see an embattled city street, the firefight already all but over. As they watched a pack-chieftain (Arga blamed Darrinus for being able to tell the Jiralhanae’s rank at a glance) lead a doomed charge across the field in a desperate attempt to bring his hammer to bear. On the far side, a mass of ponies returned fire while rallying around a large figure clad in golden armor that blazed like the sun, though the being itself did not move. Most of the attack was cut down within seconds, but the chieftain had managed to activate a piece of equipment that the higher-ranking Brutes were infamous for: a Shield Overdrive.
The raging ape surged forward like a juggernaut, completely ignoring the bullets and rockets from behind his shields. Within moments he reached the pony lines, releasing a bellow as he brought his maul down on the figurehead.
As ponies scattered the figure brought one metal-sheathed wing forward to block the blow. The stone at its feet cracked, but even with a pulse of pure gravitational force bolstering the strike its legs buckled only slightly. Then it snared the hammer’s haft in one blade-like plate and yanked the weapon away with a deft flick of its wing.
The chieftain was visibly shocked, but managed to release his grip before his was dragged from his feet. Unfortunately his opponent was not finished. It reared up and kicked, the blows somehow staggering him even through his overshield until he tumbled and fell to his back. It then brought both hooves down, shattering then supposedly-invulnerable barrier and punching through his chest, armor, bone and all. Even Arga was impressed with the Jiralhanae’s tenacity as he futilely clawed at his killer’s head until one of the ponies walked up and ended his struggle with a shot to the head.
Silence filled the bridge like cement, thick and unbreakable, as the distant warrior stepped out of its most recent victory, not a speck of blood or filth clinging to its armor. It turned back to its allies and encased them in a yellow glow much like that of its armor. Though the quality of the video made it difficult to tell what exactly this accomplished at first, the healing magic became apparent when one of the enemy infantry flexed a wing that had hung limply at its side until then.
With the final display of power over, the towering juggernaut left, and soon after the feed cut off. Despite this, it took a warbling tone at one of the smaller stations to draw the stunned Sangheili back to reality. They returned to their duties one by one, until only the fleetmaster remained idle.
“That…That was no Demon,” he said with a long, shuddering breath as he whirled on the Nightmare. “That was a god! A force of nature! What world have you led us to where we have to face such monstrosities?”
The Nightmare smirked. “I told you, Celestia has given many reason to worship her through displays like the one you just saw. But if she does lay claim to the title of deity, then who better to face her than another god?” When Arga still did not leap to the challenge, it added in a mocking tone, “Don’t worry, I can come along too if you’re afraid.”
The reaction was so fast that even the participants had difficulty following it. The moment the last word, the accusation of fear, left the Nightmare’s mouth, Arga had tensed. An eye-blink later, he stood over the shadow, wings flared, with one taloned foot pinning the offensive orifice to the floor and the other hovering perilously close to an azure optical. The energy projectors in the corresponding gauntlets hummed in tune with the white-blue plasma coating his claws.
And most surprising of all, he thought he detected the barest hint of fear in those blue orbs. If it existed at all, it vanished before he could focus through his blind rage, but that mysterious gleam was enough for him to be satisfied with the show of force.
“I fear no foe,” he snarled before flicking his blades off. Not even you, he added silently, noting with satisfaction that the Nightmare’s vaporous form looked somehow stiff and burnt where the weapon had pierced it.
“And, even though I would be remiss in my duties as commander of this assault,” he continued in a clipped tone, suddenly aware that the room was once again silent with all eyes expectantly on him, “to go gallivanting across the front lines whenever the fancy strikes me, I can tell that this false goddess is an obstacle that will require my personal attention to overcome.”
Though he loathed to admit it even to himself, Arga was… not frightened per se, but at least duly intimidated by his glimpse of this Celestia’s prowess and he was certain that his officers had picked up on it. If they had they made no remarks when he ordered strike teams sent after the Bearers and the remainder of the Crucible’s legions to assault Tartarus. Some even offered respectful nods as he passed, as if to say, you are doing something even I wouldn’t dare to. Comforting as it was to know others shared his trepidation, he was soon alone in the ship’s corridors.
Well, almost alone. He could still feel the quiver of what his body erroneously insisted to be terror, the raised hackle as controllable as his own heartbeat, indicating that the Nightmare still haunted him.
“And what do you want now?” he growled dully as one of the nodes for the intra-ship teleport system came into view.
“Just thought I’d tag along,” was the reply. “I make it a point to personally take part in my foes’ defeats.”
Arga had to brace himself upright using the chamber’s walls and scrunch his wings against his sides, but he managed to fit inside the cramped device. Meanwhile the Nightmare easily flowed into the space around him, although it was forced to dissolve its mouth and eyes in such close quarters. After an indescribably brief instant wherein both ceased to exist, they emerged from a similar station near one of the starboard hangars.
“You don’t mind me joining in, do you?,” the Nightmare asked the moment they were free of the teleporter, though it took Arga a moment to recall exactly what it was talking about. He had never enjoyed teleporting. The undefinable sensations muddled his mind and he was secretly terrified that the machine would malfunction and leave him somewhere dangerous or, worse, nowhere at all. Unfortunately, even high-velocity grav-chutes were not fast enough for combat situations onboard a ship as large as this.
Against the muted warnings in his head, he offered a noncommittal yet vaguely affirmative grunt before he could reacquire his bearings.
A conspiratorially hissed “excellent,” was his only warning, futile as it was in his disoriented state. The Nightmare brushed aside his confused mental barriers and poured into him almost unimpeded, its power once again coursing through his veins like black fire. The pain and corruption left him feeling no greater than before, just as it had that first time, but this time seemed less terrible. The burning was numbed slightly, as if it licked at an old scar instead of fresh flesh, and the unworldly filth had him merely wishing for a thorough cleansing cycle instead of a purging via Holy Fire.
It was over before he could blink, and he was now the vehicle of that cursed abomination once more.
On the other hand the shock had jarred his brain back into working order. If anything, he was even more focused on disposing of that walking blasphemy, the self-declared goddess Princess Celestia.
That’s the idea, the Nightmare thought at him. Keep your eyes on the prize. Nothing else matters, and nothing can stand in my way.
Nothing can stand in my way, Arga echoed, not even noticing his guest’s slip. He did not see the bustle of the hangar as he stalked through it. He did not hear the crew’s startled gasps as he leaped out into the open air. He did not even feel the rush of wind as he took flight for the very first time.
All he knew was the shining armor of his enemy and how glorious her fall would be.
The Nightmare, meanwhile, was settling in to enjoy the show when a presence tapped against the edge of its consciousness. “What kept you?” it shot over the link the moment it opened.
“Apologies, master,” a familiarly gruff voice replied, “but I could not find you until just now.”
“It matters not. Gather the others and what forces you can-“
“But!-” the voice disrupted in a panic before being itself cut off.
“Do not interrupt me when I am speaking!”
“But there are no others! Even my own hold was attacked, overtaken by the ponies and their weapons of fire and steel! That they overlooked my phylactery is a miracle, but everything else was destroyed. I haven’t even ventured from the vault out of fear that they might return to finish the job.”
After taking a moment to quash its disbelief, the Nightmare said, “If you are all that is left then you will go alone, but you will obey me!” Nothing but hesitance echoed across the link, despite its forcefulness.
“You have been my one of greatest disappointments, Grogar,” it continued at length. “Power over death itself, and yet everything you touch ends only in retreat and disaster. If you truly are anything but a failure, then this is your last chance to prove it. A great host now assaults this world at my bidding, but recent developments have put their abilities in question. That is why I have directed them to take Tartarus and unleash the forces imprisoned there.”
“The Black Horde? Cerbera’s Bane?” Gorgar asked with no small amount of awe. They were after all speaking of the only army the Nightmare had commanded personally, one so great that each of its components was a legend in itself. Basilisks, Jabberwocks, Fenrirs; mention of the terrors from its ranks could even now instill fear in the stoutest of hearts. Indeed, it had only been tales of the ravenous Jormungar worms that had kept a young Grogar in line for as long as he had.
“Yes, along with anything else that may have been added since,” the Nightmare confirmed. “Unfortunately, I am otherwise occupied and the Covenant lacks the… delicacy to unravel the Tartarus Rune safely. Thus I leave the task to you. Free my followers and I will allow you to lead them in my stead. Fail and you may as well throw yourself in with them.”
“Then I shall not fail,” Grogar pledged. “It will take me mere hours to reach Tartarus, and minutes to crush any resistance there. Your legions will be ready before the sun rises.”