//------------------------------// // Spite: Master of Puppets // Story: Game of Worlds // by DualThrone //------------------------------// Spite watched through her field glasses as the altered griffins continued their frenzied attack against the walled griffin city in the distance. Even this far away, she caught the very faint scent of salt water and fish, a smell of ocean that caused a brief flood of sweet and bittersweet memory to flash before her mind’s eye. So many hours spent in the howling gales from the northeast, reveling in the glorious fury of the storms…going there to bid so many friends so many farewells… She pushed it aside and forced herself to focus on the battle. It was readily apparent that even with all sorts of meddling to make them stronger and deadlier, the altered griffins were struggling mightily to get into the city, unable to use their greater numbers and strength because of thousands of bolt holes and choke points that allowed a smaller number to drive the Evil’s minions back again and again. It seemed odd to her that they weren’t attempting to enter the city by simply flying over the walls, but she assumed that there was an excellent reason, which she resolved to ask the two griffins who were, even now, exuberantly expressing their gratitude to Luna by crushing her between them. “Thank you, Princess! We owe you everything!” one of the two griffins exclaimed as she and her mate embraced Princess Luna from either side. It appeared that Luna’s spellwork had been fully as effective as it first appeared: the two griffins emerged from the storm of Dark magic and divine wrath completely purged of Void corruption—and wildly grateful to the slightly-blushing alicorn who found herself trapped between two overjoyed leoavians. “You’re welcome, both of you,” she managed, smiling. “An unintended, but welcome, consequence of the battle with that… corrupt one.” “More like a smiting,” Spite chuckled lowly, turning away from the battle ahead of them and casing the glasses, putting them away in her holding pouch. “I know I insisted that you and your sister are goddesses, Your Majesty, but I did so without realizing how literally true that is. Even more impressive, though, is that you were actually in control of that maelstrom.” “Well, I could hardly let the spell harm a faithful companion,” Luna replied lightly, giving Spite a small smile as she politely wiggled free of the griffins’ grateful embrace. “Worthy griffins, may I know your names?” “Gryta of the White Mountain Aerie and of the Second Farsighted Wing,” the female replied. “Osper of the Painted Mesa Aerie and of the Second Farsighted Wing,” her mate added. “I’m honored to meet two valiant soldiers of the Provinces, and pleased that I was able to help you,” Luna said. “It is we who are honored, Your Majesty,” Gryta said, bowing deeply to the alicorn. “You’ve saved us, not only from that horrible hold, but also from the shame of betraying nest and province in servitude to the one called ‘Master’.” “Original name,” Spike snorted. “Have either of you actually laid eyes on this ‘Master’? I’d dearly love to find out what the demented coward looks like.” “No one sees Master and remembers seeing him,” Osper told her solemnly. “They are brought into his presence to be altered and know nothing but his command until they’re released. I and my mate certainly looked upon him, but we’ll never know what we saw.” The dragoness frowned as she acknowledged this with a nod. “That actually narrows it down, although I truly wish it did not. The kind of alteration you speak of, the erasure or blocking of memories combined with being able to infuse a creature with the Void and shape the result, is a rare property and found only amongst the most ancient.” “When she was Nightmare Flare, my sister was able,” Luna pointed out. “As I said, found only among the most ancient,” Spite returned. “I’m certain you and your sister are both very old and I suspect that both your nightmare and hers were similarly ancient.” “You spoke earlier as if you… knew something of her,” Luna mentioned. “Based on the few things you’ve said or implied, it’s possible that I do. However…” Spite gestured pointedly at the two griffins, then at a Rainbow Dash still curled into the fetal position with Fluttershy gently consoling her, then at the distant griffin city under attack. Luna smiled slightly. “Yes, there’s more important things to take care of than the past. Gryta, Osper, can you tell us anything about the minion of ‘Master’ that we confronted?” “Only that he calls her ‘Grimfeathers’ instead of her actual name,” Gryta replied. “It seems to make her very angry.” “Heh.” Spite turned to look at where Rainbow Dash remained slumped and hugged up against a consoling Fluttershy. “So Gilda’s family name pisses her off? Well, that’s too bucking bad, isn’t it? Shoulda… shoulda done it to a different…” Her voice faltered and she swallowed audibly. “Shoulda done it to a different griffin then. Too bucking bad.” “I’m sure ‘Master’ is regretting his choice of departed soul to drag back into life to serve as a thug,” Spite agreed, her brow furrowing. “Although if that’s what he’s done…” She fell into silence, contemplating this a moment. No way in existence that Phyrrus would let an insult like that go by, especially from an Evil… and any Evil that attempted it would know damn well the price for pissing off Death himself. And yet, Gilda was clearly dead and is now alive, if only in the head of that ‘Grimfeathers’ beast that ‘Master’ has created. Almost unsurprising, considering that another minion of the Evils managed to resurrect and control four alicorns, each of which I can reasonably assume had power comparable to Celestia and Luna. This… does not bode well. “Yet another thing that doesn’t add up, and is all the more scary because it doesn’t add up,” she concluded aloud. “Assuming that ‘Grimfeathers’ isn’t lying, a very dubious assumption mind you, bringing Gilda back is an immense gamble, one that the Guardian apparently didn’t resort to until the final battle if the short accounts I’ve heard are accurate. It’s a desperation move because it would be suicidal; The Reaper normally either kills necromancers immediately or punishes them when they fall into his hands. The only other possibility is difficult to explain, but…” “We’ve got work to do,” Rainbow finished dispiritedly before she looked at Gryta and Osper. “So what’s the deal with the city-aerie ahead?” “It’s one of three places where all griffins who have their own minds gather,” Osper replied. “It’s being attacked because it amuses ‘Master’ to make the defenders hurt their kin. It’s hazy but…” “…we were definitely attacking with the aid of a mighty beast before ‘Grimfeathers’ commanded that we come with here to ambush you,” Gryta finished. “It left just as we did.” “Then it has been destroyed,” Luna stated confidently. “No, Princess Luna,” Gryta replied with a frown. “What was destroyed by you was a plaything of ‘Master’, an… experiment. The beast I’m talking about flowed above the land and seemed to be made of many creatures that acted mindlessly as one. It could not speak or reason, but it was deadly, invincible, with a ravenous hunger. I think it was being told exactly what to do all the time, because it seemed to be incapable of acting without pausing, as if waiting to be given instructions.” “Did you get a good look at the creatures that made it?” Spite asked, looking intently at the griffiness. “Did they fly without wings and eat without mouths?” “No and no, although they saw without eyes and smelled without nostrils,” she replied. “They looked like fish but with the faces of parasprites and their wings look like the wings of a fly but larger.” “Strange…” Spite murmured. “Don’t mind me, though; please continue.” “‘Master’ sends us and those like us against the refuges to hurt their spirit because he knows he can’t defeat them,” Gryta said. “The griffins strongest in war have always come from near the sea and the aeries are all near the waters, so ‘Master’ cannot starve them.” “He doesn’t attempt to ambush fishers over the ocean?” Luna asked with an audible touch of surprise. “Naw.” All four of them now looked towards Rainbow who’d raised her head and was looking more directly at them than before, her red-rimmed eyes full of pain. “Thermals out over the water are horseapples and the currents are absolute murder. Griffin fishers can figure ‘em out because they’ve been playing in ‘em since before they could fly.” “And ‘Master’ fears the water, as do all of his servants,” Osper added. “The two times he came to watch, he stayed far away from the cliffs, although they offered the best view of the harm he was doing.” “So he maintains a siege upon them, one that cannot starve them out,” Luna frowned. “Sadism cannot be the only reason, unless he has a goal other than dominating the Provinces and subjugating them.” “You underestimate how important sadism is to Evils,” Spite replied grimly. “A goodly number of them need no more reason than the chance to inflict suffering.” She looked towards the besieged city. “Speaking of such, I’m thinking we shouldn’t be standing here and watching while ‘Master’ has his fun. Are you feeling rested enough to get back to it, Luna?” Luna nodded solemnly. “Not as much as if my moon was in the sky, but more than enough to deal with a few of this Evil’s minions. I just hope we don’t have to reckon with another of those… creations.” “Yeah, so what if we do?” Rainbow had gotten to her feet and very gently pushed aside Fluttershy’s concerned wing. “I’m coming with you.” “Rainbow Dash, I…” “I don’t care,” Rainbow interrupted Luna harshly. “After what that… thing did, stealing my friend’s voice, her appearance, taunting me with it, threatening to kill Flutters slowly… I bucking deserve a shot at her, and her ‘Master’, and her friends, and all of those horseapples. I’ll start with the ones attacking the city; maybe ‘Master’ will show up and I can buck him off a cliff and see if he can swim.” Luna glanced at Spite and she could see her concern reflected in the night princess’ eyes. “We… I recognize that, Rainbow Dash,” she said in a gentle tone, looking back at the rainbow-maned mare. “However, you’re a very intelligent mare, more than you’re willing to admit. Can you look me in the eyes and tell me, honestly, that you’re cool-headed? That you won’t be reckless if you see a chance to hurt Grimfeathers or ‘Master’? That I won’t have to tell my niece that I let you charge into the middle of a fight in a state of blind rage, leading to you being gravely injured? Can you look me in the eyes and tell me that?” Rainbow swallowed and her ears lay down a little. “…no,” she growled. “Then I want you to remain here,” Luna told her with the same gentleness, adding a touch of firmness. “Let Kindness care for you and soothe your pain.” “Y..yes,” Fluttershy added, leaning against Rainbow’s side and draping a wing over her. “S… stay with me and let the others fight, Dash. B… besides… th.. they need everyone they can get so I don’t have anyone else to stay while everyone else… f… f… fights.” Spite took the opportunity of Rainbow looking away, leaning a little into the consoling embrace, to look curiously at the shy pegasus, having not heard her stutter badly before, and saw a fierceness in those gentle blue eyes, the same quiet boldness that had come out when Spite had tried to soften the casual sadism of the Evils to her. The unusual fire in those eyes made Spite smile and give her a nod of understanding; the stuttering timidity was for her friend’s benefit, to convince her to stay back where it was safe. Fluttershy’s soft-spoken request and physical touch seemed to take the fight out of Rainbow and she nestled into the proffered embrace. “Heh… sure, Flutters, I’ll hang with you.” She looked over and let her intense jewel-like eyes roam over the others. “Just as long as they promise to beat the horseapples out of ‘Master’ if they see him.” “Of course we will,” Spite assured her. “Just remember that we’re not only urging you to stay behind because you’re very upset at the moment. You’re a strong mare, Rainbow Dash, and almost recklessly courageous so when the Evil sends his minions to hurt Fluttershy—and he will indeed do that, he won’t be able to help himself—you’ll be here.” Fluttershy sort of shrank against Rainbow, who almost automatically used her wing to press the other pegasus nearer consolingly. “Yeah, I will,” she agreed. “Hope ya chase ‘em off fast—griffin city-states are pretty bucking cool.” ><><>< When they’d left Fluttershy and Rainbow, Osper and Gryta had offered to take point, reasoning that the corrupted griffins that were attacking would be confused by their cleansing for long enough that the mated pair could strike first and draw first blood. Given that many of the stronger Evils were prone to personally overseeing every move their minions made, Spite wasn’t the least bit surprised when the griffins’ plan worked as intended: the Void-shaped nearest the pair were badly mauled before they realized what was happening. Partly, that was due to the griffins themselves: despite being scouts (or perhaps because of it), they clawed, bit, and buffeted like enraged lions that happened to fly about, and the apparent scales of the Void-shaped seemed to do little to turn aside the avian talons or razor-sharp beaks. Thus, when Spite folded her wings and dropped her full weight on the nearest victim, few could spare the attention to notice her; Luna’s wire-like constructs grabbing four by the throats and throttling them into unconsciousness attracted a bit more notice. At which point, Luna proved fully as adept with mere hooves as she was with her immense magical font: a Void-shaped with ample boldness but very little smarts approached from behind, only to receive a double-legged buck that would make Applejack proud; Spite winced involuntarily as flickers of sympathy pain arched over her face. “You may find this difficult to imagine,” Spite yelled over to Luna as she used the forearm of an attacking corrupted griffin as a ladder, swinging onto its back and dealing it a hard headbutt to its head, then letting go to allow the limp form to bounce its way down to the sand below. “But I’ve never being in earnest combat in all my thousands of years.” “Thou art acquitting thyself quite well then!” Luna replied as she released the quartet of griffins that she’d just finished strangling into unconsciousness with her Darkness wires, a quick cantrip slowing their falls to survivable speeds. “But how hast thou lived so long without being once in earnest combat?” “I actively—whoops,” she dropped below a blatantly-telegraphed slash and doubled the offender over with a good solid blow from her tail, “avoid fair fights of any kind. I’m very gifted at striking first and striking last, but not nearly as good at this sort of thing.” She used the doubled-over foe as a battering ram, a hard grasp and a neat aerial pirouette seeing the corrupted griffin flung into a mass of its fellows that were mounting a renewed effort to push into the city with sheer mass. The hapless Void-shaped bowled over half a dozen, hollowing the push and giving the defenders a chance to push them back. “Then thou art more of an assassin than a warrior?” Luna inquired, looking curiously at her as she unconsciously batted a pair of the griffins aside and threw yet another into his fellow, causing the pair to drop like a rock in a tangle of limbs and wings. “I’m more of a right-hand dragon than anything else,” Spite told her. “Left” Luna instantly swept with a wing to disorientate the attacker than followed it up with a hoof-thrust that snapped her opponent’s head back. A downstroke of her wings pulled her above the mutated leoavian’s level then a downthrust with both front hooves sent him spiraling down in an unconscious heap. “Thank you. What doth a right-hand dragon do, pray tell?” “Whatever her sister, and queen, needs her to do,” Spite replied, smirking slightly in the direction of the piled Void-shaped griffins that were being set upon with a will by the untainted defenders. “Sometimes harmless tasks, like delivering a message or representing her to a foreign court. Sometimes dangerous tasks, like protecting good ponies from Evils.” She paused. “Sometimes… things that I’m not proud of, but needed to be done.” Luna gave her a look of understanding sympathy. “Tis a burden that We know all too well,” she said, using her wires to smash the heads of a pair of stragglers together then two others to grab them around the middles and throw both downwards, causing the thoroughly stunned flyers to instinctively snap all four wings open and glide towards an hard, but not fatal, landing. “It was once Ours to do the same for Our sister, to keep Her hooves clean and Her glory unsullied.” “Part of what led you into the grasp of your nightmare?” “It may seem strange to thee but… no, We loved it,” the moon princess corrected her, drawing close to watch the mass of Master’s minions trying vainly to compensate for an assault from in front while a goddess and her companions assaulted from the back. “It was the only real challenge We had; most other duties were dull and unimportant but acting as Our sister’s hoof, working such that everypony knew We were at work but nopony could prove it, was exciting and vital.” “Well, it’s much easier for me: there’s never a need to hide the fact that I’m carrying out Amarra’s wishes,” Spite said as Gryta and Osper joined them, looking none the worse for wear. “I admit, I wouldn’t have expected scouts to be good brawlers.” Both griffins gave her a curious look. “Why not?” Osper asked. “In all the armies I’ve seen, scouts are quick and intelligent, but far from possessed of the ability to trade punishment with their foes,” she admitted. “Of course, I’ve never fought against or alongside griffins.” “Well, we have to fight far in advance of the wing, with very little help,” Gryta told her. “We literally have ourselves and perhaps one or two other scouts. If you cannot fight very well, you die very pointlessly.” “Heh.” Spite nodded and looked over the melee below. “Anyone you know down there?” Both gave her tight, bitter smiles. “Why else do you think Master posted us here? We know all of them,” Gryta replied. “I suppose he was thinking ahead, considering how he might punish us if we ever got free of his grasp.” “Well, it doesn’t look like he had that much insight,” Spite observed as the mass of Void-shaped griffins began to break and scatter before the counterattack. “If he hoped to achieve something besides emotional hurt, he’s failed.” “As we told you, milady dragon, emotional torment is his purpose,” Osper said. “What other point could there be in bleeding his minions in battles he can’t win?” “Testing,” Luna offered. “It’s possible that he’s using pointless battles that can’t hurt him if lost to test his creations and further improve them. It’s brutal, yes, but I doubt that the evil of their ways deters the Evils at all. It would also explain the great beast you spoke of: why throw something like that into a fight you can’t win if not to discover its weaknesses and make it stronger?” “Perhaps our free brethren can help us know,” Gryta suggested, gesturing towards the defenders of the city-state even now emerging from their positions, their gazes turned upwards with looks of curiosity, caution, and pleasant surprise. “Many of them have bled the beast we speak of and all have been throwing back Master’s attempts to seize them.” “Princess Luna!” One of the griffins exclaimed joyfully as soon as they came in earshot. “You’re here, and you’ve freed two of our own! Does this mean Halia successfully delivered his message to you?” “I’m afraid that Consul-General Halia was quite frail, last We saw him,” Luna replied solemnly as she alighted with casual regal grace in front of the gathering. “He was unable to deliver any message to us, for Master had put a spell on his mind that would have killed him if We had not intervened.” As Spite slighted beside the lunar monarch, she could see the worried murmurs rippling through the battle-weary leoavians. The designated speaker furrowed his brow. “If he didn’t deliver his message, what wonderful gift of fate has brought you to our aid, Your Highness?” “We have come north hunting a creature in the shape of a pony,” Spite answered. “I had come to Equestria hunting her, but she slipped my grasp, gravely wounding Rainbow Dash…” The ripples became alarmed. “The Element of Loyalty lies wounded?” the speaker asked fearfully. “Is she… will she live?” “She’s been healed, enough that she and Fluttershy, the Element of Kindness, were able to accompany us,” Luna reassured him. “Gryta, Esper, would you be willing to go to them and tell them that they can approach safely?” “Of course, Princess,” Osper replied with a bow, he and his mate turning and taking wing in the direction where they’d left the two pegasus mares. Spite glanced after them then turned back to the griffins. “How do you know Rainbow?” she asked. “I know she had a very dear griffin friend who died during the incident with the Guardian but I hadn’t equated that with general admiration for her.” “Pegasi and griffins are both fliers, and our nations have a warm, if distant, relationship,” the griffin related, gesturing towards the walled city in mute invitation. “Gilda Grimfeathers and Rainbow Dash were a… well-known pair. For a while… well, some of their old friends from flight camp thought that it’d end up being more than friends but you know how it goes.” “Separate ways, separate lives,” Spite nodded. “I almost wish I could meet Gilda; Grimfeathers, the being using her voice and body, is very unpleasant.” As she and Luna joined him, the griffin chuckled slightly. “If you’ve met her, you’ve met Gilda. Or at least, Gilda’s mean streak, which was a mile wide and growing right before the end. There’s a good reason Master mocks her by calling her Grimfeathers: she’s too uncreative to be anything more than half an imitation of her hostess.” “You know of him then?” Luna asked. “He doesn’t make any real effort to conceal himself,” their host replied, banking in a lazy circle to wait while other griffins entered the city ahead. “We don’t know anything of him or his appearance, but he’s a braggart of the highest order, and a fool besides. He can’t enter our city, and attacking it just bleeds him.” “I’m surprised he doesn’t just come through the uncovered top,” Spite mentioned. “You don’t even appear to watch it.” He snickered. “Who said he didn’t try? He learned his lesson right quick, and we had meat that wasn’t fish for a couple nights.” Luna gave him a slightly nauseated look. “That’s not funny.” “I’m not joking,” he deadpanned. “Or, rather, I wouldn’t be joking if the corpses weren’t horribly diseased. Lost hundreds to a black death that rotted their insides and then turned them into puppets to some dark power, dead as can be but moving around and trying to spread the sickness. If not for the aid of some pegasi and a unicorn visitor, we’d have been killed by our own foolishness.” “A unicorn visitor?” Spite repeated, furrowing her brow. “Yes,” he replied with a smile. “Lovely young mare, practically falling over under the weight of her saddlebags, speaks with a very light lisp. A… Lily something.” “Lily Shell,” Spite filled in, baring her teeth involuntarily. “Yes, that’s the name,” he agreed, not catching the look she and Luna shared. “She just got back from a short jaunt east if you’d like to say hello.” “Oh, I’d love that very much,” Spite said with relish. “So you say she was very helpful in dealing with the disease?” “Vital,” he asserted, banking back towards the now-empty landing platform. “She’s the one that called it a ‘black death’, said that it’s created by creatures called ‘Plagues’ and that the best solution to is the use of fire on the bodies and anything infected by it.” That brought Spite up short. What the buck? “So this Lily Shell… helped you? Legitimately helped?” The griffin glanced back at her, looking confused. “You sound as if that surprises you.” “It does, honored griffin,” Luna said to him. “The creature in the shape of a pony that we’ve come north hunting is a unicorn that speaks with a light lisp and goes about heavy-laden and uses the name Lily Shell.” The griffin just barely avoided slamming into the wall on the other side of the platform, tumbling ungracefully as he landed and ending up in a thoroughly annoyed heap. “Could there be two of them?” He asked as he attempted to salvage his dignity by climbing back to his feet and ruffling his wings to shake the dust off. “I can’t say,” Luna admitted as she landed beside him, the picture of predatory grace as she folded her wings. “I’ve never met her.” “And I’ve met her just long enough for her to snarl at me and send a beast after Rainbow to draw me off,” Spite added, alighting beside the lunar princess. “Evils—that’s the general term for what she is—can be extremely mercurial and unpredictable, but going from trying to hurt an innocent to saving thousands of them with timely and correct advice is a very abrupt change.” “Perhaps she’s remorseful, and came here to do good in make up for her evil?” He suggested with a touch of hopefulness as he slipped into the entrance just off the platform, narrow enough that it worked very well as a chokepoint, while wide enough that even with her wider wingspan, Spite could stretch out and just barely touch the sides. The tunnel had clearly been violently blasted step-by-step into the rock of the mesa and then refined with picks and hammers to be more or less uniform, the very slight indentations into the floor of the tunnel speaking of explosive charges of some kind inserted into prepared blasting holes and set off. “Impressive use of explosives,” Spite commented. “Yes,” their guide nodded proudly. “Carving our cities into these natural formation was no easy feat, but it was well worth it.” “So how has Master been seizing your cities?” Luna asked. “He cannot besiege them all, and he’s clearly no tactician. Does he smash in using those disagreeable burrowing beasts?” “Chobbaths aren’t strong enough to burrow through rock, Princess,” Spite interjected before the griffin could answer. “Perhaps that monstrous one, but something that massive would destroy so much of a city that capturing it and its inhabitants would be totally moot.” “Your companion’s correct, your majesty,” their guide confirmed as the rock of the tunnel gave way to an alley formed by two stone structures to either side. “We have no idea how he’s seizing our cities and our selves, just that a city will resist for a long while and then it’ll fall abruptly and completely. It’s as if our brothers abruptly decide to stop fighting, unthinkable to any proper griffin. It’s partly out of fear of this fate that we’ves been so diligent about our defenses. Remembering that these defenses included something above the city, Spite looked up and could see the sky above… and several flashes of the sun glinting off of something, or several somethings. She frowned and then a realization came to her. “Kill wires!” She exclaimed. “That’s why Master can’t approach you by air… you have magically-taut magically-sharp wires stretched across the access!” He grinned. “Exactly. It was a gift from some pegasi who’d been adopted by the city’s governing family. We’d begun trading the craft to other cities but Master arrived before all could share in it.” “A pity,” Spite remarked as they emerged from the alley into a bright, frantic menagerie of color, sound, and life. The griffins had hollowed out the inside of the mesa and secured their homes and structures to the inside walls by some means she couldn’t see. Vast suspended bridges flowed from place to place, spaciously spaced out so that griffins could easily get around them. In the very center, suspended at their level, was a two-story wooden structure that Spite guessed to be the city hall surrounded by a massive platform that was now accommodating dozens of vendor’s stalls and carts. Almost as amazing as their city was the sheer variety of griffins. There were the classic white-and-golden griffins, generously interspaced among ones that were larger with tuft-less tails, ones that had gorgeous patterns on their feline rears and even more stunning ones on their avian fronts, and dozens of pegasi with all the colorful variety inherent to ponies. “Bucking cool…” she breathed in awe, feeling a sharp pang of homesickness as she gazed out on a scene that could have been plucked straight out of Tempesthaven, the massive capital city where she and Amarra made their home. Mornings spent just sitting on the western balcony and listening to the music of millions laughing, crying, dancing, drinking, and so very much living… “There’s so much… life here!” “Yes,” Luna agreed with a warm, benevolent smile directed at the dragoness. “You love it like I do, the thousands of people with thousands of stories going around living. Another reason I so loved that part of my responsibilities: even more than my sister, who loves Our little ponies like her own children, hasn’t mingled so seamlessly and often with them. I could tell so many stories…” “And it would be a delight to hear them, Princess Luna, but I’m sure you’re rather satisfy yourself about Lily Shell,” the griffin remarked. “That would be preferred, yes.” “After she did such a kindness to us, we offered her a bed in the city hall where guests of the ruling family usually stay,” he related, stretching his wings and leaping off the little balcony they’d eventually emerged on. “She protested, and then she submitted graciously. She prefers to stay near the hall, it seems, because she never seems to emerge except to get some fresh fruits from the merchants.” “Well, I hear that she was a good houseguest to the Apples,” Spite said as she and Luna followed him towards the structure suspended in the center of the city. “She’s given us no trouble at all,” their guide replied, already touching down from the very short jaunt through the air to the platform. “Very protective of her saddlebags, though, and she seems afraid of someone accidentally touching that wooden rod she carries.” “If what she carries in those saddlebags is even half as dangerous as that orb that bound the klesae, I can see why she’d want to keep others away from them, at least until she had need of what was inside.” Spite approached the structure, flanked by Luna and the griffin, noting that it seemed colorful and cheerful, with large-pane windows and heavy cloth instead of a door. “So which floor is this room of hers on?” At that precise moment, before the griffin could even begin replying, the cloth was pushed aside by blue-tinged unicorn magic and out trotted a slender, white-coated, blonde-maned unicorn mare with a small book held in easy reading position by part of her magic and a succulent apple held in the rest. Lily turned her head slightly, moving the apple closer to take a big bite, never taking her eyes off her reading material. Fully emerging from the city hall, she seemed to sense eyes on her because she sighed and looked up at them. Time seemed to stand still as fierce sapphire eyes regarded them over the rim of the untitled book, the disguised Evil’s expression bizarrely calm, before she looked at her apple, then at them, then at the apple again and shrugged, taking another smaller bite. “Honored griffin, do ye see a black-scaled dragoness and a resplendent alicorn beside ye?” she asked in a strong, steady voice with a touch of curiosity. “Y… yes,” he answered after a moment, sounding slightly confused by the odd question. Lily visibly considered this information before she floated a small scrap of paper from her saddlebags and carefully marked her place, shutting the book as she took another bite of apple. “That ist unfortunate, for I had hoped that this apple was rotted somehow and that I was hallucinating.” Those intensely sapphire eyes studied Spite for a brief instant before the Evil turned her gaze to Luna. “You are Princess Luna, sovereign of the moon and the night?” “I am,” Luna acknowledged evenly. To Luna’s visible astonishment, Lily immediately dropped into a deep bow. “It ist my deepest and gravest honor to be in yer presence, Divine One of the Night and Moon. Long has the night been my loyal friend and ally, and in this place, ye are its lady and ruler.” “I… thank you for the respect,” Luna replied with an uncertain expression. “Thank you also for not attacking us on sight and hurting yet another innocent.” “If I wish ye to come to harm, I need not attack ye,” Lashaal said calmly as she straightened. “Although because ye are here, I find myself at an advantage I had not anticipated.” Spite eyed her. “If you pull out another klesae orb…” “…ye will tear my head off and do profane things to it.” The false unicorn brushed this aside with a wave of her hoof. “I know this, and do not mean to do it. The advantage I speak of ist that only I know the evil planned for this city and how to prevent it, and ye desire to know this plan and how to prevent it. I desire to live.” Spite looked harder at her. “Why?” “Because to live is…” “No, why are you offering to help us save this city?” Spite interrupted. “Assuming that you’re not lying, why would an Evil care at all about mortals?” “Evils are sands on a vast shore,” Lashaal responded. “Some are cold and murderous, as the Slayer was. Others are mad and sadistic, as Rijii and Rejnu were. Still others are Dark and deadly, as ye and the Dread Empress are. And then there are those like me, indifferent to suffering, full of lies, but neither sadistic nor murderous. Ye are of the Void, Spite, and know these things; that ye are now in the service of the Darkness and enemy to Evil changes nothing that ist true.” “Let us say that you are in earnest,” Luna said evenly before Spite could respond to the Evil’s calm rebuttal. “What are your terms?” “Only that when ye hear wicked things swarming from the depths, ye let me escape your claws and slay the things that are mindless and hungry,” Lashaal replied, inclining her head deeply again as she responded. “I have sinned against ye by doing evil to one of yer dear subjects. This I know, and can only say that it was not my intention. I acted out of mindless fear, knowing that the Handmaiden would slay me if I fell into her hands, and so betrayed a binding and heartfelt oath to Lady Twilight Sparkle that no secret I held would do her or hers any harm. I am a liar, but not an oath-breaker and the breaking of that oath taxes and grieves me. I swear that ye shall have justice for the wrongs I have done ye, Divine One, but I wish to trade one of my secrets to ye and Spite to defer yer judgment.” “That isn’t good enough,” Luna responded. “The night approaches, and I am powerful enough to slay the monstrous chobbath of this ‘Master’ without the light and strength of my moon to draw on, yet my touch is delicate enough to strip the Void from two victims and do no harm to Spite standing near. What secrets could you offer that would profit me more than what I already have?” “Would yer vast power leave even one of the things alive that ye could follow them back to their master’s lair?” Lashaal smiled slightly. “Could ye be so precise that ye kill just enough to terrify their animal minds, yet leave enough that they know where safety lies? Do ye know what they fear to the utter depths of their limited minds? Ye are a goddess in rhetoric and truth, Divine One, but ye cannot be all-knowing, even with the aid of the Handmaiden.” “So the hive-mind beast is very much like Vampvipers?” Spite asked. “I will answer that, and tell ye more, if the goddess agrees to my terms,” Lashaal returned. “You give your oath that you will submit to my justice?” “I swear that I will submit to yer justice, whatever form that justice takes,” the Evil replied. “I swear it by what I am, and in the name of the Dread Empress.” Luna looked at Spite. “She was your quarry long before she did me any evil, Spite. What say you?” ><><>< “We have to keep up with them!” Spite exclaimed as she used the claws of all four limbs to propel herself onwards through the narrow halls. “This could be our chance to find the Evil responsible for this invasion!” “Are… are you sure that these creature aren’t leading us into a trap?” Luna asked, her horn glowing as she used her magic to cut through air resistance directly ahead of herself, allowing her to easily keep pace with the racing dragoness. “We did hear all we know about them from a source you deeply distrust.” “Of course they’re leading us to a trap,” Spite replied, bounding off a wall and twisting herself around to land four-footed on the wall directly ahead and throw herself forward, neatly cornering as they chased the fleeing mass of hive creatures. “But her information has proven entirely accurate in every way so far, so I trust it even if I distrust her.” Lashaal had proven to be as good as her word: when Spite accepted her terms, the disguised Evil had laid out the entire plan to them. Master’s apparently pointless use of his forces to attack the griffin cities was a clever way for him to gradually map out part of the city from hundreds of fragmented memories. Once he’d learned enough, he created a tear through the Void to a location chosen from the assembled fragments and sent the fierce beast Gryta and Esper had warned of through. The ‘beast’ was, as Spite had surmised from the griffins and Lashaal’s vague description, a massive hive-mind creature that was a deliberate imitation of the Second Prime, Vampvipers. It was still a dumb beast, where Vampvipers was fully awakened and extremely cunning, but the shock value of the ravenous swarm shattered any resistance—and Master had a new city of playthings. But the hive mind had a serious weakness that Vampvipers also shared but unlike Vampvipers, the beast had nothing but an instinctive animal intelligence to deal with an attack of fire. Where the sentient and cunning Second Prime could coolly pull back and slip around the one attacking with fire, the animal intelligence could only recoil fearfully from it. A stream of Light-woven flame from Spite, and Luna displaying yet more of her deadly precision with her magic, creating nigh-invisible lashes around her Darkness wires and whipping them through the roiling mass, had the effect Lashaal had promised: the beast had flown into a state of mindless terror and fled towards what, if Lashaal was right, was safe haven in the embrace of its master. “But the Evil cannot possibly wield enough power to contain you, Princess,” Spite continued as she whipped around yet another corner in pursuit. “He’s a cunning creature, not one of immense power, which means he strikes from the shadows and… whoah!” She practically had to flip around and dig her claws into the stone below her to stop, seeing the mass weave through a narrow door directly ahead and disappear into the room beyond, a room that appeared to have no windows or means of exit. “Why've you stopped, Spite?” Luna asked as she gracefully flared her wings and touched down. “We appear to have trapped them.” “Luna, I’m pretty sure that if I tried to soar through that gap with my wings extended, the frame would tear them off. That would hurt.” Spite stalked forward and tapped on the stonework. “Clever. Just wide enough to admit the beasts and far too narrow for anyone to follow.” She smirked. “Well, too narrow for a living being to follow at any rate.” “Surely you don’t mean to follow them in alone,” Luna said with a touch of disbelief. “As you just said, this Evil cannot anticipate me but you’d be alone beyond this door.” “I thought you could revert to a mass of…” “That was with the aid of the nightmare,” Luna interrupted. “And although I’m certain that she meant to teach me the magic, the affair of The Guardian interrupted her plans and shortly afterwards, she left. If you step through, Spite, I won’t be able to follow.” Spite frowned at this. “Well… buck. This is an opportunity we cannot, must not miss, but if he’s set a trap, he could slip the noose and disappear to practically anywhere.” “I could blast a hole through this stonework with ease,” the moon princess offered. “Even the most stupid Evil is clever enough to inscribe backlash runes on important portals, and the more power you throw at such a rune, the stronger the backlash will be,” Spite told her, pursing her lips. “Mmm… well, there’s no help for it. If we do nothing, he’s gone; if I try to follow his minions in, at least there’s a chance of locating him.” “I don’t think it’s worth the risk,” Luna said firmly. “You’re our only source of guidance on this Game, on the Evils, on what they can do and what dangers they represent. What do we do when we run across a new Evil or a new Void creature and you’re not here to warn us? Worse, what happens if we meet a strange being that seems to be of the Void but is actually an ally sent by this Kaiya Aon... and we attack it because we can’t take the risk? This seems very foolhardy.” Spite chuckled. “Luna, would you accept any advice I might offer on dealing with the moon? This is precisely what I do, all the time, for my sister: go into the lairs of horrible things and come out with their heads. Don’t worry about me; you keep your eye on Master’s playthings, I’ll keep my eye on Master.” In truth, Spite suspected that she knew exactly what the doorway was for and what manner of spells were placed on it. Invisible ‘pocket’ doors were the classic way to ensnare anything that used the Void to travel—classic, because they were effective against all but the most powerful Evils who could simply burn out the spells. Thus, when she gave Luna a reassuring pat on the shoulder and dipped into the Void to travel forward, the feeling of being snatched by the spell and hurled in an unanticipated direction came as no surprise at all. What was a surprise was that the other end was a circle of faint false light in the middle of a darkened room, instead of the chamber of horrors that Evils tended to prefer. Another surprise was that by the time she became cognizant of being in the circle of light, wire-thin tendrils of Void had snaked around all four of her limbs and were holding her in place, firmly but not painfully. “Well, well, well… check this action out.” Spite sighed as the smooth voice that Rainbow Dash had identified as that of her departed friend Gilda, now being used by the Void creature that Gryta and Osper called Grimfeathers, slithered out of the darkness, smirking with an air of malicious delight. “Good ol’ Spite, trapped like a rat and looking as lame as they come.” “I guess you found somewhere to hide after you ran away from Luna’s little demonstration,” Spite smirked back. “I wish you’d held you temper a bit longer; it was fun to watch the moon princess slap you down with about as much effort as stepping on an ant.” “At least I didn’t walk straight into a trap, knowing it was a trap,” Grimfeathers sneered. “I’m sorta let down, dweeb… thought you were supposed to be smart.” “I am.” Spite gave her a predatory grin, which made the altered griffiness step back. “This is what I’m best at: going after things in their lair, getting trapped, breaking out, then carrying out their heads. Speaking of such, I owe you a good solid hour of bouncing you off of random objects for taunting Loyalty.” Grimfeather snorted and rolled her eyes. “It’s nothin’ personal, precious. Yeah, sorta fun to mess with her but it’s the standard exchange between foes, especially respected foes. You’re an old pro, Ein; you know that.” The abrupt twitch from attitude-laden adolescent to a more serious demeanor, not to mention the use of a friendly shortening of her given name, took Spite aback and she blinked, looking askance at the Void-shaped creature. “You know me?” “Of you. It’s hard not to know something of you, and I know more than most. Few still live from that time before that…” Grimfeathers’ face twisted with distaste. “…incident with Cold Mountain. Helluva way to earn a familiar name, legendary even, but keepin’ the place as your personal trump card? That’s cold, precious, and no mistake.” “Like you said, it’s how the game gets played,” Spite replied after a moment of pushing past her amazement at this being revealing an unusual level of recognition—and not snarling at her the way most Void creatures did. “The only piece of a world any Evil has ever gotten their claws on. I couldn't not take the opportunity, not when it ran up and begged to be taken. So how do I know you?” “Ya don’t.” Grimfeathers smirked. “Ya might call me a fan, especially of the later stuff. I don’t think ya quite get the impact of any Evil, especially one that’s won a familiar name, goin’ Dark. You think you do, but you ain’t got a clue.” “I know I’m widely reviled,” she said. “I know my familiar name is a curse word. What else is there?” Gimfeathers looked steadily at her. “You don’t even know why, do you?” “I’ve never had reason to care.” Grimfeathers looked steadily at her for a few moments longer, visibly wrestling with something, before she started to open her mouth, presumably to reply. Before she could say anything, a wire of Void similar to the ones that were binding her shot out of the darkness around them and wrapped around Grimfeathers’ muzzle, snapping it shut. “No telling, my little puppet,” a weirdly quavering voice said from behind Spite. “We wouldn’t want to put a thought in that… mmm… little head of hers, mmm?” Grimfathers bent her legs and bowed deeply in the direction of the voice. “N…no, Master.” “There’s a good little thing,” the voice said approvingly, shifting into a calm mellowness. “Now trot along and bring me materials, for I shall now deal with the… hee… servant.” “As you will,” Grimfeather replied with a touch of annoyed weariness in her voice, turning and slipping away silently. Spite watched her go and then returned to looking straight ahead, trying to ignore the presence in the dark. “Why so silent, thing of Helles? Did you think that I had left you all for good?” Spite turned her head towards the source of the warbling voice, as what appeared to be a pile of rags drifted by her, the only thing visible a pair of gleaming incisors bared in a grisly smile. “Do they miss me in the Helles? Do they miss my great creations? Just being here, I’ve rendered dozens…” The figure flashed forward to be almost nose-to-nose with Spite, causing her to instinctively recoil from him, getting a brief impression of a flat, noseless face with eyes gaping red-rimmed with madness, before he drifted back again, spreading a sextet of unnaturally thin arms. “All around us, my puppets, my creations, my things!” All around her, wire-like constructs that reminded her vividly of the ones that Luna used, stirred and snaked into the shadows around her, emitting a choking aura of malice and sadism. Master, or the thing that Spite took to be Master, settled to the ground, giving her a look of unsettling intensity. “Mmm… hee hee… I admit that the first attempts were… unsatisfactory,” he said in that disturbing voice, one that alternated between a calm mellowness, and something almost a scream that was punctuated liberally with mad giggling. “Inferior materials, inferior methods… out of practice… mmm…” Spite put aside the strange references to the Helles missing him—Void beings in the Helles were so uncommon that everyone would remember one existing there—and listened to the sounds of something being dragged across the stone. She turned her head to see a griffin, wings tied to her body and limbs restrained by more of the wire that Master was using to drag her, being pulled across the floor, eyes clenched shut as she made a soft groaning sound of pain. Swallowing, having a bad feeling that she knew where this was going, she turned back towards Master and was again confronted with that flat, wide-eyed face staring at her with distinctively rectangular pupils that Spite could have sworn weren’t there a moment ago. “Don’t take your eyes off the ball, little Helles-thing,” he said with a sadistic grin. “I hate it when my newest raw material decides to be bad.” Spite narrowed her eyes and blew a tiny flare at him, infusing a touch of Darkness into it. Master flinched then gritted his teeth, his strange mad eyes flaring red. “Oh, that was not very nice, was it?” He hissed, no longer warbling between the mad screech and the languid mellowness but was now all nasally snarl. “Quite… rude, little thing of the Helles.” “Just reminding you that not everything you catch in what you style to be your web is a fly,” Spite retorted with a toothy grin of her own. “Nor a fool, for that matter. The ‘mad as a march hare’ act might fool others but I’ve exchanged words with you before, through your…” She trailed off as Master went totally and abruptly still, not even drifting anymore before he bared his teeth and yanked the griffin over, stopping the groaning leoavian hard against a falcon-like foot. “Inferior raw materials indeed,” he growled, dealing his captive a vicious kick, looking down at her. “Your eyes can see the fleas on a dog’s back but not the Handmaiden come to call. Useless…” another kick “…crude…” another, even more vicious “…weak…” a kick missed just barely, scoring the griffin’s face with a talon “…beast!” “If you mean to lash out, lash out at me,” Spite growled. “It’s easy, and cowardly, to beat a creature that cannot defend itself, that you’ve tied up and made helpless.” He eyed her before giving her an amused smirk. “Provoking me won’t work, bitch of the Sixth,” he replied, leaning down to his moaning victim and spreading the fingers of one of his hands, threads of Void gathering in it. “Your simplistic attempts to incite me merely amuse. Mine, on the other hand…” Another of the hands, long claws gleaming in the dimness, plunged into the griffin’s chest making the poor creature cry out in agony, trying vainly to cringe away from the pain as threads of Void began flowing down the arm and into the suffering griffin’s body. Her whimpers of pain and fear made Spite clench her teeth in frustration, yanking at the wire-like constructs that kept her in place and seemed to make it impossible for her to step into the Void. “Mine appear to provoke you rather well,” he finished with a cackle. “Ah, you cannot imagine the joy that comes from dissecting these beasts while they are still alive. I’m sure it’d comfort them to know that they’re being molded into a more perfect form… which is why I don’t allow them to know that.” “Are there any of you Evils that don’t follow the same tired old sadist script?” Spite snorted half-heartedly. “Weaver it must be dull to be one of you.” “Don’t be so pedestrian,” Master replied in a bored tone, moving the hand with the already-gathered threads down and placing it on the griffin’s head. “Certainly, many of the higher Evils are addicted to the simplistic pleasures of innocent agony but for the proper scientist, the pleasures of your experiment’s pain are the fine wine after a delectable repast. Far more important is the science, the experiments, the shaping, the failures and successes, and most importantly of all… the data. It’s not so easy as it seems to make these delightsome little minions, bitch of the Sixth. It requires patience, experimentation, and an intellect far in excess of what can be mustered by… mmm… other peers of oneself.” He turned to fix eyes glimmering red on her as the griffin’s face began to distort and stretch into the familiar semi-draconic muzzle. “Intercepting my courier with my materials, and tricking that little cretin into expending those materials in her own defense was most unwelcome. My work has been set back weeks, and that irritates me.” “And what is your work?” He smirked. “Ah, that would be telling and although I don’t think that you’re leaving my company, I should hate to be proven wrong and find myself to have unintentionally aided you in sticking your nose where it emphatically does not belong. This matter is, to put as blunt a point on it as possible, none of your business servant of the Helles for you’re not a participant in the Game and have no part in its outcome.” “Nor are you,” Spite pointed out. Master stopped his work and looked intently at her. “Why do you say so?” “Well, the fact that you aren’t sneering at me for being simple-minded is a good start,” Spite grinned toothily at him. “But you’re not a powerful Evil. A cunning one, but not one of overwhelming power. More than the other major Evils, you would have been easily broken by the Sisters early on if you attracted their notice, so you were forced to be subtle—and being subtle takes a great deal of time. The Game has only been in force for a week, perhaps two, so you preceded the Game and cannot be a part of it.” The flat-faced creature eyed her before his gleaming incisors bared in a delighted smile. “I hereby promote you from witless to half-wit,” he said with a tone of approval. “You are a strange creature, Einspithiana, and would be an excellent replacement for the raw material that that imbecile webweaver failed to deliver.” He turned his attention back to the griffin. “Far superior raw material to these beasts. They tolerate such little meddling before their constitutions succumb to frailty, and I am coming to despair of producing more than one Grimfeathers. Ah, the travails of genius deprived of the tools to realize that genius…” “And how would you realize that genius, if you had the tools?” Spite asked, curious despite herself. “A perfected hybrid with dragons,” he replied with a tone that indicated he believed this to be obvious. “There is no more refined design in existence, and a proper genius always makes maximum use of existing designs to further the perfection of his own. Additionally, a preponderance of the power and influence in the larger universe is concentrated into dragons or those with distinctly draconic characteristics. The data points to the inescapable conclusion that dragons and those things with their characteristics have an overwhelmingly high chance of being demonstrably superior in a given encounter with beings of similar size, intelligence, and experience. Finally, all things draconic enjoy an inherent connection to the Aethir which permits their extraordinary characteristics and the use of magic at a level far out of proportion to their magical ‘weight’ as determined by ocular magical resonance, otherwise called ‘mage-sight’ in cretin parlance.” “To convert all of that from full-of-himself scholarly blather to plain language, dragons are inherently superior so you’d imitate the design as much as possible, while adding your own improvements,” Spite summarized. He gave her a sour look. “If you truly must display intellectual infantilism, your summary is… accurate.” Spite snorted and considered him. “You know, if you were even half as brilliant as you think you are, I wouldn’t be in your trap at all, because I wouldn’t have been close enough to necessitate setting a trap.” “I wanted you close,” he replied nonchalantly, the secondary wings now starting to flow out from the female’s body, flesh in other places melting away before Spite’s eyes to create the new structure. “Your very existence here, on this world, necessitated the trap. I cannot actually use you for raw material, incidentally—I wish it was so, but wishes cannot make a thing true—but your shell is of an exquisite design that could very well prove the missing piece I require to push this substandard raw material to its highest degree of perfection.” Shell? Spite thought confusedly before she blinked. He doesn’t realize that I have a body instead of a shell! But… how could he not know that? He can certainly see souls well enough to stitch them together and peer into the inner operations of a body so he can reshape it. “Why can’t you?” Master threw her a very dim look. “Don’t insult my intelligence. I know perfectly well that your manifestation is tied to a physical object and so long as that object remains intact, I can neither kill you nor twist you. I even know that your anchor is in the hands of your master, and that I’m not nearly strong enough to seize or trick it from him.” “Mistress,” Spite corrected automatically. “Eh?” The dim look turned into an intense one. “What do you mean, mistress?” “Amarra Drae’thul is female,” Spite told him, seeing no way to worm out of it after he’d clearly heard what she’d said. He stared in honest amazement. “Maelphiis was overthrown? By a female?” She stared back in confusion equal to his amazement. “Who in the Weaver’s name is Maelphiis?” Master abandoned the griffin and floated over to her, staring hard at her, searching her face for signs of deception, before his nearly non-existent brow furrowed. “Void take and scatter me… it’s been so long that my colleague is forgotten?” “Colleague?” Suddenly, connections jumped together in her head: referring to creatures as raw materials, creating a swarm of creature suspiciously like Vampvipers, crudely stitching together chobbaths into a single being, his arrogant regard for his own intellect, his mocking question of whether the Helles missed him. “You’re a PRIME?” “Was a Prime, but essentially correct,” Master replied, reaching three of his hands over to grasp the edge of his rag mass and pull it side, revealing a skeleton-thin humanoid body with massive gaping holes torn through it and Void material dribbling from the holes like blood. “Dying severely complicates one’s ability to administer one’s Helle.” Spite gaped openly at him. “But… you’re working with…” “The Evils are a means to an end. I desire leave to experiment, the greatest Evils desire the results of my work, I fit very easily into their company… the arrangement is quite natural and mutually-beneficial.” He smirked as he closed the mass. “So lest you think that I can be swayed against them, be assured that not even wanton betrayal will turn me against my sponsors. There is far too much potential for continued progress while in their company for me to surrender such a relationship except in the greatest extremity.” Spite forced a smirk in return. “That would be pointless, and I don’t care to do it in the first place. I’d much rather consign you and the other Evils to the flame, and it’s hardly as amusing when you’re squabbling like children.” To her mild surprise, he shrugged. “Consign who you will to what you will. I’ve died before and am not afraid of it. Now, if all the ruckus about my former identity is over with…?” “But you haven’t identified yourself at all,” Spite pointed out. “You’ve allowed yourself to be called ‘Master’ but you’re no such thing.” “I’ve been called the master of puppets.” He considered. “But you’re essentially correct. Let us strike a bargain, bitch of the usurper Sixth: I will trade you the title the Helles knew me by, and you will permit me to examine your design to the utmost detail without the need to continue to restrain you.” “Evils aren’t known for their honor,” Spite replied skeptically. “Which is why I propose a bargain where my fulfillment of the arrangement will be unmistakable; without question, you shall receive my former name and then I shall receive the data I require.” He spread all six arms in an innocent gesture. “The choice is yours, Einspithiana, but that is the deal I offer.” “And if I don’t take it?” “Then you’ll have plenty of time to enjoy my experimental methods and a considerable period of crippling boredom.” He shrugged again. “I have no intention of giving you your liberty without a bargain; as you’ve proved, you’re dangerous to me without any weapons at all.” “So what guarantee do you have that I’ll abide by my end?” “Unlike me, you have a code of honor,” he chuckled. “An unseemly weakness, but one that I’m delighted to exploit to its fullest. Besides which, I haven’t yet given you an opportunity to assassinate me for maximum effect so barring some compulsion for imbecile and pointless heroics, I don’t fear treachery from you.” Spite considered him thoughtfully. He’s offering something that’s essentially useless—the only person who might recognize his title is Trilychi, or perhaps Heccate—and I hesitate to be of use to him. On the other hand, as anyone who’s even been an intimate ally of any dragon knows, those like me are very… independent; there seems an opportunity here to turn this creature’s obsessions against him, and use his own purposes to do so. “Very well then; I accept.” “Of course you do,” Master snorted. “I might rail on your lesser intellect but one does not become the servant of a Prime without at least a modicum of cunning and skill. No doubt you wish to delay, to gather information on me to better bring about my downfall. No doubt you regard the information I offer to be useless to you, but possibly vital to another. No doubt you hesitate to assist my endeavors. But in the end, the only calculation you could have made was the one you have.” Spite actually grinned at that. “I’d give good coin to see you and Lord Trilychi banter. So what was your title in the Helles?” Master grinned widely and gave her a sweeping, mocking bow. “Moreau. When I was alive in the Helles and the Third Prime therein, my fellows called me Moreau.” “Can’t say I’ve heard of you,” Spite commented. “Nor have I heard of your mistress,” Moreau shrugged. “But I’ve fulfilled my terms and now, you shall fulfill yours.” He made a gesture and the wires of Void restraining Spite dissolved. “I hope we won’t have to go through a pointless drama of you going back on your word and trying to kill me.” “As you pointed out, the time isn’t quite right,” Spite replied reasonably, massaging each wrist in turn and extending her senses slightly into the Void to check if there was any damage. “How do you intend to do this?” “With great care, and especially great care that you are not damaged by it,” Moreau replied. “Damage will severely impede my capacity to utilize my examination, as I shall require a fully-intact specimen in perfect living order to observe its native operation. I cannot recreate the predatory economy of movement that I achieved with Grimfeathers if I cannot minutely examine the reactive firing of your sinews in free motion, for example, and this examination would be impeded if said sinews are.” “That you don’t intend to damage me comes as a relief,” Spite noted. She looked beyond Moreau to the still-trembling griffin. “May I make a request?” “Of course I’ll use that one for the improvements my examination suggests,” Moreau replied as he spread his six hands, threads of Void gathering in each. “She is most convenient, being in close proximity to me, and your concern for her pain incentivizes you to contribute your own insights to the end result. Now, do not struggle: it’s necessary for me to conduct the examination in a medium where I can freely observe all angles as need demands.” Spite nodded to him as she felt herself hoisted delicately into the air and suspended as if she was floating in water. Curiously, she moved slightly and felt herself slowly rotate in that direction in the frictionless field of Moreau’s magic. “…wow.” “It took me thirteen thousand, seven-hundred, fifty-eight years to develop this spell matrix,” Moreau said proudly. “It permitted me to develop my most sophisticated and powerful creations, the greatest of which killed me; I was so proud of it as I breathed my last. But the past is past and now is now and it is time, Einspithiana, that my intellect and your exquisite shell work together to play…” He paused and spread all six arms gleefully, “…a god.”