More horns sounded off. Serpent riders shouted to one another as they flew into the gaping mouth of a cave looming before the Lightning Bearer. Armed guards stood on metal platforms lining the middlemost entrance to the Sacred Hold. They kept their mana-powered cannons trained on the captured Ledomaritan vessel as it drifted icily into the interior of the floating mountain.
Rainbow Dash and her fellow equines shuddered as a cold shadow washed over them. In a matter of minutes, the entirety of the Lightning Bearer had entered the Hold.
Kera and Zaid glanced left and right, noticing several platforms chiseled out of the inner rock of the place. Xonans marched along the ledges, several of them wearing dull blue fatigues. Laborers gathered in droves, chanting in unison as their sweaty muscles pulled and tugged at various levers and machinery. A bizarre assembly was underway on either side of the passage, with hundreds of tattooed unicorns lowering chunks of powdery gray crystal into boiling pools. Steam filled the air as the sediment was burned off these samples and then transferred to lower platforms via brass-laden tubes.
Rainbow craned her neck to look at a passing ledge beneath the Lightning Bearer. She saw as the powdery substance was then heated into a molten broth, ultimately to be funneled into casting molds where they would be hammered into small, rectangular strips. A wave of dizziness overwhelmed her, and she tilted forward. A hoof yanked her back. She glanced tiredly, only to gawk at the sight of Nightshade. The mare cleared her throat and leaned Rainbow Dash before pretending to be absorbed with the passing scenery.
Basso and Zetta stared with their jaws dropped. As the sunlight from the entrance grew more and more distance, they became aware of a glowing pattern spiraling around them. Lining the rock walls between the platforms, there was an elaborate mosaic of swirling diagrams and geometric etchings. The patterns noticeably resembled the tattoos that so commonly illustrated the coats of the Xonans all around them. When the two Ledomaritans attempted to get a better look, several serpents screamed past them. Zetta flew back with a shriek; Basso easily caught her.
Flying snakes swirled around the Lightning Bearer, their fangs glistening in the aura cast off by the glittering wall art. One by one, they hovered alongside an upper row of platforms. Their riders dismounted, and lowly Xonan servants in blue fatigues marched up to disrobe them of their armor in ceremonial fashion. The creatures--in the meantime--flew up, up, and up until they found various crevices built into the ceiling. There, they clustered together like bats to a cave wall until their scales glossed over, cloaking along with the dull brown color of the Hold’s interior.
One serpent, however, did not retire. Zytharros rode his beast towards an immense torch-lit platform located at the dead end of the Lightning Bearer’s approach. Horns echoed loudly across the floating cavern, and the captured battleship drifted to a stop. A well-decorated Xonan and his entourage of fellow officers marched up. Unlike the servants, they wore elaborate suits of segmented, enchanted armor much like Zytharros.
The rider landed his serpent on the edge of the platform. While the Lightning Bearer moored, he hopped down, stripped his armor off, levitated the plates until they once more turned into a large bastard sword, and promptly stabbed the blade into a fitting crevice within the floor of the ledge. As the noble Xonan and his fellow officers trotted up to the blade, Zytharros bowed low and spoke.
“Ledmulian meethiulun drennadenne, Arcshod Xon-Nagu’n.” Zytharros stood tall and proud as he gestured back towards the Lightning Bearer. “Trenntennium diennum thrien. Trentte Xon-Nagu’n haalasiulen maasuun thriulen Lisairfion Xon-Nagu’n.”
The stallion greeting Zytharros took a deep breath and spoke in an even deeper voice. “Dreesum…. dreesum, Zytharros. Miulien. Haasa rassuul Ledomulien trenntar dienen?”
“Dreit.” Zytharros bowed again and whistled towards the Lightning Bearer.
Two First-Born Xonans hopped the railing and galloped up the length of the platform, carrying a canvas bag. They bowed low before the two officers, holding the item out for Zytharros.
Zytharros levitated it with his telekinesis, gave the canvas bag a flick, and immediately unsheathed a long, tanned pelt colored with an elder stallion’s still-silky coat hairs. “Fortis thriulen Ledomul. Drennadarsheen.”
Zetta covered her muzzle, her eyes twitching. Basso gritted his teeth, turning to glare in Dalen’s direction.
Dalen said nothing, merely presiding over the prisoners in his charge.
The stallion before Zytharros nodded. Slowly, his lips curved. “Haalith, Zytharros. Haalith. Lasairfion threnna mesuul kanalieth menh.”
Zytharros nodded. He levitated the pelt and hung it from the hilt of his bastard sword. The leathery fabric flapped in a cold breeze from the Lightning Bearer’s exhaust ports.
“Hanaluusen metriel, Arcshod Xon Nagu’n,” Zytharros said to the smiling Xonan. “Dressum rekkhar hennu thriul.” He cleared his throat, turned, and pointed towards the top deck. “Oss tray oh.”
The stallion’s lips parted. “Oss tray oh…?”
“Dreit.”
The stallion rubbed his dull gray coat. He stared Rainbow’s way, his brown eyes fixated on her multicolored bangs. After a while, another smile crossed his muzzle. He nodded and motioned towards the officers.
Dalen’s hooves slapped together. He spun and shouted at the grunts surrounding the guards. “Hreit! Haak summ less menn hraak threen!” He stepped back and blurted, “Graat! Graat! Graat!”
The Xonans around Rainbow’s group marched steadily forward, urging the prisoners along with them. Rainbow drew Kera closer as she, Zaid, Nightshade, and the Ledomaritans shuffled along as steadily as they could. As they dismounted the Lightning Bearer and stepped onto the polished stone of the platform, the uniformed Xonans eyed them closely.
Rainbow glared at the officer who had greeted Zytharros.
The stallion stared back, his smile not melting away for a single instant.
Rainbow would have spent more time studying him, but a dizzy wave overwhelmed her. She shuddered, and it took the combined effort of Zaid and Kera to keep her steady. A murmuring commotion rose above the uniformed Xonans.
Nightshade noticed it. She also noticed Dalen trotting off towards the side, temporarily leaving the group.
Dalen marched until he stood before Zytharros and the other stallions. He faced the smiling Xonan in particular, then bowed low with the lavender book in his telekinetic grasp. In a breathy, penitent voice, he murmured, “Hraat zuul mekk rekkh hraan thriun thiel, Dizzaaz Manathen Arcshod Xon-Nagu’n. Dren daas thien Ledomulien rekkh theen.” He floated the book out as an offering. “Murk lemh Xon. Murk lemh Xon, thien Nagu’n.”
He wasn’t even finished with his words when the stallion before him merely cleared his throat and shuffled past his kneeling figure. He spoke to Zytharros in a casual voice, gesturing towards the Lighting Bearer.
Zytharros stumbled a bit, giving Dalen a side-glance before trotting over to keep up with the other officer. “Dreit, Archshod Xon-Nagu’n. Ledomulien meeseem hessa landra thrien.” The two trotted off, along with the entourage of uniformed stallions.
Dalen remained kneeling where he was. With a shuddering breath, he clenched his eyes shut. A tremble ran through his body, two, but he soon relaxed. On wobbly legs, he stood back up, and shuffled lethargically after the group of prisoners.
By this time, Nightshade was being prodded forward. She and Rainbow and others were being ushered into a long, narrow tunnel. Behind them, a loud hissing noise filled the cavern.
Roarke heard it. She was perched in the only spot of the Lightning Bearer unseen from Xonan or reptilian eyes. Nestled between the main manathrusters, she craned her neck around the outer bulkhead in time to see massive doors opening on the port side of the battleship. A pair of Xonan hovercraft drifted up, their stallions training guns on the scene as huge planks were extended from the Ledomaritan battleship and onto an adjacent stone platform. Urged on by shouting grunts and hissing beasts, nervous enforcers were forced to march single-file off the ship and onto a loading bay in the glow of torchlight.
Roarke’s eye-lenses pistoned in and out, focusing on the spectacle. She bit her lip, fumbling between which of the two groups to follow. With a muffled grunt, she kicked off the hull of the ship, clung to the underbelly of a Xonan hovercraft, and continued her stealthy vigilance.