The first of the guests strolled through the north gate as Scorpan gripped the railing of his bedroom balcony, watching the final touches on the Grundel memorial until the next phase tonight. It was midafternoon and he was almost done. He sent Lieutenant Greenbute and his brigade out at noon. He met with Bey this morning and had his second bag of denarii ready for his return. The banquet was ready, the Great Hall had been decorated, and his chemist had finished both of his projects. All his work sat upon Scorpan’s desk, wrapped in blue and red labels. His endless work over the past seven days would come to its climax soon and he could rest easy.
His return to the Castle last week after dark was met with a slap and kiss from Baugh. She scolded him for being gone a day longer than he said he would while her face was buried in his shoulder. Turning her head up to face him, she asked if his trip was worth it. His first words to her were that he planned on fasting all week to keep a clear head. She immediately realized all was not well—his fasts were often followed by life-changing decisions.
Scorpan sent a messenger to find Bey, then pulled Baugh into his study. He launched into his explanation of what he learned from whom and laid out his plan to her. Baugh had been stone still during his tale and completely supported his decision. He had planned using Iris’s Curse, but she convinced him to use Falaur Blue instead. Scorpan instructed his chief chemist before they went to bed to produce enough Falaur Blue and Red for his purposes.
In the morning, Bey had shown up eager to listen to what Scorpan had to say. His mercenary team was paid half their bounty an hour later and they took off to the north. The rest of the week was a flurry of reports from Bey, planning with Greenbute and Captain Ichabod, setting up a party neither he, nor his wife, nor anyone in Sumaria would ever forget. Scorpan had briefed his most trusted scholars on the materials they would be receiving and their instructions on how to wipe their memories for the day.
Nightmare Moon had stopped by sometime in the middle of his preparations. Fortunately, it was just before he was going to climb into bed and he had only a little time time to talk.
“I am so busy this week, Nightmare, it’s not funny. I would invite you to stay in the Castle, but everyone’s going to be running around, and I’m sure you don’t want to get in the way… No, I can’t tell you exactly what’s going on, but it is very important to our future. That’s all I can say… It’s not a matter of trust, it’s just… IF this backfires, I don’t want you to have anything to do with it… I’m sorry, but no. Look, you’re free to come by Monday. Things will be calmer then. And I promise we can spend time together.”
Scorpan hugged her. He only hugged Nightmare Moon to get a sarcastic joke from Baugh, but he saw his alicorn friend was genuinely hurt and wanted to see her smile. She really did have a beautiful smile.
Every city guard and reserve guard was summoned early this morning, given the equipment they would need for their tasks, and sent out under Greenbute or stationed in the Castle under Ichabod. Baugh stepped next to him on the balcony and took his hand in hers.
Scorpan pleaded with her, “Tell me I’m missing something. I misheard Gusto, the Muchick and Flutterponies lied to me, I don’t have the authority to command the Guard… anything to stop this.”
She looked him in the eye, lifted his hand to her lips, and kissed each of his fingers. “If this is wrong, you would have figured it out by now. Someone would have stopped you, my husband. You can’t let your resolve falter now. In a few hours, it will be over. And I will not leave your side tonight.”
He turned to walk away, but she held his hand tighter and pulled him close. “Scorpan,” she whispered.
His arms wrapped around her and squeezed her tight. After several shuddering breaths, he broke down, his head drooping to her shoulder, her nearly bare skin muffling his shout of anguish.
Pulling his head up straight and his hands to her shoulders, he kissed her full on the mouth. She knew he would not stop now. This would be his greatest achievement to date, and she was at his side, giving him the strength he needed. Still hand-in-hand they walked out of their bedroom and down to the kitchens.
** ** **
Scorpan addressed the crowd, “Are these all the guests? Is there ANYONE in attendance not here?”
The kitchen was packed with Sumarians dressed to the nines, either in their Guard uniforms or in suits and dresses. Most of them were indeed guards undercover—both men and women, of course. Everyone listened as if their lives depended on it, which they did.
“Every scrap of food coming from the kitchen tonight will be sprinkled with Falaur Blue. We all know the dangers, so before anything is ready, you are all to take a large dosage of Falaur Red now.”
Scorpan was the first to guzzle down his own cup of the foul-smelling juice. It was more than he would need, but in cases like this, that was not a bad thing. His stomach growled unpleasantly, protesting the first item of food since his stay in Flutter Valley. “Form a line, drink, and then proceed to your places.”
The queue stretched around the kitchen, every man and woman wrinkling their nose at the prospect of their first drink that night.
“Eat as little food as possible. We don’t need any more suspicion than we will already have. And be ready to move on my signal. It may come in the first five minutes, maybe the second or third hour. I assure you, I will give the order before midnight.”
Everyone who passed looked at Scorpan with trust and admiration. If he had a lesser woman by his side, he would have scorned them with his thoughts, but he looked them in the eye and tried to be the courageous man they believed him to be.
When the last person laid down their cup, his wife drank her serving and looked to the cooking staff. “Do you have any questions?” she asked in Scorpan’s place.
When no one spoke up, she left for the Great Hall and he went to give final orders to the guards.
** ** **
Thornwood and his family entered through the polished hickory doors into the Great Hall. The ceiling towered ten meters above his head, painted bright yellow and covered with a thin film of glass. Two chandeliers hung and divided the room into thirds, holding two hundred candles each. Many more candlesticks were placed around the Hall: in corners, along the stairways, and mounted on the walls.
Scorpan did not design Midnight Castle or its Great Hall, but merely copied the blueprints of a Castle that was never built in neighboring Cornicianum. The Uran contractor went to every length to have the Hall filled with candlelight despite the Electric Arc lamps available him. He did have Arc lamps installed, along with running water and other technical conveniences. The Grundels were sitting upon not quite a gold mine as much as a mountain of industrial metals, including platinum, with which he planned to upgrade the lights.
Red-and-green-trimmed carpets were laid out on the floor. The best Uran and Sumarian artworks were framed on the wall. Six tables were set at intervals under the balconies of the second floor, while the middle was left open for conversation. A band was setting up in a cornered-off section on the second floor. The band of bass, guitar, violin, and lute players were scheduled to play tonight, and even agreed to try their new electric instruments, which were hooked to a battery. The best cooks in the city were hired to make the most beautiful hors d’oeuvres, appetizers, and desserts for tonight. Scorpan spared no expenses for this party.
He personally counted every Witch entering the Hall and whispered to the guards at the door to lock it from the outside after all forty-two guests entered. That was the last of it; everything was in place, and their fate was sealed. All he needed to worry about was delivering a quick speech and thrusting his hand one meter, just once.
Baugh sensed his stress and stood next to him again. Taking his hand and calling for the first round of hors d’oeuvres, she led him to a pair of teenage girls flirting with an undercover guard. “Lafayette, you dog! I take my eyes off you one minute and you’re covered in ladies!”
Both of the girls giggled and introduced themselves as Jessica and Sarah. They were Gusto’s youngest daughters. Lafayette took both by their shoulders and pulled them to either side of him. “What can I say? These bitches want to by my bitches!” This elicited another round of giggles from both girls before he pulled them back into a well-lit corner.
Ten waiters emerged from the kitchen entrance, each holding a tray laden with glasses of white wine or canapés. Scorpan and Baugh strolled past them to speak with Thornwood and his wife.
“I told you only the best of Sumaria. And did I deliver?” Scorpan asked boastfully.
“Haha! You are a man after my own heart! I am most impressed. From what I saw, your fair city is beautiful! How did you build it so fast?” Thornwood was jolly enough to convince Scorpan he had been drinking already.
“Like I said, we came here with most of our materials ready. Brick, motor, disassembled furnaces, ready-cut lumber, preparation like that.”
“Leaving you much more time to live and grow! Our alliance will be limited only by our imagination!” Thornwood picked four glasses from a passing waiter, handing one to his wife, Baugh, Scorpan and himself. “Long live Sumaria!”
Tipping his glass back, Thornwood unknowingly downed 15 mL of Falaur Blue mixed with the wine. It would take a man of his size more than that, but there would be no problem getting him there. Falaur Blue was odorless and tasted faintly of grapes. Ur was world-famous for its wines and grape delicacies, so there was nothing unusual about serving so many foods that included grapes tonight.
Neither Scorpan nor Baugh actually drank their wine, instead sealing their lips tight against the glass. Pretending to see a couple who wanted to talk to them, they stepped away and held their glasses tight. His stomach again protested, this time being teased with food.
** ** **
Sarah was finishing her story when she grabbed another cake from a passing tray. “So then this girl, right here, she cuts the rope, and the dodo goes flying!”
Lafayette and his entourage tumbled into a fit of giggles. “Only way to get it flying, right? Hahaha…”
“No, no, no. You could—“
Jessica noticed a drop of blood on her hand. Reaching up to her nose resulted in her index, middle, and ring finger being bloody, too. “Goodness, hold my drink!”
She pushed it into Lafayette’s hands and ran off to the east doors where the restrooms were, cupping her nose. Plowing through the door and leaping out of the way of one of her family members, she stepped into the ladies room to see two women she did not know leaning against the wall and talking quietly.
Turning the tap with her good hand, she washed her dirty one and splashed water over her face. Seeing one of the women step in between the door and her, she looked herself over in the mirror and pulled on her eyelids. “Uggh, stay up past midnight and you pay for it in the morning. It’s gonna take days of sleeping in late to get rid of these crows’ feet. Oh dearie, are you bleeding?”
She quickly locked the restroom door.
“Um, yeah. I don’t know what happened.” The sink wasn’t draining fast enough, and both of Jessica’s hands now had a pink tinge to them.
“Are you one of the guests?” the woman asked, taking her head in her hands and turning it this way and that.
“Yeah. My sister and I were talking with Lafayette. Do you know him?”
The woman behind her was fumbling with something in her purse.
“Oh yes. You better get out there quick. He’s a hound dog, and he’ll tear your sister apart.” She giggled, tilting Jessica’s head up and stepping back to admire her handiwork.
“Welll, that’s the idea I had f—“
Her thought was cut off by a sudden pressure on the front of her neck and in the small of her back. Her more immediate concern was she couldn’t breathe and tried reaching for what was choking her. More than that, whatever was pushing into her was pushing her neck up with it. Fumbling around, she thought she felt the fibers of a rope.
Her vision quickly blurred and her fingers lost strength. She kept clawing at the rope, but it was too late. Her eyes darkened and her hands fell limp.
The undercover guard behind her held her knee in her back and the rope tight for five seconds longer after the girl fell limp. Then, she laid her down and checked for a pulse in her neck.
Confirming there was none, the two women hefted the girl out the window to another guard. This one had a scar running diagonally down his face, waiting with a katana and a mule-drawn cart.
Lifting the body into the cart, he left the head hanging out the back. He brought his sword down into and clean through her bruised neck. Pushing her body into the back, he tossed her head in with the rest of her and said to the night, “That’s one.”
** ** **
Mary the Butcher had been invited to cook, but had also been asked to come out into the hall during the party. She flowed through the crowd, weaving in and out of clichés, finally coming to a stop next to Scorpan. “Scorpan, dear, when are you going to stop by my shop again? I haven’t seen you in a month.”
Baugh played along, “Mary, if you consider how much better my kebabs are, you’ll realize he’s never setting foot in your establishment again.”
“You wish!” Mary spat back good-naturedly.
Scorpan was pulled by his arm away from the rest of the crowd. Turning to look at his captor, he saw Gusto. He stopped on the other side of the Hall, a support pillar between them and the crowd. Gusto was clearly drunk… again.
“You man, what are you up to?” His speech was not slurred yet, but he was blinking too fast and unevenly to have been sipping tea all day.
“What do you mean by that?”
“What are your scholars researching?” He had one hand against the pillar and was leaning a bit too close to Scorpan’s face.
“Oh! One of the researchers, Karen I think, was saying how she wanted to studying Firefly’s Sonic Rainboom. Maybe we could use it as a jump point for interdimensional travel. Or maybe she could.”
“Who’s Firefly?” Gusto asked, turning to look at the crowd, thinking she would be among them.
“Firefly is a Pegasus pony I meet some time ago.”
“You don’t need those damn ponies.” Gusto turned his back against the pillar and looked him in the eye. “You got everything you need.”
“And what’s that?” Scorpan very much regretted this pointless drunken talk.
Gusto leaned in much too close for Scorpan’s liking. “A lover,” he said, then walked off.
Scorpan followed him back to their wives, walking past Lafayette pulling Sarah over to the stairs, hoping to sneak her into another well-lit corner. Pushing her into a wall, he planted his lips on her and tugged her hair.
Sarah broke their kiss, saying, “I should say slow down, but I don’t know when I’m leaving. Maybe I could stay the night…”
“Oh trust me, you’re staying right here.” Lafayette purred and bite into her neck, sucking for blood. She squealed and giggled again. Her eyes fluttered shut and she listened to the band playing a tune she never heard before.
“What is that he’s playing?” she asked curiously.
“Huh?”
“That man in the band, far right. I’ve never seen that instrument before.” Sarah was perplexed.
“That is a guitar. It’s a staple in Uran music. And I overheard them saying they’ve made new instruments they can amplify using electricity. They are going to revolutionize music with them.” Lafayette went back to kissing her neck and shoulder, aware she would notice her sister not returning soon. She would need something else to think about in the meantime.
On the first floor, another of the Witch guests had noticed he was bleeding; this time along a cut on his fingers that had healed earlier this morning. Wrapping his hand in his handkerchief, he pushed his way through the crowd to the restrooms.
Two minutes later, a scarred man with a katana standing by a mule-drawn cart whispered into the night, “That’s two.”
Included in a circle where the second bleeding victim had left were two witches: Bulbous and Creat. They were talking with Scorpan, who was being lectured by his personal physician—an elderly, balding man whose little remaining hair was bleach-white.
“Prince, I have not had a pregnant woman in my office for a whole year. I have spoken to other doctors and every midwife in town; there have been no pregnancies for nine months. It’s as if every woman is wearing a chastity belt.”
A mining contractor standing with them spoke his mind. “Maybe in your home. My wife can’t keep her hands off me!”
“Your wife can’t keep her hands off me either!” His younger brother and business partner pitched his two mites in, earning the back of his head a smack.
Scorpan ignored them. “Doctor, from stories I’ve heard, just about everyone in Sumaria is in good health and there is no reason to remain chaste. Why do you think it is? Are people not ready to have children in our new home?”
Dr. Wheatley replied, “I was hoping some of your infamous scholars could help me in studying this. Now, I have had patients come in complaining about not being able to conceive. They always complain about that portal that brought us here, no matter how many times I promise them it’s safe.”
“Some of my best minds are going to be busy for a while going over documents we are expecting tonight, or early in the morning. I can promise some will help you study it. My son Kevin found himself a lovely young lady recently. Where did he go?”
Create spoke up. “I heard a boy named Kevin introduce himself to my cousin. He best not have any ideas with her.” He slurred, pronouncing “have” as “half.” He had been hitting the wine too hard for his own good, like many of the Witches tonight.
Bulbous had a name to fit his figure: tall, muscular, and fatter than a tub of lard. He could have been hired as a bouncer in any of the taverns in town, especially because his patched eye and broken nose gave him a look of menace. He tried to pull Create’s hand back from a passing waiter with more wine and desserts. “You have had enough to eat. Save some for the orphans.”
“To hell with the orphans! I’m still hungry.” Create followed the waiter until he caught him, then gorged himself on apple danishes. “Hmm, you even put a hint of grape in the apple dessert. You people are nuts…” he managed through lips stuffed with apple and crust.
“I said stop it!” Bulbous slapped Create’s hands away. Create pulled back and socked him in the nose, hardly making him stumble. Bulbous checked his nose, only to see it bleeding.
“Again! Uggh…”
“… Look, sorry, man. Let’s clean you up.” Create put his hands on his shoulder and lead him to the restroom, where he was greeted by a pair of gentlemen had not seen at the party before.
“A fine evening to you two. Could you give him a hand for a bit? I should apologize to our host for making a scene.”
Create turned to leave, but was blocked by a hand laced through a brass knuckle.
Minutes later, the scarred man by a mule cart shouted out to the Grundel Memorial, “That’s five mother fuckers!”
** ** **
“Mister Scorpan! You have a visitor! Mister Scorpan!”
He looked down to see Spike tugging at his trouser leggings to get his attention, looking desperate. “Spike, I specifically said I did not want you attending this gathering.”
“I know, Mister Scorpan, but Nightmare Moon said you invited her to come by today and she’s wondering why she wasn’t invited to your party.”
Scorpan thought about the talk they had, what day had he said… MONDAY! Today was Monday! He was so focused on this day that he didn’t realize she would want to be here to see it. But he couldn’t send her away without answers again…
“Spike, tell her I’m sorry for her invitation getting lost. She is more than welcome to join us. And I want you to stay in your room for the rest of the night. Okay?”
“Yes, Sir, Mister Scorpan!” Spike answered in his whistley voice and scampered off.
Thornwood said jokingly, “I know he did not say Nightmare Moon, Princess of Equestria, wants to attend this gathering, and you did not invite her. You, Scorpan, are a god among men!”
“An honest mistake. I meant tomorrow. But I could make this work to my advantage.” Scorpan chuckled. Looking the watch chained to his belt, he saw that two hours had gone by since the front doors were locked. It may be a fire hazard, but he was certain every single Witch here was going to die this night, one way or another.
Bey and Greenbute should be close to finished with their tasks now, and this was the time he planned on doing it. With Nightmare here, he could even show her how he handles problems no one else would touch.
The polished doors opened just enough for the armor-clad alicorn to enter and smile upon the guests and guards alike. She approached Scorpan, spread her wings and bowed to him. “The Great and Mighty Scorpan has invited me to his party, and I will honor him in return,” she joked.
“Do not bow, Nightmare. Stand proud. Nightmare Moon, this is Thornwood, Patriarch of the Witches of the Volcano of Gloom. Thornwood, this is the lovely bringer of the lovely night, Nightmare Moon.”
She lifted her hoof for him to shake. Scorpan felt a need to shield her from Thornwood when he brought it to his lips for a brief kiss. “Your wife is too pretty for you,” she joked, at ease with him and his family.
Clarisse burst out in a bout of laughter. “I tell him that all the time!”
Their conversation was cut short by Sarah interrupting her grandfather. “Grandfather, Jessica is missing and no one knows where she is.” Her concern was etched on her face and in the way she tugged her hand away from Lafayette as he tried to console her.
“I told you, she’s probably snooping around the Castle. It’s big and has hidden passages. It’s designed for snooping. She’s fine,” Lafayette said.
“Grandfather, she’s be gone almost an hour! She went to the washroom with a nosebleed. I checked there and I was told she left a while ago. I just need to know she’s alright.”
“Actually,” said Scorpan, looking at his pocket watch again, “I have a good idea where she is. And I have a speech to make.”
Raising his voice, he declared to the crowd, “Attention, all Witch family members! If you could gather down here, in one group, that would be convenient.” He turned to the band, "Thank you. Your services will not be needed for the rest of the night. Leave your instruments there if you would.
Lafayette stepped back, stood up straight, and laid his hand on a tool tucked into the back of his trousers. All thirty-seven remaining family members gathered in a crowd with guards stepping out to surround them.
Nightmare Moon watched Scorpan intently. She had never known other humans lived in the Valley of Dreams, and now she could see how they worked with each other. He turned to speak quietly to her.
“I’m going to need you to stay out of this, Nightmare. I know what’s going to happen, and I want to limit the consequences as much as possible. And I don’t need anything coming between us. I am in control, so trust me and stay out of it. Can you do that?”
Scorpan had never asked for her trust before. He had, in fact, told her the fastest way to lose his trust was asking for it. He would have bolted if he were standing in her shoes, but he wasn’t. And she saw his look of finality on his face. It scared her, and told her he was right.
Nightmare nodded and steeled herself when Baugh stood next to her.
“People of Sumaria, the Witches before us today have done great things with science and magic. They came here from another world, like us. They hope to unlock the secrets of the atom. They even improved and mastered a magic they learned from others. Yes, the Smooze is their greatest accomplishment, and with it they cleared the Valley of Dreams of the Grundels.”
Gusto and Thornwood both tilted their heads. Another family member tipped his wine back to hide his face in shame.
“An entire species was eradicated in a single day. And from their own mouths, every one of them helped create the Smooze. In an act of unrepentant GENOCIDE, they became mass murderers.”
The silence of the Hall was broken by a dozen armed guards barging through the kitchen carrying hail blades and swords, passing what extra they carried to undercover guards, who did not have weapons of their own hidden away.
“There is only way to deal with such a malicious act, regardless of your homeland…” Scorpan’s hand reached inside his dress coat towards the small of his back.
“Stop! Stop this madness! Scorpan, we killed the Grundels, but not you! We would never hurt you! You’re our allies!” Thornwood pleaded, stepping towards him and raising his hands in desperation.
“You never were my ally, Thornwood. Do you know what Falaur Blue is?”
Thornwood shook his head.
“Falaur Blue is a naturally occurring blood thinner. Take just enough on a regular basis, and you will never have to worry about your cholesterol again. But be warned, it eats away at the lining of blood vessels, even arteries. Take too much at once, and it will destroy your blood platelets before bursting open your veins. Most deaths are caused from internal bleeding, but if blood pours from a skin wound from Falaur poisoning, you are already bleeding out, and it is too late."
Thornwood's face went from flushed with wine to pale.
"There is an antidote: Falaur Red. Again, a naturally occurring blood thickener. A miracle medicine that has made the worst of wounds laughably easy to patch up. Every Sumarian here has taken a double dosage of Red, because every scrap of food and wine has been doused with Blue. And, Thornwood, your nose is bleeding…”
Thornwood felt his warm, sticky fingers before he saw them, his wine glass falling to the floor and shattering.
“Why?” Thornwood finally gasped. “Take me, but let them go! I will be responsible.” He threw his hands on Scorpan’s shoulders and desperately tried not to shake him.
Scorpan lifted the man’s hands on his shoulders and put his own on them, bending him down forty-five degrees while gripping the tool he had hidden all night. “Make peace with the world! Your family is dead, and so are you!”
Twenty centimeters of steel plunged in the warm butter that was Thornwood’s murderous heart as he let out a gasp of surprise. Scorpan gave the knife a sharp twist and felt a cascade of warm fluid onto his hand before tossing the body on the floor. A collective gasp and the shriek of a woman filled the Hall.
Looking up to the rest of the family he gave the order, “Kill them all!”
They had no chance. None of them were armed or tried to flee. They backed into ta tigther circle away from their attackers all of a step before a rain of hail blades, spikes, swords and even several gunshots battered them.
Some fell to their knees, begging for mercy before their neck, shoulder, arm, and half their torso were severed from the rest of their bodies. Gusto tried to put up a fight before his spine was severed and he fell to his knees. Lafayette put a bullet through Sarah’s head, passing right through the lips he had been teasing all night.
Scorpan had been fasting all week, wondering if there was another way to protect his people from the Witches, and to make this scene easier to witness. He thought he would vomit all the water and Falaur Red he drank this week, but he was surprised at how calm his stomach was.
It was unnecessarily violent and their cries would haunt his dreams, but he could force himself to watch without guilt.
Nightmare was mortified. Taking steps backward from the bloodbath, she wanted to cover her eyes and ears. Nightmare Moon had seen terrible things serving on her throne, even worse as an immortal alicorn battling evil. She slept well only because Cerberus kept certain monsters sealed away in Tartarus; as frightening as Cerberus was to her, he was far worse to spirits. And still the worst things she had witnessed were acts of cruelty ponies inflicted on one another simply because they could.
She had hoped Scorpan and his humans were different. But what he had told her…
She trusted Scorpan. No matter what he was doing now, she knew he was right, even if she did not understand his explanation later. He would tell her why. Of course he would.
In less than a minute, it was over. None of the Witches moaned, cried, or faked death. It wasn’t enough for Scorpan, though. He asked to borrow a gladdius from a young private and had him lift up Thornwood’s body by the shoulders.
He brought the small sword down through the Witch’s neck in a clean, smooth motion, his head falling to the floor with a thud sounding at once too heavy and too light for its size. Heaving out a heavy sigh, he returned the weapon to the private.
“It’s a good weapon, boy. Take care of it. The rest of you,” he said, addressing the remaining guards, “decapitate any bodies that have not been already and bring out all body pieces to the Grundel Memorial Pit.”
Setting an example, he lifted Thornwood’s body and carried it away through the doors leading into the Hall. I wonder if I’ll ever enjoy myself in here again.
The rest of the guard followed him, carrying bodies and parts of bodies. When the grim parade was past them, Nightmare tried to ask Baugh something, but words failed her. She opened her mouth, but changed her mind before whole sentences formed themselves in her head. Shaking her head, she could not say whatever she wanted to.
Baugh did not take it as well as Nightmare and her husband. She was pale and looked sick to her stomach. “I need to lie down.”
She placed her hand on Nightmare’s withers. “Go. He needs a friend next to him tonight.”
With that, Baugh walked away and disappeared. Nightmare was left on her own to follow the death march.
** ** **
The Grundel Memorial Pit was indeed a pit in the ground, the sides lined vertically with lumber coated with the same tar pitch in a puddle at the bottom. The lumpy, sticky surface of the puddle was punctuated with body parts and other gore. The chef had insisted on throwing all the food coated with Falaur Blue and the poison itself into the pit as well. Around the pit lay a circle of rough-cut stone. A scarred man leading a pair of mules hauling a now-empty cart stood next to Scorpan and offered him a jar of coal dust and a match.
“Thank you, Daniel,” Scorpan whispered, taking them from his hands. Daniel was a refugee when his family escaped another genocide in Achaea. Moving to Sumaria was supposed to help him put those memories behind him for good. He volunteered for the most personal task tonight; he didn’t want another eighty-thousand dead souls haunting him.
“We got the pieces, and a blood bucket brigade’s gonna pick up whatever we missed. We’re waiting on you now, unless you’d rather someone else…”
“No,” Scorpan said shortly. “Just… give me a minute.”
This felt wrong to him. It was over, but why did it seem right? Should he feel this… neutral about so much death?
Looking north to the Volcano of Gloom, Scorpan saw a faint glow of orange, undoubtedly the village of the Witches being burned, he rest of their hacked and mangled carcasses tossed in the fires. The guards he’d sent were forbidden to loot at all, while the griffons were allowed to take whatever valuables they wanted, except books, papers, and anything containing magic of any kind.
Greenbute and his cohorts were to seize all such materials and bring them to be scoured for data on the Smooze. Anything related to the Smooze would be saved and stored in a place only Scorpan knew. Everything else was to be burned. If they encountered anything like the Smooze, they would have a way to handle it when the time came. Memory spells would be cast on his scholars, who would search through the papers every day to prevent them learning anything. Scorpan could not risk learning something from the Witches and turn his brightest minds into kids playing with a loaded gun.
Stalling for time, Scorpan gave a speech he had practiced this week but never intended to say.
“These… guests of ours… were mass murderers. They… annihilated Grundel Land. They could have done the same to us, but they’re gone now. After tonight, this pit will be filled in and… this plot of land will remain barren. It will serve to remind us, of what we—what we have done, and why.”
His hesitation to burn the Witches in the pit before him was broken when he heard the slow, even clop-clop of Lunar Glass slippers on stone.
Nightmare stood silently next to him. He could feel her eyes on him. Opening the jar, he sprinkled coal dust from his foot to the edge of the pit, struck the match against the stone, and dropped it. He did not stay to watch the progress of the flame grow towards the edge, nor the black pitch catch fire. He did not want to see the flames grow downward and spread in a slow, unstoppable wall. All Scorpan wanted was an emotion he should feel, but he did not even know what that was.
He thought he heard her walk behind him, but he just really needed to be alone right now.
“Did they really kill an entire race?”
Or maybe not.
“Yes.” He stopped suddenly, wanting to collapse in the middle of the road. “Queen Rosedust told me. She also told me her people were too cowardly to do anything about it.”
Nightmare knew she should say nothing. He needed to get these thoughts out. But she had to remind him of what he did. “But you did something. And it will never happen again. That’s why you had so many involved. That’s why you wanted me to stay uninvolved. That’s why you built a memorial.”
“Then, why am I so… confused, Nightmare? I should be a basket case, but I’m just upset because I’m almost happy that it's over. Where are the emotions I should feel? What are they in the first place?”
He dropped to a bench and stared at his feet. She sat awkwardly next to him and tried to think of what a pony would feel.
“… Maybe this is just it. You did what you had to. It took a lot of courage, by the way. You are braver than you give yourself credit for. I’m glad you killed one of them yourself. I don’t know if I could have done that.”
“I never killed anyone before,” he said softly. “Is it that easy? I thought it would shake me to the core and change me. But I feel… normal. And hungry.”
“I killed in wars before. Scorpan, in battle, it’s either you or them. You have a sister at home who’s in danger if they don’t die here, and now. There’s a little filly playing with a doll who should not see her mother laying in a pool of blood. There’s a timber-faller whose family could starve if he gets drafted, which means you need to end this soon, and that means keeping yourself alive and your enemies dead. Did you kill that man for your gain, or for someone else?”
“Does that matter, Nightmare? I kill—“
“It does, Scorpan! I walk on four legs, but I think being pony and being human is the same thing. He—they all were evil. You should feel no more shame than squashing a poisonous spider.”
Scorpan looked up to her and asked quietly, “And the book burning later? That will be a lot of knowledge going up in smoke.” Her look of confusion reminded him to explain about searching for knowledge of the Smooze.
“I see why you wouldn’t want anything they did to influence you. Really, Scorpan, you have done nothing wrong. All you need is a good night’s sleep to put this behind you. I promise.” She wrapped her wing around him and pulled him close. He returned her embrace.
They didn’t keep track of how long they sat there. They were interrupted by a griffon crying out and landing with a thud in front of them.
“Prince Scorpan, I have returned triumphant.”
“Bey…” Scorpan untangled himself from Nightmare’s wing and stood straight, his earlier tension and worries gone. “I take it everything is done? It’s over?”
“Our task is done. Greenbute ran into a complication he insists on discussing with you. I told him to end it now. He didn’t listen.”
“Very well. You want your money, it’s in my office.” He turned to Nightmare Moon. “You are more than welcome to stay at the Castle tonight, Princess. If you would be so kind as to walk with us there.”
“I have a better idea…” she murmured. Her blue aura of magic enveloped Scorpan, picked him off the ground, and deposited him on her back. She reared back as he gripped around her withers. “Let us fly into the night!”
She took off with a great beat of her wings and flew off to the castle, with Bey soaring behind them.
Nightmare had never expressed interest in letting Scorpan ride on her, and he never brought it up. He was nervous being up so high. Holding onto to her neck only reminded him how smooth her coat was. Before he could panic, they had landed with a clip-clop on the balcony of his office. She sank to her haunches, letting him slide off her. Scorpan looked at her incredulously. She smirked back, as if they shared a dirty little secret.
Bey’s team was paid for scouting the village for a week and stopping any Witches from escaping on foot while Greenbute’s men killed the inhabitants. Scorpan crunched the numbers in head: one Hundred and one in total—five on Daniel’s cart, thirty-seven in the Great Hall, and fifty-nine in the village. He felt a sense of lost emotions again, but shrugged it off.
Scorpan said, “Your silver. I presume first payment was in order?”
The griffon tossed it into another bag attached to his belt. “Indeed it was. Pleasure doing business with you. I’ll be on my way.” With that, Bey turned and took off into the night.
Nightmare looked at Scorpan. “I hope Greenbute’s situation isn’t complicated.”
“Me too. Do you want to head to your room for the night or stay and watch this?”
“I want to see how Princes Scorpan handles complications. Tell me, do you have anything to drink that is not poisoned?”
“Twenty-seven proof wine. So… no.”
They giggled as he opened a bottle of wine to split. He had earned an end to his fast, and he planned on feasting like a king in Flutter Valley the next day.
It was not long before a runner knocked on the office door, announcing that Greenbute had returned with three prisoners awaiting their sentences.
“Send him in with them.” Scorpan said. Nightmare looked at him, as curious as he was.
Greenbute was a tall, very slender man. Sometimes Scorpan wondered how he could fight in drills without snapping. He walked into the office, tugging on a rope wrapped around the hands of a short, plump, woman, a tall, skinny girl, and a short, outright fat girl, all very ugly. The girls could not have been more than ten or eleven years old.
“My Prince, these three Witches surrendered to us shortly before our raid.”
Scorpan blinked. He could not understand why they were here. “Were your orders not to allow any to live, Greenbute? Were you not to kill every Witch you came across, regardless of age, infirm, or requests for mercy?”
“Yes sir. I was.” Greenbute knew this would be a tough sell and had practiced standing up for his actions.
“Then why are there three Witches befouling my office with their breath?”
“Sir, they surrendered to us before the raid began. They told us where some would be hiding if the alarm was raised. They warned us of traps in a few houses, possibly saving lives. They also said where to find pages of magic we would have missed and burned otherwise. I said I would not kill them and left their fate to you.”
Scorpan sank back into his chair and folded his hands across his face, thinking of the gun in one of his drawers. “Woman, why would you surrender to Greenbute? What do you want?” Why am I wasting my time with this?
The woman awkwardly sank to her knees and spoke to the floor. “My lord, my name is Hidea. My children were misbehaving, so I was punishing them when we heard your men. I did not want to die, or my daughters. So, we told them anything they asked.” Her voice was fingernails on a chalkboard.
“Did you participate in the creation of the Smooze at all?”
“The—the Smooze? What’s that—“
“ANSWER ME!”
His explosion shook the whole office to attention. Scorpan didn’t know when, but he had leapt to his feet and pulled a knife from the back of his trousers—the same knife he killed Thornwood with. He held it to the throat of the tall, skinny, ten-year-old girl before the woman complied.
“No! We didn’t! I swear! Both my girls were ill when the Smooze was made. I was taking care of them. Please, you have to believe me. They were on their deathbeds. We didn’t do it!” Her eyes swam with tears and she choked on her words.
Scorpan was disgusted with his sense of disappointment later, but right now, he was just furious at her. At Greenbute. At himself for not ending it right then. It would have been so very easy to just pull the blade through her skin...
Pulling his knife away from the girl and walking to his desk was the greatest effort he ever exerted in his life. Pulling himself together, he tried to think of Baugh. Her strong hands caressing his shoulders, her red hair tickling his nose, her pheromones driving his animal instincts. She had calmed him down so often…
“You will be free to go. Go back to whatever is left of your village. You will surrender any and all knowledge of the Smooze. Neither you nor your children will ever leave the Volcano of Gloom again. If you break any terms of this agreement, you, and your children’s lives are forfeit. Do I make myself clear?” He droned as a teacher reciting a lecture he gave three times today, his voice as devoid of emotion as cold steel.
Hidea burst into tears but held his eye contact. “Bless you, lord! Bl—“
“Are. We. Clear?”
“… Yes.”
“Get the hell out of my office before I change my mind!” he snapped. Turning to his Leftenent, he said, “Greenbute will follow you back to your village and take everything you have for him. As for you, Greenbute, if they threaten you in any way, you are authorized to kill them.”
Greenbute saluted, released his men from their duty for the night, cut the Witches’ bindings, and shoved them out the door. Scorpan stayed in his chair, seething at… everything his mind settled on. Nightmare sipped her wine before mentioning the elephant in the room.
“She’s lying to you.”
“I know.”
Silence.
“You should have tossed her off the balcony.” She gestured with a wing.
“Yes…”
“Why?”
“Greenbute said she saved lives. She helped him and me out. I needed to give her a chance to continue a life of virtue.”
“Is that the human idea of justice? Mercy for the guilty?”
“Nightmare, I know she will turn on us. But… I gave her my word. I will not break it until she breaks hers. Then I will break her. And her daughters.”
Nightmare climbed to her hooves, standing tall and proud in all her glory. She declared as she walked back towards the balcony, “If you won’t do it tonight, then I will!”
Scorpan did not watch her go but called, “I’m not standing in your way.” He was thinking about the victory breakfast he would not be able to enjoy in Flutter Valley tomorrow. Maybe he might settle for a normal breakfast of toast and oatmeal.
Nightmare took to the sky, climbing a hundred meters over the city, combing for Greenbute and her entourage. She spotted them just past the city gates. She had just the spell to kill the Witches and leave Greenbute unharmed if she shot it from here. Were she the one on the ground, there was no limit to what she could do to them.
Stalking the quad from the sky, Nightmare thought about the look of loss and hopelessness on Scorpan’s face when he stopped himself from killing the girl earlier.
In the end, Nightmare stayed in a guest room of the Castle, mentally pummeling herself for her inaction.