//------------------------------// // Chapter 5 // Story: The Rise and Fall of the Dark Lord Sassaflash // by Dromicosuchus //------------------------------// Morning dawned in the Hollow Shades. There was no birdsong, save perhaps for a distant twittering echo. There was no flood of light, shining through the windowpanes and melting the shadows. The air went unquickened. Exposed skin went unwarmed. The dewdrops clinging to the chilled ropes hanging over the streets did not glisten. Yet morning dawned, nonetheless. A heaped mound of coarse bedding stirred, and the Mule’s lumpy head rose blearily up from the covers, his eyes half-open. The light seeping into the room was diffuse and filled with deep, quiet blues. The ungainly beast slumped out of bed, clomped over to the room’s solitary window, and looked out, shivering in the sunless chill. Mist eddied through the streets, pouring down cobbled stairs and off eaves in slow, silent runnels. Above the mist rose the hodgepodge buildings of the Hollow Shades, leaning crookedly one way and another and draped with moss and decay, and above them, far in the distance, the Mule could see the dark branches of a pine forest choking the surrounding slopes. He could not, however, see the sky. “Hmph,” said the Mule, puzzled. He turned, ambling out of the room and down the creaky-floored hallway, and after a wrong turn or two found his way outside. Planting his haunches on the cold cobbles, he looked up. Rock and pine trees. “Hmph.” He looked further up. Then, craning his neck back, he looked further up still. A river of robin’s-egg blue sky snaked jaggedly far overhead, its banks the peaks of great mountain-cliffs. The village lay far below, nestled at the bottom of a gigantic crevasse in the surrounding hills. It had been dark when the train had pulled into the town’s dingy little station, and although the Mule had felt the train descending for many miles before the end of their journey, he had assumed—naturally—that the surface had been descending along with the train. Apparently not. The Hollow Shades, mused the old creature, more than earned its name. Hooves sounded on the stone street behind him. Turning, he saw the Dark Lord Sassaflash approaching. She nodded a curt greeting as she came alongside him and looked up, her gaze following the veins of ore and sediment in the rock as it rose up to meet the meandering wedge of sky far overhead. “It will fall someday, Mr. Mule. All of it. There will come some great tremor in the Earth, this canyon will crumble in upon itself, and the Hollow Shades will simply cease to be. Nopony will escape.” White mist swirled from her nostrils in the chill air. “But that was true a thousand years ago. It was true ten thousand years ago. We are mayflies, all of us, and live our little lives so quickly that a pebble may fall, so—“ She scooped up a fragment of rock with her hoof and let it drop. “—And generations will live and die on that pebble before it strikes the ground. When it does, everything they ever built or dreamed or fought or hoped for will be smashed into nihility—but why should they worry, when the pebble is still falling and there are vast milliseconds yet before its journey is over?” There was an impressive pause. Then the Mule coughed. “That ain’t a real word, is it?” “Is what?” “Nihility.” “It is a perfectly acceptable word! Moderately obscure, perhaps—that is hardly relevant—I was musing on the pointlessness of—Oh, forget it.” The pegasus ruffled her wings in exasperation. “Just—go fetch our supplies from the room. The train to Hippoborea will be leaving in a few hours, but we should prepare for departure now. A different inn is scheduled to be mundane today, and this one will soon be attracting unsavory clientele that we would do best to avoid. There must be no chance for mishap, Mr. Mule.” “No, Miss Sassaflash.” ----- Supplies were fetched and damages paid (It transpired that there were large deposits of candle wax soaked into the sheets of Sassaflash‘s bed. She had insisted she had had nothing to do with it, but the innkeeper had been curiously disinclined to believe her), and soon the Dark Lord and her minion were walking along the streets of the Hollow Shades once more, bound for the train station. Some of the town’s residents were out and about, either trotting along on some business of their own or setting up stands in a web of interconnected streets and alleys that Sassaflash informed the Mule was the town’s central marketplace. “—And those with deeper pockets can rent out those storefronts, there, for three months or until the premises are attacked by demonic forces, whichever comes first. No dawdling, Mr. Mule. We must hurry.” The knobble-kneed creature, tottering under the weight of the bags and burdens heaped high on his back, lurched forward in an attempt to keep up with the pegasus mare. “Begging your pardon, miss, I’m sure, but these ain’t light. I’m moving fast as I can.” “Yes, well.” She glanced fitfully at the ponies around them. “I would prefer to reach some less-frequented part of town. It would be inconvenient if I were to—“ She jolted to a halt, staring at a tall blue unicorn mare, robed in white, standing at attention down one of the marketplace’s streets. “—If I were to meet her, for instance. Hlirgh chtenffnyth… Follow me. Quickly!” The Mule, who had had to veer sharply to the right to avoid hitting Sassaflash when she had so abruptly halted, managed to regain his balance. Swinging around to follow her with all the ponderousness of a cargo ship at sea, he asked, “Who is you trying to keep clear of?” A barely perceptible hesitation. “The town Watch. Blind idiots, the lot of them. Think they’re heroes. This way.” She ducked into the shadows of a darker alleyway, its top almost completely covered over by the sagging eaves of the adjacent houses. “Hurry, Mr. Mule, hurry! She could look this way any—wait, where is she? She was standing right there. Quick, get in here, get out of sight, I will not be tangled up in—Blast.“ There was a sound of approaching hoofsteps. The white-clad watchpony suddenly appeared around the alley’s corner, peering at the two with an odd, disbelieving look on her face. Sassaflash hid her face under her hood and, in a peculiarly husky voice, asked, “Can I help you, officer?” The tall mare simply looked at her, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. Finally, in a small, incredulous voice, she said, “…Sass?” After a moment’s hesitation, the Dark Lord threw back her hood. “Yes, alright, it’s me. Hello Starshade, how are you doing, yes it’s been a while, goodbye. I think that covers it, don’t you?” “Sass! What are you doing here? You were banished, you shouldn’t be—the Watch’ll—Oh no.” The unicorn stopped, horrorstruck. “I’m the watch! I have to—but I can’t—Oh no.” “I did wonder about those nice new robes of yours, Star.” Sassaflash tilted her head, inspecting them critically. “I cannot say they suit you. Well, goodbye. Come, Mr. Mule. We have no business here.” She turned and started to trot away. “Wait!” The watchpony cringed at the sound of her voice, too loud for the cramped alleyway. “Wait,” she repeated, reaching out a hoof. “Don’t go.” Looking back, Sassaflash inquired, “Am I under arrest, officer?” Starshade sighed. “You should be. But—look, it doesn’t have to be this way. Come home, Sass. We can work something out. We can make it better. I’m sure of it. Dad doesn’t say anything, but I know he misses you.” The Mule shuffled away from the two ponies. He had the strangest notion that it might be wise for him to make himself scarce. Sassaflash stiffened. Rounding on the blue watchpony with a snarl, she hissed, “Oh does he? Does he indeed? My heart bleeds for him. Perhaps he should have thought about that before he voted to banish me! The Mule’s evasive shuffling intensified. Her ears drooping, the watchpony said, “Don’t be like that, please? It was a long time ago, and with the other council members—there couldn’t be any exceptions, for anypony—he didn’t have a choice—“ “No choice?” spat the Dark Lord, glaring up at her. “No choice? Oh, he had a choice, Star. He could been brave. For once, just once in his life, he could have been brave.” She scowled. “He chose not to be.” “Sass, it broke Dad’s heart to exile you!” Starshade frowned. “But what you did was horrible. You can’t get around that.” “Oh yes I can. I committed no sin,” said Sassaflash, her voice tense and controlled. “My only crime was being the only brave foal in a herd of cowards." Stamping the ground with her forehoof, the mare growled, “We weren’t cowardly, we were smart. We knew not to meddle with those forces.“ “You were afraid to.” “For good reason!” She gestured wildly with her forehoof, and a small flame of magic kindled at the tip of her horn. “Did your ‘bravery’ make things better, Sassaflash? Did it?” For a moment neither of them said a word, Starshade flushed and angry and Sassaflash a statue of cold fury. Then the Dark Lord spoke. “I failed, yes, but I tried! I was the only one of you who had the courage to try! And when I had tried, and failed—failed because I was just a foal, Star, just a foal and still better than all the rest of you put together—you blamed and punished me for your own cowardice.” She turned, her cloak swirling around her. “Goodbye.” The sound of the Dark Lord’s departing hoofsteps was made conspicuous by its absence. Teeth gritted, Sassaflash hissed, “Let go.” “I—I can’t do that, Sassaflash. I’m sorry.” Pale pink magic swirled around the pegasus’ hooves, binding her to the ground. Starshade swallowed, and continued, her voice quavering, “I thought you might have changed, but you’ve—you’ve only gotten worse. I have to take you to the council.” “I would like to see you try. Fm’latgh ehyehai, uaaah.“ With a plinking sound like overheated metal cooling, the magic lapping at her hooves drifted to a sluggish halt and crumbled into dull gray dust. “I truly would. I’m out of your league, Starshade.” The unicorn’s eyes widened, then narrowed. “That was Aklo. You just spoke Aklo! Only servants of the Dark Ones—“ “I am a master, not a servant! Now leave me be. I mean the Hollow Shades no har—oh, would you stop that! Fm’latgh ehy—mmph!” A gag of rosy magic materialized across Sassaflash‘s mouth, preventing her from finishing the spell. Starshade managed a fearful frown. “I know some tricks too, Sass. I was trained by the Watch to stop ponies like you, and you aren’t the only one who’s read some old, secret—How did you do that!?” “Remarkably easily,” spat the necromancer, stepping out of the crumbling remnants of the binding spell. Ash drifted away from her face where the magical gag had been a moment before. “You are beginning to vex me, Starshade.” “But that shouldn’t have been possible—you couldn’t say the words, I was sure that would—stay away!” Scampering back, she whisked a piece of chalk from the interior of her robes and, clutching it in a web of magic, began marking long, desperate lines on the cobblestones between her and the Dark Lord. “Stay away, I know the Elder Sign—“ Sassaflash cocked her head. “What are you doi—no.” Her ears flattened back against her skull. “No! Stop, you idiot, stop, that isn’t what you think it is—“ “—Their servants fear it, I know they do, you won’t hurt me if I draw—“ “I said stop!” There was a small crunching sound, and for a moment the entire world seemed to lurch unsteadily, as though some fundamental part of it had just been withdrawn. The Mule nearly stumbled, but managed to right himself again. Sassaflash winced, but otherwise showed no sign that she had felt anything. And Starshade, struck motionless as an insect pinned to a board, stood stock still and then slumped to one side, toppling like a felled tree. She hit the ground hard and lay there, her mouth agape and her eyes rolled back in her head. The chalk she had been holding rolled across the unfinished sigil on the cobbles and came to rest near Sassaflash‘s hoof. “Idiot.” Kicking the chalk out of the way as she stepped forward, the Dark Lord approached the fallen watchpony, averting her eyes from the chalk lines beneath her hooves. She knelt down beside the stricken pony. “I know you can hear me, Starshade. Take this as a warning. If I had been a mi-go, your brain would have been removed from your body by now, and would be residing in one of their cylinders. If I had been a ghoul, you would now be either dead, or well on your way to becoming one of them yourself. If I had been a seapony…Well. I’d describe what would have happened to you, but there is a gentlecolt present.” She gestured behind her at the Mule, who had been hoping that he had been forgotten and was disappointed to learn that that wasn’t the case. Sassaflash rose to her hooves again, and in an almost pitying tone said, “Yes, dark things fear the Elder Sign, but did you never think to ask yourself why they fear it? They are slaves of the Great Old Ones—slaves of Their priest, the Dreaming God–and what does a slave fear most?" She shook her head. “You’re out of your depth, you poor foal. Get out of the water before you’re eaten. Mr. Mule, come here. Help me get my sister up on my back. Most unfortunately, we will be making a small detour before our departure.” The Mule did not move, earning an irritated growl from his employer. “Did you not hear me? I said come here!” With great reluctance, he plodded forward. “Oh, miss…your own flesh and blood! Your kin! What did you do to her?” “Do?” Sassaflash sniffed. “Staunch that bleeding heart of yours, Mr. Mule. I did nothing. She’s fine.” A moment of silence. They both looked at the prone pony, sprawled corpse-like on the paving stones. “She don’t look fine,” said the Mule. “Yes, alright, okay. She won’t be able to stand for a day, will have a splitting headache for a week, and won’t be able to use magic for a month. In all other respects she is the picture of health, and will make a splendid recovery unless something eats her, which is moderately probable. Come here and help me.” Her minion wrapped an awkward forehoof around the limp unicorn, and struggled to shoulder her up on to the Dark Lord’s back. “But what did you do to her?” “Uhf. Her calorie intake appears to have been considerable. Watch the wings. And if you must know, I drained her of her magic.” She tilted her head and spat out several slender fragments of broken clay, their surfaces scribed with strange symbols, and pulled her hood back up, hiding her face. “But how—“ “Oh, for goodness’ sake! Magic flows, Mr. Mule, and like water it seeks the lowest possible ‘elevation.’ Sources of magic are like mountaintops, and magical sinks are deep valleys. The pieces I just spat out were the seal on one end of a conduit I created, with the other ‘end’ located in a swamp near Canterlot that possesses an unnaturally low level of background magic. When I broke the seal, the conduit was opened, and all magic in our immediate vicinity flowed through it. We two were hardly affected, but to a unicorn, the shock of suddenly being drained in such a way is intense, and not something to be quickly recovered from. And yes, I do normally carry such a seal around in my mouth. The practice has saved my life multiple times.” “But don’t—“ “Yes, Mr. Mule, I do at times accidentally swallow them. The inconvenience and discomfort, I find, is worth it.” ----- To the Mule’s surprise, the sight of him and the Dark Lord trotting through the streets of the Hollow Shades carrying a paralyzed pony did not actually garner much attention. There were a few lingering stares, to be sure, and one old stallion did stop them to (ostensibly) ask if they had the time, but other than that they received little notice. The watchpony had recovered enough at this point that she was able to move her eyelids and emit the occasional weak moan, and according to Sassaflash this, combined with the fact that the two of them were obviously not trying to hide what they were doing, was enough to allay the suspicions of most of the townsfolk. The Watch, it seemed, was more of a vigilante organization than anything official, and apparently it was a strange week when one of their number wasn’t being ported through the streets after an unfortunate encounter with something that they should have known better than to poke their muzzle into. “And in any case,” said Sassaflash, as she turned down one of a number of (to the Mule) indistinguishable side streets, “If any of them were to recognize me, they would know not to interfere in a family matter.” “Even when a pony’s carting her kin down the street like a sack o’ taters?” “Especially in that case. No, not that way. Here. Now, we should be coming in sight of it right about…Ah.” Emerging from a little sunken path that was more tunnel than it was alley, they came in sight of a broad plaza, unusually open for the Hollow Shades. Clustered around it were homes and towers of strange antiquity, half-sunken into the ground with little cramped ramps leading down to their doors. One of the homes, larger than the others, had been built around and within a gigantic dolmen of unguessable age. Huge blocks of stone rose up at each of its four corners, and its roof was the great flat tablestone capping the ancient megalith. Sassaflash trudged towards it without hesitation, her limp burden lolling on her back, and the Mule followed with enough hesitation for both of them. As they descended down the beaten earth ramp leading to the house’s front door, the old creature noticed that the dirt making up the walls around them was not really dirt. Coarse plant fibers poked out here and there, while elsewhere there were bits of glass, shards of metal, layers of ash and charred wood, and other detritus. The refuse of ages, slowly and imperceptibly rising up around the buildings of the Hollow Shades. He directed one last glance skyward as they passed under the overhanging rim of the lichen-encrusted tablestone. Maybe someday the town, forever burying and building itself anew on the remnants of its dead past, would rise up to the level of the hills surrounding it, soaring high on foundations built of its own history. Maybe. Or maybe Sassaflash was right, and before that happened the walls of the gorge would crumble in, and wipe the town away. It was a race to see which would happen first, and both of the racers were straining against one another, plodding ahead at the breakneck pace of centimeters per century. The Dark Lord raised her hoof, and gave the door a smart rap. A scurrying sound like tiny hooves pattering across wood came from within, and then the door lurched jerkily open, tugged by something unseen. Stepping inside, the cloaked pegasus peered around the door’s edge and said, “Thank you, Brown Jennet. Is my father home? His good daughter has been meddling in things she ought not to have meddled in.” Something squeaked in surprise, and then in anger. Although he was not exactly sure what the difference between the two was, the Mule could certainly tell there was one. The Dark Lord frowned. “She is just unconscious. What do you take me for?” Prolonged and emphatic squeaking. Sassaflash snorted irritably. “I will do no such thing. Now do your duty, familiar.” There was one last indignant squeak, and then a large rodent, possibly a rat, scampered off from behind the door. There was something not quite right about its paws and head—something distinctly un-rat-like—but in the gloom, the Mule wasn’t able to make out what it was. In any case, he had no time to investigate further. Snapping a quick “No gawking, Mr. Mule. Touch nothing. Say nothing,” his employer beckoned for him to follow her. Tapestries hung from the walls of the rooms they passed through, maybe blocking windows or maybe simply acting as decorations. Books ran along the walls and rose in neat, tidy stacks on the occasional table, surrounded by clusters of upholstered chairs draped with lace and standing on ornately carved wooden legs, and myriad candles glowed in brass settings on the walls. Sassaflash scowled and muttered something about fire hazards. A muffled shout, vibrating with anger and astonishment, echoed down the halls from somewhere ahead, and the Dark Lord smiled humorlessly and lowered her sister to the floor. She looked back at her minion. “A word of warning, Mr. Mule. In a minute or so, there will be a great deal of shouting.” Her eyes narrowed at the distant sound of hooves cantering across thinly carpeted flagstones. “And I will be doing most of it.” Her head swiveled forward again at the sound of a door slamming, and a moment later a tall, gaunt unicorn stormed into the room, his navy tail lashing at his sides. His nostrils flared at the sight of Sassaflash, and he bellowed, “What have you done to her? What have you done to your sister?” The Dark Lord’s wings quivered at her sides. “Saved her life, you old fool. She—” “How dare you talk to me in that way, unnatural child! How dare you! Even were you not an exile, even ha’…’ou…n’… …… ..” He stood there gaping like a fish out of water, his mouth flapping noiselessly as his eyes widened in shock. “I had not finished, father,” said Sassaflash, her voice icy as she lowered her extended hoof. A faint wavering distortion was barely visible around it, like the shimmering of air above a lit candle. “Do not make the mistake of thinking that you will be lecturing me for my shortcomings. Zhro!” The old stallion emitted a strangled squawk as his voice suddenly returned. His ears laid back, fearful and angry, he demanded, “Get out of this house! Get out of this town! You were banished!“ “I know,” said the Dark Lord, drily. “Starshade made the same observation, and attempted to bring me in—to face justice, I suppose. I objected. And do you know what she did then, father?” She raised an eyebrow. “She tried to use the Elder Sign against me.” “And you deserved it, I can be proud of her, she hasn’t—“ “Did you not hear what I said!?” Sassaflash stepped forward, suddenly screaming at her father as her wings thrashed the air. “She used the Elder Sign! The Omen Antiquitatum! Cthulhu’s Eye! She was carrying it around in her head, and it’s still there!” The stallion’s jaw dropped as what she was saying finally hit him. “No. No, that’s not poss—you’re lying. I don’t know why, but you’re lying.” “Very well then.” She looked down at her sister, twitching fitfully on the carpeted floor as she slowly regained control of her body. “Starshade?” “Nmm,” said Starshade. She blinked heavy eyelids, and tried again. “I d’n’t know—dn’t nn’erstand—they’re afraid ‘f it, they’re evil, it must be good—?“ Her eyes slid shut. The Dark Lord returned her gaze to her father. “You see? She found it. She saw it! She thinks it’s some kind of shield! How did this happen? How did this happen!?” “I don’t know, this should be—I was so careful!” The old unicorn was almost pleading. “I hid the worst books, I made sure she didn’t know the worst secrets—“ “And when she stumbled on them anyway, she didn’t know to be afraid of them, and this happened,” finished Sassaflash, spitting out each word. “The Old Ways cannot be divided so neatly up into ‘safe’ and ‘unsafe.’ To know part of them is to be exposed to the dangers of the full, and without full knowledge one is helpless. You have failed her, father, and you may have destroyed—“ “I don’t reckon that’s right, though, Miss Sassaflash,” said the Mule. There was a moment of extremely tense silence. Sassaflash‘s father looked at the Mule, then to his daughter, then back at the Mule again. Sassaflash herself seemed to be trying very hard not to explode, and to her credit was enjoying remarkable success. Finally, after several very deep breaths, she turned slowly and deliberately to face the Mule and said, “What.” The old half-blood shrugged. “Only you ain’t tole me and Miss Sweetie Belle much at all—and if they was things we needed to know, I reckon you’d 'a tole us.” He gave her a long, even stare. “Wouldn’t you, now.” “I—you—“ Something seemed to have gone wrong with the Dark Lord’s vocal cords. “That is a completely different—“ She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath. When she opened them again the fire was back, but burning with more measured fury. “Fine. Your point is valid, Mr. Mule, but we will discuss it later. It is not immediately relevant.” She whipped her attention back to her father. “What is relevant is this idiot’s reckless—his foolhardy—outrageous—“ She paused, glaring at the old pony cowering in front of her like a frightened yearling. With a disgusted wave of her hoof, she finished, “Oh, nevermind. You’re not worth it, you pathetic creature. You want me out of this town? Fine. I shall leave. But first—Mr. Mule, the worrywort, please. No, I put it in the other—thank you, yes.” The sheaf of worrywort rustled as Sassaflash hefted it on her hoof, gauging its weight. Bringing it up to her mouth, she bit down hard, shearing a quarter of the bundle off at the end, and then started chewing. Speaking around the bundle of soggy leaves, the pegasus said, “Good. Now, o’en ‘r mouf, Mshtr Mule. Shanksh.” She spat the masticated lump of plant matter out, and stuffed it into her sister’s mouth. “Close. Now—good, good. She swallowed it.” “But what—what are you doing to her?” Her father stepped forward, worry creasing his face. The Dark Lord scowled. “Saving her life. The Elder Sign should still only be in her short-term memory; if it had had time to be stored deeper, she would already have been attacked by one of Their slaves. As it is, Cthulhu’s Eye has only been open within her mind for a short while, and if she’s lucky the Dreaming God will lose interest if it closes again. And worrywort—an amnesiac, in sufficiently large doses—should serve very well to close it. If she’s lucky.” She lowered her sister’s head to the floor. For a moment the teal pegasus stood there, looking down at the stricken unicorn mare with something very like pity on her face, and then she turned, her cloak rustling across the threadbare carpet covering the stone floor. “Come, Mr. Mule. Our business here is more than done, our welcome long since worn out—and we’re out of bits, so we can’t do any more shopping. It is time we departed for Hippoborea.” Without a word of farewell to her family, the Dark Lord stepped off down the long, twisting hallway that led to the house’s sunken door. After a moment’s hesitation, the Mule followed her. Behind, he could hear Sassaflash and Starshade’s father whimpering to himself, muttering over and over, “Not that path, O Lord of the Wood, not that path! Iä, Shub-Niggurath! Iä! Please!” The Mule shivered, and hurried on.