“We’re happy that you’re helping us make a stealthy exit, Miss Roarke,” Zetta murmured as she, Basso, and several other Ledomaritans hurried through a shadowed corridor. “Especially since most of us are total strangers to you.” She gulped. “But what about Rainbow Dash and the little foal?”
“We’ll get them in due time,” Roarke said, adjusting her lenses in order to see better down the dim passageway. The hulking body of the Sacred Hold groaned and buckled around them. “First thing’s first. We need to get that book.”
“What’s so special about it anyways?” Basso remarked. He squinted towards the walls. “And is it just me, or is this giant floating mountain starting to rumble?”
“The book is everything,” Nightshade spoke as the group followed Roarke past a flickering manatorch. “There are forces at work here that mortals can barely see. I thought I was the only one who knew the flame’s true power, but I was wrong.” The lines in her muzzle grew hard as the madame growled, “We mustn’t let these zealous cretins get ahold of it. It’s just as important as Rainbow Dash, as for as the fate of this continent is concerned.”
“Does that mean that Roarke is gonna make out with the book once we get it?” Zaid said.
Basso sighed. “Dude, really?”
“Guhh!” Zetta suddenly stumbled, clutching her forehead.
With a gasp, Basso scooped her back onto her hooves. “Zetta! What is it?”
“The song…” The mare clenched her teeth shut as her horn fluctuated. “It’s g-getting louder…” She opened a pair of moist eyes. “More erratic!”
“Wuh oh…” Zaid glanced at the others. “The flying dragon goddess thingy?”
Roarke seethed. “We haven’t much time.” She broke into a gallop. “Stay five yards behind me at all times!” she called back. “I’m going to clear the floor between us and--”
“Haak thuun see breek!” Two guards lunged out of an adjacent corridor, swinging glowing scimitars at her.
“Searo’s Uterus!” Roarke slid, barely ducked the two slashes, and kicked off the floor with a burst of her horseshoe thrusters. She bicycle-kicked one guard across the head and tripped the other with a lash of metal coils.
Xonan shouts rang down the nearby passage. A thick line of soldiers came charging. With flashes of silver light, reptilian effigies flew in Roarke’s direction, brimming with chaos energy.
“Keep your distance!” Roarke shouted. “I got this!”
“You sure of that?!” a random enforcer shouted.
“Better they find out than me!” Roarke charged blindly into the group, whipping her prehensile tail like a serrated lash. “Haaaaaaaugh!”
Zetta winced, clinging to Basso. As hoofsteps sounded off behind them, the large stallion pointed at the flank-kicking bounty hunter.
“There’re two more on your right--”
“Ooof!” A flanking trio of Xonans were instantly clotheslined by the large pony’s forelimb. All three fell to the floor, groaning.
Basso blinked. “Whoops.”
Behind Zaid and Nightshade’s nervous figures, a lone, injured Xonan crawled away from Roarke’s melee and clasped his hoof over a crystal shard atop a slender pedestal. Bright blue lights strobed through the corridor as a loud alarm blared.
In the central hangar bay of the Sacred Hold, Dizzaaz Manathen Arcshod stood on the loading deck immediately adjacent to the Lightning-Bearer. A group of Xonan soldiers marched up, wearing plain gray fatigues. They turned and faced him. Arcshod shouted several words in a deep voice, then raised his glowing horn.
“Drenna’dennu Ledomulien thriul Nagu’n!” The troops shouted in unison.
Arcshod turned and signaled a group of robed Xonan priestesses.
Chanting in unison, the equines cast a bright spell over the phalanx of soldiers. Silver light cascaded over every pony. Then, like a glittering veil, they were covered from head to hoof in an enchanting glow. As the aura faded, their fatigues had altered to mimic the color of Ledomaritan enforcer uniforms. What was more, their tattoos had vanished--replaced instead by simple coats of non-Xonan quality.
Another shout lit the air. The disguised Xonans levitated berets onto their heads, swiveled towards the Lightning-Bearer, and marched firmly on board. Hot on their heels was another group of soldiers in fatigues. They turned to face Arcshod, and the high-ranking officer repeated his authoritarian shouts.
As the next spell was cast, Zytharros stood like a diligent sentry along the fringes of the scene, watching with a placid expression. The humming noise of floating barges loaded tons of weaponry and explosives into the central storage bay of the captured Ledomaritan battleship beside him.
Suddenly, a small shard of enchanted crystal strobed on his shoulder plate. He tilted his head down and squinted at the emergency. One ear twitched. Two. Then, slowly, he gazed up towards the rafters of the hangar bay. A curious expression crossed his chiseled, tattooed features.