//------------------------------// // Chapter 2 // Story: Shadow of the Guardians // by Warmblood //------------------------------// The last thing Elan remembered was Momma’s face, her round brown eyes blinking away tears as she set her filly on the stone. “It’s cold, Momma.” said Elan. Her mother sniffled with a sad laugh. “I know dear. Now be a good filly and lie still. It’s important. Hooves to your sides,” she pointed, “there.” Elan kept as still as she could, like Momma said. “What’s going on Momma?” There was a huge crash outside like thunder booming between cloud and ground. The stone shook beneath her, trembling like a little earthquake. Within moments she could hear crashing, breaking, yelling. There was something happening, something terrible. The sound had grown to a near roar. Now there was noise everywhere, ringing in her ears. Momma’s eyes were saucer wide, her mane disheveled with wild strands wrapped around her ears. She managed a quick smile for her filly. “It’s okay... I love you, dear.” she said above the din. “But listen now. You need to close your eyes. Close your eyes and count to ten dear.” There was an intensity in her voice that broached no argument, and Elan had no choice but follow her instructions, despite all the questions she wanted to ask at that moment. It was okay because Momma was there. Momma would keep her safe. A gentle white glow began to surround Momma’s horn. For a second Elan looked into her mother’s eyes, then Elan reluctantly closed hers. Sometimes Momma picked her up with her magic. She remembered that from when she was younger. It was fun, it made her laugh, because sometimes Momma would tickle her when she did it. She wondered if that was why Momma was using magic. But she did what Momma said. She counted down: Ten...Nine...Eight…Seven...Six…Five...Four...Three...Two… One. Elan let out her breath. She had not realized she had been holding it. Everything was… quiet, save for her soft sigh. Just a second ago, the world had been full of sound. The “BOOM!” of stone hitting stone, grinding sounds of crumbling and breaking, screeches and hisses, shouts, yells, screams, deafening roars so loud they hurt Elan’s ears. Now it was all gone. Elan wondered if Momma cast a spell on her ears. They felt much better now. The fear was going away. She was still scared, but without the noise it didn’t feel so near anymore. She was curious if she could still hear Momma. She opened her eyes. There was nothing there. It was like looking at the inside of her eyelids. She blinked once, twice. Nothing. She looked to her right, and her left. Blackness. Am I blind? I can’t see anymore! Her hoof reached up to her eyes, to feel for a blindfold, even though she could tell her eyelids were open. The fear was rising again. She began to tremble. The stone was icy cold against her side. She moved her head, and to her surprise her neck was painfully stiff, like getting out of bed after sleeping wrong. She couldn’t see Momma anywhere. She couldn’t hear her. Where had she gone? Elan tried to move her legs, but if her neck was stiff, they were stone, heavy and slow like molasses. When she finally moved the leg, something dragged over her side. There was something lying over top of her, something that felt like a blanket. She tried to push it away from her, but it was bulky and heavy. It felt scratchy, very stiff, and so dessicated that just trying to push it away poked a hole right through the fabric. Anxious to be rid of it she struggled to throw it off with a sharp kick. To her shock she felt the material turning to dust in her hooves. Her legs were so stiff it was hard to move, and even though she kicked out again and again, the blanket remained caught around her hooves, and she could hear her own frustrated cries reverberating in her ears, her hooves rebounded off walls of hard stone surrounding her, and panic struck her. She knew mother would have told her not to scream, but she did anyway. It came back just as loud, ringing in her ears. Her legs were stiff as old twigs, but she didn’t care anymore. Everything was closing in, the unforgiving wall her back was braced against, the floor, the invisible ceiling, they all pressed down on her. She couldn’t breathe. It was not rational thought anymore, it was blind thrashing, hooves kicking in every direction, colliding with hard stone, chipping, and kicking again. Her head smacked into a wall, hard, but it didn’t matter. That dull pain was nothing compared to the frantic intensity of the struggle. The only thing she felt was the panic deep inside of being crushed, of running out of air, and the only thing she could do was fight it. It was a tiny flicker of light that finally made her stop. Her right rear hoof came up hard and crashed against the stone. She felt the impact, dully, as she felt all the others. But this one managed to move the surface above her, move it just a fraction of an inch. For a moment she saw a sliver of wan light coming through a crack in one side of the ceiling, then it was gone. But it was something, anything, far better compared with darkness and blind fear. It gave her something to focus on, to bring herself back to her senses. Now that she had stopped— literally— kicking and screaming, her world became quiet again, save for her panting breath and a ringing in her ears. At that moment Elan thought back to what her mother would have said to her. She would have told her to think things through, and be rational. Elan’s ears burned as she thought of how momma would chastise her if she saw her acting like such a foal. Feeling was starting to come back to her legs too. Her hooves hurt. A lot. She could bear it, but she knew immediately she shouldn’t have kicked so hard. The walls of her prison were hard stone. Stone did not give easily. She did not want to think about how her hooves looked. Fortunately, the blanket or whatever it was had been mostly destroyed by her struggles. What was left seemed to be a lot of dust, which got in her nose and made her want to sneeze. She tried to understand what had happened. She failed. One moment her mother was there with her, the next she was stuck somewhere small and dark with what seemed like a ragged old bedsheet. It didn’t make any sense. Nothing today had. She had been eating breakfast like normal, and then momma came in, and she was scared, so scared that Elan could tell, which never happened, and then she told Elan that they had to go somewhere, and they had to go right now, and then there was the noise, and the shouting. It didn’t make sense. Elan was no foal. She might be only eight, but she knew she was a smart filly. She knew something bad was happening. Nothing else could explain it. What it was, she couldn’t guess, but she had heard ponies screaming—she shivered a little— it was bad. Now everything was quiet—- just the sound of her own breathing slowly returning to normal. It was like she had been teleported somewhere. Was that what mother had done? She wondered if mother would be following soon. Then she realized that was probably silly: she wouldn’t fit in here. Wherever here was. Which brought her back to the present, and the situation she was in. Whatever was above her, what she thought of as the ceiling, was made of stone, just like the walls. But, it seemed she could move it if she tried really hard. Maybe then, she concluded, the ceiling wasn’t connected to the walls at all, and she could push it away. She braced her back against the hard floor and pushed up against the center of the ceiling with her back hooves. It didn’t budge. She tried all four hooves, wincing slightly at the tingling sensation from her hooves, trying not to think about how terrible her hooves must look now. Still, the stone did not move. Frustrated, she paused to think. It was almost as though she could hear her mother’s voice telling her to focus, to think things through. It was still pitch dark, although it did not seem so bad anymore. She could stand to spend a few more minutes in darkness. At least above there was the promise of light. If she couldn’t push up, she’d have to try to push to the side. She set her hooves to the edge of the lid, bracing herself up against the inner wall for support. With a tremendous shove, the lid moved up a little, and over a little. She gave another push, and another, straining just to make it budge. Finally with a last great heave the stone cover tilted back, stone scraping against stone, and fell. Light streamed in. Elan blinked at the seemingly dazzling light as the lid landed with an echoing boom. Elan stood up. Her legs were a little unsteady, but she managed it. She saw right away she was in some kind of underground chamber. “Momma?” Her voice rang out, echoed, died. There was no response. The only sound was the whistle of wind through a distant passageway. “Momma? Where are you Momma?” She looked around for a sign. She stood in a stone hall, vaulted ceiling high above. The tall pillars holding up the roof were the tinged with rust-red dust, and the stone was pockmark-scarred and worn. On the floor, small drifts of dust weaved themselves amongst the stone casements like sidewinder snakes. To her left and to her right, there was a line of grey stone boxes, each about the size of a pony, with aisles in between. They too were covered with red tinged dust. But it was not just one row: there were many, filling up the hall with regimented lines, evenly spaced between the pillars. Elan knew where she was. Momma had told her about it. The mausoleum. Where dead ponies go. “H-how did I get here?” Elan sank to her haunches, in the dust, amongst the stone coffins. “I don’t like it in here. Why would Momma send me here?” Tears came to her eyes, as she softly rocked back and forth. Everything was different. She didn’t understand. The world no longer made sense. Mother was gone. She was lost, alone. * * * Far away, something stirred. Under a mountain, in a deep chamber pierced by a single shaft of sunlight, the creature awoke. Dust motes laced the air in the cavern, hanging over thick stone plates and heavy iron chains. The links were red with oxidation, and the chains were anchored into holes set in the floor. A single feather, grey, with a tuft of white down, drifted to the stone— a feather at least half as tall again as the average pony’s foreleg. The chains rattled, drawn taut for the first time in uncounted years, and the creature opened its eyes. * * * The wind was whispering outside the hall, the sound at once regular and disconcerting, like a rainstorm lashing outside one’s door. It was a reassurance that the world continued on outside the confines of the underground hall, but also a reminder of what must be faced sooner or later. Inside, all was still. There were geometric tiled designs on both floor and ceiling, Though their colors were faded, and dust was heaped upon them, the craftsponyship of their makers was clear. The soaring roof, supported by stone pillars, was in juxtaposition with the feeling of being underground, as there were no windows, only the diffuse glow emanating from the square-framed archway at the far side of the hall. The dim light that seeped in gave a somber feeling to the space, even apart from the thought of so many ponies being laid to rest here. Elan had sat in silence for some time. Her sobs had gone on until there was nothing more to cry about. Her tears were those of a confused and scared filly, and eventually that fear had to turn to something else. She had waited, and listened. Watched, and saw nothing moving. In the city there were always so many ponies talking, shouting, laughing. She could easily recall from school the raucous noise of thirty fillies and colts cavorting before the teacher called them to lessons. Even late after dark she sometimes heard laughter, and amiable conversation from ponies out enjoying the night. It was a close-knit city, made of close-huddled homes and narrow streets. As such, she found the lack of voices unnerving. It put her into a strange state of mind, as though she too should stay still, lest she break the solitude of the world around her. It was all at odds with had happened that morning. The yelling, crashing, breaking, it was all gone, replaced with silence. A disquieting silence. Eventually though, something had to change. After a time the silence simply became unbearable. Elan felt the need to say something, if only to break the weight of stillness that had settled over her. “OK. So…” she said, speaking to nopony but herself, “Momma isn’t here.” Her voice was small amidst the grand architecture of the stone hall. “Maybe everypony… went away? Left somehow? I don’t know…” She stomped her hooves on the tile. “I don’t know!” The clack! of her hooves echoed, but the empty hall was unmoved by her frustration. She let out an exasperated sigh. “But I have to do something. I can’t just sit here. Mother would say to figure this out. She would say to come up with an idea, and… try it out. There’s got to be ponies around here somewhere, and they’ll know where to find Momma.” Her legs were still stiff, but she made it to her hooves. The ache in her muscles remained, though it was not nearly so bad as it had been when she was in the coffin. Instead of a deadness to her motion it was a dull twinge, but at least it was there, at least she could feel her legs under her. That was surely better than not feeling them at all. The doorway was at the end of the hall. There were no other entrances or exits Elan could see along the other walls, and indeed, the lone doorway was the only real source of light. When she had first emerged it had seemed brighter, but perhaps that was only in contrast to the total darkness she had just escaped from. Now that her eyes had once again adjusted to the light, she realized the chamber was only dimly lit. She hesitated a moment. The light from the archway beckoned, but deep down she felt her stomach twist out of anxiety. For the hundredth time, she wondered if Momma had meant for her to stay here. If so, then I ought to just… She paused. “But she didn’t say where to meet her…” Elan said, mumbling to herself. She looked over at the doorway to the hall. It was light out, but that was about all she could see. “But she didn’t say to stay put either…” Elan felt a sinking feeling in her gut. Why hadn’t Momma said anything about this? “I’ve already tried sitting here doing nothing…haven’t I?” She hadn’t heard anything outside, save for the wind, that was better than when she was with Momma. I must be far away, she thought. “I mean, I can’t just sit, right? A quick peek outside couldn’t hurt?” She hoped. “Yeah. A quick peek, that’s all.” She crept to the door. The stone sarcophagi around her passed slowly by her sides row by row. The skin on the back of her neck prickled. It felt like there were eyes watching her, somewhere off in the shadows. Elan told herself it was her imagination. That was what Momma said about nightmares and bumps in the night wasn’t it? It wasn’t a huge solace. She hurried her steps. She reached the archway, but didn’t step through just yet. Instead she pressed herself against the wall to the side. Just like playing hide and seek, right? She peeked through. It was bright. The arch was the start of a narrow corridor that led into open air. There were pillars carved in haut-relief into the sides of the passage. Much of the detail on their surface though, was weathered and worn. Just like inside, there was a coating of dust, but here it was much thicker. The air that reached her nose was hot and dry. It smelled weird. Almost metallic or chemical. The sun was bright, very bright, really. The light colored stone of the walls was ablaze in white where the sun fell upon it. Beyond, there was what looked like an open plaza, and then further away, a vertical cliff face. The color of it all was washed out in the sun, reducing the pallette to sepia and light pastels. Elan recognized the place. The rock face she could see through the arch was the south wall, the Shield Wall. She could tell by a jut of stone the foals liked to call ‘The Beak’. A few of the more intrepid foals had even attempted a climb of it one day, promptly curtailed by the powers that be as too dangerous for young fillies and colts. She was home then. Or not too far from it. But it was all wrong. It was as hot as she had ever experienced, even in midsummer, and much too dry. Where was the sound of the falls? Where for that matter, was the sound of the other ponies? At the base of the outside arch there were little chunks of brownish-red rock littering the ground. Living in a steep sided valley, it was not uncommon for little bits of rock to fall from the cliffs, but they usually got swept up pretty quickly by cleaning ponies and such. Here they just… sat. As though nopony had been by in ages and ages to pick them up. Elan sighed. It didn’t feel real. It felt like it was all some strange dream that she would soon wake from. But at the same time she knew it was real. She looked down at her hooves, now chipped and scuffed from being banged against stone. They seemed real. She felt a dull pain from her hooves too. That seemed real. She didn’t want it to be real. She wanted to wake up, in her own bed, with Momma waiting to get her ready for school. For once, that would be a relief. She wanted a nice boring breakfast of bran and oats. But if this was a nightmare, it seemed she couldn’t wake up. Either way, nothing was stirring outside, pony or otherwise. She stepped out from the wall, and gingerly made her way into the corridor. As she did a hot breeze ruffled her mane. Outside it was very bright, enough so that she blinked as she stepped into the full sun, and taking a moment to shield her eyes with a leg, she looked around.