Chapter Sixty
Northern ruin
Phil
Phil leapt back just as Trixie’s attack reached him, sending her knife plunging into the hard-packed earth below. It didn’t stay there long, and Trixie cartwheeled as she pulled it out, spinning wildly towards Phil. He glided away rapidly, backpedaling into the air and away from her uncoordinated swinging strikes. Her long, snow white hair whipped about behind her as she moved.
She skidded to a halt, arms crossed threateningly before her, knife waving in Phil’s direction. She was baiting him down from where he hovered, just out of reach. For a moment that dragged on forever, neither moved. Then, Trixie lowered her arms and began charging a fire spell on the tip of the knife.
Phil charged down, faster than Trixie could react, and slammed his elbow into her chest. He aimed to disarm her and get her away from the Quest Bed, then try and talk some sense into her. He knew continuing to fight her would only be exactly what she wanted. Trixie could see that he was holding back, though, and took advantage of that knowledge.
She ran forward, slashing rapidly, but more controlled than before. Her strokes were short and fast, keeping both a good offense and defense. Phil dodged each swipe, keeping his flaming fists up in guard. He had trained for exactly this type of enemy- ones with a crap ton of speed and not much reach. The ideal strategy would be to get some distance and use longer range magic. However, that added element of insanity, unpredictability and bloody-minded determination was something they always warned him about, and he had to be extra careful.
Phil leapt back, landing on his hands and completing two consecutive backflips. Trixie was right on his tail, but he was ready for her this time. As he came to a rest, he brought his hand up- still flaming- and grabbed her by the coat collar, taking advantage of the leftover momentum to pick Trixie up off her feet and throw her clear over his shoulder. She hadn’t seen the move coming, and collapsed in a disoriented heap behind him, the front of her clothes smoldering slightly.
Phil flitted away rapidly before she could get to her feet, dancing backwards until the back of his foot hit the edge of the ancient ruin. He couldn’t help himself- he took a moment to apprise the structure, wondering if everything Trixie had said was true. If this forgotten altar to some forgotten god was in fact a portal to godhood, dating all the way back to The Crash, then it was probably one of the oldest man-made objects in Equestria.
He didn’t have much time to speculate about the structure, though. Phil jumped atop the rubble and hopped back a few more steps before throwing a fire attack straight for Trixie. She had scrambled to her feet only a second ago, and just managed to dodge the first spell. Another was right on its tail, and this one slammed into the ground only inches from her feet. She stumbled forward and ran straight for Phil again, and Phil had to duck and dodge her crazy attacks to charge another round of fire magic.
Trixie dove to the ground, then pushed off her hands and spun low, locking her legs around Phil’s ankles. He was unable to stop himself from falling to the ground, and his shoulder slammed into the jagged rubble. Phil had to push aside the pain from the bone-jarring impact, and rolled to the side as Trixie’s weapon swung down to strike. The knife clanged noisily against the stone where Phil’s head had been only a moment before.
The phoenix scrambled to his feet, but he was disoriented from so much rapid movement at once. He stumbled back a step, his back colliding with one of the fallen pillars of the ancient ruin. Trixie wasn’t letting up, and she charged forward angrily, the tiny blade of the knife glinting with firelight. The luminescent eyes of the multicolored parasprites danced around Phil’s vision, but he kept his eyes on the orange-red of Trixie’s next attack.
He ducked to the side just as the knife flew forward, digging into the pillar and sending a shower of sparks flying. Phil was amazed the steel hadn’t broken yet, with all the beating it was taking against the centuries-old brick. He sprung back to full height, then delivered a palm-strike that sent Trixie reeling. All thoughts of disarming his opponent were gone by now; Phil had switched over into full survival mode.
He leapt forward, catching Trixie off guard, and wrestled her back down to the ground. He held her knife hand in a death grip, and struggled to force her to drop the weapon. Snarling, Phil lit a fire spell in that hand, scorching the ends of Trixie’s cloak and the skin on her wrist. She let out a suppressed scream, and the knife clanged noisily but uselessly to the ground.
Following through, Phil’s arm darted forward and retrieved the tiny blade from where it lay behind Trixie. He flicked it into the air once, then caught it and held it forward, against Trixie’s throat. He made no further move, and didn’t have to. He had her cornered and with no room to maneuver, and had essentially won the battle. She was pinned underneath him, one arm still smoldering and in too much pain to use, the other held in a vise-grip to her side, her legs trapped under his.
The black mage looked up at Phil with wild, possessed eyes, still burning with anger and fear. Careful not to disturb the now somewhat dented steel held to her neck, she rose her head slightly and barked: “What are you waiting for? Do it! Kill me!”
The phoenix still didn’t move to kill her. The knife didn’t waver, but the fighting spirit had gone from his expression. His golden eyes bored into hers, intense and still pumped with adrenaline, but no longer threatening to kill. “For crying out loud, we’re so close!” She continued. “Finish me off! We’re both so close! Phil, just finish me! Finish us both, and we can save this world! Come on, don’t you want to be able to stay alive and watch the world recover and grow?!”
Phil let her carry on for a minute or so, before she finally calmed down and stopped struggling. Only then did he himself speak: “Trixie... This is wrong, and I think you know it. The rebellion needs strength, but giving up our humanity isn’t the way. It’s the only thing that separates us from our enemy. If this is going to have a lasting impact, we need to prove that we don’t need gods to guide us and dictate our every move. We need to act as people, overthrow the Queen as people, and- most importantly- live on and rebuild as people.”
Phil rolled off of her, getting to his feet and dusting off his pants. Trixie didn’t move. Phil stalked over to the edge of the ruin, then turned back. “And anyway...” He continued softly, “I’m more than happy to live out whatever comparatively small lifespan I’ve already got, because I fully intend to do it with Twilight. Whatever time I have left to live on this planet will be worth it, because I’ll actually be living. The life you talked about would be nothing more than surviving.”
Trixie closed her eyes, defeated. At last, she pulled herself off the ground and stood, eyes shaded by the snow-white hair thrown out of place by the battle. The two stood off once again, neither making the first move, but the fight was gone from both. Trixie took a tentative step forward, then nearly tripped in her rush. She threw herself at Phil, wrapping her arms around him tightly, her face buried in his jacket and burning with tears.
Phil took a step back, surprised. Of all the things Trixie could have done, he hadn’t imagined her running up and hugging him. Awkwardly, he slowly put his own arms around her. She was trying hard to stop crying, but wasn’t having an easy time of it. “I...” Trixie started, “... I’m sorry... I...”
“It’s alright...” Phil spoke quietly. “You were confused, that’s all. Excited by finding this place, and, you just weren’t able to see straight. You’re alright now...” Truth be told, Phil was still greatly concerned for Trixie’s state of mind. She had been fully willing to end her own life, and someone else’s, to get more power. He may have stopped her this time, but he was terrified that she may find some other way to gain more power that put her life at risk, and he wouldn’t be able to stop her again. It seemed Trixie was almost completely consumed with thoughts of revenge and power, and he didn’t know if he’d be there to snap her out of it again.
“I’m... I’m going to be there too.” Trixie said, almost absently. “You said you’d live your life with Twilight... That’s what I’ve been fighting for all this time. I’m fighting because that life is what Celestia took from me... Well... after this, maybe I can get it back. Maybe I can live on after the war with you two, too.”
Phil’s answer was to squeeze her tighter for a moment. He knew she meant what she was saying. She was going to make an honest effort to try and stay alive, and that meant she would probably be wary of potentially fatal weapons like the Quest Bed in the future. Still, Phil felt he should keep a close eye on her anyway. If she couldn’t stop herself and got tangled up again, would she be able to get out again without him? Worse still, would Twilight forgive him if he failed?
Phil’s thoughts were interrupted by an odd sound off to the right, almost resembling wind howling through a canyon or between buildings. He turned, as did Trixie, and the two saw the vague outline of a pillar of dark energy, around seven feet in height, just beyond the ruin. It swirled black, violet and blue for a few moments, before a tall, disheveled figure stepped out from within, a bag dangling limply from his fingers.
“Xekora!” Both exclaimed, turning to face him but keeping an arm around the other’s waist.
“Hey, you two.” Xekora mumbled, shaking his head, before stumbling to the ground.
He was still conscious and moving, but they saw that his clothes were cut in several places, drying wounds visible beneath. Phil and Trixie ran to him and dropped to their knees, supporting him as he shook his head again. “Xekora! Are you alright? What happened? What are you doing here?”
“I’m alright... Just a little winded. Had a run in with an old friend, told me some... interesting stuff... Ah-” Xekora then looked up, taking in the surrounding rubble, craggy rock, and finally the two missionaries for the first time. “I could ask the same of you! What’s happened here? And... Is that a Quest Bed over there?! You found another one?!”
“It’s alright.” Phil assured the historian. “There was a bit of a fight, but the Bed isn’t getting used. Don’t worry. Now what happened to you?”
Xekora stood, taking another moment to survey the scene. “It’s strange...” He said to himself. “Nothing from the Crash survived in either of the other continents... Why only Equestria...? Er, anyway, no worries. As I said, just had a slight run-in with an old colleague. Some blows were exchanged, but neither one of us walked off any worse for wear.
“He gave me a rather disturbing prediction for the future, however.” Xekora said, facing the two. “And he’s been known to be very accurate about this sort of thing. If you two have finished almost-killing each other over whether or not to actually kill each other, I need to teleport you to Manehattan posthaste. I can only guess you’ve got some belongings stored in that little port south of here, so I’ll let you go grab it, but then we need to move.”
“We’ve expanded our task force a bit.” Trixie explained, once again confident and in-control. “There’s two more people we want with us- could you make a second trip to bring them too?”
“Fine.” Xekora agreed. “But let’s please try to hurry. I don’t know how much time we actually have, but I know it’s not much. Next few days at most, and Manehattan’s a big city. You’ll need all the time you can get.”
Phil, Trixie and Xekora soon set off back through the rugged, rocky terrain and followed the faint path back to Emberton. As they walked, Xekora seemed to suddenly remember something, and reached into his bag. “Almost forgot. Trixie, I got you a present of sorts from my recent trip.” He pulled his hand out, a translucent white stone half the size of his fist clutched between his fingers. “Sending stones, for the resistance to stay in contact over long distances. I got one special for you, since the field agents need to stay informed most of all.”
He handed Trixie the stone, and she took it as though it were a precious, fragile object. She took a moment to appraise it’s surface by dim firelight. “You’ve told me about these... You were in Tellius getting these?” Xekora then told them of the events that had befallen Twilight and the others since they had left- a call by Eclipse to rid the land of a berserk dragon, the discovery that it was Spike’s lost shipmate, and the revelation that Celestia had resurrected the horrible feral drug used in the Goddess War in Tellius eight hundred years ago.
“My main mission was to procure the lyrics to the Galdr of Rebirth so they could help their dragon mate,” Xekora explained, “and the sending stones were more of an added bonus. I got ‘em both, but when I was preparing to leave, I was waylaid by none other than the leader of this blasted Order that was bothering the Elements all those years ago. Turns out the leader was someone I’ve had a run-in with before, and he sure remembered me. Now I’ve got quite a bit to be worried about, and I’ll need you to cover one of them for me.”
“Sure thing.” Phil said, though he didn’t fully understand everything Xekora had said. While his father had come from Tellius, he wasn’t very familiar with workings far across the sea. There was next to no knowledge of the continent outside of Xekora, and most denizens of Equestria didn’t even know the place existed. Queen Celestia had kept knowledge of life outside Equestria at a very down-low tone, and it wasn’t just Tellius either. Ivoire- a country far closer to Equestria, just to the west across the sea- was also rather obscure to the average person, and while they may have known of it, they didn’t really know much about its peoples.
“Well, here’s what’s happening.” Xekora continued. “There’s going to be an execution in Manehattan. I don’t know when it will be, except that it’s within the week. I’m also not sure exactly who it is, but it’s someone of significance. You need to be there to try and stop it any way you can, or- failing that- be there to hear this person’s last words. They have knowledge that could be detrimental to the throne, if you can manage to get it.”