The claustrophobic confines of the upwards-spiraling staircase echoes with the sound of beating wings and the distraught yowl of a Pegasus. Rainbow Dash's shrill cry spurs you up the dizzying ascent as you take the steps three at a time, bringing you ever closer to the poignant stench of death and decay. In moments you crest the top of the stairs, only to see Rainbow Dash unsteadily swatting the air amid a flurry of dislodged black feathers which swirl around her like a cyclone. She sputters and coughs, eyes tightly shut with several raking red marks and a nasty looking gash showing above her brow.

“Rainbow, are you-” your concern is dashed aside as the Pegasus snarls and paws the stone steps like an irate bull.

“Nopony sucker punches me like that... Hey, you! Yeah, you, Coal Clucker. My turn, you gutless guttersnipe!" You barely catch a glimpse of the irate mare before she darts through a poorly lit archway and into the unknown.

You step out from the neatly carved entranceway and nearly run straight into Rainbow Dash who has stopped just outside of the mouth of the arch. Thin rays of pallid light beat down in regular tines, creeping fingers from a grey sky like the somber shadows cast by prison bars. You cast a glance around at the hellish corner you’ve stumbled upon as a chill wind carries with it the wretched pall of desolation.

The cavernous mouth looks as wide as a baseball field, though no more than twenty-five feet tall and made of the jagged cracks of a natural cave quite unlike the nearly carved stairwell. That foul smell hangs on the air, impregnating it with that sickly cloying odour of death that springs from a rancid pile of debris scattered in front of you. It is no simple compost heap, it has a scattering of bones, scraps of skin, refuse, debris, not to mention dozens of other kinds of offal and waste dumped where a multitude of bobbing blobs dig and pluck through it with languid hops. The carrion birds that pick over the putrid heaps barely pay you or Rainbow any attention at all; you’re nothing more than fleas to them, something to be scratched at if bothersome, but otherwise ignored.

“Oooh, Celestia, that’s not, urk..." Rainbow groans with a sickened hiccup, “not cool." You hear the roiling caws and bubbling croaks of the carrion feeders. Dozens, if not hundreds, of Ravens roost in the upper crags of the penumbral cave and stare down at you through harsh amber eyes. Some are relatively small, only a foot and a half long and maybe a couple of pounds, but other bulbous forms bound here and there, grotesquely swollen from gorging themselves on their rotten feast.

“No, Rainbow, that’s not cool." You point off towards the cave entrance, seeing the lines of the ashen skies beyond a huge gate of wrought iron, each looking as thick as your clenched fist. One colossal Raven roosts on a round loop in the gate directly above the door. It has to be the size of a filly, thirty or forty pounds, its beak glints in the dull light as you realize it’s sheathed in iron. A key ring hangs from its maw, dangling above the iridescent green and black plumage of its chest. The world outside might be cloaked by the lifeless wasteland, but it is preferable to the darkened pits in the bowels of the mountain.

Rainbow's sharp eyes rove the highest reaches where a multitude of beady red eyes stare down at you, “Uhh, you think we better get Fluttershy to help with this?” Several of the scavenging avians finally take an interest in the pair of you; they squawk and clack their beaks in aggressive irritation as if holding their own hasty conversation.

A throaty ‘Rroaaak-Roaaak’ bubbles up from the massive Raven above the gate. The colony of carrion feeders descends like a cloud of midnight and spirals around you in a seething vortex as black as pitch, blocking your way in a hissing, snapping mass of sharp beaks and ragged talons. In moments, the storm subsides, leaving countless ranks of beady-eyed Ravens staring at you, forcing you and the Pegasus back, step by step, into a slowly compacting circle in their midst.

The keys in the massive gate Raven’s beak jangle and chime almost musically as it slowly sweeps its gaze over you. Its pupiless red eyes seem to swirl like a fiery whirlpool, hypnotically fixing you and Rainbow to the spot. A shimmering intellect burns behind those crimson orbs, fire rubies locked in its skull that compel you to edge back towards the stairs as if by magic, “Visitorrrrs come to the Carrrion City, come to Corrrax? One with wings and the scent of the wind, a weather waker from White Clouds. Yes-yes, Corrrax sees.” The blood-red eyes turn on Rainbow who snaps her tail in irritation, but she maintains eye contact with the massive bird.

Corax merely quirks its head to the side and regards you with the same burning intensity. It caws twice and cranes its neck forward, “And anotherrr like Him? ‘Rroaak’ Peculiar! Yes-yes, peculiar Skrrraeling, indeed. Hmm, come, Skrrraeling, hop forrrward if it wishes to live." Its hacking voice is harsh and occasionally punctuated by its clacking beak, but, once again, you find yourself involuntarily moving. This time you set foot right in front of the great gate Raven.

“It has His axe, the Skrraeling must know Him." It stares at you unswervingly, waiting for an answer that doesn't readily present itself. You uncomfortably shift, hearing a shrill cry picked up by the other Ravens, filling the cavern with a cacophony of noise. The raucous din falters as quickly as it began; every single Raven is fixated on either you or your companion. “Tell Corrrax, wherrre is it frrrom? How comes another Skrrraeling to Corrrax’s mountains?”

Nothing. There is no forthcoming response from you. A dozen answers come to your lips but Corax’s incandescent gaze seems to burn away each falsehood before they can be given life. Rainbow is the one to answer as you are well and truly tongue-tied. She puffs up her chest and calls out with a confidence that certainly isn’t mutual, “He’s a troll from Saddle Arabia.” She’s never believed it until this moment, but in the face of opposition, she’s willing to scream that flimsy excuse from the rooftops.

A few moments of almost mocking silence greets her proclamation, “It lies to you, Weatherrr Wakerrr.” It gets an immediate growl from Rainbow Dash who snorts and paws the raw stone.

“Are you going to use that thing or not?" Rainbow gestures to the axe and takes a breath before padding forward to stand beside you. She lifts a hoof then slams it down, “And who said you-” a choir of raking calls drowns her out until she gives up the attempt.

An irritable snort and curl of her lips morphs into an audible snarl as she bares her teeth. The Raven spreads its wings, reaching a span of at least ten feet like a condor. Its harsh cry rings out to the highest rocky vaults, “So says Corrrax, guarrrdian of the Gate, Masterrr of the dead, Senechal of Carrrion city: New Trrrondheim. Listen closely, skrrraelings:”

Face of an Ursa, and roar of the same.
Soul of a changeling, a friend did he claim.
A beast lacking heart, all morals deprived.
Into the midst of the blessed, connived.
Great oaths did he break,
and comrades forsake,
So, who can tell me this Nithinger's name?

“Answerrr, answerrr skrraeling, or Corrrax and the Carrrion-kin will feast on your eyes and consume your flesh.” Corax fixes you with that same predatory glow, and you swear if its beak could show it, the creature would have been smirking in anticipation. Already, the other Ravens begin to bob and shoot fleeting glances at yourself and Rainbow Dash. They understand perfectly well what is at stake, a meal is near at hand for them.

Rainbow Dash stays quiet, a look of distasteful irritation crossing her muzzle. You barely catch her complaint, “Sure, they’ve always got to have some kind of stupid riddle. I hate riddles." Her books are one thing, but being put on the spot is something else. “C’mon, cut and run, we’ll be able to outpace them, right?”

You quickly shake your head and place a hand on her tensed neck as you close your eyes and think back to the memories burned into your psyche.

There was no immediate response until he'd pulled himself and several other men up to the deck. “Ah, King Olaf…” he started and bowed.

“Sigvald never bows." Ulf muttered and took a sharp breath as he picked up a spear and flicked it up to a throwing stance.

“This, of course." He raised a hand as a flaming arrow shot from back aboard the Dragon. It was the same moment that a bellicose scream tore from the half dozen Jom warriors on the deck as they brought their sturdy two-handed axes down, splitting apart chainmail with a contemptuous ease as, across three ships, confusion gripped the heart of the Northmen's fleet.

With a few pensive breaths you smile and shout your answer in complete, unfaltering confidence: “Sigvald!” Your answer heralds silence: there is no cawing, no croaks, no angered hisses, nothing but an unnerving stillness that permeates the cave.

Rainbow licks her lips and leans in to whisper, “On three. One-” The jangle of keys is almost startling as they clatter down just a few feet in front of you. Corax seems still, not speaking or questioning anymore. Instead, it merely tucks its head back in its plumage as the other Ravens pointedly ignore you and return to rifling through the fetid mounds of refuse.

Rainbow Dash wordlessly blinks and stares at you with both hesitant wonderment and skeptical bewilderment, “You are either the second biggest egghead I know, or you’re not telling me something… what’s a Nithinger?”

“It just means traitor or cowards or something. It’s not that important, Rainbow, take the torch and go get everypony else. We just found our way in.”

“Huh? You mean our way out.” You glance over at the Pegasus who awkwardly shifts and bites on the edge of her lip. Her eyes betray her, darting to the open entrance and back to you with evident concern. “What if it's just a trap? Don't you think I better come along, too, so we can be sure about this?”

She wavers, awkwardly stopping and starting, eyes darting uncomfortably between the prowling mass of Ravens and the yawning maw back into the cavernous depths. But with no harsh cries and just a few Ravens nearby, there doesn't seem to be any immediate danger. You take a breath and smile before ruffling her mane, “You'll get back there a whole lot quicker without me slowing you down. Now, get lost and don't come back ‘till you get everypony else.” You give her a good-natured shove.

After a single step back, she shoots you a surprised glare which melts into a smile. “Count on it. Be back in a flash!” She takes wing and streaks back down into the mouth of the mountain.

You are left to push on and fetch the keys. Those first few tentative steps forward are nerve-racking, trudging through bundles of scraps with something that crunches uncomfortably underfoot and raises an even greater stench. Perhaps it is just a test. However, it’s suddenly a very long way to get to that rusty gate. With its grand iron slats and twisting spines that would surely skewer any creature foolish enough to try to squeeze between the miniscule gap between the bars and the cave ceiling, the imposing iron edifice is nothing short of hellish. A small pile of pointed skulls lies piled near the rusty hinges, and a massive lock clasps the imposing prison-like door shut, making this a fortress in its own right.

In the lee of the imposing gateway, you stoop down to retrieve the brass key ring dropped under the aegis of the massive Raven. To the left and to the right are a number of carved charms, Raven skulls, talons, and other fetishes lumped together. But there is something else, five henpecked glyphs that you pick out as a bastardized Royal Cipher: kindness, benevolence, loyalty, amusement, and honesty. There were five symbols; you'd seen each painted on the murals plastering the walls in the stairwell.

There is little time to lose as you look at the self setting lock caked in rust and heft the weighty keychain. Several of the keys have teeth that are rusted off or pitted and holed, but one still looks useable despite a thin layer of corrosion. The key fits and jiggles, but turning it takes a surprising amount of effort. One by one, the tumblers inside give way with a squeak and a loud 'clack'. The lock pops open and you use your shoulder to shove the door ajar. Despite digging your feet in and pushing, it opens upward on a slight slant which makes shunting the hefty iron portcullis all the more difficult. But the angle means the door will close shut and lock on its own from any considerable impact. Resting with your shoulder on the half open gate, you edge up the rocky slope, feeling the fresh chill breeze rake across your face as you realize you'll have to wait until Rainbow Dash brought everypony else in.

Amid the frozen gasps of winter wind and the darkening skies, you can see the tall spire rising from the haze like a spear. It’s tall and flat-sided, with small dot-like windows and a honeycomb of arches and buttresses on the uppermost stories. Even the great tower's roof is monstrous display of wide spread spines jutting out at the edges, capped in precariously perched tiles of dull blue slate. The monolithic tower is soon lost to the mists, leaving you staring into a blanket of white marred only by an anemic looking lantern post and crumbling stone retaining walls on either side of a winding path that melts into the drifting snow.

Icon: Remnants of the North

by Vixavior

Act 4- Chapter 2: Castle in the Sky