Chapter 27
Scootaloo could barely make out the outlines of her own hooves. She could feel grass beneath her, but all she saw was featureless black.
A shape loomed in front of her; there was thick fog in the air. She closed her eyes, but the scene persisted.
A hot puff of air hit her face, forcing its way through her lips and into her nostrils. The stench was worse than anything she could have imagined.
It was trying to close its mouth. Mismatched teeth scraped and cracked. Dry bone rubbed against dry bone, and ancient skin snapped like soda crackers.
Scootaloo screamed as she lost control of her body. Her skin was being pulled in every direction, making room for a layer of fire. She threw herself against the ground and crushed her face with her hooves, trying to keep herself in one piece.
The pain faded gradually. Scootaloo felt as if her skin had exploded off her body, though she found nothing amiss as she felt herself up and down.
Six black eyes stared at her. The monster was circling again, patient as before. Its bones had turned black. There were no edges to its terrible form; its outline faded into vapor, so that there was no telling where it ended and the air began.
Move. Move! Please, let me move!
Her legs twitched feebly, triggering anew the memory of pain.
It circled, never getting closer. Scootaloo’s fear grew dull. It was hard to be afraid after seeing the monster’s long, bony face for the hundredth time.
“Alright,” Scootaloo gasped as her vision blurred with tears. “W… What do you want?”
The pain returned, even worse than before. Scootaloo writhed and screamed, slamming her head again and again into the soft ground.
Gentle hooves lifted her up. Mercifully her senses were numbed.
“I am sorry, Scootaloo,” said the mare. Her voice echoed with no help from the stifling fog. “This will get worse before it gets better.”
Scootaloo had no strength to argue. She no longer felt herself getting torn to pieces; that was good enough.
“That pain you feel is not my doing,” she continued. There was sadness in her blue eyes, and pity. “You will wake up soon.”
Scootaloo’s mouth was completely dry and coated with dust; she dared not try to speak.
The mare who held her was slender and majestic, with a glossy black coat and ethereal blue mane full of stars. Her teeth were sharp, exactly like the teeth of a wolf. Scootaloo knew who it was, but she could not bring herself to be afraid. All she wanted was to feel better, even if it meant being cradled by Nightmare Moon.
“Listen carefully,” she continued. “You are in grave danger. The fate of Equestria and so much more rests on your shoulders, but all is not lost.”
Her long black horn lit up momentarily, and Scootaloo felt cool water trickling down her throat. When she opened her mouth, however, her tongue clicked against her shriveled palate. She could speak, but her thirst was unbearable.
“What’s happening?” Scootaloo asked. She could feel deep cuts in her legs, though she saw nothing wrong with them.
“Somepony is trying to extract your magic,” Nightmare Moon said.
“My magic?” Scootaloo repeated, nearly choking on her tongue. “But I don’t have any…”
Nightmare Moon’s horn lit up again, and Scootaloo trailed off as deep dread filled her heart.
“You,” she said weakly, her eyes widening in terror. “But…”
“What were you expecting?” Nightmare Moon said with a slight smile. “You knew that you were carrying powerful magic; magic which you could not tap into. Magic which you still do not understand.
“Sylvanocian magic is not just a formless pool of energy. Pure unicorn magic—alicorn magic, even—cannot stand before you and speak its will, but I can.
“I long to return to the sylvanocians, but not like this. Not through these war mongers. No good can come from their plans.”
“What are you talking about?” Scootaloo said. She chewed on her tongue trying to wet her mouth to no avail.
“Pul Noctis, General of the Midnight Guard,” Nightmare Moon said patiently. “At this moment you are his prisoner. He has an army ready to sail for Equestria. The only thing missing is sylvanocian magic. Imagine every member of the Midnight Guard, tens of thousands of them, receiving magical powers rivaling those of an alicorn as soon as the sun goes down. Imagine all of them appearing suddenly in Equestria. Nopony will escape them.
“That is what will happen if you surrender me to him. And that is your choice. Please, for the sake of Equestria, do not give in.”
Her voice trailed off, and for some time there was nothing to hear or see. Scootaloo was floating without a body, her head devoid of thoughts. Suddenly she was awake.
Scootaloo felt like her head was being crushed. She became aware of her eyelids for the first time, dry and crusty against her eyes. Her legs felt like stones. With each passing second her longing grew for the relative comfort of her dreams.
Listen.
It was just a thought, but it was not hers. The voice was like the last sound in a loud nightmare, screaming from within her ears to be heard by no one else.
The colourless world looked utterly alien. She was lying in a room with uneven walls. There was something in front of her, roughly in the shape of a pony and wavering like smoke.
At least two passages led out of the room, plenty wide enough for even the biggest pony. One of them descended steeply, while the other was level and winding. There were no gates or bars as far as she could tell. Other bodies shuffled about; Scootaloo could see their outlines…
My eyes are closed.
LISTEN!
A pained hiss escaped her cracked lips. It was like a flash of light. The smoke being became solid, and much more solid than Scootaloo had expected. His chest was covered with metal that reverberated with the most beautiful hum, and the shoes on his feet were made to the same quality.
“So you are awake,” he said. “I am sorry Scootaloo. This was not supposed to hurt so much. Your suffering will be over shortly, one way or the other.”
Somepony was coming down the passage; somepony very large, wearing metal shoes and a light breastplate. Scootaloo struggled to decipher the gentle whooshes and whistling that filled the air. It was like peering through a thick panel of rippled glass.
“Stop stabbing me!”
There was a short scream and a puff of air as the big pony crossed the threshold. Magic crackled in the wake of the teleportation spell, a sound that normally when unnoticed even by unicorns.
“Are you alright?” Noctis asked, turning away from Scootaloo. His tail struck against his armor, making it ring like a bell.
“You should do something about these griffins,” said the newcomer. He sounded somewhat familiar, but Scootaloo could not put a name to his voice.
“They’re just kids, Dreamweaver,” Noctis said. “I don’t want to hurt them if I don’t have to.”
“They’re kids with swords and bows,” Dreamweaver snapped. “You see this hole right here? I could have died five times coming in from the top door.”
“You have your healing magic, and we sylvanocians have our smoke form. It doesn’t matter in the least if a bunch of kids want to stand guard against us. Now tell me, what is the status of the fleet?”
“The blockade is still standing its ground,” Dreamweaver reported. “Half of the fleet is stuck in the bay, including Polaris and Aeolus.”
“What about Skyla?” Noctis asked.
“She will run into the blockade at the Sword Islands in three days,” Dreamweaver said. “Gari sent an emergency telegram to a bunch of cargo ships just as we lifted the radio blackout. You see, the Children of the Night don’t need alicorn magic to be a nuisance. We will be fighting our own brothers and sisters long before we face the EUP. In fact, I doubt even Saltlick will host us, once they hear about what I did.”
“One problem at a time, Dreamweaver,” Noctis said. “Get me the rest of the sylvanocian magic, and then we can deal with the blockades together.”
“Fine,” said Dreamweaver. Scootaloo heard his feet approaching, but her own limbs refused to move. “Just remember, when this is all finished you’re in charge of the night. Watch the door for me. Those kids will be here real soon.”
Scootaloo tried to open her eyes one last time. A low hum filled the air, and the ground vanished from beneath her. For a second she felt a pleasant warmth on her skin, which quickly grew into an agonizing fire.
With horror Scootaloo realized that her wounds were not mere scrapes and bumps from her abduction. There were circles and triangles and crosshatches carved into her legs and her back, up her neck too, and even on her face. She could feel hot vapour venting through the patterns, and even her bones seemed to be pulling apart at the joints.
Fight him. Do not let him win. Think of your friends; your father. If you surrender now all will be lost!
The humming filled her head, drowning out any noise from the room. Scootaloo kicked and snapped at the air, but her movement simply sped up her dismemberment. She wondered when it would end; surely her legs had been stretched a hundred metres long by now.
“Let her go!”
The room exploded with noise as dozens of griffins cascaded down the passage. They flew in layers and side by side, and some ran as well, so that the passage was completely filled. The air was suddenly thick with arrows and darts. A dozen short swords were drawn as the first wave of attackers descended on the two ponies.
As he fought to stand under the weight of a several griffins Dreamweaver let his spell falter. Scootaloo was surprised when she fell no more than two feet onto the hard flat floor. One leather-gloved hand cupped her cheek while another slid beneath her beck.
“Stay calm Scootaloo.”
Gina?
The hands lifted her up. Gina put Scootaloo on her back, right beside a half-full water skin. Scootaloo groaned as she struggled to find the lid.
“Not now,” Gina said, reaching back with one hand to pat Scootaloo’s mane. “We get out now. Doctor waiting.”
Scootaloo got her right eye open just as a white flash lit up the chamber. She was in a dry cave illuminated by gas lanterns. All around her were griffin children in dark form-fitting suits and hoods of green and red and yellow. Some were sitting against the wall with bows drawn as others leapt at the massive alicorn with knives and daggers. Scootaloo could only think that the alicorn looked somewhat familiar.
Noctis materialized out of dense black fog accompanied by a mighty crack of lightning. Five griffins were caught in the air and thrown backwards hard against the wall. One of them had a pair of black bat wings.
“Grace!” Gina cried.
Scootaloo was set down rather roughly, and then Gina was gone.
“STOP FIGHTING!” Noctis ordered. His voice shook the room, audible above the screaming children and the thundering of his electric bursts. Three children were trying to approach him, their glowing black swords barely warding off the lightning coming off the sylvanocian’s glistening black wings.
Scootaloo tried to get up again. She knew better than to open her other eye. Noctis approached her at a leisurely pace; the griffins could not touch him now.
Do something! Please do something!
Wait.
A tendril of icy vapour settled on her back, quickly coalescing into something solid: a ridiculously large hoof.
“I got you,” Morning Rain said.
A huge pulse of lightning exploded from Noctis’ wings, but Scootaloo was suddenly in the passage. Morning Rain was wearing some kind of metal armor, cold and jagged and completely unsuitable for carrying others. Even with a folded blanket as padding Scootaloo felt the spikes that ran along his back digging into her chest.
“Everyone retreat!” Rain hollered as he ran ever upwards. There was a biting cold wind coming down the passage, drying any tears that escaped Scootaloo’s eyes.
Brief seconds of total darkness punctuated their journey as Morning Rain reached out to Noctis’ aura again and again. Even the little lamp hanging at his waist went dark when he used magic.
Do something!
Not yet. Be strong, Scootaloo.
“Almost there,” Rain breathed.
Below them many bodies were moving; Scootaloo hoped it was just the griffins. The passage was almost vertical in some places, but Morning Rain kept her balanced on his back. The whole journey took no more than fifteen minutes, though Scootaloo had no sense of the distance covered.
“Sasha! Alex!” Morning Rain yelled when he climbed into a high, narrow cleft between to slabs. “Get the stretcher! We need backup!”
The crimson sunlight of late afternoon seemed to Scootaloo as bright as Noctis’ lightning. She was almost blind, but what little she did see was more amazing than anything she could have imagined.
A small group of children, some griffins and some ponies, stood on the steep grey mountainside. The scraggly treeline was hundreds of metres below. The gently curving ridge ran for many kilometres, marked with deep cracks and sheer cliffs. Water glistened in the distance, whether a lake or a bay Scootaloo could not tell at first glance.
Two ponies looking to be in their early teens stepped forward with a stretcher. They were dressed much like the griffins, though their gloves were replaced with sturdy leather boots. The griffins fanned out, some hanging back with crossbows and spears while others unsheathed swords and approached the cave’s mouth.
A train of griffins flooded out of the narrow passage, each one carrying another. Some of them tumbled several metres down the mountainside before falling prone and turning back towards the entrance. Scootaloo watched anxiously for Grace and Gina. They were the last to emerge, Gina carrying her unconscious sister, with the remains of mechanical wings dangling at her side.
“Fire Crossbows!” Gina cried, throwing herself down the mountainside. A pair of black-feathered griffins caught her.
A dozen bolts whistled through the air, most of them going straight into the cave’s exit. A second volley was ready even as the first group reloaded.
From the stretcher Scootaloo could see Morning Rain. He had a golden helmet on his head and a light carapace of silver over a black bodysuit. She could not discern the intricate pattern on the metal but evidently the armor was not his. A round hole left his forehead exposed, and together with the gracefully tapering cheek plates it was evident that the armor was meant for a unicorn filly.
The last rays of the sun dropped beneath the waves, and in that instant Scootaloo’s eyes were suddenly cleared.
It was a bay. Dozens of ships were floating on the water facing the ocean; the smallest was easily as big as the Jackdaw and the biggest about the size of Skyla. Lined up against them were fishing sloops and merchants’ brigs, schooners and junks fitted with weapons as varied as their crew. She saw griffins with rifles and bayonets, ponies with studded horseshoes and machetes and axes. Griffins in dories harassed the big ships, pulling the crew overboard with long hooks or firing arrows across the deck. Once in a while a cannon would fire, followed by a big splash. Any moment now a misplaced warning shot would go astray, and then there would be no turning back.
A rainbow blur zigzagged between the masts of the biggest ship, knocking sailors off the riggings. Rainbow Dash still wore her Wonderbolt’s uniform beneath light plates. Many others were with her. An armored pegasus stallion fell as Scootaloo watched, struck in the wing by an arrow.
Rainbow Dash, stop! They’ll shoot you!
Scootaloo was quite far from the cave entrance when Noctis exploded into the night sky, surrounded by a swirling black cloud flashing with electricity. The whites of his eyes had turned red, and the light of a fire glowed in his open mouth. His fangs had become long and distinctively predatory; he wetted them with an eager tongue. His wings were magnificent veils of velvet. Arrows flew harmlessly through his chest, some of them even disintegrating in the brilliant arcs of lightning.
“Where is Scootaloo?” He demanded in a voice like the roar of a lion.
“Here I am!”
Scootaloo was blinded by the pain. She was standing on the stretcher with both eyes wide open. Her throat felt like it had been ripped open. Thick blood ran down her legs, glowing with a cold blue light. All her wounds were like that; indeed, Scootaloo felt more and more hollow as the pain continued to grow.
She barely noticed her wings stretching. New bones pierced her skin before her new skin could catch up. Some of her feathers fell away and evaporated in black puffs, burnt without fire. The runes on her skin stretched wider, exposing impossibly long black bones sheathed in black vapour. A long curved horn burst through her skin; it was a sound she would never forget. Sasha and Alex had retreated down the slope with the empty stretcher, but it hardly mattered. Scootaloo was floating in the air, and a dense cloud was gathering around her increasingly monstrous body.
Scootaloo could breathe no more. It was worse than the pain, worse even than her thirst. Air flowed through her cracked lips as she spoke another being’s words with another being’s voice.
“Noctis!” She sounded neither male nor female, not young or old. Scootaloo’s heart shriveled in her chest, if indeed she still had one. “You want me, do you not? Face me then, and claim your prize!”
Scootaloo felt like her head was splitting open, but her discomfort did not show on her long and abominable face.
Her horn fired off a bright white beam that struck Noctis square in the chest. A brilliant net of electricity surrounded him, dispersing all his dark tendrils and solidifying his whole body. Not a single spark touched the children below. Noctis’ mouth was open in a silent scream. His armor exploded off his body, and there he floated at the mountain’s peak for a long time, glowing like a beacon for all to see.
Dreamweaver now emerged from the cave’s mouth, a macabre pincushion of arrows with no shortage of stab wounds. Despite this he walked with his head held up. The griffins were all too shocked to attack him. His horn glowed red momentarily, but his eyes widened when he saw the creature that used to be Scootaloo.
AIR! AIR! AIR!
“What is this madness?” She said instead. Any discomfort from Dreamweaver’s magical projectiles was drowned out by her constant pain. She drifted closer, until she was right on top of the alicorn. “Have you forgotten what you are? Are you so lost without me?”
The children were retreating clumsily down the mountainside with their hands or hooves pressed to their ears.
“You were a race of protectors! You were gentle; caring; patient! You were the noblest race, fit to oversee the ponies of Equestria along with the princesses! You were the ones who built this colony, who raised Princess Luna’s children according to your ways. You cared for orphans! You sheltered the exiles! You looked into the deepest fears in a pony’s heart, and you comforted them!”
Noctis cowered with his face in his hooves. Dreamweaver sheltered him under one wing, though he too bowed his head and trembled before Scootaloo.
“This is not the way of your ancestors, who even in their darkest days worked to save the victims of war instead of claiming worthless land. Would you take turn on all that you stood for?
“I am the last piece of sylvanocian magic; the last remnant of Nightmare Moon! I belong with you, but I am not bound to you! Though you may mould me and change me yet, I know what you once were! Here is a choice that you will have to make. It remains undecided, no matter how much you want it to be otherwise. Before you is the road to destruction, where you betray your brothers and sisters whom you love. You will set fires to ancient cities and pave your road with the bodies of the innocent. Or you can turn back with no fear of disgrace. Not long ago you were merciful, and now you will be shown mercy. You will be a powerful race, no matter what you choose. But will you be respected and loved or forever feared and set apart? That I leave to you.”
With great relief Scootaloo felt her body returning to normal. The sting of her wounds was nothing compared to having her bones stretched out like putty. She did not realize that her teeth were sharp until her jaw began to shrink. Her legs could not bear her weight, but the departing magic set her down gently on a flat stone.
The sylvanocian magic numbed her skin as it left her body. It resembled a glowing blue mist, seeping through the runes and flowing out of her mouth. It drifted on the wind in long, wavering strings towards the ships and across the ridge. At long last her blood flowed thick and red as it should.
Her ribs popped back into place. Scootaloo took a long breath of cold sterile air.