The Dusk Guard Saga: Beyond the Borderlands

by Viking ZX

Chapter 16 - Forebodings

The wood of the door felt thick and heavy against his knuckles as he knocked, almost like it was made out of metal rather than wood. He knew that wasn’t the case, but it felt like it anyway. “Frost? You in there?” There was no response.

He lifted the latch, wood rubbing against wood as he slid the door open just enough to let a little light through. He caught a faint, wordless, tune, a hum that slipped past the gap and into the hall before cutting off, and he gave his head a quick shake before opening the door a little further. “Frost?”

She’d stopped humming the moment he’d opened the door. That wasn’t a good sign.

“You can come in, Barnabas,” she said. She’d used his full name. That wasn’t a good sign either.

He slid the door the rest of the way open and stepped into the small room Frost had been given. Six bunks, three to a side, lined the walls, a small space between them just wide enough that he could stand without twisting his shoulders. Griffons liked to build spaciously and open, like any species with wings, but even on an airship there were limits. Frost was lying in the middle of the floor, her bow nearby, leaning against one of the bunks. From the sharp angle of the drawers underneath one of the bunks, she was using them to store what little gear she’d brought with her when they’d left the Arrow at Cragtooth heights.

“Hey, sis,” he said, turning and sliding the door shut behind him. “How are you doing?”

“Fine,” she said, her voice empty of what little warmth he’d hoped would be there. Her horn was glowing, the soft purple light shimmering across it not enough to affect the rest of the room, but enough to slightly shade the lines of her face.

“You don’t sound like it.” He wasn’t sure what to say. He never was. All his skill being nice and friendly with others, and sometimes he wasn’t sure what to say to his own sister anymore. She was just so … cold. Come on, you big lump, think of something!

“What should I sound like?”

Great. It was going to be that kind of question. The one where a wrong word could set off everything, while the right word at the right time had a chance of disarming her defenses. He’d have to act fast. “Happy?” he suggested, shrugging. “Maybe a little relieved? Come on, sis. The Bloody Tip is back in the hands of the griffons!” The fleet had left most of its ground forces behind when they’d turned to finish off the remains of the cult. “The Pinnacle Eyrie is back on the Ocean again.”

Frost merely nodded, her eyes still staring off into space. There was a soft glow running along her sides, but it hadn’t been there a minute ago, which meant that she’d probably been using her magic for something else. He cast his eyes around the room, looking for the telltale signs.

“I mean,” he said, shrugging again. “The Order’s pretty much gutted. You should be happy about that, right?” Aeliana would have been much better at this. She was always the big sister Frost needed.

“But they’re not dead,” Frost said, the words coming out flat and level, like a matter-of-fact statement. “Sagis is still alive, along with Trip, Cell, and at least half or more of their mages.”

“Yeah, but …” He couldn’t think of what to say next. His eyes picked up the small fragment of ice near the dresser drawer. She’d been making figures again, using her special talent for something beautiful, only to wipe it away when she was done. “They can’t recover from this, Frost. We’re going for them. One way or another, the cult’s finished.”

“But they aren’t yet,” Frost said, closing her eyes as the glow around her horn went up a notch, followed by the purple sheen around her side. “Almost isn’t enough.” There was a brief brightness around her side, and ice began to grow across her coat. At first he felt shocked, but then he could see the outlines it was forming to, the shape of the surface. It was armor. Ice armor, created by her magic.

“Not that I disagree,” he said, taking a seat on the edge of one of the bunks. The wood creaked beneath his weight. “But we struck them a major blow, Sis. And in a day we’re going to wrap it all up and turn it into a Hearth’s Warming gift. And then we’ll get paid—”

“I don’t care about the money.” He’d brushed the trigger. He’d have to move with caution.

“I know,” he said, picking his words carefully. “But we’re almost done, Frost. Please, just relax a little. I know … I know the cult has taken away almost everything for you.” He was taking a risk bringing that up, and he could see it in the way her ears twitched. “But please, it’s not healthy to be this focused on them.” She didn’t say anything. She was barely moving.

“I’m not saying I want you to give it up,” he said, shaking his head. “Tartarus, Aeliana was family. The cult’s done horrible, depraved things that no one in this ice should ever have had to experience. But … I’m worried about you,” he said, hanging his head. “Frost, you hardly ever smile anymore. And I’m not talking about those smiles you get when you’re thinking about how we’re going to stop the cult. I mean real smiles.”

He stopped speaking, waiting for her response. Her eyes were still shut, but the growth of ice along her side had stopped.

“And what am I supposed to be doing instead?” she asked. “You said it yourself, we’re a day away from ending them for good. What am I supposed to be doing, this close to ending it?”

“I don’t know,” he said, the words slipping out of his mouth before he’d realized what he’d said. He took a deep breath as her eyes snapped open. “I really don’t, Sis. Just … maybe be a little happy?”

“Why?” she asked. She turned to look at him, her eyes driving into his. “Why should I be happy when Sagis and the rest of his ilk … his evil, are still out there?”

The words hurt. It wasn’t the meaning that did it. It was the way she said them, the fire that flared in her voice. It only seemed to come anymore when she was thinking about the cult.

“I …” He hesitated. “I can’t answer that, Frost,” he said. “And that’s what scares me.” Her eyes widened in surprise and he continued. “And I shouldn’t have to answer that. That’s what’s worse.” He let his shoulders sag, his head resting against the middle bunk as he leaned back. “Frost … I … Don’t you ever worry that you’ve gone too far?”

“Gone too far?” she asked, her eyes narrowing. “That cult has killed dozens, hundreds, and you—”

“I’m not talking about the cult!” he said, regretting raising his voice as soon as he’d done it. “I’m not talking about Sagis, or any of the mages,” he said again, quieter this time. Frost was looking at him in shock. “This isn’t about them. This is about you.”

“I understand,” Frost said, growing cold once more. “This is about the killing—”

“Tartarus, Frost, no it’s not,” he said, rubbing one hand against his forehead. “It’s not about the cult, or about what they do, or any of that. It’s about you. I—” He couldn’t stop now. He had to keep speaking. “Frost, you don’t smile anymore.”

“I don’t—”

“Frost, you don’t!” The words rushed out of him in a fury, torn free along with something inside his chest, rebounding around the room like a physical force. He sagged back against the bunk, resting his elbows on his thighs. “You don’t, Frost,” he said, repeating the words like a mantra. “You’re losing yourself.”

“I …” Frost seemed almost stunned by his outburst, her words choking as the magic glow around her horn winked out. “Aeliana—”

“She wouldn’t want this, Frost,” Barnabas said. The words almost hurt coming out. “Right now, everyone else in the team is up in the galley, chatting with the griffons and having a good time.”

“I’m preparing—”

“I know you are,” he said, cutting her off. “But so are they. They’re getting ready for this fight too, almost the same way you are. But they’re smiling. And talking. And enjoying things. Celebrating the victory at the Pinnacle. You haven’t done any of that.” His voice was almost a whisper now. “Frost, have you ever stopped to ask yourself what you’re going to do when this is all over?”

Silence filled the room. His sister was sitting quietly, staring down at the floor as if deep in thought. Not a sound passed between them.

He shifted on the bunk, the deep creak of the wood echoing through the room, and she flinched, her ears folding flat against her head.

“Frost,” he said, crouching and putting one hand on her shoulder. “You’re my sister. I love you, but I’m starting to really worry about you. I know this is important to you. It’s important to me too … but … Are you sure this is worth it? All this work, all this effort … Have you ever thought about what you’re going to do when it’s over and done?” There was a hot, burning feeling in the back of his throat, the pressure of unshed tears begging for a release. The feeling fit right in with the heavy feeling in his chest.

“I—I’ll figure it out,” Frost said, shutting her eyes as she shook her head. He could see the pain in them, though there weren’t any tears. She’d gotten good at hiding it. Her voice hiccuped as she spoke again. “Once it’s over, I’ll figure it out.”

“Frost,” he said, wrapping his arms around her and hugging her tightly. “I’m worried you won’t. These last couple of days … The last few weeks ...You’ve been colder than ever.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, though her tone was still slightly frigid. She brought one foreleg up and wrapped it around his shoulders. “I really am. I love you too, I just …” Her words trailed off.

“I know,” he said, relaxing the hug and pulling back a little, staring her right in the eyes. “The cult. Frost, please, I know you’re determined to see this through, but you can’t let that cult be the only thing in your life, alright?”

Frost let out a long sigh and then shook her head, squeezing her eyes tight shut. “I know. I’m … I’m sorry, Barns.” Barns. It’d been awhile since he’d heard his old nickname come out of her mouth. “I know you’re worried.” She pulled back, looking down at the fragment of ice he’d seen, her eyes staring at it. “You’re right to be worried. It’s going to end soon, and I should be happier. But part of it isn’t that.”

“What is it?” he asked as he leaned back, his arms behind him.

“The last few days, there’s been this … pressure,” Frost said, tapping her horn with one hoof. “I noticed it while we were getting ready to assault the Pinnacle. It’s like …” She shook her head. “I don’t really know how to describe it. Like someone is holding my head underwater, only it’s not air I need, it’s magic. Except I can still get magic. It’s more like the feel of it, like there’s a giant pressure.”

Barnabas frowned. He and Aeliana had read up on magic after they’d taken in Frost, but he couldn’t recall ever reading about anything like this. “Are you hurt?” he asked. “Is it something bad? A curse?”

“There’s no such thing as curses,” Frost said, rolling her eyes. The motion made him feel a little better. “It’s more like … a weight. Like when you walk into a room and everything’s really tense. Like a static charge before those storms you used to tell me about. Except it’s related to magic.”

“And that’s why you’ve been so quiet?”

She nodded. “It’s been giving me a bit of a headache.”

Well, that explains how distracted she’s been for the last few days. He shook his head. “Maybe you should take—”

“No.” The word came out hard and fast. Angry. “It’s nothing I can’t handle. I’ll just have to deal with it.”

“What if it’s the cult?” he asked.

“I know it’s the cult,” Frost said, shaking her head and shooting him an annoyed glare.

Why can’t she smile as often as she has that look.

“That’s why I’m worried,” she continued. “This pressure … it’s a build-up. And it’s coming from the direction of that rock we’re heading for.”

“The vault?”

“Yeah.”

“Could it be dangerous?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head again, her white mane shimmering like … well, ice under a light. “I don’t think it itself is. Maybe what it represents. It feels like it’s being charged for something, though what—”

“Their King Sombra,” Barnabas said.

“Yeah, that.” Frost said, a somber look on his face. ‘I’m starting to think Blade’s hunch might have been right. There’s not a lot else a feeling like this could mean.”

“Well then, I guess it’s a good thing we’re going to stop them.”

“Yeah.”

The room was quiet again for a moment as they both digested the news. “I think you should let Blade know,” Barnabas said after he’d run her words through his mind. “She needs to hear about this.”

“Can’t you tell her?” Frost said. “I’m—” Her eyes caught the look he was giving her and she closed her mouth with a click. “Right.”

“You don’t like her much, do you?”

“Who, the griffon?”

“I guess that’s a no.” Barnabas shook his head. “This is what I meant, Frost. I mean—”

“I’ll tell her,” Frost said, and he could tell from the tone that the conversation, or at least that part of it, was over.

Five years ago, she would have been just fine with someone like Blade. Or Alchemy, he thought as Frost’s horn began glowing once more, the soft purple color sliding across its surface. Now half the time I feel almost like she’s angry at me. And I can’t—

“So what will you do?”

His sister’s question jerked him away from his thoughts. “About what? The magic?”

She gave him a familiar look, a sardonic questioning that sent a pang of familiarity through his chest. She’d given him a look like that a lot when they were younger. Not as much recently, though. Maybe I’m not doing as bad as I thought.

“No,” Frost was saying. “About after. The same question you asked me. What are you going to do when this is all over? Go back to pirating?”

He almost couldn’t believe she’d asked the question. The heavy feeling in his chest lifted a little. Maybe something he’d said had gotten to her. Somehow.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I can’t do that. Not with what Titus is working on with the griffons. Order’s coming to the Ocean at long last, and not the cult kind. It took a few hundred years, but in a year or two, this place won’t be the same.”

“What then?” she pressed. “Government work? Go back to your homeland?”

“No!” he said, his answer coming out a lot quicker than he’d meant for it to. “You wouldn’t enjoy it there. It’s not the nicest place unless you’re used to it.”

“Hmm.” It was a non-committal grunt. “Then what?” She was probing him, he could tell.

Time for a retreat. He smiled. “Believe me, Frost, I’ve thought about it. This last week, more than ever. And I’ve got plans.” It’s just that a lot of them revolve around making sure that I’m doing what’s right by you. He couldn’t say that though. “But if I tell you what they are now, it might make you second guess some of your own that you need to be making.”

Her eyes flashed for a moment as he spoke, and he almost reacted. Did I just see … fear? “Look,” he said, shifting his weight to a crouch as he prepared to rise and putting his hand on her shoulder again. “I promise you, I have plans, all right? But I can’t do what I want to do and not think about my little sister. So I want you to think about what we’re going to do after this is done, okay?”

“I … I understand,” Frost said, her head tilting downwards. “And I’m sorry. The cult, I just—”

“Frost,” he said, hugging her close to his chest once again. “I’m with you on the cult. Believe me, I miss Aeliana, and I want to make sure they’re never able to take someone like that again. At the same time, revenge can’t be all you think about.”

“I know.”

“I know you do, I just … I’m sorry, Frost. I’m sorry too.” He shook his head as he stepped away. “I was hard on you. You have time to think about what you want to do, I just … I don’t want to be shut out. And I don’t want you to shut out a pretty good team because you’re so focused on this.” He shook his head. “Though I have to admit, ice armor is pretty cool.”

“Yes,” she said, either ignoring or missing his pun. In the old days, it would have at least gotten a groan. “I’m working on making it reaction, sort of like my splintering arrow enchantment, but for now, forming armor on command will be useful enough.”

“That’s probably something you could share with Blade and the rest of the group,” he said.

“It won’t work on them,” she replied, shaking her head. “My magic is what makes it work.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he said, trying to put on a smile. “I meant tell them about it.”

“Oh,” she said. “I suppose I could do that.”

“Well,” he said as he backed up, probing behind himself and finding the door. “As your older brother, and at risk to my own skin, I must inform you that you’ll have to let them know about that on your own, along with the magic pressure.” If only to get you to talk to them, he thought as he slid the door open. His eyes flickered towards the fragment of ice by the drawers. It was already starting to melt.

“See you later, Frost,” he said as he tugged the door partway shut. “I love you, sis.”

“I love you, too,” she said, though the words did little to ease the hollow in his heart as he slid the door shut.

He turned and headed for the galley, his thoughts echoing inside his mind, and then paused, turning instead for his own quarters. He’d had to make do with a hammock, since none of the bunks on the ship were designed to take a being of his size, and it was only because the Seeker had left its talon compliment back at the Pinnacle that there was space for him to have a room at all.

All in all, he thought as he slid the door to his room open, sweeping his hammock aside as he stepped in. I don’t think that went too poorly. The heavy feeling in his chest was still there, of course, but he was starting to think that it wasn’t going to go away anytime soon. It was like a looming sense of foreboding, a grim sense that his sister was slipping away from him.

Aeliana would have known what to do, he thought as he sat down on the edge of one of the bunks, reaching across to the opposite side of the room and opening one of his own bags. She would have been better at this than me.

But Frost didn’t have an older sister anymore. Neither did he. Sagis had seen to that. He hadn’t been lying to Frost when he’d told her he agreed that the cult needed to pay. They did.

He just knew he didn’t like it being everything she was thinking about. It wasn’t healthy. Not that her prior behavior hadn’t been worrying. Though her explanation of the headaches did bother him a little. For all they knew, the cult could be getting ready to blast itself into oblivion, and they could be on the front row for that performance. Or part of it.

Still … He shook his head. It would be worth the risk. Between what Frost had just told him and what everyone else was expecting, it was looking more and more like the cult was in fact, right on the money.

And that just won’t do, he thought as he pulled out a slightly crumpled piece of folded paper from his pack. A few moments more worth of digging found a thick ink-vial, followed by a stubby, almost destroyed quill. It would work.

He didn’t usually write these very often, but with Frost being as cold as she was … He unstoppered the ink vial and dabbed the tip of the quill in it, the thick, almost solid ink taking a few prods before reaching the consistency of oil. Besides, he thought as he touched the tip of the quill to the paper, making a few experimental strokes before committing himself fully. Writing always did help me organize my thoughts.

And if all went well, she’d never see it anyway.

“Hey,” Blade said, looking up from the table as Barnabas walked into the room, his hooves echoing against the wooden decking. A few off-duty officers scattered around the other tables looked up as well, but most of them looked back down to their conversations as they saw the minotaur heading for her table. “Itching for a fight yet?”

“Like my axe is a backscratcher,” Barnabas said, giving her a smile as he sat down at the table. “Where’s Hain?” he asked, looking over at the gap on the other side of the table where the older griffon had been sitting a few minutes earlier.

“Stepped out for a break,” Blade said, looking back down at the photographs and other documents spread across the tabletop in front of her. “I think all the double-think was getting to him.”

“Double-think?” Barnabas asked.

“Double-checking, whatever you want to call it,” Blade said, her talon vibrating as she tapped it against one of the photographs. “We agree on some things—like this room here, for example,” she said, flicking the photograph across the table with a quick twitch of her claw. “Because this photo clearly shows the room past it, that means we’ve got a verifiable demonstration that the two are connected. However …” She tapped another photo with another claw. “This one appears to be connected to that one, but not to the first. So we’re trying to figure out which goes where.”

“Sounds like boring work,” Barnabas said, lifting one of the photographs and looking at it. A small shiver ran through his body. “Creepy, too. All this paperwork and no map, huh?”

“Not unless you’re counting the one we’ve started to make,” Blade said, tapping the large sheet of parchment they’d been slowly building their map on. “So far though, I’m not even sure it’s worth the effort.”

“Oh?”

“The place isn’t very big,” she said. “We’ve got maybe five or six big, main rooms, and a few offshoots we’ve got no view of, but it looks like this place is literally just a straight shot to the end once you go down the big entry stairwell.”

“Entry stairwell?” Barnabas asked.

“This one,” she said, passing over the photograph. It looked like something that would have been more in place in Canterlot than a crypt. Though it had been hollowed out of the rock of the island, it was still a long, sweeping stone staircase set into the rock itself, the space above it hollowed out of the stone. Or maybe it had been a natural cave at one point—the ice filling the place hadn’t been dug back far enough to find out.

“Still creepy,” Barnabas said, sliding the photo back. “Those really do look like bones in the ice.”

“We’re pretty sure they are,” she said, a grey-feathered motion catching her eyes as Hain walked back into the galley and headed for the table. “Which is worrying in and of itself. Whoever this Sombra guy was, he left a crypt full of bones behind. Not very charming decor.”

“To be clear,” Hain said as he sat down next to them, sliding into the conversation almost as smoothly as he moved across the bench. “That’s assuming the cult is correct.”

“Well, something is down there,” Blade said, picking up the picture of the vault itself. She still wasn’t sure why it was called that, since it was little more than a triangular arch of stone sitting atop a slab. Maybe the arch was a symbol, and the slab the tomb itself? It still looks like a door, she thought as she tapped the bottom of the photo. There, outlined by a circle that had been drawn on the surface itself, was a circular hole. And above it … the key, floating in the air.

“Yes,” I know,” Hain said as Barnabas picked up the picture. That had been the one that had made the entire fleet decide to move on ‘The Vault of Bones’ or whatever it was as quickly as possible. “It’s a key to something, and they’ve clearly done their homework.”

“Frost says she can feel it too,” Barnabas said. Blade looked up in surprise, along with Hain, and the minotaur let out a sigh. “I take it she hasn’t been by to mention it?” Blade shook her head.

“Well, she says it’s like a distant static charge, like the kind you feel before a thunderstorm. Lots of magic. You’d have to ask her more about it.” There was something to the way he’d said it that made her want to ask further, but at the same time told her he wasn’t going to say anymore.

“Right,” she said. “I’ll do that.”

“Good.” Barnabas tossed the photo to the table. “Well, I wandered in here because I was looking for Alchemy, actually. You seen him? He wanted to teach me some game he had in his pack. Bow, or something like that.”

“Boa,” Hain said, a small grin sliding across his face. “Good luck. It’s fun. I think he’s up on the bridge.”

“Right,” Barnabas said, almost tapping his horns as he gave them both a quick salute. “By your leave then, captain.”

Hain stiffened and Blade shook her head. “He was talking to me,” she said as the minotaur walked out of the galley. “Not that I’m too fond of the term. I was never a captain.”

“Commander?” Hain suggested.

She shook her head again. “How about just ‘Blade?’ For now, anyway.” She shifted her attention back to the spread of pictures and papers stretched across the table. “So, back to work?”

“Yeah,” Hain said, picking up a stack of memos. “Back to work.” He shuffled through a few of the pages, his eyes running over the short messages. Then he paused. “Huh. That’s interesting.”

“Interesting?” Blade looked up, pulling her attention away from the file she’d been looking at. “What’s interesting?”

“This.” A memo slid across the table, sliding to a crooked stop in front of her.

“What about it?” Blade asked as she ran her eyes over the short missive. We’re making progress … blah blah blah … King Sombra … blah blah blah, key …

“The dates,” Hain said. “Check the date.”

“It doesn’t have one,” she said, glancing at the top of the document. In the corner of her eye, Hain shook his head.

“Not that kind of date,” he said, reaching out and tapping the middle of the memo. “Here. Not the date, date, but the timeline.”

“After over a thousand years, King Sombra will finally be free,” she read, before glancing up at Hain. “All right, so?”

“The number’s off,” Hain said, reaching over and picking up one of the few books they’d been using with their research, A Brief History of Griffon Culture. “There was something … here!” He flicked through the pages, coming to stop on one of the chapters they’d been referencing. “This, on the older griffon tongues.” He slid the book across the table, into place next to the memo and pushing a stack of photographs out of the way. “Look at the dates.”

There was a photograph at the top of the page, a famous photograph of one of the ancient “clan stones” that had served as a guide to the various languages used by the different griffon clans before the formation of the empire. It was what they had been using to try and make sense of the ancient griffon written across some of the surfaces in the photographs. Not that they’d had much success with that past their rough guess of the place’s name.

“Dates, huh?” Blade said as she ran her talon down the side of the page, where a column identified each of the dialects as well as when they were in popular use. “Huh,” she said as her talon stopped at the bullet for the dialect they’d been looking at. “You’re right, that is interesting.” The bullet claimed that the language had faded out of use around four hundred years before the founding of the empire.

“So the cult says this guy’s been here for over a thousand,” Hain said. “And yet the ancient griffon we’re looking at hasn’t been in use for almost seven hundred years before that.”

“Maybe the cult is just glancing at the horizon,” Blade said with a shrug. “The memo does say that it happened over a thousand years ago. That’s a lot of leeway to fly in.”

“What’s a lot of leeway?”

Blade looked up as Frost trotted into the room, the mare not even glancing at the rest of the galley as she took a seat at the table. It was almost strange to see her without a bow, though the same grim, determined look was still in her eyes.

“You might know, actually,” Blade said, nodding. “When was the cult founded?”

Frost blinked, one of the stronger reactions of surprise Blade could recall her making outside of combat. “Do you mean an actual date?”

“Yeah.”

She shook her head. “If they know, I don’t. All I could say for certain was that it happened over a thousand years ago, presumably around the same time that their big leader got himself killed. Or maybe a bit after … I wouldn’t put it past the cult to be based on an idea but never have had any actual real contact with their so-called ‘leader.’”

“Huh,” Blade said, the momentary sense of excited curiosity fading. “So all this really tells us is that the cult may have existed for longer than we thought.”

“What are you—?” Frost began, only to stop speaking as Blade slid the memo and book over towards her, tapping her talon atop both numbers.

“Ah,” she said, frowning. “Interesting.”

“That’s what I said,” Hain said. “I said it was interesting. Not that it was the solution to all our problems.”

“I didn’t say it was supposed to be, Hain,” Blade said, shaking her head as she looked back towards her own photographs. “And I agree. It is interesting. Going off of the dates for the language, it could mean this Sombra guy is a lot more ancient than we thought. That language died out around seventeen hundred years ago, but it was used for almost a thousand before that. This Sombra guy could have existed more than two thousand years ago. That’s before even the founding of Equestria, I think.”

“It could explain why we’ve never heard of him,” Hain agreed. “If he was pre-Equestria, then he could have been a ruler over the old unicorn nation, maybe.”

“It still doesn’t explain the griffon writing, though,” Blade said, shaking her head. “Timing matches up, and that would explain why a unicorn would be a king, when a thousand years ago most ponies were in Equestria which had—”

“Princess Celestia and Princess Luma—no, Luna.” Frost looked up from the history book. “I’ll admit I don’t know much about pre-Equestrian history. Or history itself, for that matter. But the logic is sound.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s correct,” Hain replied. “Trust me. Just because something makes logical sense isn’t enough to confirm it. But in this case, following the train of logic does seem to make sense.”

“I don’t know,” Blade said, sitting back and looking down at the scattered photographs and papers. “It still has holes. Those ancient pony nations existed far south of here, almost on the other end of the known world. There’s both a continent, and an ocean between them and the griffon empire. That’s thousands of miles to cover. So how would an ancient, speciest, unicorn king end up locked in a tomb on the Ocean of Endless Ice with engravings done by ancient griffons?” Silence reigned across the tabletop.

“I don’t know,” Hain said at last. Blade could see that a few of the griffons at nearby tables were glancing in their direction, eavesdropping on the discussion. “It makes sense, but it doesn’t. What worries me more,” he said, leaning forward and tapping one of the pictures of the stone arch once more. “Is that apparently, the cult isn’t asking any of these questions.”

“So?”

Blade wasn’t sure who had asked the question, but the rest of the room went silent as Hain turned to face the galley.

“So,” he said, his voice ringing through the room. “What it means is that we’ve got some sort of ancient grave or crypt or whatever that seems to have a magic lock. And we’re sitting here, with a good chunk of the cult’s research, and we still can’t tell you what’s inside.”

“And you don’t think it’s this king of theirs?” The voice was different, so the question had come from another griffon, but the crowd was still hanging on the words.

“I don’t think it really matters,” Hain said, shaking his head. “The cult is rotten. That should probably be enough of a reason to put a stop to whatever they’re trying to do.”

“But the other reason is this,” he continued, before anyone else could speak. “Some of the data lines up. But some of it doesn’t. The cult thinks it’s about to meet its long-sought founder. But if they’re wrong, well …” He turned, panning his eyes out across the room. “Things are usually locked for a reason. A crypt makes me doubly cautious. If the cult is right, and we don’t stop them in time, then according to them, they’re about to release an ancient unicorn king into the world who’s a representation of everything they stand for. But if they’re wrong?” He paused, the question seeping through the room like a cold chill.

“Well,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “If the cult is wrong, then maybe they’re just about to expose the bones of some ancient, crazy clan patriarch who decided they wanted to go out with style. Then again, there’s also a chance that they’re about to pick the lock on something old, ancient, and nasty enough that someone tried to bury it at the butt-end of the world to make us forget about it.” This time a cold chill did appear to echo through the room, the various officers eying one another and tightening their wings against their sides unconsciously.

“So we’d best get back to work,” Hain said as he turned back to the table, gesturing towards the spread of cult documents. “Because I, for one, would really like to settle on a solid answer before we go rushing in to stop them.”

Blade nodded as she looked back down at the pages, his words echoing in her mind. A couple of the griffons from the nearby tables rose and walked over to join them, asking if they could help. She passed a few of the photographs over towards them, once again turning the group’s focus toward the map that she and Hain had been putting together.

Hope for the best, prepare for the worst, she thought as the new arrivals began discussing the photographs among themselves, adding their own contributions to the map on the table. But this is one of those cases where I really do hope we’re getting the best. Up until now, she’d been operating under the assumption that the worst case they could encounter was an ancient, crazy king. Now, as she looked down at another picture of the strange stone arch, she wasn’t so sure.

Things are locked for a reason. A shiver crawled down her spine, like some sort of cold, multi-legged insect was picking its way across her back step by step. She glanced down at the photograph of the arch again, eyeing the faint shadows of bones frozen in the ice or scattered around the sides of the room. The ancient words, most of which she and Hain hadn’t been able to decipher, their meanings far too complex for the simple phrase comparison given by their available materials.

Things are locked for a reason, she thought. Her contact hadn’t mentioned King Sombra, no. But he had called it a key. Something told her she didn’t want to find out whether or not the cult was right about what it was a key for.

She pushed the paper aside and went back to working at the map. There was still time to ask Frost about what she’d been feeling, and to go over the map once more.

There was a lot of work ahead.