Boots shod in iron and steel crushed the brittle stone of the pathway as the mile long procession of ponies and Draka maintained a steady but brutal pace. Ponies in the prime of their lives huffed and sweated as they struggled to maintain the pace, even the elite members of the pony royal guard having a hard time keeping the speed that the Draka had enforced in order to reach the Crystal Empire as soon as possible.
In stark contrast with the gasping and sweating ponies, were the one hundred and forty-three Draka, their long legs and monstrous endurance allowing them to maintain the pace easily, even holding back, allowing straggler ponies to catch up. For their impassive faces and grim demeanor, an outside viewer would have almost seen the procession as a large group of prisoners, being corralled towards an unknowable fate. But that idea would have been dispelled quickly with only a closer inspection of the procession. For any who looked with the very least of attention to detail would have seen the way the Draka kept close to the ponies, weapons ready to defend them. Any would notice the many elderly and wounded, sat comfortably on entire trains of wagons, being pulled by the strong Draka. Any would notice the giggling and smiling foals running around, like the bundles of youthful energy that they were, more than a few attempting to climb on the mountainous Draka who, for all their grim demeanor, were too kind to shoo them away.
Spike, at the very forefront of the refugee line, looked behind himself and towards the long line of pony refugees and Draka protectors. Not for the first time, he smiled inwardly as he saw his warriors helping struggling ponies or allowing children to run and play around them or even clamber on their shoulders. He understood his warriors completely. For the Draka of Legion of the Damned, warriors who had known only battle and war for centuries, the closeness of the kindness and youthful innocence that only children could muster was… endearing, almost even... relaxing.
He, himself felt the same way, even as his left hand shot out to grab a falling filly and place her back along her young friends who had decided to take up residence atop his wide shoulders. It was amazing how fast children could get accustomed to new things. The first day of the exodus, the children had hidden between their parents' feet, crying and shivering at the sight of the terrifying Draka, especially Spike's horribly disfigured face, the second day a few brave ones had approached them, making games of bravery out of the act of coming as close to them as possible. By this, the third day, the children treated the Draka as friends and, even though the stoic Draka showed no outright emotion for this fact, Spike knew they appreciated it nonetheless. Ponies seemed to have this uncanny gift of making others want to befriend and protect them.
The exodus towards the Crystal Empire was halfway there. They had already covered the Everfree Forest and were at the midpoint of crossing the Badlands, an area frequented by cave trolls and goblins, usually considered a danger zone by Equestrians. However, the proximity of such monstrously strong creatures such as the Draka had made absolute certain that not even a single beast had had the temerity to approach the ponies, let alone attack them. The Draka had sworn an oath that they would allow no ponies to come to harm during the exodus, and they would keep their oath, no matter what.
The sound of fast approaching footsteps to his side, signaled to Spike that his time for silent recollection has passed. Without turning, smelling the identity of the newcomer, he began.
"It would be best if you maintained your position at the middle of the column, Princess Celestia, you are too valuable to be out at the forefront".
Princess Celestia huffed slightly as she regarded the imposing Draka.
"I am far too old and capable to be in the category of maiden in distress, Spike. Moreover I wish to have words with you".
She rose her eyes and had to bite her cheeks in order to not burst out laughing at the sight of the children sitting on his shoulders and especially at the sight of one particularly young filly that had decided to fall asleep on top of his green-maned head.
"However I don't know if I shall be allowed to speak by your new friends" she chuckled earnestly, happy to see that for all of Spike's physical changes, his ability to befriend and make children feel safe had not disappeared.
Clapping her hands sharply she called.
"Very well my little ponies, you've had your fun, now it's time for the adults to enjoy some time with the nice Draka".
"Ooooh..." the children sulked in unison as they floated off Spike's fifteen foot height, aided by Celestia's magic.
"Not this one" Spike said as Celestia made to levitate the tiny filly sleeping on his head "She is young, needs her rest".
Celestia smiled warmly as she changed her levitation spell to a simple sound blocking one, muting the area around the small child's ears.
"Then I have my answer" Celestia said as she watched the children go towards their respective parents.
"Concerning?"
"This...act of yours. This attempt at aloofness. You still care as much for us ponies now as you did before you left. Even though the Legion of the Damned and the Draka have been your family for so many centuries, you have kept a place in your heart for us, especially those six girls." she added, a sly yet kind smile growing on her face.
Spike's eye narrowed dangerously as he regarded Celestia.
"I do not play at aloofness Celestia. I am a warrior and as such, it is my duty to keep my emotions under control. You know fully well about my condition and what can happen if I allow myself to loosen restraint".
Celestia began lowering her head, taken aback by the gigantic warrior's brusqueness.
"And as for whether I still care for ponykind, you know I do, I have said as much in the letter I have sent you those few days ago, and so I ask, why are we having this conversation once again?"
"I merely wanted to be hear the words out of your own mouth" Celestia explained as she raised her hands, trying to placate the Darraor. "And to ask a final time, if you are sure you want me to carry on with the Mandala of Forsaken Memories on the Elements of Harmony once we are at the Crystal Empire".
Spike's eye softened anew. He sighed.
"Apologies Princess, as I have said in the letter, millenia of war has made my tongue ungrateful and my tone quick to accuse. However, my decision stands. Do the ritual as quick as you can. Make them forget me. The girls are much too kind, much too forgiving to do that by themselves".
Celestia's appearance grew grim as she listened. He continued, his usually silent and reserved personality opening up slightly for what must have been the first time in what felt like centuries.
"In Draka culture, the Legion of the Damned is treated with respect, but in the same time, all Draka follow the saying - You, family of the child that now walks with the Legion, grieve and honor your fallen child, for death is all that awaits upon that path."
"My death is assured to me, Princess, as sure as the endurance of stone. The prophecy of Mother Renrin is merely the confirmation of something that I know. This is why the girls must forget me".
With that he looked behind towards the six girls, the group busy helping Cheerilee with the many children running around her.
"They are kind-hearted to a fault, and my death will only wound them further. Help me end that pain, Princess".
Celestia spent a long while looking at Spike, unsure of what to say or even whether to say anything at all. In the end she decided to push a little further.
"You continue to speak about their well-being, but what of your's Spike? Have you not been through enough already? How can you accept the knowledge that once the ritual is complete, those six you love so dearly will have forgotten your entire existence?"
Spike stood in silence for a few more moments, only to answer with a voice edged in unbearable sorrow.
"Since I have returned to Equestria I have had to restrain myself more and more from talking to them, being around them, hearing them. I must, for every moment I see them, I want nothing more than to go them, plead to them that they not forget me, plead with you that you deny my request and refuse to do the ritual. Just thinking of it tears at my heart more than anything I have ever had to endure. But it must be done. For them. It shall be my final act of gratitude and apology towards the six who raised me".
Twilight picked up a small child and put him in the wagon alongside his mother. She could not help but smile as the mother mouthed a silent "thank you".
"Phew" a voice called from behind the wagon. Twilight recognized the voice of Pinkie Pie and slowed her stride in order to let her catch up.
"This place looks less fun than my parents' rock farm" Pinkie added, her poofy mane flailing wildly as she snapped her head looking around, in her typical hyperactive fashion.
Twilight couldn't help but agree. The Badlands were nothing more than a succession of barren outcroppings, spanning over fifty miles, adorned with nothing more than stony hillocks and populated with troglodyte cave trolls and all manners of dangerous, hungry beasts. Yet, for all that, nothing had even attempted to approach the refugee line, the mere presence of the Draka, more than enough to convince even the most starving of beasts to steer clear of the long convoy.
"Couldn't agree with you more on that one" said Rainbow Dash as she landed on top of the wagon. "There's still a little ways to go, but soon we'll reach the Mountains of Grey Crystals and with this pace, we'll only need a couple more days to reach the Crystal Empire".
"Thank heavens, I can't wait for a long refreshing bath" said Rarity, looking oddly haggard for one who had spent most of the journey atop one of the supply wagons.
Twilight looked upon the long column once more until her eyes strayed towards it's front. Spike walked there, as he had done for the past few days. He was talking to Princess Celestia and was looking towards them. He turned his head as soon as Twilight locked eyes with him. A part of her wanted to fly at him, force him to look at her, speak to her, but she knew it wouldn't matter. For whatever reasons, Spike had lately outright refused to speak to any of them, almost deliberately avoided being even around them. The sister and friend part of her wanted to cry out to him, but the steely-eyed realist in her told her to wait. Once they had reached the Crystal Empire, she would force Spike to talk to her, whether he liked it or not.
"Anything?" asked a concerned Rarity.
Twilight shook her head, knowing what Rarity was referring to. For the past three days, Spike had never slept while the convoy had made camp during the night. All he did was lead the convoy during the day and take watch during the night.
"He took up watch the whole of last night too. This is the third day he hasn't slept, doesn't he ever get tired?" she answered, her voice edged with concern. Whether he talked to them or not, in Twilight's eyes, Spike was still her little brother and she was worried for him.
"Umm...I don't think he does..." came the small voice of Fluttershy.
"I mean... think about it. He's been fighting daemons since coming to Equestria, broke the siege of Canterlot, saved us all, got horribly wounded and still he did not rest. After all that, I don't think a few days of marching are enough to put him down".
Rainbow Dash shook her head in amazement.
"Gotta hand it to the little... formerly little guy. He's got brass ballls...."
"RAINBOW, there's hardly need for such language" called Rarity indignant.
"What? Don't tell me you're not impressed".
Rarity opened her mouth only to close it again and nod.
"I will not deny that, if nothing else, his tenacity is unlike anything I've ever seen before".
"Like I said, brass balls" smirked Rainbow and flew before Rarity could castigate her again.
Rarity sighed deeply and turned her attention to Twilight.
"Have you managed to coax him into talking with us again darling?"
"No, the stubborn guy won't even look at us for more than a few seconds at a time. Whatever it is, I hope he gets over it really quick, or I’m going to have lock himself and us in the Crystal Palace until he decides to talk to us again".
Rarity put a consoling hand on her friend's shoulder.
"We'll be glad to help you in that endeavor, darling".
A long ululating howl split through the air as the convoy strode onward. Spike's head snapped upwards as he took in the familiar sound.
"Shagga" he said as he slowly and gently lifted the still sleeping filly off his head and handed her to the female Draka.
"Take the child to her parents and lead the convoy, our scout has returned".
Shagga nodded and returned to the column, as Spike broke into a run, putting distance between himself and the convoy. A few twists and bends in the road later and he had reached his destination.
Leaning against a large boulder, cleaning fresh blood from his curved sword stood the familiar figure of Sekeolath Vengryn, an almost thirteen foot tall, whipcord slim Draka with scales as grey as a dulled blade and a mane of raven black "hair". Eyes as yellow as those of a wolf regarded the Darraor and a small, barely noticeable smile took shape on his heavily scarred face.
Spike, whose disfigured face could form no smiles, held out his hand, clasping Sekeolath by the forearm, helping the ancient Draka who had been almost like a father to him off his stone perch.
More than a thousand years his senior, Sekeolath had been the one that had trained Spike in the art of Draka warfare during his first two centuries as part of the Legion of the Damned. For some unknown reason the unusually taciturn and morbid Sekeolath had found a kindred spirit in Spike and had taken a vested interest in training Spike in the ways of a true warrior. There had never been a prouder day in Sekeolath's life than the one that Spike, barely three hundred years old at the time, had defeated him in a glorious, five day long duel. It was the pride that only a teacher could feel when his student became the master.
Now, more than one thousand and seven hundred years later, the kinship remained, as strong as it had ever been, the two taciturn Draka, finding comfort in the occasional sparring match and their single minded devotion to the art of battle.
Spike eyed the bloody sword and Sekeolath answered the unspoken question.
"A band of trolls, thought I would clear the way before the convoy".
Spike nodded his approval.
"Mika'il?"
"Remained at the base of the Mountains of Grey Crystal, awaiting us, told me to come report".
Spike nodded his approval once again, pleased at his two best scouts.
Clasping his former mentor's shoulder he signaled towards the convoy.
"Go, eat and rest".
"Bah, who would waste time eating when there is killing to be done?" Sekeolath answered chuckling, even as he strode towards the convoy.
"And there is food to eat, now go, I will save you a few daemons if we get attacked soon".
"Not if I get to them first old friend, remember who taught you how to kill" retorted the older Draka, chuckling darkly.
Spike watched his friend go as he stood, waiting for the convoy to catch up to him.
As he lay in wait, he took a few moments and allowed himself to retreat within his own mind. It had been good to talk to Sekeolath once more, like the good old days. The past few days had been too unlike the simpler centuries in Ginungagap. There were too many distractions here, too many elements that made his mind unfocused and his heart ache.
The girls were a particular reason for this. He had found himself more than once wondering at how to better help them or keep them safe.
With so many fresh distractions he had even found himself looking at Shagga differently. He had always seen the female Draka as a beloved companion and strong ally, to be counted upon in the heat of battle. Lately he had found himself unwittingly staring at her with something more than just respect, his eyes drawn to her fiery mane of red hair and her...
Spike violently shook his head. No, things had been simpler in Ginungagap. It was a simple matter of kill or be killed, no distractions, no other concerns. He was Spike, Darraor of the Legion of the Damned, he did not have the luxury of allowing himself distractions.
Clearing his mind and stilling his heart, Spike retreated in his favorite waking dream. The dream of battle unending, full of raw red things and music that sounded like steel on steel and unending battle chants.
Wilhelmina Aszh'Vala, the White Widow of the Dead Sea, huffed impatiently upon her mobile throne as she was carried atop the mountain peaks. The long trek to the Mountains of Grey Crystal had been both boring and bothersome. Her long, snake-like lover body extended to lash across the back of one of her throne bearers. As the tail scythed into the daemon's flesh, he let loose a howl of ecstasy and a torrent of proclamations towards Wilhelmina, swearing his undying love for her and his gratitude for the gift of pain she had bestowed upon him.
Wilhelmina smirked as she heard the proclamations and looked upon the sea of daemonic heads that surrounded her. Every daemon in her entourage had eyes filled with passionate fever, slaves to her every whim and desire. She needed no taskmasters or slavers to maintain order, her beauty and her song were enough that she could enslave anyone's heart, man or woman. Her entourage of ten snake daemonette's, priestesses of the Abyssal Gods, looking like smaller versions of herself, almost as beautiful as their mistress, rode silently on small palanquins, occasionally lashing out with their own tails on the backs of the daemonic bearers, eliciting ecstatic cries from them.
Her contemptuous eyes scanned the daemons, making a mental selection of whom she would chose as her plaything for the next few hours as she waited for the Equestrian and Draka convoy to fall into the jaws of the trap.
She had heard of this Darraor of the Legion, of this Spike, Veshanesh of the Draka. Wilhelmina licked her lips as her mind was flooded by the images of how she would enslave this indomitable male's heart and make him her pet. He would belong to her and only her.
As the seven thousand strong army of daemons reached the summit and began the preparations for the ambush, Wilhelmina's eyes were drawn to a peculiar shape that looked like the peak of an adjoining mountain. As the shape moved, her face split into a lunatic grin as she realized that what she had taken for a peak was the monstrously large form the undead primordial dragon, the Mountain Eater. The creature was already in place, awaiting the column. Wilhelmina's army was here only to offer support if there was need for it, yet she doubted there would be any need.
Nothing could survive the Mountain Eater. Nothing.
Cupping her slender hands to her full lips, the white haired snake daemonette yelled to the Mountain Eater.
"You can kill them all, but leave their leader for myself. I have need of a new pet".
If the undead abomination had heard her, it gave no sign. It simply stood there, on it's fresh perch of a mountain peak, it's eyes dead and house sized talons raking at the mountain side, eagerly awaiting the freshly chosen prey.