Chapter 35: Half the World
“You must leave!”
Rarity didn’t know what amused her more: the fact that Brimstone thought she would without her sister, or that Brimstone believed she could sound commanding in a body like Sweetie’s. She acknowledged the spirit had the strength and force of presence to rule, but intimidating Sweetie was not.
“I need time to think, dearie.” She had just finished blocking a display window with a large wardrobe full of her casual attire. Her strength with telekinesis was far from strong enough to accomplish the task on its own, but a few well-placed bucks were ever-so-helpful.
It was quite the cacophonous racket outside. Skeletons rotted and corpses festered, and all were clawing at every available entrance to gain access. The simple lock on the front door would do little but buy one, maybe two, minutes. Tops. Rarity felt a cold shiver down her spine. She was surrounded, and there was no way out except through them...
The smoke outside regurgitated a few more creatures. With a rattle of its decrepit bones, a skeleton grabbed the thorax of an insanely large animal with several flailing limbs. As it mounted the monster, the duo scuttled out of sight.
The door shook violently, but the weight behind it prevented any further advances. The two large display windows! Rarity darted towards her desk, Sweetie at her heels. The filly was unusually calm, given given the sudden attack. The desk proved too heavy to move, and was thus forced to haphazardly shove clothing racks and mannequins in a pile against the window in a desperate hope to slow them down.
The front door splintered. A rotted arm writhed through the hole it had made. It swiped the air, blindly grasping for a target that was still out of reach. Finding nothing, it banged uselessly against the wardrobe.
“This is what he dealt with every night?”
“Unimportant. I am unimportant.. Your sister is unimportant. You must leave ground zero at all costs. You–”
Whatever Brimstone was about to say, it was cut off by an atypical and very unladylike roar from the seamstress. Once again, the spirit was taken aback by the mare’s uncanny ability to surprise her. She stomped towards her sister, hissing all the while, “Never! A life is never unimportant. Not his, sadly not even yours, and certainly not. My. Sister’s!”
Even the sounds of craven monsters was lost on Rarity. Brimstone’s eyes, Sweetie’s eyes, were a mask of blank calm. Whatever tempest within Brimstone forged from anger or fear was hidden under a mask of tranquility. The moment bespoke much, yet all the seething element of generosity could contemplate was the utter gall it took to say those words.
When Brimstone spoke next, her voice was level and even, carefully weighed with what was and what still needed to be said. “Many can and will die. As long as the six of you survive, there is a chance. If one of you dies, there is no chance.”
Another piece of wood splintered from the door. Not much time left. Rarity turned toward it before giving Brimstone a cool look and said, “What do you want me to do? Run?”
Rarity saw the look on Brimstone’s face before she turned her attention onto a coffee table. If looks could kill, Brimstone would have already won her fight. Rarity pushed the coffee table towards the door and propped it up vertically. Levitating a few bolts of cloth from the corner, she placed them against the table and wedged them in place. It wasn’t much, but it would hold a little longer.
“I will not sacrifice another life for my own.” Rarity backed up, examining her work. She’d bought maybe a total of five minutes with her impromptu barricades. Now if she had enough materials on hand to block off the last window, the one which had a corpse on the other side right now.
The window broke open with a crash. Glittering glass daggers lined the floor as monsters crawled in through the gap. Rarity backpedaled as skeletal and corpsified bipedal creatures, all far too similar to the Miner for her liking, advanced on her. The monster at the front of the pack, a skeleton archer, removed an arrow from its back-slung quiver. In the resulting confusion, Rarity had lost Brimstone. Where did the filly go?
Rarity’s horn glowed. The archer stopped walking as zombies shuffled past, not caring in the slightest if they got in the line of fire of their dead comrade-in-arms. It’s bony limbs clattered as they steadied and took aim, and yet the mare didn’t move. Rarity was busily fiddling with the screws holding the currently unlit chandelier in place.
The Boutique resonated with a thunderous crash. Glassware shattered and mental groaned as Rarity’s lovely crystalline chandelier smashed the heads of the archer and the zombified humanoids. She missed a hooffull of monsters, and there was still movement under the chandelier.
Rarity scampered back towards the stairs. Brimstone was hiding behind an overturned ponnequin, watching the skirmish carefully. With a slight shuffle and a flash of magic, Rarity flung the filly onto her own back.
“Not even yours.”
Maybe she could wedge a dresser into the stairwell and block their accent. Of course, that would also block her escape.
Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained. Rarity stumbled slightly and Brimstone gripped her throat to stabilize herself. Getting up, Rarity realized just how badly her knees were shaking. Nightmarish eldritch alicorns, chaos lords as old as time, feywild shapeshifters; she figured she would have become used to the onslaught of fear and adrenaline that came with life-threatening situations.
She gasped a breath and locked her legs to force them to stop shaking. She just needed a cool head. Panicking would be the real problem. Just focus on what’s under her hooves.
“There might be another way,” came the whisper on her back.
Lightning Chaser examined the sitting Miner. He had the tendency to scratch his beard when bored. Judging from the good dozen times his fingers raked through his full beard since she got to the mess tent, his boredom equaled her own. Unfortunately, protocol demanded he not wander into town after hours, and that left most nights with little for him to do other than odd jobs the Night Guard required of him to keep him busy, or the occasional test or experiment by the Council of Magic.
For once, the mare found herself empathizing with him. She too was utterly bored to tears when she was momentarily laid off after her first day on the job in this dumpy little town. After remembering that it was he who gave her the concussion that warranted the medical discharge from her duties, her pity was short-lived.
The seconds ticked by as slow as the thoughts of the useless guards around her. She still had another twenty minutes before her scheduled shift. It was twelve hundred seconds too long. Gripping her mug with both hooves, she downed a healthy dose of her tea.
Flash!
Boom!
The close proximity of the thunderbolt didn’t even phase her; the entire base was warded against rain and lightning already. Since the investigation into Sargeant Jetstream, Lightning had let her thoughts flow every which way. Zecora had all but confirmed a mentalist was loose. If her guess was right, it had inhabited both the zebra and the MIA, and likely deceased, soldier. She was currently at a dead end, unless the Miner could shed some light on the situation, or she discovered another with memory loss.
She sighed plaintively; an inquiry to Hemos was in her future.
The raucous laughter resounding around her was consistent with the mess hall. Given that it was one large, open tent with no door flaps, ponies came and went as they pleased. Several tables and benches lined right up to the scullion work area, most occupied by soldiers currently off duty or about to return like her. The chefs and scullions had packed up and left after dinner had come and gone, although a few sat with the soldiers and gossiped like housewives. She had seated herself away from the bizz, not really interested in chatter or sneaking morsels from the iceboxes. How she had got there through aimless wandering was a mystery to her, but not one she particularly cared about. What was interesting, however, was why the Miner was here when he preferred to grow and make his own food.
Like her, he preferred to watch rather than chat incessantly. Being mute was one of the few saving graces of his existence. He was busily writing in his own private journal, ignoring the activity around him. A few soldiers occasionally glanced across the table to catch a glimpse at what he was writing, but the glyphs made it nearly impossible to translate without a lexicon. Having run out of ink, he dipped his quill into an ink bag and continued, oblivious to her presence. It was a strange turn of events since he came to Equestria. His instincts, normally so fine tuned to react to the slightest twitch, had relaxed significantly.
He picked up a cup of water and drained it in a single draft. Their eyes met for a brief moment, and he looked away. His gilded-cage guardians—double the usual number—avoided her eyes. Nothing surprising there.
Flash!
Boom!
The Miner did a double take, reexamining her eyes and auburn hair. He still wasn’t adept at identifying armored soldiers, but he was getting better. Her missing helmet was not standard issue, but custom fitted with her own measurements and would identify her easily. There was nothing less for a member of Luna’s elite guard.
Too bad it disappeared into the aether when he absorbed it.
“It’s been a long time.”
His eyes drifted to her black, leathery wings and what armor remained strapped to her back and legs. The Miner’s eyes widened in recognition and abstract horror.
“Stop pissing yourself; you weren’t whining the last time we met,” she said in a bored monotone. The Miner didn’t look convinced of her amiability. “I would have won.”
He blinked, chewing over her last words. He shook his head.
“I read your recounts. You got attacked by what you referred to as an “evil chicken.” You dove head-first into the Everfree Forest. How full of fuzz is that thick skull of yours?”
Flash!
Boom!
He flexed and pointed to himself in a clear message saying ‘I’m still alive.’
“Both times you fought a pony one on one, you got your ass kicked. That’s not a lot to brag about.”
The Miner scrunched his face in thought, his journal lying open and forgotten on the table. A mousy little magus who looked like she’d be whisked away with anything more than a stiff breeze leaned across the table to examine the few glyphs across the open page. Retrieving a scroll and inkwell from her bags, she began copying them down for future reference. The Miner did not seem to notice.
CHEATED
Lightning huffed. “Sure, the stupid cockatrice cheated. You certainly didn’t almost lose to a creature the size of a breadbox.”
Thump!
His palm rested on the glittering silver helm conjured from the nothingness. The rank insignia near the crest identified it as hers. A mute should never have a smug smile like that.
She swiped it from his grasp. Light arched across its glittering surface with the torchlight and the occasional lightning strike. It wasn’t damaged in the slightest. That wasn’t surprising considering the state of other stuff he’d conjured before. Still, the magi would no doubt want to take a look at it later.
“Wipe that smile off your face you miserable mute. Why don’t you talk anyw—?”
The words died on her lips.
One...
The Miner eyed her curiously. No matter his thoughts concerning her, he realized something had distracted the bat pony. His guards were active, but lazily relaxed. Shoddy soldiering.
A gust of wind brought in the scent of water on the wind. The wind was picking up, but nowhere near the gale it had been a week ago. Something was... off about the sound. The wind slashed at any loose fabric or miscellaneous objects too small to be held down by their own weight. The world around had slowed to a crawl. A fly was zooming around somewhere to her left. The Miner’s hand drifted to his mug at an excruciatingly slow rate.
Two...
FLASH!
BOOM!
Lightning rose to her hooves and scampered out the tent. She grabbed the first officer she encountered, and truly the only one she could see: a lowly corporal with a ridiculous smile on his face. She wrenched his face to her own. He made a cry a protest, unprepared for the Lightning’s sudden antics. He opened his mouth, ready to make some cry of protest, but she was one step ahead of him.
“Gather the officers and command crew. Rouse the Captain and the Archmage. Tell them to prepare for an impending incursion.”
The corporal’s stupid brain parsed the orders with agonizing slowness. She flexed a wing and smacked her wing thumbs against his flanks. “Go!”
The clueless officer saw the rank insignia engraved on the helmet in her hooves and gulped. She outranked him, and no matter his objections, he was given an order by a superior officer. Hesitantly, but fearful of the sudden outburst she expressed, he ran a moment to gain enough momentum for flight.
Not bothering with him anymore, she ran back inside the mess hall. The Miner’s gaze was still upon her, growing apprehension on his face. “All of you slack-jawed maggots; I want your armor on and hooves down in two minutes. Return to your posts! This is not a drill!”
There was a sudden clatter of utensils and plates as the immediately got up and obeyed. It was a well-practiced organized chaos, something kept from boot camp that few ever lost. The hoofbeats were interspersed with the booms and flashes of lightning strikes. Lots of them.
“You made a mistake, white eyes...” She couldn’t help but smile to herself. There was nothing but overcast blackness in the skies. The strikes were all too close to each other, too quick in succession. Out of all the places lightning could strike, none of them were outside the town or its outskirts. Every. Single. One.
She turned around and, for once in her life, was taken by surprise. The one strange thing she couldn’t explain was why a normally busy garrison was suddenly quiet. It wasn’t any longer; just as quickly, the air was cut by commanding shouts and screams. The corporal shouldn’t have had the time to do as ordered, but she had just spotted why a warning was raised anyway.
Hip-deep black mist mixed with luminescent white particles was rolling across the ground in waves. Tendrils weaved between backpedaling legs and tents alike like some many-tendriled beast. Ponies feared touching the encroaching darkness as if the slightest touch would devour them whole. Lightning flashed again. The baleful white arc slashed through the air, but still did not illuminate the ground enveloped by the darkness. It parted around her hooves like a boulder damming a river. She felt nothing as it danced across her vision. For some reason she had expected it to feel cold.
Sensing a presence, she flung a hoof out and halted a hair short of breaking the Miner’s ribs. He had approached her and peered out of the tent to sate his curiosity and uncertainty. His guards had not followed their comrades and returned to other parts of the base; it was their duty to keep him out of trouble. They hung back, concerned, but ready to act.
“Uruuuuuuughh...”
Lightning and the Miner moved in unison into the tent walkways, but whereas she was a portrait of cold calm, he bore a face of shock and fear. A ribbon of turquoise arced down his arm and into his palm. It coalesced for just a moment, and then elongated before hardening into a one-handed sword.
A few meters down the alley between tents was... well, it was something. Black sludge was pouring out of the ground in heaves. It clung to a flailing limb, one with several pieces of flesh hanging off the obviously exposed bones. Several other masses of flesh were stewing in the foul muck. A face, a disturbingly horrid and still somewhat familiar face, was staring right back at them. The creature groaned pitifully and lurched upward, freeing itself from the sludge. A bipedal creature slathered in muck and clothed in torn wool lurched toward them.
Then came a sound that she would later know to haunt the Miner’s every waking moment. Lightning couldn’t help but be impressed at the stealthiness; she considered herself an observant mare, even when her mind was focused on the creature in front of her. The sound stemming from behind her had surprised even her, and she couldn’t help but admire the quick reaction time of the Miner. He had dove straight for her, tackling her to the ground as the creature behind her gave a sound she would soon come to hate.
“Sssssssss....”
The Forest was screaming.
Something was gnawing at the back of her mind. The animals knew what troubled her; the were running from it in droves. Great flocks of birds, their chatter indistinguishable from the bellow of storm winds whistling through the trees. Critters scampered, crawled, or burrowed out. It didn’t matter where they were going, as long as it was away.
And the Forest screamed.
“Now’s not bedtime Angel; we have to go to Twilight’s!”
Something was coming.
Twilight would know what to do. She always had a way to solve everything, no matter how difficult it was. Even Princess Luna was near; she might be able to help. As she rounded on Angel, she discovered he was already near the door, vigorously pointing at the exit to get her to leave. She still needed her saddlebags and some medicine. Several animals were far too sick to leave on their own, and far too sick to survive any possible danger without her.
“Help me!” Angel refused the demand, hopping quickly to her side and trying to drag her to the door with his own meager strength. She shook him off. “I can’t just leave them!” A family of rodents cursed with the Blight, a bird with a broken wing, a dozen fearful eyes watching her with anticipation.
Angel squeaked angrily and flung his little paws up with a mixture of exasperation, fear, and rage. Without another protest, he hurriedly began corralling the animals with her into her saddlebags. The little squirrel who had come to warn her help with the job, shooing a ferret with his own little cast and sickly pallor into one of the side pockets.
Fluttershy jumped in the air with fright as the door to her cottage cracked with a sickening sound. Wood splintered and the hinges rattled, yet the door held. It was solid oak and would stand the test of time better than most, yet that was the last thing on her mind. Little Angel bravely hopped in front of his mistress in some vain hope to shield her from harm.
Thump!
The intruder slammed against the door once again, yet the door still held. Her rump backed into the table and a vase crashed to the floor. “Please go away...” she attempted to say, but it came out as little more than a strangled cry.
Her face was enveloped by a wall of soft, velvety fur. Angel hung painfully from one of her ears, squeaking madly and pointing away.
“Yes!” Turning quickly, accidentally knocking off whatever contents remained on the table, she darted towards the nearest window. There was no way she could properly fly in these winds given her meager abilities, but it was at least an alternate way outside and around the beast currently breaking down her door.
The shutter latch flew from her hooves as the wind caught the pane and flung it open. She winced as it banged loudly into the night. Maybe whatever it was didn’t hear it. Yes, that had to be it. The wind was loud enough, so maybe that totally not irrational hope would fall in her favor.
Shuffling out the window, not trusting her wings with even a short distance in this gale, she landed safely on the moist grass. The weather was even worse in its natural element. Her hair flew in a wild mess of strands and she quickly fell on her face. Trees groaned under the strain, but held fast. Old magics haunted this forest.
Something shuffled around the corner, carrying with it a fetid stench on the wind. Without even looking, Fluttershy darted down the small embankment and into the brook circling her home. Angel was at her side, silently pleading for her to keep running from whatever unpleasantness pursuing her. Moisture clung to her sore legs and stomach. She had crossed the water without much trouble. She jumped again as the air was cut with a loud, sickening crack. Fluttershy couldn’t help herself and she looked back, at least to see whatever beast would consume her in her last moments.
Whatever is was, it was clad in bright armor and carried a sword very much like the Miner’s, only this one was made of iron. Something was clinging to its back, its limbs around the armored creature’s head that was now sprawled at a disgusting angle.
“Fluttershy!” exclaimed a voice that almost made her wet herself with relief. Zecora flung the body off of her unceremoniously and galloped to her side. Her own saddlebags were bulging with contents. Orange alchemical goo clung to a wound that looked ugly, red and inflamed. Poison?
The zebra comforted her with a gentle nuzzle before taking her by the head before they were eye-to-eye. “We must go. The forest is not safe.” More groans and beastial hisses filled the air. These weren’t sounds native to the forest; that she knew. The darkness that clung to the shadow-filled forest lengthened, deepened.
Darkness consumed Fluttershy’s vision, and for once the forest was silent.
“Now is not the time for theatrics.” Rarity finished shoving the extra cabinet filled with her spare tape, pins, and fasteners down the stairs. It wasn’t much of a blockade, but wedging it tight prevented the monsters from simply overwhelming her position. Brimstone did her best to buck a small chest down as well. The clatter was enough to wake the neighbors. As morbid as the thought was, it sounded like they were having their own troubles; the sleepy little town, despite the storm, was saturated with the sounds of explosions, battle, and screams.
“There is little time to explain,” she said with a hiss. The monsters beat on the obstruction. It wouldn’t hold long, a few minutes if she was lucky. Still, if the king had a plan, even a bad plan, it was better than no plan at all.
There was little in terms of blockading the stairwell anymore than it was. She had several large vanity tables and dressers, but by the time she could maneuver them into position, they wouldn’t be of much help. “Too many to fight...” There was another option: one of the windows. They all led on top of Carousel Boutique’s outside overhang, which in turn led to an intimidating ten foot drop. An open option, despite who knows what manner of creatures currently lurked in the darkness.
“By all means, I am open to ideas. Perhaps you would tell me the tale of how this god of yours let you live?” Brimstone narrowed her eyes. Or was it ‘his’ eyes?
‘Strange what things one ponders when in dire straights,’
“A tale for another time.”
“Indeed.”
There was a skittering outside like a thousand tiny footsteps marching. The sound was ghastly and gave her shivers. Still, Rarity tried to compartmentalize everything. One thing a time. Brimstone and the horde at her door came first.
Brimstone was about to speak but Rarity interrupted her in her stuttering panic. “Also on my mind is why you do not like this Miner character. He came after your time, apparently. You know he is no threat to you, so why the disdain?”
Anger and irritation mixed in with the king’s glare. Rather than risk an unnecessary quibble, she apologized as quick as she could, “Apologies for rambling, but this isn’t something I am accustomed to. I am no soldier.”
That seemed to satisfy whatever retort Brimstone would offer. She sized her up in one quick scan, and nodded. “Observant, sharp-tongued, and capable. You are wasted as a seamstress.”
Despite herself, Rarity felt pride welling in her chest. The creatures smashing down her barricades were unsympathetic towards the moment they shared. Brimstone continued, “When this is over, perhaps I can tell you the other half of my tale. Now... It is as dangerous as it is foolhardy, but yes.” Brimstone stood on her hind legs and was peering out the window. “We can’t do this alone, but together, we may have a chance.”
“Sweetie Belle is not a fighter.”
“I wouldn’t allow it anyway,” Brimstone replied firmly, eyes hard. “Me.”
Brimstone’s hooves fell to the wooden floor with an echoic thud. She stepped towards Rarity, eyes hard. Footsteps resounded from the floor below. True to her warning, they were coming. “I may not have a body or strength to fight, but there is still power left in my decrepit soul. I can give you what remaining strength I possess.”
Both of their heads turned towards the door. Rarity’s own impromptu stairwell barricade was under attack. The sound of wrenching wood greeted their ears. “I am afraid I do not like where this is heading.”
“Neither do I.” Brimstone backed away from the door, ears flat against her skull. “I can sacrifice part of myself to you.”
“You do not see eager to do so.” Rarity backed up to. She opened one of her material drawers and removed several lengths of ribbon and a few spare gemstones. The materials floated above their heads, silent wardens for the impending violence.
“Fate has made the choice for me.”
There was another painful groan of bending wood from behind the door. Rarity gulped and dabbed at the sweat streaming down her brow. “I might as well humor what may be my last moments.” Well, there was always a wing and a prayer chance and just jump out the window.
Brimstone looked to Rarity, sizing her up. Rarity returned the examination. Sweetie’s body was remarkably calm, composed, and still. As much as Sweetie was woefully physically underprepared for a fight, Brimstone had resigned herself to the inevitability. Rarity would have preferred to stand by her friends at such a juncture, but it was better than being alone. She just wished she was unable to contemplate the thought of watching Sweetie die right in front of her.
Brimstone returned her eyes to the door and braced her feeble legs. “I can give you whatever dregs of my soul I can cobble together. With it, bones can mend, flesh can be restitched, but I can’t fight in this body; you will have to protect us both.”
“A fair price to pay.” Rarity sensed a pretty big “but” coming.
“But this comes at a price. I cannot facilitate the transfer on my own. I need something from you. An offering of strength.”
“Equal exchange.” Rarity knew some rudimentary aspects of unicorn magic. Exchanging one power for another was one of the most basic aspects of several schools of magic. “But I fail to see how giving magic to receive magic would help.”
“You wouldn’t give me your magic.” Rarity’s head twisted to Brimstone so fast something hurt in her neck.
“Oh. Ohhhhh...” So that was the deal...
“You could trade me your magic, but as you need that to fight, it wouldn’t be too beneficial to our current predicament. I’ve made preparations to distract Era’doth and summon Princess,” she spat with disgust, “Celestia here. The fallen god hopes to finish this quick. All we need to do is wait until reinforcements arrive or Princess Luna overwhelms Era’doth. I just need a piece of you that you won’t need to survive. I can likely spare enough power until dawn. By then you will have won, or... well, it won’t matter much.”
“You make it sound so simple...” Rarity simpered quietly. Panicked gasps fought to rise from her throat. She had at most two minutes. Two minutes to choose. Two minutes to die.
“Half the world.”
Out of all the things she expected Brimstone to say, that was not one of them. More specifically, how she said it confused Rarity. It had been such a short time since their meeting in Sweetie’s bedroom just a wall away, but every impression she had gotten from the fallen king was very much like Princess Celestia: strong, unyielding, and insurmountable.
It was a shock to hear tenderness in her voice, genuine care for another being. It was never a conscious thought, but Rarity had assumed she bore nor intent or kindness in her wretched soul. Sweetie nuzzled Rarity’s side, forcing her to face her. Those sweet eyes, emblazoned with fire and drive. Those young curves, hardened and coiled to spring. Being comforted by a king of lands long dead. There were worse last moments than that.
“Give me half the world to save the world. Half the world to save your friends.”
Rarity grasped Sweetie’s tiny body in a fierce hug. Asleep as her dear sister was, she could at least pretend she was still awake. The sweet smell of rosemary clung to her hair, the remains of her bath before bed. At least she was asleep, forced into a corner of her mind by Brimstone. Silently, she thanked the king; Rarity didn’t want her sister to see the violence yet to come.
“Your friends come first,” Brimstone said softly. “Save them, then exploit the biped’s knowledge of these monsters. It can fight. It must fight, and will do so.”
Rarity nodded, eyes closed. Brimstone simply continued while she clutched her sister desperately to her breast. “Don’t try to fight Era’doth; even with what I surrender, you will lose. Let Princess Luna engage that battle herself. But remember his pride is his weakness. He underestimates the strength of ponies. That is your biggest advantage.”
Rarity nodded again, stifling a sob.
“I won’t be able to see.”
“You will.”
Her eyes were shut tight to stop the salty tears. A final crash and footsteps crashing up the stairs.
“I don’t know if I can do this.”
“You must.”
Moaning at the door. One last hug, one final embrace.
“I am afraid.”
“...So am I.”
Rarity pulled apart. The monster’s footsteps were coming down the hallway. Her breathing was coming in short, ragged gasps. Brimstone’s eyes were hard. Prepared. Scared.
“I am ready.”
The last thing Rarity remembered was Sweetie’s body leaning forward before she began to scream.
Luna dismissed the corporal. Whoever had sent him possessed excellent instincts, but the warning was rendered moot by the time he had actually reached her observation post in the sky. Era’doth or Herobrine or whatever he wished to call himself was near, of that there was little doubt. The fog that heralded his presence had already consumed most of the observable ground.
Void. The Miner’s descriptions of the subject were vague to the point of contradictory, but the one word they managed to translate on the topic was the Void. There was a darkness at the very bottom of his world—how a world could even possess a bottom baffled even the Archmage. The one constant fact, no matter why he dug into the deepest earthen depths, was the ever-present darkness. The Void.
“Apt name.”
Wherever the shadows touched, everything vanished. Ponyville and the armed garrison were not as illuminated as a city like Canterlot, but it was far from dark. Torches, enchanted gems, bullseye lanterns, hearths locked behind windows, and whatever source of light imaginable once lit up the nightscape under her stars. Now the fog, once thick enough to swallow a filly whole was getting awfully close to consuming a full grown pony. From her vantagepoint in the air, the lights were being snuffed out one by one. Dim glows and the strange speckles of light manages to pierce thinner blankets of the Void, but everything else remained hidden from her gaze. Ponyville itself was blacked out, mocking her with its complete lack of activity under the darkness.
A flash of... something darted across her vision. Whatever it was, it hid itself from her gaze as quickly as she caught it.
The next moment a flash of light cut through the air. The countryside, except for the land smothered by the Void, suddenly felt the light of day as a lightning strike fell dangerously close to her. They were becoming increasingly more common, another sign of some sorcery she had yet to identify.
“Catch him!” came a shout from below. A few members of the Council of Magic, including her own Night Guard, scrambled to reach an object falling from the sky. Wait... that was the corporal!
Luna folded her wings and dove at breakneck speed to catch up to him. He had gained a fair amount of distance in the brief moments since she dismissed him. It would be a tough call to say if her dive would be enough to get to him. His body was flailing wildly, but his wings were still limp at his sides. He wouldn’t have enough time to snap them open in time.
A flash and silver and blue darted from the Void and shot straight up. It collided in the air with the disabled corporal, but the descent was nowhere near as rough. Captain Hawk had stabilized the tumbling soldier and brought him safely to the ground. Banking left, she landed next to the pair as fellow ponies galloped for a better look.
The corporal was still alive, but the smoke coming off his charred feather spoke of no flying in the soldier’s future. He groaned in pain and spat out a string of colorful curses, some of which Luna filed away for potential future use.
“It’s okay... barding caught... the brunt of it...” he said through gritted teeth. The spells woven into the armor’s metal during the forging process had indeed staved off much of the damage.
“Impossible! I helped put up those barriers myself! No lightning strikes should have entered the base’s perimeter,” Magus Solitaire objected. He looked disgruntled by the fact he was awake at so late an hour, but the adrenaline incurred by the recent escalation of events staved off any fatigue.
“Perimeter’s another twenty meters inward,” Hawk countered. He was looking over the corporal’s wounds, who had remained still during the ad hoc examination, but suffered through it. “But our armor isn’t even a conductor for lightning. I saw that lightning bolt. It changed paths right out of the air. That’s not lightning, that’s magic.”
“The level of power for such a wide scale spell would be astronomical! It – ” Whatever Diamond Solitaire’s objection, it was cut off by another lightning strike near the base’s perimeter. Then another. Then another. Another.
“Sound the– ” Her words did not stop the horrible hissing noise from causing a horrid chill go down their collective spines.
“Princess! Your six!” Hawk shot up and yanked Luna’s prostrated neck toward himself. He had spotted something behind her. Strange; she didn’t hear even the slightest noise until the hissing had began.
The air erupted with with scorching flames and peppering shrapnel. Luna expected serious pain or damage to her flanks and fragile feathers, but felt relatively unharmed after the initial flash.
“That... hurt. A lot...” Turning, Luna saw Diamond’s robes were almost entirely burned away. The rain outside of the barrier had quickly quenched whatever fires the silent creature caused, but the damage had already been done. Dimond had managed to fling up a shield to deflect most of the damage. As he did it to shield his liege and the wounded corporal, and he was not next to them, that meant the majority of the destruction bounced off his shield and was funneled straight to him. Vicious burns plastered his face and breast. The disgusting scent of cooked meat was in the air. “I...” He collapsed.
“Magus!”
Luna rose and her horn flashed with light. It managed to cut through a little of the Void’s obfuscation, but it was enough. Diamond was prone, unconscious from pain and the seriousness of his wounds. His cutiemark had been scorched off entirely. She bent her head down to cast her short list of healing spells. The art was something she had little experience in, but even if she could just stabilize him, it would be enough. There was a battle to be fought, and an enemy commander to confront.
If the hiss was bad, it was nothing compared to the dry rasp that came next. It wasn’t the death throes of the fallen magus or the fallen pegasus, nor some cry of any creature she had ever heard before. This one sounded like a corpse’s own terrible imitation of life itself. It reverberated through her, striking a primal chord deep within her self preservation instincts.
She lifted her head the barest fraction. Her remaining guards and sorcerers had parted around her in a defensive position to protect their liege. It was admirable, but it would do none of them good of none of them could see within the darkness. The Void was rising higher and higher.
“I know not what compels you to torment my subjects, Herobrine,” she whispered to the aether. She did not see the piercing glow of her foe’s eyes, but her instincts told her the creature was still listening. “I know not what grudges you hold towards us or others towards you. Our pasts matter little to me right now, only the present. Only the now.”
The beast hissed again and again. No... three rasps, all at the same time. It was getting closer, but that was not what caught her attention. Deep in the darkness, a pair of glowing white orbs looked right back at her. Bright white chains clothed a form still cloaked in shadows. The sound of clanking irons echoed across nonexistent walls.
“Know right now I will give everything to protect my subjects. I will fight, bleed, and die with them. I love them more than I love myself.” Hawk fidgeted slightly as he took his place at her side. A pair of magi had taken it upon themselves to care for their two fallen ponies. “I’ll grant this one chance now to make peace between us.”
Her entourage shifted uncomfortably. She didn’t care that they disagreed with her offer to negotiate; Herobrine had come prepared for war. She knew this creature’s power firsthoof, and if she could avoid further bloodshed now at the cost of previous crimes, it was a price she would gladly pay.
“I don’t want to fight you. I will.” Herobrine stared back at her from the darkened Void. The creature itself seemed to be hemorrhaging it in droves. With slow, steady steps, Luna approached the beast. Silent as the grave, he seemed to drift forward towards her. The chains binding him tightened and tore at his form with every step, but he did not seem to care. Great spikes of divine light bound the very chains to his form. Black, festering puss leaked and dried at every jostling twitch.
She was right next to him now. She could see every indentation and mar on his skin now. If it wasn’t for the eyes spilling the same holy light, he was mirror image of the Miner. Still something felt wrong about his presence. The fetid stench of death hung about him like a cloak, imprisoning his foul being at one single point. Luna sent a silent prayer to the architect of such a prison. It was marvelous magic and something she would have loved to study under less tumultuous circumstances.
But despite his crimes, Luna couldn’t help but feel her heart soften slightly at the beast’s predicament. No pony in Equestria knew of the torment of total isolation like her, the madness that can come with a tailored prison. Locked in darkness...
“The darkness is unforgiving. I know the pain that comes with loneliness and agony. I spent a lifetime watching the source of my anger grow without being able to bless it myself. Every day, every night, it hung there in the sky, taunting me. I cursed...” Luna’s breath caught in her throat. “my jailor every day for my imprisonment. I know of that darkness that creeps into the mind like a poison, the desire to destroy. I... I will help you... if you agree to end this.”
Once again, the ponies surrounding her shifted, yet still did not speak their mind. She thanked them for that. The slightest wrong move was going to send flames lighting up the night sky. It was something she expected, and yet... if she could just reason with the creature, connect with Herobrine with their shared madness, then just maybe her mad plan could work. Even the sounds of thunderbolts had decreased. The Shadow Pony was right; Herobrine could be blinded when confronted.
A three-headed beast rose from the dark miasma, two of them hanging from the torso by thin strands of flesh. The creature’s emaciated torso hovered in the air menacingly, all three heads looking directly at her.
“No.”
Zombified humanoids lurched up the stairs, the last crumbled remains of Rarity’s barricade laid to waste as broken shards at the foot of the stairs. Despite possessing little more than desiccated limbs strewn together with with rottings tendons, they could move together with a fair amount of speed. What the lacked in physical capabilities they made up in a lack of fear when pursuing their goal.
Their lurching footsteps never ceased; always roaming, always searching. The spiders on the other hoof were active hunters. Some scuttled along the walls or over each other despite the ample floorspace.
One however froze at a doorway and hissed. It’s pincers clacked eagerly at the chance for an oncoming meal. The sounds of screams and fires sounded through the night air. The hamlet had started its warning alarms, but the beasts paid them no mind.
A pair of shamblers started beating on the door. There weren’t that many in the narrow hallway, but that only left the question of where exactly where the rest of the beasts that had broken down the Boutique’s front door.
There was a great, thunderous roar as the door shattered into splinters. The zombies only stared stupidly as the door broke outward instead of inward. Something snow white, faster than any pony had the right to be, flashed towards the first zombie. Rarity’s bullrush was impressive, but the zombie still outweighed her considerably with its armor, despite the decaying flesh. That did not stop her in the slightest.
With strength she shouldn’t have possessed, Rarity’s weight slammed into it and into the opposite wall. The drywall cracked open and the wooden frame protested before snapping under the brutish assault. Rarity lifted the zombie up with her forehooves and slammed it back into the wall. These were stout wood beams harvested from Ponyville’s strongest oaks and they broke like splinters before her.
The spiders were by no means as slow as the zombies. The skittered towards the mare, climbing up and over each other in haste in order to reach the warm succor in her body. Through sheer trauma or simple shock, the zombie did not get up. It lay there ragdolled, half in the hall and half in the crawlspace.
Rarity did not look towards them. Ribbons of silk, linen, and various clothes wrapped around them like snakes, binding their many limbs together in numerous notes that only a dressmaker’s magical dexterity could achieve. One spider managed to escape its bindings and skittered towards the mare. With so many tied up bodies, there wasn’t enough time to properly attack, so Rarity delivered a vicious buck that made the spider soar to the other end of the hall and crash into and end table.
Rarity looked at her own rear leg. The euphoric power running through her veins had gotten her leg stuck in the wall. With a wrenching effort, she pried her leg loose. Splattered bits of blood dripped to the floor where wood and nails had scratched her skin. It took only a second for the tiny laceration to seal itself.
Twelve. Five upstairs, three in the stairwell, and four on the bottom floor. Rarity wasn’t sure how she knew, but she did. She couldn’t see them, but she knew they were around her. She could feel them around her as if she were blinded and now the shade had finally been removed from her muddled sight. They were just there, and she could feel every little twitch and scuttle.
“I feel...”
They paid no heed to neither the mare’s words nor her rapturous tone. Rarity finally looked at her foes. Her hair had gotten in her eyes and she reflexively brushed it out of the way. The left eye socket was devoid of its former contents.
“...ALIVE.”
Minecraft/MLP:FIM crossover.
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