Reaper leaned against a weathered standing stone and pointed down the tree-clad slope to a cluster of small, dark buildings in a narrow valley below: “Rutze.”
Bitch stopped next to him, and Luna looked down as she pulled her hood back: “Not much to look at. Is it abandoned?”
“Sort of. It gets used situationally. I think Gindu has a kind of informal arrangement with the commander of the largest city-state in these parts, Degia.”
Luna furrowed her brow: “That is to the south and west of here, yes?”
“Right, and this is sort of the maximum extent of their influence.”
“But you--or Gerrar, rather--are here to meet an agent of Gindu.”
“Meet, overtake--not quite sure how to define it. I’m fairly sure he knew he was being followed, but never tried to ditch or ambush me. All that matters is that it takes place down in that stone hut at the east end of the compound in about twenty minutes.”
Luna dismounted and guided the dalzi behind the stone, lashing their leads around a thick, stunted tree growing a few feet away. She unpacked two of the bags, and spread out the ground cloth.
“Please help me set up a shelter. The wind flowing down this slope is biting, and I will be here for some time, I suspect.”
Reaper turned away from the valley: “Sure. I don’t really know how this is all going to go down--we’re kind of in uncharted territory, here.”
Luna nodded: “And I assume a fire would attract attention.”
Reaper staked a corner of the cloth as Luna tied-off the upper edge between two saplings: “Correct. Just sit tight and I’ll come back when I’m done.”
Luna quietly stepped behind the cloth and moved a few branches while reaching into a cloak pocket for a small stone jar. She quickly removed the lid, dipped in a finger, and pressed the lid back in place. She ran her fingertip around her lips, licked it clean and stepped back into view.
She approached Reaper who had just secured the final corner, and offloaded the dalzis’ bags: “Reaper--I do not know what may happen here, and I wish you the best of luck.”
Reaper turned toward Luna with a quizzical expression as she leaned in and gave him a deep, wet kiss.
His eyebrows jumped: “Well, that was unexpected! I certainly appreciate the sentiment, but I think...I think…”
Reaper blinked stupidly for a moment and staggered forward into Luna’s arms: “Wha--what’s happening?”
Luna looked into his fully-dilated eyes: “Sleep.”
Reaper’s body sagged, and Luna dragged him under the shelter, laying him down gently and covering him with a blanket.
She rummaged through his pockets for a moment, stood up, and stepped beside the standing stone, where she observed a cloaked figure riding a dalzi in the valley below.
Luna set aside her sword and armor, pulled her hood on, and walked tentatively onto the path leading down to the compound below: “Uncharted territory, indeed…”
Luna crouched behind a low stone wall some thirty yards from the easternmost cottage. She waited nervously for over twenty minutes, until the door opened and a cloaked figure emerged, mounted a cream-colored dalzi, and rode briskly out of the garrison compound. The door closed.
Luna stood, adjusted her cloak, took a deep breath and strode confidently to the cottage door. She knocked.
Silence. She knocked again, and the door slowly creaked open. The room inside was nearly dark, lit only by a low fire in the rough-hewn hearth. She stepped inside and pushed the door shut.
“I know you are in here, Gerrar. I was sent by Yunada.”
“How could Yunada know I was here? I’ve been north and west of these lands for weeks. Even I didn’t know where I’d be until just a few days ago!”
Luna’s eyes swept the room until they spotted a dark shape, crouched motionless beyond the far side of the bed. She pointed to a chair next to the fire.
“May I sit?”
“Yes. Please remove your weapons first.”
Luna nodded, threw back her hood and pulled her cloak open. She slid the dagger from her belt and laid it atop the mantle.
“That’s it? Just a dagger?”
“I came to meet, not fight. My equipment is safely ensconced elsewhere. I have brought your payment.”
Gerrar stood, picked a lamp up from the floor, pulled its shutter away and trimmed the wick. The room filled with a low, yellowish light. He stepped around the bed and put the lamp next to a wine jug on a low table under a small window.
“Who are you?”
“My name is Luna.”
“That’s an odd name. I have traveled extensively in the lands of both the North and South, and have not encountered anything akin to it.”
“I am from Zaldun.”
“Impossible. Zaldun is a myth.”
“Yet here I am; have you ever seen my like?” She stood and let her cloak fall into the chair behind her.
Gerrar chewed the inside of his lip absently, then reached into a pocket to procure a plug of zaka: “No, I must admit I never have.”
“We are legends, not myths. The Lost Gods are myths. We are simply well-hidden and reclusive.”
“Are all Zaldun as tall and dark?”
“Some, yes, though few have my stature.”
Gerrar picked up the wine jug and sat on the edge of the bed: “This is all very interesting, but it still doesn’t answer the question as to how Yunada knew I’d be here.”
Luna raised an eyebrow: “How long have you been at this game, Gerrar? Fifteen years? Longer? Yet you have the temerity to question the efficacy of a network of agents to which you yourself belong!”
“You have a point. Nevertheless, you tracked me here and represent an unknown, possibly unknowable threat. I should simply kill you and take my payment.”
“Perhaps I am the payment.”
Gerrar raised an eyebrow: “You? I can get all the parzailen I want for a fraction of my usual fee.”
Luna sat and crossed her legs elegantly: “Undoubtedly, but I am no parzaile. I am a galdu the likes of which you have never seen.”
Gerrar took swig of wine and chuckled: “I do believe that’s the first time I’ve ever heard one of you actually prefer to be called that. Usually you play coy and try to adopt the milder name of ‘parzaile’ even as I stick my cock down your throat!”
Luna smiled: “Perhaps, but perhaps the farm girls and slaves you are used to are simply too self-conscious to embrace the role to its fullest.”
Gerrar laughed: “Oh, you are different! But the solution would remain: I could take my payment and kill you when I was finished.”
Luna nodded: “You could mount me like a dalzi, and I would never know when your blade would strike until it was too late, and I felt it across my throat.”
Gerrar’s eyes glittered as he sat forward and tipped the wine jug again: “You are no mere galdu! You’re clearly dangerous! Who are you?”
“What does it matter? I am here, I am unarmed and I am prepared to give you your payment, as well as a generous bonus in gems.”
She reached into her pocket and pulled out two walnut-sized sapphires, as well as the stone jar. She stood and placed the jewels on the mantle next to her dagger.
Gerrar grinned: “Very nice, but what of the poison you just put back in your pocket?”
Luna took the jar back out: “This is no poison--well not in small amounts, anyway. This, shall we say, has the ability to enhance and amplify erotic and carnal experiences.”
She removed the lid and again dipped in a forefinger. She closed her lips around it and cleaned it off: “See? Not a poison. In fact--”
Luna reached in with two fingertips and flicked the sticky, oily salve into the fire. The small room filled with a spicy, pungent aroma within moments. She leaned toward the fire and breathed deeply.
Gerrar furrowed his brow and sniffed the air: “I know this scent…”
Luna nodded: “It is mets’il, and I promise you an experience unlike any you have ever known!”
She stood and removed her doublet, blouse, boots and trousers: “Come, Gerrar--I have done the hard work, here. Reveal now your reward!”
Gerrar took another swig of wine, stood slowly, and walked forward unsteadily, his eyes locked with Luna’s. He stopped inches from her face and lifted her camisole over her head as she stretched her arms high with a faint smile. He put a hand out to touch her left breast.
She pushed it away: “You are nearly done--finish your task!”
He spit the zaka into the fire, licked his lips and trembled as he reached down and slid Luna’s glossy black shorts over her hips. They fell to the floor silently as Luna stepped free of them, picked up the stone jar and dagger, and moved to the bed.
She sat on the edge and gestured to Gerrar: “And now for your final surprise: I am indeed no mere galdu--I am a T’zesa of the Zaldun, and as a noble, I claim first right of pleasure. Kneel!”
Gerrar furrowed his brow as he stepped toward the bed and dropped to his knees: “There is no Zaldun...you are...you are…”
Luna spread her legs and propped a foot on the edge of the bed. She scooped a generous dollop of mets’il from the jar, arched her back, lifted her backside and ran her fingers from her tailbone up between her legs, parting and tracing her folds as she went. She ended by wiping her fingers off between her breasts.
Gerrar stared at her fingers as they left their glistening, aromatic trail. He moved in close, finally burying his face between Luna’s loins.
She braced herself with one hand behind her back, licked her fingers clean on her other hand and placed it atop Gerrar’s clean-shaven head: “If this is poison, Tunzal, then take your full measure and let us die together!”
He murmured and panted, hardly able to catch his breath in the sweet, intoxicating swirl of mets’il and musk and wine. He wrapped his arms around Luna’s waist as she pressed her hips forward.
Gerrar finally pulled free after several minutes, and began working his mouth and tongue up over Luna’s mound toward her stomach. She dug her nails lightly into his scalp.
“No, no--you are not done. All of it!”
Gerrar’s eyes went wide and he opened his mouth to speak, but Luna arched her legs wide and high and folded them tightly across Gerrar’s back.
She spread her hand and firmly pushed Gerrar’s head down. A moment later her eyebrows jumped and she bit her trembling lip.
Luna laid back and let out a long, ragged sigh as her eyes fluttered shut: “Dirty boy…”
Reaper awoke on the floor of the Sisters’ ruined castle: “What the…? How in Tartarus did I get here?”
“I suspected you were getting lonely up here on this frigid, wind-swept hill, so I thought I would keep you company.”
Reaper sat up and turned to face Nightmare Moon, who was dressed again in a shimmering silver sheath dress: “Oh, it’s you.”
Nightmare Moon arched an eyebrow: “It is nice to see you, too!”
He rolled his eyes: “You know what I mean! Where’s Luna? What is she doing?”
“Fucking, I assume.”
Reaper raised an eyebrow: “What?”
“True Sister is not as, shall we say, adventurous as I am when it comes to these things, so I felt it best to leave her to enjoy it in her own fashion.”
“But who…? Oh. Gerrar.”
Nightmare Moon nodded: “Yes. She agrees that he needs to be removed from the playing field, but does not think you capable of actually confronting yourself.”
Reaper stood and glared.
Nightmare Moon put up a hand: “We mean no offense, but to be fair Luna does have extensive experience dealing with a contentious alter ego.”
“Fine. But what’s her plan?”
“I am unsure. True Sister has become quite adept recently at masking her intentions. It is rather unnerving. Now I suppose I know how she feels!”
Reaper furrowed his brow: “Are you truly two distinct spirits?”
Nightmare Moon nodded: “And I have you to thank for that, Harbinger.”
“What?”
“Yes. When you filled Luna with your essence, bringing her back to life, it empowered and awoke me in a way no magic could. Yours is not magic the way a unicorn or alicorn would understand it. You possess a primal, cosmic energy that transcends normal constraints. As a result, I began to feel myself grow as a separate being, not merely an extension of Luna.”
Reaper’s eyebrow jumped: “You called her Luna!”
Nightmare Moon nodded: “Yes. These last few days I have begun to feel detached from her in a way I never have before. Your power, this place--this world--it has all come together and helped me coalesce as an independent being.”
“But that’s not possible! You’re just a part of Luna’s psyche! A projection!”
“That may have been true, once, but after a thousand years in solitary confinement, with the persona you think of as Luna buried deep, I became dominant.”
Nightmare Moon stepped over to a broken table and lifted a cracked chalice filled with red wine: “The Usurper and her minions did an outstanding job vanquishing me, but I cannot be totally destroyed.”
Reaper furrowed his brow: “I’ve heard the stories of the Tantabus--was that you?”
“No, though I was aware of it. It was a fascinating exercise--a puppet Luna crafted in imitation of my shadows, which finally broke loose.”
Reaper nodded: “Like the Void, but less so…”
“No. The Void is more like a golem. It was crafted of actual life energy, twisted and darkened. I believe it finally achieved a sort of sentience.”
Reaper chewed his lip for a bit: “Yeah, that actually jibes with my experience inside the Void for that moment before I reaped Grey Thorn. It felt ravenously hungry.”
“Yes. And it had been feeding on life energy for centuries, becoming stronger and more corrupt.”
Reaper raised an eyebrow: “Something you know well, yes?”
Nightmare Moon tipped her head high and narrowed her eyes: “Yes, but let me tell you a brief tale. When Grey Thorn rendered the Usurper and Luna insensate, I had a conversation with True Sister.”
Reaper nodded: “She told me.”
“I am sure, though she likely whittled it down to ‘we chatted for a minute.’ The reality was somewhat richer.”
Reaper shrugged: “We seem to be stuck here for a bit, so fill me in.”
“When Luna finally decided it was time to break the spell that held the Usurper, then leave, she made it clear she was doing it because, win or lose, there were ponies depending on her, and she could not let them down.”
“And she didn’t. She gave her life in the effort.”
“As did I, Harbinger.”
“What?”
“Of course. I dwell with or within Luna, depending on your perspective. I too, died that day.”
“That makes sense.”
“And I realized that Luna had finally achieved the thing she, I, we had always wanted all those centuries ago--to be needed, to be honored, to give of ourselves and receive in return. That, combined with the dying knowledge that my passing would not even be noticed brought me to a new place.”
Reaper raised an eyebrow: “Nightmare Moon the Reformed?”
Nightmare Moon chuckled: “I would not go that far, but I did finally understand that the pain and damage I had inflicted for all those centuries had caused me nearly as much damage.”
Reaper smiled grimly: “I empathize. As I said in the vision you forced out of me a few days ago: ‘From one monster to another…’”
“Yes, though a monster with fifty times your tenure.”
“I suppose. It’s why I finally decided to bring it all to an end: Yunada’s madness and brutality, my enabling of that brutality, his life, my life. And now Luna’s caught in the middle, and she’s in great danger!”
Luna closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath through flared nostrils; she grinned: “Some danger, perhaps, but she appears to have the situation well...hmm. Not ‘in-hand’ exactly, but in something!”
“Dammit, Luna!”
“Now, now--let the girl have her fun! She has not taken her pleasure with a stallion in, well, practically forever! She has played with the spa ponies occasionally since my downfall, but this is different.”
Reaper paced and shook his head angrily: “That’s not it! I don’t think you fully appreciate what Gerrar’s capable of!”
Nightmare Moon took a sip of wine and tipped her head sideways: “Do you recall your interrogation of Zain the other night?”
“Of course.”
“As do I--vividly. Luna took your ‘advice’ to not hurry back, and hid behind a tree just out of range of the firelight.”
“Yeah, I assumed as much.”
Nightmare Moon took another, deeper sip: “Well, as you approached the conclusion of your demonstration, and brought that heated blade up between Zain’s legs, I knew, of a certainty, that he was, indeed burnt flesh. He would perish in agony that night.”
“But he didn’t...”
Nightmare Moon waved dismissively: “Let me finish. My concern at that moment was not for him. I was certain, given my long tenure as Mistress of Terror and Torment, that he was dead. My concern was for Luna, and by extension, myself.”
Reaper raised an eyebrow.
Nightmare Moon nodded: “Yes. I felt a thrill run down from the pit of our stomach through our bowels when I realized that since you were now fully invested in Gerrar’s role, you would inevitably turn on Luna.”
Reaper chewed his lip: “No witnesses…”
“Exactly.”
Nightmare Moon stood, fists clenched: “I could not help but run a hundred scenarios through my--our--mind in a flash as I contemplated our fate. I felt the searing pain, smelled the splitting, crackling skin, heard the screams I myself had elicited over the centuries.”
She turned away: “But I had never before beheld these things with my own, living eyes. I quailed and Luna actually retched.”
Reaper stepped up behind Nightmare Moon and put his hand on her shoulder: “I’m sorry.”
She straightened and turned around with a thin smile: “Do not be. You did what needed to be done--and at the cost of no lives, as it would turn out. But do not think for a minute that Luna or I are under any illusion as to the risk Gerrar poses.”
Reaper nodded: “All the more reason for me to get down there in case things have gone wrong!”
Nightmare Moon sat on a fallen block of stone and crossed her legs. She closed her eyes: “I do not believe that will be necessary. It appears this particular act in our play is concluding.”
She opened her eyes and looked at Reaper with a grin: “Would you like me to show you? The symmetry of you and me coupling here in the dreamscape while Luna couples with Gerrar would be delicious!”
“No…”
Nightmare Moon pointed at the banner hanging above them: “Perhaps you would like to watch, then? At least watch from Luna’s perspective…”
Reaper rolled his eyes: “No--thank you.”
Nightmare Moon sighed and shuddered: “It is just as well. I think we have missed our window of opportunity at any rate.”
She stood and smoothed her dress: “Ironically, given what just transpired a moment ago, I believe Luna is now guiding Gerrar to the actual climax of their scene. It is time for you to pack up the encampment and lead the dalzi down the hill.”
Reaper furrowed his brow: “What’s going on?”
“I am not entirely certain, but I suspect that as you approach the hut below, it will be time for you to enter ‘stage right' for the dénouement.”
“Where will you be?”
Nightmare Moon smiled: “If she is doing what I think she is doing, I am going to lurk in the shadows and watch what will likely be True Sister’s greatest act of creation!”
Reaper furrowed his brow and opened his mouth to speak, but she was gone, and the castle dissolved away, leaving him on his back, staring up at the fluttering shelter as the icy wind tugged at it.