Icon: Remnants of the North

by Vixavior

Act 3- Chapter 8: The Boulevard of Broken Dreams

The Boulevard of Broken Dreams
Proofread by TehSporkBandit

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The pathway lies abandoned by all except the howling winter winds. Surely nopony would stick their neck outside in such unrelenting weather. Each voracious gust tries to find vulnerable gaps in your armour but with two scarves bound tight around your face and coat closed tight, it has no way to torment you. Your axe rests on your shoulder as the lingering echos of Princess Luna’s dire warning drives you onwards along that lifeless boulevard. Thanks to that compelling feeling hovering around you, it feels like you could trundled on pegs if all your toes fell off. It’s been at least an hour since you left your cabin, but that thought tells you to hurry up rather than save yourself from the discomfort of the weather.

From evergreen stands laden with snow to market stands bellying under the weight of the same, the patina of a winter paradise fades. The forests give way to a metropolis; wind-blasted streets heaped with snow drifts rest under the indifferent auspice of its monolithic glass towers and humming orange street lamps. You duck beneath an overhang in the lee of one of the copper plated edifices to escape from the scourge of the punishing winds. A brazen sign swinging on the other side of the street reads:

Dunesmare Boulevard

The swaying lanterns inundate you with a false sense of warmth. As you give yourself a moment to breath, you trace your fingers over the chilled sandstone pillar holding up the overhang of the ten-story structure. Up ahead you glimpse a large glass door with brass handles, but more importantly, a lit placard. Pinned up inside the ring of liquid red light like a lava lamp, you see the layout of the city of Vanhoover.

The city butts up against the south banks of the Frisien river with much of the dense core nestled along the river’s edge. Here and there are notes of attractions near the names of streets and little caricatures portraits. This particular building is marked out in a small ring of gold along the downtown corridor. It seemed that you’d found a commercial plaza of some sort. Still, scanning the placard reveals no obvious indication of a stone guardian.

A feminine screech howls from a scant five paces away. You swiftly spin on your heels and confront the mare who rounded the corner. Swaddled up in a green shawl and thick collared wool, overburdened with two saddlebags, the mare’s quiver and quaking has little to do with the weather. Her eyes widen and in the dim light and you can see her pupils contract as her mouth hangs agape. Even as she blindly reels back and skids across the frozen walkway, she stammers, “Please-please-please just leave me alone." Her hood slips, showing a moss-green Unicorn horn protruding from curly russet locks.

“I'm not…" you stop yourself after realizing her panic stricken state.

It probably wouldn't help to be reassuring anyway.

“Stone guardians,” you continue without breaking stride, “do you know about anything like that?"

“I, I d-d-didn't do anything, I haven't, I mean I'm not..." the jittery Unicorn mare backs herself up against the stone pillar at the edge of the arcade. Her wool socks are pulled up high but a cutie mark of a chef’s knife and an orange slice is still visible poking between the layers of fabric.

I don't have time for this!

“Stone guardians, windy snake, is that ringing any bells?" The crackle in your voice, even muffled by the scarf, is surprising. She doesn't look like the best candidate to ask for information but she is the sole pony you've seen since your friends left.

“I don't have anything, I swear it! I’ve got, uhh, j-just a second. I’ve got..." Her high pitched squeal rakes your ears as she rifles through her saddlebags with a sniveling sob.

You roll your eyes and grow as she tosses over a few floth wrapped vegetables, “I need to know… Hey! Hello? Are you paying attention?" The mare lets out a warbling whine, likely unconnected to your question. The slight rise in your voice from the burgeoning pangs of irritation doesn’t help either. Her bleary eyes try desperately to avoid yours. “I'm not going to hurt you I just need to hear-”

You made it to 'hurt' before she lets out a ragged gasp and finally looks at you. Her eyes lock with yours, red rimmed with tears, narrowed to pin pricks like emerald specks. The mare’s nostrils flare and her muscles tense up with an almost electric jolt.

She's not... she wouldn’t… she couldn't…

The mare howls and darts forward, bowling you over and skidding out from under the marquee into the street. She tears her saddlebags off in a desperate bid to escape and tosses them aside.

You could let her go but she is the only pony've seen wandering the streets. There are precious few alternatives other than hoping to stumble across somepony else stupid enough to be outdoors or resort to home invasions.

Celestia, forgive me for this.

You pick yourself up quickly and race after her in a bid to chase the mare down. On the frozen walkway you are more ungainly than she is but her hooves scramble wildly over the icy stone. Taking a chance, you bound out from the icy walkway and onto the snow-covered street. You catch a glimpse of her wildly looking back behind her, entirely ignoring any possible threat from the street. To her frightened mind you had probably disappeared like a ghost.

She slows as you gain enough ground to cut the mare off. You flick the axe out, holding it by its head and charge in on a tangent over one of the drifts towards the overhang. The mare's scream is cut short as you thrust the axe half between her legs. She tries to bolt but the axe heft tangles up in her feet and sends her crashing to the ground in an uncoordinated heap.

The Unicorn mare tries to flail and worm away but you quickly pin her to the ground with your heel. She’s trapped, and by the whimpering breaths and violent trembling, she knows that too. You straddle her stomach and draw your face over hers. “No more thrashing.” She recoils and lays stiff as a board. “Good. Now, where are the stone guardians in this town? Tell me what I need to know, I promise, I won't hurt you.”

You catch the musky scent of terror. Her glossy emerald eyes and faint white freckles suddenly seem uncomfortably familiar. Her gaze mets yours as her tongue finally loosens in a begging, pleading and babbling torrent. But something else slowly seems to dawn on her, “S-s-stode guardiads?” She says in a stuffy sniffle. She is settling down just as you shift, scraping the notched head of the axe against the frozen stone. The sound, the sight, both cause her to roll her eyes back into a faint.

Son of a bitch…

“Hey, look at me… you… well shit…” You shunt the axe aside and raise a hand up. It lingers in the air for a moment, halting in hesitation before you shake your hand and wince. It has to be done. You slap the mare across the cheek with a resounding echo that is quickly stolen away by the tumultuous wind. It leaves a red mark as you bite your lip, watching her eyes blink as she looks at you with a whimper. The witless mare holds a hoof to her smarting face but she remains awake and attentive. “Still with me?” She absently nods. “Good. Yes, stone guardians near a serpent.”

“Th-th-the lions of Standley park. They're just on the bridge, bridge that… L-l-lion's gate bri..." She chokes the rest back. Her eyes meet yours again before her pale green eyes glaze over with a last whimpering murmur. The mare flinches only once, completely witless as her head lolls to the side and her hooves fall akimbo on the frigid pathway.

It’s bound to be awkward to move her but you can't leave her here to freeze. You bite your lip and grasp the axe before striding back to the commerce office's glass entrance. Sure enough, it’s locked.

Legs wide apart, careful not to hit yourself. Keep your eye on the target, not the axe…

You repeat a mantra of common sense gleaned from Big Macintosh while resting the hatchet’s edge on a groove between the thin wooden lip of the doors. It’s merely the work of the moment to bring the blade down swiftly and smash the delicate locking mechanism with a distinct metallic 'ping'. All it take is a quick shove to fling the door wide open.

After leaning the axe against the entrance, you return to the mare. She hasn't moved a muscle since falling into a faint. After bending down by her head, you loop your arms under her forelegs and drag her backwards some thirty feet to the door. Her head bumps against the door jamb, causing you to wince and mouth 'sorry'.

The empty interior holds at least some heat, so the mare shouldn't be in too much danger. As you drag her into the shadowy interior, the indistinct edges of a couch and a low coffee table strewn with magazines flanked in potted plants emerges in the gloom. It is like a typical dentist's waiting room, complete with the barely concealed menace of it all. You pull her to the striped couch that shows dull grey in the crepuscular gloom of the solitary security light and prop her up on the seat. It still wasn’t quite right. After a few adjustments the mare rests in a curled up ball to conserve heat. Now there was only one thing left to do. You take the magazines and quickly scatter them across the unconscious mare.

There. If it's good enough to keep a hobo alive, it'll be good enough for you too.

You finish your work and return to bitter outdoors long enough to fetch her bags and toss to them inside as well. Dusting your hands off, it’s a job done and information gained. Looking once again look to the glowing placard on the side of the building in the hopes of pinpointing Standley Park.

The sign might not have 'Stone Guardians' anywhere, but Standley Park and the Lion's Gate bridge are as clear as crystal. Thankfully, the location is just ten or maybe twelve blocks north at most. You study the commercial map and its caricature tourist locations before picking up the axe laying by the doorway. Once more you return to the wiles of the desolate streets and set off northward.

Don't let me be too late.

Images of the mare, of that plea, of those bright green eyes all run through your mind. Terror, shock, a slow recovery are almost certain, but you did it for the right reasons. It has to be right. Your five friends counted on you at that very instant. Not to mention the myriad of other ponies who depend on them.

I'm sure she'd understand if she knew what was at stake.

It all makes sense, it's all logically sound; as you rush through the empty Vanhoover streets with an axe in hand and breathe steaming out in icy clouds, the haunting emerald eyes of that mare tell another tale.

♣

You ran ten blocks in ten minutes. Eddies and currents form in the middle of city streets and as you burst through them they kick up a plume of powder. The raspy particles are swiftly caught in the wind and hurled back in your face. Small cracks finally emerge in your armour; your wet calves are freezing and small exposed areas on your wrist are chapped. But you soon had to loose the scarves from your mouth to get enough breath to run and that, more than anything else, had chilled you to the bone. But still you carry on, axe hefted on your shoulder, while the repeated directions ring in your mind. Finally, as you round a bend and turn right, you stumble to the gates of Standley park.

Pangs of uneasiness run through you as the metal gate creaks open. It is the same as the rusty door at Riverview hospital and the crumbled gates at the Castle of the Two Sisters in the Everfree. Every single time there had been someone else lurking in the shadows. Iblis.

While there are no walls, the patterned iron gate with interlocking rose thorns had been laid open wide before you. There is an inscription over a large sandstone arch:

To an era of peace and prosperity in all lands and all times

The royal cipher is no longer a mystery to you but the sign's message seems woefully alien given the circumstances.

Beyond the decorative fence are large stands of tall sycamores and coastal cedars. Each skeletal remnant lies withered and ravaged by winter's savage breath. The tall denuded trunks are lost in the darkness beyond the impotent pall of the oil lamps shining out on either side of the street. This road into the park, though covered with meandering snow drifts, should lead to the great highway of the north on the other side of the park. This is where your friends are. So spake the Princess of the Night.

It is frightfully silent and thoughts stream in and out of your mind with remarkable freedom. All of that ends with a thundering crackle in the distance. A winter thunderstorm wasn't unheard of, but several more roiling thunderclaps and rolling growls made it sound unnatural. You heedlessly rush forward in spite of the danger.

Was that Rainbow Dash?

A second rattling crack raises your hackles as bolts of blue lance out between the skeletal limbs of the ghostly sycamores. The incandescent tines scorch the sky with the pungent stink of burning ozone. In the immutable silence that follows the lightning strike, you hear voices: a husky note of desperation, a wailing dirge of a cry. Nothing was understandable but it was enough to grip your heart as you stumble through the trees.

Murky curtains of snow shroud the world of darkness, but two faded blobs glowing in the distance focus your vision. You catch a glimpse of the sandstone arches in the drifting ice fog. Thus, you find the guardians.

Two great marble lions rear up twenty feet on great stone plinths as tall as yourself. The prideful beasts look regal with a single great paw placed on a carved snowflake. One had an enormous mane, the other lacked it: male and female, they stood as an eternal duo watching over the gateway to the north. Up overhead, you and see the first massive truss of corrugated copper reaching up to the dreary sky. Large bundled cables stretch up from near the stone guardians like looped threads on a half finished garment.

You cross the threshold onto the first massive stone slab of the bridge deck. There are no tracks but you can see the groove where something had trudged through. To your left is a small unnatural mound near the iron railings. You drag yourself towards the curious lump. Sure enough, it’s a Gremlin crumpled against the rail. Snow settles on its cold ruddy skin and grey corded habit.

It looks like some sort of monk.

Either way, it is either dead or senseless. Even jabbing at its prostrate form with the axe gives you you no indication either way. A sound up ahead draws your attention further along the bridge.

A ragged crack overhead pops your ears painfully and a rising wave of nausea creeps up your throat. If it wasn't for a discernible effort, you would have tottered over and collapsed. You stand with an ungainly sway and woozily stumble to the side. Something screeches by, hurled through the air like a comet, only to crash into the frozen river below with a splash. It was spindly, with ragged wings, not cyan.

A low iron railing spans the bridge five paces to your left and five to your right. Beyond that is the inky blackness of night.

“Y'aint taking nopony else, y'all hear me!?" A familiar voice snarls through the haze.

There is no verbal reply, just the rolling croon of dozens of ravens. The temperature swiftly blooms like a heatwave, momentarily taking some of the bite from the stagnant air. A cloaked figure holds its wiry hands up, silhouetting its stooped and bloated form in a haze of shimmering blue.

As the blue mist forms into a single crackling orb suspended between the creature's outstretched fingers, a great plume spews from its back like an oily fountain. It was a great gyser borne aloft on onyx pinions, a living cloud that shrieks, cries and croaks. Several similar blue orbs spark into existence, held aloft by a cabal of four other equally hunched phantoms. Each is adorned by a living carpet of ravens whose heads bob and turn in every direction. Four other cloud Gremlins hiss and flap their leathery wings, a small bodyguard protecting the various figures as they chant.

“The Day of Destiny approaches, seized from our claws and enacted by the Crystal Eyes.”

As the croaking cacophony of voices swell, you can see the orbs begin to grow and illuminate the faces of three of your friends. Fluttershy tries to look the part of a great bulwark against the cabal and its winged minions. Applejack stood some distant behind her facing the opposite direction with Pinkie Pie at her side. The stoic Apple doggedly stares into the encroaching darkness but beneath the stony exterior you could practically see her muscles tensing like coiled springs

Fluttershy backpedals as a living wave of ravens spew from the quartet's robes. Applejack keeps her gaze focused on the inky darkness on the far side of the bridge as two Gremlins stalk towards her. The mare quickly turns and bucks one of the leathery creature, flinging it across the bridge deck. The Gremlin collides with the iron railing and ricochets off with a ring like a pealing bell. The second Gremlin skulks forward, pouncing with its outreached claws as it clings to her side. Applejack twists and turns, throwing it aside like a discarded toy. Her assailant tumbles awkwardly through the snow and comes to a rest in a jumbled heap. Rearing up, the Earth-mare stamps down on it, winding the creature and leaving it a twitching mess. Six or seven dark figures lay limp and broken around the cluster of ponies but other faceless spectres slink forward to replace the fallen.

“Lookie, Applejack!" Pinkie bumps the farm-mare aside as a scintillating bolt erupts from one of the crackling orbs of energy. The jagged lance of lightning streams over the deck, scorching it bare and leaving a black streak where Applejack had been standing moments before.

The swelling glow lets you see the suspension bridge cables, but among it is an azure shadow pursued by several ragged shapes. Rainbow Dash. You are sure she should have seen you, she may have seen you as she twists between the steely cables losing at least one more pursuer who spins into the darkness and disappears. Another of the cabal twisted its fingers, weaving an intricate spell and coaxing it into being as the ragged tines of forked lightning streak out among the wires. There is a hiss as it sheers at least one cable from its moorings amid a burst of light and shower of sparks.

Four ponies but where's Rarity?!

“Rightly?!" Fluttershy’s shocked cry carries over the gap. Your eyes open wide as you stand fifteen paces behind the as-of-yet unaware group. Several of the orbs disappear in a flurry of sparks as three of the raven cloaked magicians hasten to look your way.

The fourth turns far more slowly as if unamused and unsurprised. Dancing lights erupt between his fingertips, allowing you to see the shadow shrouded face as it grins in the pallid spark light. The gangly figure has just one fang. “You’re like the plague, I just can’t seem to get rid of you. Come to watch our roast have you, nithinger?”

Iblis.

You catch your breath, realizing that the cabal's bodyguards are scrambling away from Fluttershy and towards you. The dagger-mawed fiends stream your way, their eyes sparkling red in the unnatural light. You aren't sure what to do but tighten your grip on your axe as all eyes turn to you.

“Eee-Yeaaah!" You scream and bound through the snow, swinging the axe up in a glittering arc over your head like a baseball bat. The bellow, the screech and the poise of the wood axe over your head sends the Gremlins scrambling left and right in all directions. Even the bloated figures seem to burst and erupt in a chattering cry of Ravens before disappearing in the jet-black swarm. They dart out of the way, as do the sickly robed bodyguard who melt into the darkness as if all the furies of hell were nipping at their heels. The unnatural warmth fades once again.

Your mad rush carries you forward over clods of sodden black feathers, only to find yourself without an opponent. Fluttershy stands transfixed and slack jawed at the barbaric display as you stumble into their midst.

“Rightly." Applejack doesn't look at you but her terse words and headbob acknowledges your presence. Her face is scratched like she'd run heedlessly through thickets, but aside from the small red lines she didn't seem any worse for wear.

“Where's Rarity?" You ask while unsteadily trying to regain your breath. The question falls flat and drifts off into the blustery night as your friends stare into the gloom. The crunch of footsteps heralds another’s approach; it is too loud and too slow for a pony.

A towering silhouette cuts through the gloom. It’s no hunchbacked, spindle-limbed Gremlin, but a bulky monolith nearly seven feet tall. It sways, moving back and forth, a voluminous cloak curling in the breeze with the clink of metal rings and plates. It has something tossed over its shoulder. It could be bundled cloth, or part of the cloak but a mewling whimper nearing a whine freezes the blood in your veins.

Rarity.

How he got her is irrelevant; at the moment the Unicorn was imperiled. The giant of a man steps into the light cast by a single swinging lantern on the tall bridge column. The dim light barely reflects the glimmer of antiquated chainmail or the white of the bearskin cloak. A tall brassy helm rests on his head, bound in bands of riveted metal with a low brow and a pair of thick cheek protectors, while a single broad metal strip bisects his face. Only a wispy white beard is visible, tumbling in the freezing winds as he strides towards you like a leviathan.

A low cackling chortle breaks the interminable silence, “Well, well, I di’n’t believe it when they tol' me they saw another Norseman. I tol' them…" he actually chortled, emitting a deep resounding bass like the growl of a wolf. “I tol' them you were nothing but an illusion, a night haunting, a figment of their fears and nothing more. Even I thought that might be true. I am Ulf the Red." The man taps a gauntlet-shod knuckle to his chest.

Rarity stirs on his shoulder, kicking against a sack cloth wrapped in several thick banded belts. The Viking doesn't strike her, he doesn't crush her, though he almost certainly could. Instead, he pats her on the back and resettles the Unicorn on his shoulder with peculiar care.

You motion for Fluttershy to skirt out and to the side of the giant of a man, hoping she could silently stalk around him as you took a hesitant step forward, “A-ahem. And I might just be-”

There is a whistling cry from the other end of the bridge, then a thunderous crack as a figure screams out of the heavens and ploughs into the snow shrouded deck. It spits up a plume of white and sends rippling waves washing away from the stone deck slab, only for the snow to be buffeted away. It left a clearing for ten paces in every direction around the cyan Pegasus wrapped in ragged bands of wind frayed cloth.

“H'oh, yeah? Guess what, pal, I'm the nightmare here. You just bought yourself a one-way ticket on the pain train. First stop, my hoof. Second stop, Tartarus!"

Cut off, surrounded, and outnumbered five to one; Ulf should be rattled. Instead, you just hope to keep the tremble out of your voice as you see the sword scabbard sticking out from his cloak, “Give it up and return Twilight. You'll likely face banishmen…" you swallow as the rest of the sentence sticks in your throat.

He shrugs as if it were of no consequence, “I think not. The Nornar are with me, or they aren't. Either way, it is as Gott wills. You would agree if you knew." The phrase sticks in your mind like Iblis's had back at the castle of Two Sisters. It sounded true but it lacked the same overwhelming compulsion.

Did he say that, or did I? Why would I agree with him?

As you pensively mull that over, you hear Applejack spit out, “Hogwash!" Ulf leisurely draws the sword, letting the razor sharp tip flick just above the snow. He quickly grasps it by the blade beneath the short crosshilt, holding it out for a moment as if prompting you for a response.

“Look, give us Twilight and that one, “ she points at Rarity, “now!” Applejack barks and stamps her hoof.

In that moment you see the white bearded Ulf pause. “Ah, you are a heathen, yes?" The Norseman says with a warning rumble. At last, he grasps the sword by the hilt again.

It might give us an opening.

You slowly shake your head and quickly make a clumsy sign of the cross, by tapping a numbed finger from temple to chest and across your shoulders. The man smiles, placated in his suspicions as he sheathes the weapon and resettles the Unicorn on his shoulder as she feebly squirms in the thick restraints.

Come on, Rainbow, do something! That or shut up and follow him with Fluttershy!

The Pegasus is faster than the rest of you put together but all she does is blink at the bluster, “Hey! Do you think you're just gonna' stroll right out with Rarity on your back?”

The man stops and turns, “Aaaaah, so you know her!”

“W-well, I. That is..." Rainbow stammers, having blown the ploy as Ulf turns to keep both the argumentative Rainbow Dash and the more threatening Applejack in sight.

“Rarity, a nice name and so very… how would you say, appropriate?" Ulf looks over as you dumbly blink and stare at the baffled Pegasus.

“You bet we know her, buddy! Now give 'er back!" Pinkie brushes off the failed scheme and takes a few heavy steps forward with a growl.

Ulf turns, evidently declining any further negotiation. Applejack purses her lips and narrows her eyes. “Rightly,” she stops to audibly grind her teeth, “git mah rope." You look over at the saddlebag and see the slight cylindrical bulge from the rope coil. It had been put inside to avoid freezing solid, though it is still awkward and stiff as you hand it to the mare who nibbles the end in concentration.

Slowly you heft the axe as well as a deterrent for Ulf. Maybe it would give him pause. Five to one sounds well and good, but the one is a veteran of many wars and he knows his craft well.

“Fine, ah warned ya'!" Applejack lets loose a loud “Yee-Haw!" and darts forward, spinning the lariat over her head. That surge of arrogant confidence goads you forward with a howl and an upraised axe, pounding over the drifts at the unprotected back of the Viking thane.

Unsurprisingly, an azure bolt reaches him first. Rainbow Dash dives at the thane as he steps aside like a flickering flame. A harsh twist brings his elbow down on her back, sending the Pegasus careening into the railing. Rainbow's charge twisted him off balance however. Ulf growls and fumbles to keep a grip on Rarity while simultaneously reach for his sword.

The deathly flash of glinting steel reflects in the orange lamplight as you swing your axe with a shudder of hesitation. A flash of silver glints in the darkness followed by a ringing clash of metal-on-metal. He’d spun the sword out and caught the axe under its head. With a grunt, he pushes the weapon down, skimming your arm with the sword’s lethal edge. You barely manage to twist and avoid the gouging blade carving into your arm. Ulf’s unexpected kick to your ankle staggers you as your leg buckles.

A pink flash streaks by on Ulf's blind-side, and you glimpse Pinkie hold a hoof up to her lips as she skids to a stop behind him. It’s only the precursor to Applejack thundering in like a runaway freight train. She bulls forward with her shoulder, slamming into the man’s stomach and sending him stumbling backwards. With Pinkie underfoot, he reels, flails, then falls like dead tree. The sword scythes out as Ulf turns on his side, the razor keen tip clips a few hairs from Pinkie's forelocks and flicks just wide of Applejack’s flank with a singing hiss.

The Viking crashes to the ground in a heap of metal rings and bearskin, but he is still clinging to the large sackcloth wrapped bag. The material moves as Rarity wriggles and squirms like a caterpillar until Ulf finally loses his hold on her. She stops as the gut-lace bindings on the sack cloth unstitch themselves in a pale cyan blue haze.

You want to beg Rarity not to move, to get away as you turn on your side and bring the axe blade biting down again. It’s met halfway up by a whirling war axe that Ulf must have kept just beneath his cloak. Whatever the cause, the thin axeblade cleaves through the air and shatters the haft of your hatchet, a few hairs shy of your hand. Your cheek stings from a whizzing splinter and your hand goes numb from the jarring impact. Your deadened grip loosens around the broken wood handle. A sturdy boot from Ulf sweeps your feet out from underneath you and lays you on your back. You stare up at the black sky while gasping for breath.

A subsequent sweep of the war-axe is met by the whip-crack of a lasso. The rope loops around the axe-head and jerks it away with a single sharp tug from the cow-pony. Ulf had disarmed you of your only means of protection as contemptuously as taking a toy from a child. Unarmed, vulnerable, practically helpless at the onslaught, you feel a nip on your collar as Pinkie drags you back out of sword reach. Not a moment too soon. Ulf slams the blade of the sword down as it bites into the stone. The Viking surges to his feet in a spray of white power, all the while spluttering and frothing like a wild beast.

“Fluttershy!" Rainbow's shrill holler is accompanied by a quick jab of her hoof at the squirming bag as Fluttershy meekly slips towards it.

“Stop!" Pinkie spat your collar out and howls as the Pegasus folded the material down around Rarity's head and tugged at the belts to drag her back. The harshness caused Fluttershy to seize up and drop like a stone, narrowly avoiding the seeking blade which clove through the air above her mane.

“What are you waiting for!? For feathers’ sake, just get her!" Rainbow Dash's howl of impotent rage rings off the steel girders around you. Fluttershy just stares at Rarity with a trembling lip and quiet whimper. You were sure you saw a headbob of understanding pass between them.

Your gaze is drawn to the four blue globes that spring to life amidst an oily, shapeless cloud bank that breezes past the bridge. The black mist envelops the steel ties, seeping tendrils over everything and leaving a runny black vapour clinging to every surface. The sharp angles and general shape give it a frame like a sailing ship. Eldritch green bolts of lightning course through the mist around the orbs which slowly expand until the very air crackles with a resonating static hum. As the steady thrum swells, the hairs on the back of your neck prick up.

“AJ..." you start to say as Applejack growls and tries to kick out at Ulf again, but the ungainly limp is a tell and he nimbly skids aside while seizing Rarity in hand. “AJ?" You try to get her attention again as Rainbow sniffs the air and looks back.

“Horse apples!" It has to have dawned on Rainbow Dash as well. She darts forward and snakes past Applejack for a last desperate attempt to pry Rarity from Ulf's clutches.

“Everypony down!" Pinkie springs up and collides with Rainbow Dash, bringing them both down in a heap. You reach out, grabbing Applejack's foreleg and trying to pull her down. It’s no easy task and you can't even cover her completely as the stubborn pony tries to surge forward, tripping over your arm as you clamber to intervene.

A searing bolt of green lightning rips across the bridge girders, raking the deck with jade lances that crackle and burst around you. Cabling snaps and the copper trusses glow hot white under the remorseless assault which liquefies metal and turns stone to dust. Your eyes water from the searing effects of the blast, but the shudder and groan of the bridge beneath you is a resounding warning.

You grope blindly in the spotty darkness, enfolding Applejack's hoof in your hand as you drag yourself towards Rarity. There is nothing. Instead, you feel a wave of pain as a heavy foot stamps on your wrist. Through your peripheral vision you can see the Viking staring down at you and feel the sword tip at the back of your neck. He taps you twice and moves on. From the corner of your eye you can see struggling Unicorn.

Rarity had wrested one of her forehooves loose and yet she still lays bundled up on Ulf's shoulder. The Unicorn locks eyes with you but among the blinding white dots, you catch a half-reassuring smile fighting with a fearful anxiety. Her lips move, 'It's going to be alright. You'll see, dear.'’

Your attention is redirected sharply as Ulf grinds his heel into your wrist and dashes off towards the bridge railing at a lope.

“N-not so fast!" Rainbow unsteadily makes it up on her hooves and dives at the Viking thane again as the mists swallow him and his captive. A massive flock of ravens spills from that amorphous cloud barge, obscuring Ulf and tearing at Rainbow as the Pegasus plunges into the heart of the swarm. In just a few moments she retreats from the squirming mass of pecking beaks and raking talons before crashing back to the scorched stone.

A thick reverberating pulse shakes the stone piers of the bridge. The cloud barge banks towards the sea, taking Rarity and Ulf with it. Applejack squirms free of your grasp and dashes towards the railing. She reaches out at the black cloud mass, gasping at first then letting loose a plaintive cry. There is nothing left, they are gone.

Rainbow Dash picks herself up with Pinkie's help. The roll of thunder subsides, taking with it the blue and white spots marring your vision. Fluttershy gingerly reaches out towards Applejack amid the disheartening heaving breaths that tear from the farm-pony's throat like a bellows. It sounds like she can't breath, “Are you okay?”

“No! 'Course not!" Applejack yowls as Fluttershy recoils. “How could ya' freeze up like that?!”

You listen to the same tone, the same words, spoken by another and watch as Fluttershy's lip trembles. “B-but she told me t-t…" her voice collapses entirely.

You glance around at the warping bridge; it, like your plan, lies in ruins.

No, of course we're not alright… I think Rarity told her the same thing as me, though. So it will be alright. Hopefully.

You speak up and try to stand, “We better get out of here.” The bridge groans and vibrates under your feet, “It feels like this is shaking apart.” Your warning feels like it falls on deaf ears as the savage wind ravages the glassy stone. The support beams and girders began to twist and groan in agony as the bridge spasms in its death throes. All anypony could do is move to safety as the cracking rivets, cables and trusses start to give way with a horrendous squeal of tortured metal.

Applejack, refusing any and all help, plods along with her head bowed and the hat brim covering her eyes. Nopony else breathed a word about it.