Of The Last Millennium

by BlndDog

Chapter 12

Chapter 12

“I say we eat ‘em both!”

“You’d eat yer own mother if she ‘er here!”

“I would! And you would join me!”

A raspy song rose from a third throat, slithering into her ears and turning into sandpaper in her head. She was securely hogtied, and the resulting tension in her back kept her eyes shut and full of tears. Her captors had taken her cloak, and she was just far enough from their fire to feel the occasional fleeting wash of warmth that did her no good.

Scootaloo hissed when both her thighs cramped up at the same time. She twisted this way and that, but her restraints left absolutely no room to stretch out.

“Grinder, I told you to retie her before she wakes up!”

“Well, maybe I didn’t feel like it! Whacha’ gonna do ‘bout it?”

The smack was so loud that even Scootaloo tucked in her neck. A moment later she felt a huge paw on her front hooves. The ropes fell away, and she immediately kicked out her legs like a pegasus in flight. The creature chuckled, and the stench of his hot breath made her blood run cold.

“There. That’s better, isn’t it?”

His paw scraped across her belly, moving towards her head. She tried to hide her face in the ground as it pass over her neck, but this drew another burst of laughter. He stopped when he reached the back of her jaw, cupping his paw over her chin. She could feel sharp, serrated claws resting just behind her ears.

Scootaloo opened her eyes. A massive shape hovered over her, its features lost in the darkness. It reached down with an arm as thick as a tree trunk. Before she realized what it was doing her front legs were bound once again.

“That’s so you don’t run,” he growled, rejoining his companions at the fire.

“Guys, bring her over here. She’s not used to these desert nights, you know.”

Scootaloo couldn’t believe her ears, and craned her to look past the bulky bodies to the other side of the dancing flames. The creature that had settled down mere second ago lumbered back to the filly and lifted her with two shaggy arms. She was carried to the far side of the fire and set down on the warm ground next to a lean brown figure.

“Little Strongheart!” She gasped. Scootaloo couldn’t hug her properly, but the buffalo understood.

“You see?” The one named Grinder bellowed, showing off a mouthful of pointed yellow teeth. “We’re not so bad! Now if only that brother of yours would show up like he’s supposed to, we can all go our separate ways!”

Scootaloo squinted through the smoky fire at her captors. They had remarkably flat faces, with sagging flaps for cheeks and big black noses that glistened with a film of moisture. Swamp green eyes glistened in the firelight, with vertical black slits for pupils and no sign of whites. Their lips looked like an extra row of jagged teeth, and all three sported noticeable underbites.

“What are they?” Scootaloo whispered to the buffalo.

“Diamond dogs,” she replied. “They travel through here from time to time; usually they’re not a problem. From what I understand the bat ponies hired these three to catch you and your brother.”

“And we’re doing just fine!” Said the nearest dog. “Two out of three on the first day of our first contract! We’ll all be in the mercenaries’ guild!”

“There’s no mercenaries’ guild you bloody idiot!” Grinder swung clumsily; his companion easily ducked under his arm.

“I say we make one!” He continued, playfully shoving his attacker. “Diamondback, your pops is a mercenary, isn’t he? And it pays well, right? Better than the mines, I mean.”

“You don’t talk about my pops like that, got it?” The one who untied Scootaloo jabbed a flint-tipped arrow across the fire, startling the other two. “We’re going to be guides. This job is just a diversion. We’re going back in two weeks, we’ll become official desert guides, and nobody’s going to hear a word about any of this.”

“Come on! We just made a thousand bits in a day and a half! And don’t tell me we can’t spend bits! My folks go to Canterlot all the time! I tell ya', a thousand bits can get you far in that place!”

“We haven’t made a single bit, Crag! And I don’t like the looks of that guy, all his talk be damned! You two better have your bows ready when we hand them over; I’d not be surprised if they turn on us the moment they get what they want. Pops says bat ponies are trickier than unicorns, and we’re dealing with both.”

Crag whistled through his teeth and raised a familiar canteen up to his lips.

“Where did you get that?” Scootaloo yelled.

The dog started, spilling water all over his brown leather vest. He eyed the filly in annoyance as he combed the water out of his fur with one paw.

“They got all your supplies when they caught you,” Little Strongheart explained, easily holding down her fellow prisoner.

“Aye, and your brother’s been without water for half a day,” Grinder pitched in without looking up from the half-formed arrowhead on his knee. “We don’t even have to track him; he’ll come to us before the night is through, just you wait!”

Scootaloo looked to the buffalo, and got a little comfort from the confidence in her eyes. Morning Rain knew where to find water; he could be miles and miles away by now.

What am I thinking? My brother wouldn’t abandon us like this!

On the other side of the fire pit Diamondback was skewering something on a long wooden rod. Tomatoes, maybe? Really big ones, if that were true. But where did he get tomatoes in the middle of the desert?

“Scootaloo, maybe you should close your eyes…”

The buffalo's warning came too late. With a grunt Diamondback hoisted his loaded skewer over the fire.

Three skinned hares dangled in the flames. The lean red muscles were evenly dusted with dry spice, and in death their lips were pulled back in a vicious sneer. Scootaloo trembled, unable to look away from their empty sockets. To her they seemed to be the eyes of the fire itself.

They’re dead. Animals die. It’s normal.

Tears streamed down her cheeks; she told herself that it was from the sharp scent of burning pepper. The faces in the fire swelled and stretched. Tendons popped off the bone, jaws fell slack, and sickly yellow juice hissed as it dripped into the pile of glowing char.

“Breathe, Scootaloo,” Little Strongheart urged. “They’re not going to hurt us. Diamond dogs are hunters; they’ll eat meat whenever they can get it. That’s just the way they are.”

“I can hear you,” Crag half-sang as he pulled on a stubborn rabbit leg. His tone changed completely when he saw the filly. “Oh, I’m sorry. You see, that’s why we put you over there in the first place. We didn't want to scare you...”

He tried to pet her, but the hot grease on his paws had her scrambling backwards as fast as her bound legs would allow. He remained slouching at the fireside looking mortified, the roasted hindquarter in his right paw dangling all the way to the dusty ground.

“Let her be,” Diamondback ordered. “We’ll be rid of them by tomorrow.”

The diamond dog turned his back reluctantly, but throughout the meal he made an effort to block the rabbits from view of Scootaloo. Little Strongheart brought a canteen and a pemmican bag for her, but the filly would not swallow more than a bite. She tasted blood in the dry leathery fruit; reaching into the depths of the sack, she expected a jagged skull or a pile of ribs. The buffalo tried to feed her, but thought better of it when Scootaloo started dry heaving.

Every time she closed her eyes the rabbits were there. Half-stripped of flesh, blowing fat bubbles between their teeth. She had seen skulls before, and dead animals too, but this was different. She curled up even tighter, driving her face into the ground in hopes of escaping the sickening fumes of the bonfire. The buffalo nuzzled her gently, but she could barely feel it. The smell was maddening; rich as a cake in the oven, but completely unappetizing.

“Hey, did you see that?”

“Yeah.”

Scootaloo looked up. All three of her captors were standing with their backs to the fire squinting into the night. Diamondback knocked an arrow on his sapling bow, keeping his grass-woven quiver propped upright against his leg. Grinder, who stood just a hair taller, kept his bow fully drawn as his head swiveled this way and that.

“Bloody bat ponies,” Diamondback hissed. “Shoot if you see anything.”

Crag lit a torch in the fire, his eyes flashing orange when the greased rag flared up. With his free paw he reached into the pile of stolen goods, taking one of the repurposed scythes. It didn’t seem nearly as big when he held it; more like a long working knife, really.

“There!”

One arrow whizzed through the air, followed quickly by another.

“Stop that!” Snapped Diamondback. “You just about hit me! Crag, you go watch the prisoners! Make sure they don’t get away! Grinder, watch my back. Don’t turn around unless I tell you to!”

Scootaloo turned away from the fire and immediately felt an eerie sense of foreboding. The flickering light seemed to have a discrete boundary, and beyond it lay perfect darkness. Even Crag’s fresh torch failed to extend their line of sight. The stars above looked as they always had, yet she could not fight the feeling that they were in fact white dots painted on a low, black ceiling.

“What’s happening?” The diamond dog whispered as he crouched down protectively over the girls. His breath reeked strongly of roasted rabbit, and Scootaloo felt her nausea returning.

Behind them Grinder fired again, and was swiftly rewarded with a hard slap on the back of his head. Something was shuffling around just out of sight; its limbs dragged along the rocky ground like the belly of a big snake, and it was impossible to tell exactly where the sound originated. Scootaloo stared unblinkingly into the darkness. Twice she was startled by shadows moving at the edge of her vision. Twice the arrows flew, disappearing silently into the dark world.

This is it.

Shadows flowed like fog, coalescing into flesh and bone. Scootaloo did not need to see it to know what it was. She could feel its six black eyes pinning her down like an insect in a museum. Three skinned rabbits rode on its back, and they too stared at her and nothing else. She told herself to breathe, but her chest felt like a rigid wooden barrel.

Scraping was replaced by the sound of wings. Grinder released another arrow every few seconds. Diamondback was no longer the proud owner of a full quiver.

“Crag, get your bow!”

Sparks rained down over Scootaloo and Little Strongheart as the diamond dog scrambled to his feet. He took the torch with him, and the darkness closed in just a little more. Scootaloo pressed closer to the buffalo and covered her muzzle with her hooves.

“Aaaah!”

Crag fell with a muffled thump. The arrow did not penetrate his heavy leather vest, but shock stopped him from getting up.

The remaining diamond dogs emptied their quivers in less than five seconds. Scootaloo flattened herself against the ground as the stream of arrows sailed directly overhead.

No one spoke in the silent minutes that followed. They were truly silent, for even the gentle night wind had died down.

Click.

Click.

Click.

Every few seconds another arrow shaft snapped. It sounded so close; Scootaloo guessed two metres directly in front of her.

Untie me! Please! Don’t leave me here!

Click.

“Screw the job,” Diamondback declared, just loud enough to be heard at the edge of their dwindling ring of light.

“But… A thousand bits…”

Click.

“Bullocks! We’re worth more than a thousand bits!”

All argument was put to rest when the arrows returned. Splintered shafts spun through the air, harmlessly showering over the heads of the two remaining diamond dogs. The shadow was definitely advancing. A bulge of darkness had formed right in front of Scootaloo, flowing like the foot of a giant slug.

The ground rumbled from frantic excavation. Little Strongheart hopped onto the filly to shield her from flying rocks. Thus she was stuck with the living shadow wavering mere inches from her unprotected face.

“Wait!” She managed to call out. “Wait! Don’t leave me here! PLEASE! I DON’T WANT TO DIE!”

She could hear the diamond dogs receding into the depths of the ground. The shadow engulfed her head, blinding her instantly.

A large hoof wrapped in many layers of sturdy cloth touched her face. She heard feathery wings folding, and saw firelight through her eyelids soon thereafter.

Scootaloo screamed.

Somepony was holding her by the shoulders. She struggled with all her strength without opening her eyes. Another voice ticked the fur of her ears, but she couldn’t make sense of it.

COME TAKE ME ALREADY! TAKE ME AWAY!

Her mouth moved to form words, but air rushed through her like the untameable waters of Ghastly Gorge. She felt completely weightless. Her skin was numb, so that the ground beneath her no longer registered in her mind.

Scootaloo’s head snapped back and forth from powerful blows. She thought the movement funny; like a carnival ride.

The hoof from earlier forced her eyes open, filling them with sand in the process. She enjoyed the strangeness of this feeling, and even giggled when she saw the colt's pale face staring straight at her from two inches away.

“RUN!”

She tried to yell “no”, but another incoherent scream escaped as soon as her lips parted.

Loops of thick rope slid over her muzzle, and suddenly her mouth snapped shut. Her spit tasted like blood.

They threw a cloak over her back and led her by the nose away from the fire. She did not see anything that night. The rhythmic beating of broad black wings drove her swiftly across the land, and not for the last time.

Author's Note:

Probably no update next week. I'll be editing.

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