What Remains I: The Griffon and Her Dweeb

by Bateman66

Insurmountable Opposition

“Who’s there!?” growled Gilda, drawing her sword aggressively.

The voice in the shadows chuckled, and then turned abruptly cold. “I have little time for your show of force, griffon. Drop your weapon, or face the consequences.”

Gilda grit her teeth. “You don’t scare me.”

“Really? Your companion seems compliant enough.”

She turned to Alistair and saw that he had not risen to the threat from the mysterious voice. In fact, his entire body seemed to be frozen in a state of internal query, his eyes glazed and absently searching for the mysterious speaker.

“That voice…” he muttered to himself. “That…voice…I’ve heard it…”

“What did you do to him!?” Gilda demanded, her voice beginning to crack in panic.

The mysterious speaker chuckled once again. “I have not done anything. The human’s response is simply due to my presence.”

“Who are you!?”

As if on cue, the figure stepped out from the shadowed outer rim of the large crypt and into the center sanctum’s light. It was a pony, masked by a large wool muffler over a majority of its face with a set of snow goggles tucked tightly over its eyes. The figure wore a blue and grey combat vest of sorts around its torso, with several pockets and zippers along each side, holding no doubt a nasty treasure trove of equipment.

But despite the veiled appearance, one could still tell it was a mare behind such thick garments, with a lavender mane and gray fur sprouting out from the several uncovered areas on her body.

Following close behind her, were several other equally masked ponies, all standing behind her at close attention and all staring silently toward where Gilda and Alistair stood.

“Surprised?” the gray mare said coolly, gesturing out to her phalanx of support. “You really did take your time getting here. Thankfully that gave us plenty of time to prepare.”

“I can still take you on,” Gilda shot back, her claw tightening against her sword’s hilt. “I can take all of you on. Just come at me and you’ll see, you won’t last a—”

Alistair kindly placed a hand on Gilda’s shoulder and spoke to her softly. “Hold on a minute Gilda. I can take it from here.” Stepping ahead of where she stood, he confidently glanced toward the masked mare with crossed arms.

“You can take the mask off; I already know it’s you.”

The mare shook her head. “Took you long enough. A few minutes of you standing there like an idiot and I was considering just telling you outright.” Reaching forward with both her hooves, she yanked the muffler down to her neck and positioned the goggles atop her forehead, revealing the entirety of her face.

“Shale,” he said with an awed wonder, his suspicions confirmed. “It really is you.”

“You’re quick as ever,” she said sarcastically with a smirk. “Did the fur give it away? The mane? Perhaps my charming personality?”

His expression darkened. “I can do without the sarcasm, witch.”

“Now, now,” Shale mockingly scolded him, “there’s no need to start calling me names. Especially when they’re childish and not very well thought out.”

Alistair’s face tightened. “What are you even doing here? I’d think that you and your band of losers would have something better to do than hunt me down again.”

“We’ve been keeping busy.”

“With what?” he snorted. “Preparing for two years just to try something that you know won’t work? Face it Shale, I beat you last time, I can beat you again.”

Shale’s eyes ignited with hatred, feeling a sting of her own at Alistair’s passing reference. “First, the organization we represent has several other tasks on its plate that don’t solely involve you. Second, it was the train derailing that stopped me, not your own combat abilities. And third, no, you still don’t stand a chance in Hades.”

“Big talk for somepony who doesn’t even know who they’re up against.”

“Likewise, human.”

Alistair smiled with ever-increasing confidence, evening himself into a spread stance. “If you’re going to attack I suggest you do it while you can. My friend and I are already prepped for anything you have to throw at us.”

“Funny,” said Shale firmly, “but I doubt you stand any better chance, companion or no companion.”

A glitter moved across Alistair’s eyes. “I guess we’ll see then.”

Silence hung in the air for a moment, both groups looking readily across from one another, waiting to see who would make the first move. Seeing that neither Alistair nor Gilda would take the initiative, Shale raised her hoof commandingly.

“Agents,” he said calmly, “attack.”

On command, with absolutely no hesitation within their ranks, the lines of agents charged toward Gilda and Alistair, swords and daggers raised high above their heads.

Gilda unsheathed her long saber from her side holder as Alistair quickly charged his magic to the center of his palms. Acting on what seemed like singular thought; the two friends began their own well timed defense.

Alistair unleashed a crackling wave of blue electricity across the first line of troops, stopping them dead in their tracks and causing the line behind them to as well stop their advance.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Gilda boosted upwards with her propelling wings and landed behind the second line. Slashing madly at the unsuspecting agents, Gilda cut a considerable path through the distracted force with excellent precession.

Alistair still held the first line within the confines of his electricity, but tactically concluded that he couldn’t hold them back forever. Telekinetically grabbing them (a spell he did not frequent), he lifted them upwards into the air and tossed them right over the still striking Gilda.

The helpless first line hurtled into the third line of agents, leaving only the fourth and final phalanx undisturbed by the two brave hearted heroes. Alistair could see Shale standing all the way at the back of the battle, speaking something to the waiting fourth line. Nodding to them, Shale took off galloping into the darkened out regions of the room.

“She’s getting away!” Alistair shouted to Gilda.

“Go after her!” she yelled back, ducking over a hail of slashing swords.

Just as the words left her mouth, the fourth and remnants of the third line chose that moment to charge toward the occupied Gilda, no doubt with the intention to overwhelm her abruptly.

“There’s too many of them,” he desperately declared, “you can’t fight them all!”

Gilda sidestepped an opposing blade and parried against another. “You can’t let that scum ball get away. No go, I can handle this!”

“But—”

“Go!”

Not thinking twice, he sprinted around the large cluster of agents surrounding Gilda and into the dark reaches of the crypt. As he ran, he fired a handful of lightening bolts into the agent cluster, praying that it would be enough to buy Gilda some time. Turning back around, he ran headlong into pitch black sector, completely unknowing of what lied ahead.