A Shadow Over Ponyville

by Mr Darcy

Chapter Four

A Shadow Over Ponyville

Chapter Four

Heartstrings had not been making idle threats, for when I awoke it was into a nightmare world that will haunt my mind for as long as I live. In that, my death will be a mercy, and I await the arrival of those who seek to end me with some relief. Do not cry, Spike. I did what needed to be done, and if given the chance I would do it all again. Perhaps a break is in order. I thought they would be here by now, but it seems my actions have disrupted them, and we may have until dawn. Sit with me, Spike. I would very much like to hold you once more, as I did when you were young.

That is enough. We must return to the story. I awoke to darkness, and wondered briefly if I had been blinded. I lit my horn, slowly so as not to overwhelm my senses, and the darkness around me was banished by the glow. I felt relief that I was not blind, but the light revealed me to be in some manner of cave. The roof and walls were uneven, clearly not carved out by ponies. I was laying on a stone slab, it's shape as jagged as the walls of the cave. The slab was itself situated on a platform, approximately ten feet high and wide enough for several ponies to stand around the slab I was laying on. At the right edge of the mesa was the start of a gentle slope, and I rolled off my slab and trotted over to see that, as I had thought, it was a ramp, curving all around the platform till it reached the floor. I could see nothing more than I already had from my position, so I went down to the bottom. The space between the walls and the platform left little room to maneuver. Two ponies might have walked abreast there, if they kept uncomfortably close. I went round the cave and found no entrance. How had they brought me here with no way in or out? I looked up, wondering if the ceiling possessed a chimney of some sort, but no luck there. It was as blank as the walls. I had another pass at the walls, inspecting them closely for any sign of a door. My search turned up nothing. The walls were solid rock, with no breaks whatsoever. I nearly despaired, and I spent several minutes with my head rested against the stone, fighting back panic.

An answer came to me, though it was a slim chance at best. Rarity had taught me a spell for detecting gems in the ground. Could I modify it to detect other things as well? It was worth a try. I closed my eyes and focused, visualizing holes, cracks, thin spots, anything that I could work with, and then I cast the spell. It fizzled out, to no effect. I did not let one failure ruin me, and I tried again. This time, the stone began to glow, and the outline of an arch was revealed! Now the question became, how to open it? The stone would be weaker in that spot, and so I began using my magic to apply pressure, trying to force the door. I broke a sweat, and my breath shortened. I pushed harder and harder, but my efforts were being rewarded; I could see cracks appearing around the edge of the arch. I put all my strength into one last push, and the doorway exploded outward, revealing a tunnel as dark as the cave I was in. I sighed and leaned against a wall, taking a moment to gather myself. When I felt rested enough to go on, I stepped through the ruined arch and into the tunnel. It stretched on as far as my light could reach, so with no other choice I followed it. After some time, I came to a crossroads, with a path straight ahead, and also to the left and right. With nothing to guide me, I chose to go right on a whim. This tunnel was shorter than the one leading to my prison. It lead me to an arch, which opened on a room as large as my tree-house.

I entered cautiously, but there was nopony else present. Those who had captured me had been relying on the seemingly impassable walls to hold me, I guessed. Wooden shelves lined the walls of the room, each adorned with books, scrolls, jars, and pouches. The jars were all labeled, but I did not bother to read what they contained. To the right as I entered, a break in the shelves allowed room for a table and a large chest. The table was covered in glass instruments, and I perceived many of them to be the tools of alchemy. Others I could not identify. I passed the table, and on the far end of the room from where I had entered, there was another break in the shelves, this time to allow the viewing of a large mural that had been carved into the rock. It was choppy, as though made by hands unaccustomed to tools, and that image shook me more than anything I had seen previously. In the center was a figure, a blighted, amorphous mass, which screamed of blasphemy and hunger. I dared not look upon that thing for long, and when I at last averted my eyes, I saw that somepony had carved shaky letters below the demonic thing. I did not want to read it, but morbid curiosity got the better of me, and I drew closer for a better look. The letters spelled the word “AZATHOTH”, and the mere reading of that word gave me chills. It was the name of the figure above, I presumed, and I did not care to learn anymore. Surrounding the horrid monster which formed the nucleus of the image was a ring of likewise monstrous abominations, though in form they were less frightening than the one who was named Azathoth. Some held flutes, and seemed to be piping away merrily, while their companions banged on drums.

I let my eyes follow the ring, and there, near the top, was one who seemed greater than his fellows. His head was a single tentacle, long and winding, with a gaping maw where a mouth should be. Of other limbs he possessed many, some bony and others like tentacles, and it made my eyes water to follow the twists and curves of his unnatural shape. He too carried a flute, and he played with two hands while directing his lesser kin with the others. Unlike his lesser brethren, he had a name like the demon in the center. I could barely decipher it, but it read to me like “NYARLATHOTEP”. The name would have been dreadful enough, but just below it another thing had been carved. It was small, but never before has such terror been contained by such a small thing. It was a pattern, and I knew it immediately as the cutie mark that Lyra Hoofstep bore upon her flank. Lyra Hoofstep...Nyarlathotep. I screamed. I am not ashamed to admit it. I wailed and screeched and I ran, right out of that room and to the crossroads, not even bothering to stop and question my direction. I charged on straight ahead, down the path which had been to my left as I was escaping my prison. I stopped only when I had exhausted myself. I slowed to a stop and then dropped to the floor, my mind and body too weary to remain awake.

When I came too, I shuddered and did my best not to think upon what I had learned in that room of nightmares. I could not suppress it entirely, and the implications made my mind reel. I stumbled to my feet and cast a light spell once more. I decided to continue on the path I was following, anything to get me further from that room, and the carving with it's terrible revelations. I walked for hours, and to keep my mind off the truth of Lyra Hoofstep, I thought of my friends. I wondered what they were doing, and whether they had questioned my absence yet. I did not know how long I had been gone, but it must have been more than a day. Would Spike break his promise not to tell where I had gone? I doubt that it would matter. My friends would not find this place, wherever it may be. No, escape was on my shoulders. My thoughts were interrupted by something wholly unexpected. I had been traversing these tunnels in complete silence, excepting my own screams earlier. Now that silence was broken by the most terrible wailing I had ever heard. It bubbled and seethed, and I could not determine what emotions it expressed. If I had to guess, I would have said anger. My captors had discovered my absence. I thought of the images in the room I had left, and when the blasphemous wailing echoed through the tunnels a second time, my mind made horrible conjectures about what could be causing it. I panicked, and I ran once more. I galloped on, but to my horror I began to hear a sound from behind , like a rushing wind, and a fearful sensation swept over me. I redoubled my pace, and if I had not been in such a terror, I would have noticed the ground beginning to slope upwards.

How long I ran, with an unknown horror of the depths behind, I cannot tell. Eventually the sloping floor came to an end, and directly above was a wooden door. Before I could reach up to push it open, the rushing sound grew fiercer and the wailing began again, and from much closer. I would not make. Whatever hunted me possessed some unnatural speed, and despite my head start it had caught up. Even as I turned to face it, I could feel it's presence, like a black stain on the universe. I had kept my horn's light to a minimum before, to conserve my strength, but I did not want to die in darkness, so I allowed the light to burst forth. As the light from my horn gained in brilliance, the thing approached. From the shadows I saw a red glow, a single, flaming eye. A shape surrounded the eye, a form of shifting shadow, and it is merciful I could not make it out in the darkness beyond my horn's light. I realized then that the thing had stopped moving. It hovered at the edge of the illuminated area, remaining in the dark. I almost laughed, but felt it would be best not to press my luck, especially with eldritch horrors from beyond our world. I backed up slowly, and sure enough the thing never drew any closer to the light. Confident that I had discovered it's weakness, I turned back to the door and pushed it open. It was heavy, but I managed, and I lifted myself up one hoof at a time, careful not to let my light go out. When I had fully exited the tunnel, I looked around and found myself back in Ethersong's apartment! I wondered how far those tunnels stretched below, and where else they connected to the world above. I was sure there were other exits, but soon there would be one less.

I peered into the tunnel below, and began to gather my magic. I pushed at the walls, the ceiling, anything I could reach. It was difficult, especially while trying to simultaneously keep my light going. The thing in the tunnel began wailing again; it knew what I was doing. Just as I felt my strength about to go out, the tunnel began to groan, and then it collapsed in a spectacular shower of rock and dust. The entire side of the apartment gave way with it, and I leaped backwards just in time to avoid being crushed. Luckily Ethersong's apartment had been on the outside wall, else I would have worried for the lives of other ponies in the building. I doubted I had killed the creature; something that nightmarish would not be slain so easily. At best I had delayed it while it looked for another exit. I had bought myself some time, but time for what? What could I do in the face of such cosmic horror? How could I face a being such as Lyra Hoofstep, who commanded the loyalty of maddening creatures of darkness and monstrous pipers of the void, and who served the one known as Azathoth? They would never stop hunting me, and so it was I decided to return to Ponyville, to write these memoirs, and ensure that those more qualified were prepared to face this threat. I could not have know then that it would not be so easy.

Comments

[Lexicon]

I've just finished reading Chapter 4, and I have to say, it's going quite well. I would continue reading, but I have things I must do.

So far, it does seem very much like the Lovecratian works I've seen. Then again, most of the Lovecraftian works I've seen have been written by him.

Also, how bad is it that I've read his works before going to bed, and I'm reading this before taking a logic test?

[Khym Chanur]

What could I do in the face of such cosmic horror? How could I face a being such as Lyra Hoofstep, who commanded the loyalty of maddening creatures of darkness and monstrous pipers of the void, and who served the one known as Azathoth?

I would think that the obvious thing to do would be to contact the princesses.

[Moosetasm]

Absolutely fantastic so far. The Lovecraftian style and the prose is excellent.