• Published 6th May 2015
  • 5,648 Views, 427 Comments

Never Broken - Torgaddon

A shattered and broken soul, Spike has spent the better part of the last two thousand years in never ending battle in the dead world of Ginun. Now, he must return to Equestria to protect what is most precious to him, but also face his shame again.

  • ...

Fall of the Mountain

Celestia and Luna, exhausted and covered in bruises, their ankles and wrists chafed from the hell-forged iron shackles, jogged rather than walked, their comparatively small bodies unable to keep up with the massive Draka's stride otherwise. The warrior's legs alone were as tall as either of the Princesses, themselves barely reaching the lowest part of Spike's midsection.

Spike had retrieved his massive armor and was now walking towards his assembled troops. The many Draka awaiting him had finished the remaining daemons and undead.
The siege of Canterlot had been broken.

Celestia found herself huffing with effort, her feet stumbling slightly as she tried to keep pace with Spike. She did not want to lose Spike out of her sight. Too many questions burned in her mind right now for her to allow that. Once Spike got some proper care, she would gain as much information as possible.

Her eyes fell to her sister, Luna, who jogged slightly in order to keep up with the gigantic Draka and, much like herself, kept her eyes to Spike. Unlike Celestia however, Luna's eyes were not alight with questions or inquiry, but rather it was the wary look a bird of prey gives a lurking serpent.

Celestia knew better than to reprimand her.

Luna knew full well what anger and madness can do to somepony. Nightmare Moon had not been a fluke, and Luna still struggled sometimes to extinguish that side of her. However much they owed Spike now, Luna did not trust that Spike would not go berserk anew, as the incident one year ago.

Celestia had to admit that she harbored such feelings too. As much as she wanted to stifle them, as much as she wanted to be wholeheartedly happy that Spike was alive and that he had saved her, her sister and her subjects, she could not help but shudder at the sight of him.

His massive body, painted in scars, both ancient and new. His lipless, fanged face. His cold, ancient eyes, eyes that had seen the Abyss itself and the worst the world has to offer.

What was even worse was the almost casual acceptance and resignation with which Spike had forced his own body to walk, even though his entire frame was covered, head to toe, in horrific wounds. A hundred wounds and deep cuts flowed with blood, even as parts of his flesh and scales still sizzled and smoldered, in the aftermath of his battle with the greater daemon Nerg'Cathal and his Flesh Giver cannon. Yet, with all those wounds, Spike walked forward without a single whisper of pain. Her body trembling slightly, Celestia could understand that Spike was no stranger to pain and the torments of the body.

Just how much must have this poor child suffered in order to become so accustomed to pain?

With a slight shrug, she pushed it out of her mind. Questions must wait. She needed to reach Canterlot Castle and see to the preparations for the journey to the Crystal Empire. A part of her mind also constantly nagged at her to find Twilight as soon as possible and check if she was alright.

Twilight stumbled forward, her arm across Applejack strong shoulders. The magically induced seizure she had suffered had taken quite the toll on her, such that she could barely even walk without support.

The concerned look of her friends surrounded her as they all walked into the great courtyard of the Castle. The refugees and the Royal Guard had assembled before the portcullis of the castle, everypony wanting nothing more than to look upon the reassuring sight of their beloved Princesses.

The sound of hurried footsteps announced the arrival of one of the Royal Guard captains and a few of the castle medics.

"Move it already, Princess Twilight is wounded" berated the Captain to the slow moving medics.

"Captain" said Twilight, trying to put as much dignity and authority in her exhausted voice as she could. "I am fine, I don't need the medics, all I need is rest".

"Nonsense your highness, I cannot allow..." began the Captain, even as he reached out to take Twilight from Applejack's supporting shoulders.

"Whoah there buddy" interrupted Rainbow Dash as she flew in front of the Captain. "If Twilight said that she needs no help, then she needs no help. Trust me, if there's anyone here who knows what's what, it's her".

"But..." began the Captain again, only to be interrupted by the rumbling of the great gates beginning to open.

"Yah sure ya'll be okay sugarcube?" asked a concerned Applejack even as she set Twilight down on the grass to lean on a tree. "Ahm' sure the Princesses won't mind if ya' take a breather before ya' meet 'em an' all".

Twilight smiled meekly at the girls and the Captain, appreciating their concern.

"Thanks, but I really will be okay. My magical reserves have been exhausted and the magical backlash of that freaky cannon did a number on me but I just need to rest and I'll be okay. It can wait until I've spoken to Princess Celestia, though".

With a thunderous groan that signaled the complete opening of the gates of Canterlot Castle, the Princesses began walking through, followed by Spike and his Legion of the Damned.

A cheer went up at the sight of the two Princesses, safe and sound, only to die out almost as quickly, as Spike and the Legion came closer to the assembled ponies.

What joy there had been, died off, smothered by the sight of the horribly wounded Spike and the Legion of the Damned, a large number of them carrying the still bodies of their fellow Legionnaires.

"SPIKE" yelled Twilight, her exhaustion all but forgotten as she began half-running, half-stumbling towards the horribly wounded form of Spike. "Oh my goodness, are you alright? Medics, MEDICS OVER HERE".

Spike stopped dead in his tracks as Twilight came running at him and extended a hand larger than her entire upper body to catch her as she stumbled and fell, her already exhausted body unable to cope with the sudden effort.

"Twilight, stop, you are hurt enough as it is".

"What in the hay are yah talkin' about? YOU'RE the one who's hurt" said Applejack exasperated, trying to peel Twilight off Spike's arm. "How in Tartarus did ya' get like that? You gotta get to the medics right now".

"Sweet Celestia, how are you even standing right now? MEDICS GET OVER HERE, WHAT THE BUCK ARE YOU WAITING FOR" yelled Rarity, taking everypony aback with the complete shift in her demeanor. Rarity had never cussed before.

Spike looked to his battered body and, with a slow shake of his head, added.

"My warriors come first. Shagga!".

At the Darraor's call, Shagga quickly came, her right hand nursing a particularly deep wound on her left shoulder. Even wounded so, Shagga maintained the dignity and poise that was required of a Draka of her station.

"Elder Brother?"


"…." Shagga's mouth opened and closed, as if she did not want to speak.

Spike's normally steely eye began to soften. Iron resolve and unbending discipline began to meld with grief and sorrow.

"How many?" he whispered.

"Fifty seven … including Goromandy" said Shagga, her voice steady, yet suddenly hoarse. "They all died with honor, as true Draka of the Legion must".

"Oh sweet Celestia" whimpered Fluttershy, her hand clasped to her mouth in shock.

Spike's massive shoulders slumped and his large head turned to look to the ground. For a moment the air around him seemed to become heavy and his breathing seemed to stop. Yet it was only for a moment. His head slowly came back up and his back straightened, his remaining eye, once again, a pinnacle of immovable determination.

"Tonight we sing for them. They deserve nothing less. Our voices shall accompany them upon the Road of Skulls when they meet their ancestors, absolved of their sins".

A slight, almost imperceptible sniff came from Shagga. Her face was impassive, yet her eyes were filled with gratitude and affection. Spike, the Veshanesh of the Draka, Darraor of the Legion, slaughterer of untold millions of daemons, vanquisher of the Avatar of the Abyssal Gods, the unbreakable Draka, a creature that had seen the worst existence had to offer, still had enough love in his heart to react with such sorrow at the inevitable loss of his Legionnaires.

"Shagga, call upon our medic and requisition the service of any pony medic to heal yourself and our Battle-Siblings. After that, your order is to rest. We will begin the march to the pony sanctuary of the Crystal Empire at the daybreak of tomorrow".

"...but...my lord … Spike...you are the most wounded here" she began, her eyes suddenly alight with concern. It had always been Spike's way to see to his warriors safety before his own. But the only time she had seen him so wounded had been after his battle with the Avatar of the Abyss.

Spike drew himself to his full height, towering above Shagga and put a massive, yet gentle hand on her unwounded shoulder.

"Your concern is appreciated, however, you have your orders. You and the rest of my warriors will be healed first. I shall wait".

With that, he offered a nod to a dismayed Twilight, and turned his back to her, beginning to walk away. He had spent to much time close to her already. If Twilight and the other girls were to forget him, he could not allow himself to rekindle their memories and affections towards him. He had to make sure they would not see him as a friend anymore.

A quick flutter of wings and a small voice made him stop in his tracks.


Spike turned to regard the tiny, pink-maned and yellow-furred pegasus that hovered inches from his face, a large first-aid bag clutched in her fists. His lipless mouth opened but clamped shut as soon as he saw her eyes. She was not using the Stare. It would not have worked on him anyway. And yet, he found himself unable to look away from those large, concern filled eyes.

"Big warlord of the Draka or no, If you're not gonna let the doctor see you, you will sit down and at least let me bandage your wounds" began Fluttershy, more assertive than she had ever been before.

Try as he might, Spike could not walk away. As much as he wanted to make them forget him, he could not simply leave without offering an explanation. It would be too harsh, he would wound them too much. He knew his heart would shatter if he did so. Looking to Shagga for support, all he found were the concerned faces of Shagga and the other five girls.

Cursing himself for a fool and a weakling, Spike sat cross-legged on the cold, hard stone of the ground, allowing a grumbling Fluttershy to damp a cotton swab in alcohol and begin cleaning his many wounds.

He did not notice the grateful smile plastered on Shagga's face as she turned to walk away and do his bidding. Nor did he notice her mime the words "thank you" to Twilight and her friends.

Twilight and the rest of the girls nodded to her and closed in on Spike.

"We're going to need something to stop the bleeding before you bandage his wounds" began Twilight, her mind already racing to remember a healing spell strong enough to have any effect on a draconian's high magical resistance.

Spike's arm extended toward the Captain of the Royal Guard.

"Your spare sword".

Without a moment's hesitation, unable to even attempt to deny Spike's commanding presence, the Captain obliged. His large, wide bladed sword, was barely more than a dagger in Spike's hand and, with a gout of pale green flame, the blade turned white-hot.

Meticulously, with steady movements, Spike put the white-hot metal to his flesh, cauterizing the first wound Fluttershy had cleaned, closing it and staunching the flow of blood. Flesh sizzled and burned, yet Spike did not even wince, even as the other girls grimaced at the sight and sound.

"Uhh, Spike?" started Applejack "Can..uh..can we talk?"

Spike, still cauterizing wound after wound, turned his lipless face to her and nodded slightly.

"Yeah...umm...the thing is..." she began only to be cut short by the usual atmosphere-ignoring voice of Pinkie.

"Why are you fighting so hard for us if you're just going to do your best to avoid us afterwards?"

A strong silence filled the area around the former companions, every girl looking worried and expectantly awaiting answers. Spike's remaining good eye however, blazed with restrained anger and his metallic jaw worked as if he was forcing himself not to say something he wanted desperately to.

Finally, drawing in a deep breath, he calmed himself.

"I have already explained it have I not? I am now of the Legion of the Damned, I am not here as your friend, I am here because it is my duty to protect you, as recompense for the kindness you have shown me when I was nothing more than a runtling".

With a shrug, he rose from the ground and gently pushed Fluttershy away from him.

"I humbly thank you for that, Elements of Harmony, I ask that you ready yourself for the long march to the Crystal Empire". Ending it with a formal bow, he turned and began walking away, leaving the dismayed ponies behind him.

Fluttershy, Rarity and Pinkie Pie looked as if they were about to burst into tears, while Applejack and Rainbow Dash were simply dumbfounded. Spike had never spoken in such a formal and cold tone with them. Twilight, however, crossed her arms before her chest and called out.

"You're lying".

Spike's stride stopped abruptly. For a few seconds he stood there, his fists balling up and veins begining to swell on his neck and arms. Without another word he started walking again and did not look back.

"Wha...Wha... WHAT THE HAY WAS THAT ABOUT?" cried Applejack turning to Twilight.

"Have ya' lost your marbles, why did ya' say that? He's already angry at us for Celestia-knows what reason, don't add ta' the fire".

"No, Princess Twilight is right" a melodious voice came from behind them. They turned to see an open-armed Celestia walk towards them, Luna not far behind her.

"Princess Celestia, Princess Luna" cried the six girls, dog-piling on them in a whirlwind of hugs.

"Wait, what do you mean Twilight's right?" asked Pinkie, in the middle of giving Luna a bone-crunching hug.

Celestia looked at the girls and nodded.

"Exactly what I said my little ponies, Twilight is right when she says that Spike is lying. He is being distant but he will not share with us the reason why. One thing I can say for sure is that it is not for the reason he has given to you just now".

The girls looked at Celestia quizzically, trying their best to figure out why Spike would act this way.

"You think it's because of the "accident""? asked Rainbow.

"No" said Twilight, her hand stroking her chin, her brow furrowed in concentration. "At least, not entirely. It has a lot to do with his rampage one year ago, that's for sure, but that's not the main reason he's being so distant right now".

Twilight remained, clearly trying to solve the puzzle for a few moments more, then, shrugging, added.

"Doesn't matter, he'll tell us the truth when he's ready. However, if he thinks we'll just going to let him distance himself from us, he's got another thing coming. I've already lost him once, I'm not going to let that happen again".

Wide smiles appeared on the six girls faces, even Celestia allowing herself a slight smirk. It was good to see the girls in high spirits once again. Too much sadness had been allowed recently.

Spike strode forwards, his eye looking ahead, yet unable to register anything other than the stone slabs of the courtyard, his ears unable to hear anything other than his own thoughts.

As much as his wounded body hurt, his heart hurt a thousand times worse.

It was not going well, he would not be able to keep up the charade for too long anymore. He could not stand acting or talking with the girls who had been nothing less than foster mothers to him, in such a manner. Even if Twilight was beginning to see through the act, he had clearly seen the hurt in her eyes.

But he had to keep doing this. No matter how much it hurt him, he had to play the role of the ungrateful bastard and distance himself from the girls. He could not allow them to feel close enough to him again to shed tears for him.

Yes, he had to get the girls to the Crystal Empire as soon as possible and return to his world of death and battle. Things were much simpler there.

In the depths of the mountain's stone belly, daemons shrieked and howled in an orgy of death and blood, as another hundred changelings were sacrificed in the great cult's pentagram.

As the green blood flowed, the pentagram blazed an ugly red, and Kilmaaiil the Half-Born shrieked to the cold stone ceiling. His eyes rolled in his sockets, even as his tiny, disfigured form shivered, gripped in a magically induced frenzy. His already emanciated form seemed to become even more disfigured, as leathery skin clung to bones and bloody froth burst from his broken-toothed mouth.

Yet, no daemon came to his aid. All knew that to speak to the Abyssal Gods had it's costs, and none wanted to pay that price. The Prophet of the Abyss alone had the power to speak to the Abyssal Gods and retain his sanity.

Kilmaaiil's twitching hand rose again and, as one, another hundred changeling's throats were sliced and their lifeblood spilled upon the pentagram.

Yes, to speak with the Gods of the Abyss had it's price.

With a final bellow, Kilmaaiil's shuddering body fell to the ground and the blazing pentagram extinguished it's eldritch glow, disappearing in a waft of acrid smoke.

Quivering and coughing blood, Kilmaaiil rose from the ground, his mismatched eyes blazing with fervor and knowledge. Through the sight of the Abyssal Gods he had seen it all. The gigantic Draka emerging from beyond the great portal of the Mouth of Madness. He and his army butchering daemons by the thousands in a relentless march. Nerg'Cathal prostrate and crying before the behemoth draconian, only to disappear in a blaze of fire. He had seen them make ready to march from the Castle that was sanctuary for hundreds of Equestrians and he had seen their destination.

The Crystal Empire.

Kilmaaiil had seen the warrior's power and the blood of millions that stained the creature's hands. Yet, he had also seen the shadow of doom hovering above the gigantic Draka and his Legion. Yes, their doom was close, he only needed hasten it.

"Summon Jalaman Hun and Wilhelmina to my tent" he bellowed in his reedy voice.

Without awaiting a response, he turned and started walking to his tent. There was work to be done. Already, the plan took shape in his malevolent mind. Jalaman Hun and his armies would go through the underbelly of the world and intercept the Legion and refugee convoy before they would reach the Crystal Empire, while Wilhelmina and their newest ally would attack the convoy on the journey towards it.

He doubted there would be any need for Jalaman to intercept the convoy, as most likely nothing would remain after Wilhelmina's army and the new ally would attack, however, a contingency plan was never a bad thing. He would not take any chances. The Elements of Harmony were integral to the plans of the Abyssal Gods.

Speaking of the new ally, it was about time it got fresh orders.

The Mouth of Madness blazed in unholy flames. Dragons, drakes and wyverns fell to the ground as black, rotten flame tore at their flesh and reduced them to charred husks. Howling Draka of the Legion of Damned laughed as they were consumed by the flames, continuing to throw themselves at the mountainous creature that had attacked the Mouth of Madness, even though it was nothing more than an exercise in futility.

Bal'Valar the Stormfang, Archdrake of DrakenHall, bellowed another incantation as he unleashed barrage after barrage of white fireballs at the single gigantic enemy that had destroyed the assembled forces that defended the Mouth of Madness.

White purifying flame sizzled and compressed before the might of the creature and, with a final boom, exploded into nothingness. Within the blinding light of the exploding fireballs, Bel'Valar was able to see clearly for the first time the form of the monstrosity that had attacked them in the dead of night.

Three times the size of an elder dragon, the creature was larger than the Bastion fortress itself. Shredded leathery wings blew whirlwinds with every movement while bony claws raked through stone and steel with equal ease. A massive body of rotten flesh and yellowed bone stared back at Bel'Valar, what few wounds had been made upon it, healing in mere moments.

Atop a long, bony neck lay a massive skull, half covered in rotten flesh, a single, massive horn of bone, a still twitching Draka impaled upon it, adorning it's skeletal snout.

Bel'Valar's final sound was a shriek of dismay as he recognized the corpse of one of the Primordial Dragons, one the progenitors of the Draconian race, the Mountain Eater himself.

Inside the undead corpse of the Mountain Eater, the once noble Primordial Dragon's soul howled in impotent rage and sorrow as he butchered draconian after draconian. He could recognize dragons, drakes and Draka alike, yet he was unable to stop himself from slaughtering the poor children.

The creature his body now recognized as master, the one called Kilmaaill the Half-Born had been truly insidious in his actions. It had resurrected his body as a perpetually decaying and regenerating abomination, and bound his soul to the carcass, forcing him to watch the carnage, all the while allowing his carcass to have the same strength in death as it had had in life.

The Mountain Eater's soul cried out again as his body spewed black, corrupted flame at the small dragon that had launched purifying flame at his body before, and burned him to a flaming pile of bones.

He was slave to someone else's will. He, the Mountain Eater. He, once one of the Primordial Dragons. He, once protector of the draconian race. He was nothing more than a puppet now. The Mountain Eater had believed his death at the hands of Ganbataar Ghiula Khan and his innumerable armies had been the final act in his life. But nothing was ever so simple when concerning the Abyssal Gods and their daemonic lackeys.

The Mountain Eater howled in frustrated rage again, as his body, independent of his will, butchered the last few remaining draconians. He cursed himself for being too strong. He cursed the Abyssal Gods for their very presence. But, most of all, he cursed Kilmaaiil for having desecrated his body and robbed him of his rest in the afterlife.

As if called upon by the mere thought of his name, the reedy voice of Kilmaaiil blew within his mind.

"Upon the peaks of the Mountains of Grey Crystals, a convoy of Equestrian Ponies shall emerge, led by a small contingent of Draka. Butcher them and the Draka alike, but leave the Elements of Harmony alive. Obey".

His soul screaming and howling with despair, the Mountain Eater's body rose to the skies, powerful wings splitting clouds apart, leaving the charnel house that had once been the over ten thousand draconic forces, to be consumed by the flames he had unleashed upon them.

For the thousand time, he cursed the name Kilmaaiil the Half-Born, for the Mountain Eater knew his own strength too well, and he knew, that whomever the Equestrians and the Draka he had been set upon to hunt were, they were all already dead.

Author's Note:

Hello lads and lasses, Battle-Brothers and Battle-Sisters alike.

Latest chapter here, the begining of the new ark in the story of Spike, Darraor of the Legion.

As always, feel free to offer up some input and/or criticism.

P.S. Thank you all so much for your support up to this point.
Hell, over 900 views, 100 likes and some of the most awesome comments possible .... you glorious bastards truly humble me.

Join our Patreon to remove these adverts!
Join our Patreon to remove these adverts!