The Moon on the Sword: Act One (Dark, Gore)
She came from the islands of the west, out of a castle of shattered dreams with hooves stained on a blood soaked beach. A dreadful cold filled her eye and encased her heart in a shield only Celestia could pierce. Battle sang in her veins, and with sword in aura she would descend on the wicked and unjust. She was Luna Invictus—knight, reaver, pirate, princess, and lover—gigantic in her melancholies and her mirth, destined to tread the ambitions of empires and tyrants beneath steel shod hooves.
~The Book of Selene
1
A wild orange glow permeated the east as the sun fought the guiding magic of the cabal tasked with her governance while in the west her sister, Selene, waited patiently over the distant, unknown lands no pony had yet strode across. Theirs was an ancient dance, one stretching back to a time lost from historians’ parchments in the Dark Era, which all accepted universally as truth on being the most terrible and frightening times for not just ponies, but all the disc.
After her usual griping at the unicorn mages of the Solar Cabal, Sol popped upwards in time to Selene sinking below the distant opposite rim. In so doing night switched to day in a vibrant flash, all the myriad mountains peaks lighting in time, golden rays stretching outwards to caress the sleeping races.
Across Neighpon with its tiered towers, beyond into the wild, twisted places nopony dared venture to visit, and then into those lands once claimed by Thuelesia the new day raced. In the space of a heartbeat it reached the former seat of the fallen empire now home to a number of budding city-states and minor queendoms, of which Roam was the most notable with it’s greedy merchants and long galleys. Then the golden dawn moved onto the island of Coltsica, alighting like a bird on the tip of a waiting tower before continuing ever further to the west in a blaze of oranges and gold that quickly gave way to wonderful blue.
This tower belonged to Dreamsong Castle, that imposing fortification built overlooking the north-easternmost bay of the island from a tall cliff of slate grey stone. Catapults and ballistae sat atop the boxy towers connected by walls of magic shaped pink granite. Behind the strong and formidable bastion stood a squat keep topped with curved copper roofs and little statues of Faust above narrow windows and iron banded doors.
Not far from the gates a lonely old tree stood on a hilltop surrounded by grass and wildflowers. Underneath the castle’s gaze the daughters of the queen gathered to enjoy the beautiful morning. Here they were permitted a sense of freedom away from the stern eyes of their mothers and schoolmaster.
Nestled next to the trunk the younger sisters watched their older half-siblings practice their swordwork under the guidance of the captain of the guard.
Watching with the most interest was the elder of the two; Dirge Lullaby. From a sunken, dull grey face her silvery-blue eyes followed every movement of her elder sisters. Whenever one came close to landing a blow she turned away so as to hide behind her curly darker grey mane with its double white locks bouncing down from beside her horn.
“Today is the day I finally best you, Summerset,” the smaller of the two combatants growled.
Sweat lathering her pudgy, eggshell toned hide, Bellicosa lunged and thrust. She could taste victory on the summer breeze and it made her overconfident. Her opponent, the older and vastly more skilled Summerset, made a purposefully sloppy parry and feint, drawing her sister in closer and closer.
Summerset just laughed, and smiled with her carmine eyes. Her toned muscles moved in smooth elegance beneath her coat, light reddish-pink fur rippling over shoulder and flank as she darted back like a playful cat, her mane of three toned yellows bouncing along as gaily as her laughter.
From where she watched the pair Sir Sydney tutted her tongue loudly. “Keep your sword under control, Bellicosa. Don’t let it range too far, or—”
With a twang-thwap Summerset knocked her sister’s sword up and out of her aura then slapped Bellicosa on the flank. Laughter rose from Dirge, a flurry of clapping accompanying a shout of, “Way to go, Summerset!”
A beet red fury glowing on her cheeks, Bellicosa marched over to the tree and sat down in a huff. Grumbling, Bellicosa ignored both Summerset and Sydney as they tried to coax her to pick her practice sword back up.
Knowing one of her sister’s tantrums when she saw one, Summerset turned to her youngest sister and called, “Why don’t we spar for a while, Luna? It will do you some good to exercise and practice.”
Beside Dirge, the youngest of the sisters had little interest in the practice bouts. She instead had her dark blue nose pressed deep into a book. Luna’s ability to read, a talent mastered almost before she could walk, marked her as special. While hardly unique, her voracious appetite for the written word did draw attention.
That day, as with every day over the past month, Luna read the Book of Names. Ratty and dog-eared, the book was a gift from her mother to keep Luna company. Princess-Consort Jinxy Fantasia wasn’t due to return for some weeks yet from her visit with the Dictator of Roam. Luna looked forward to the reunion with great anticipation.
Not looking up from her book, Luna said, “But I’ve just gotten to the part where Faust and Iridia first encountered the Soulless.”
Bellicosa let out a long, shrill laugh and rolled her eyes. “The Soulless? Ha! Those beasts that come howling from the eastern deserts, raiding and slaving from the edge of pathetic Thul to the Pegasi Plains, and Neighpon beyond the disc’s spine? Nopony who meets the Soulless ever sees their family again. They are chained and yoked, their marks burnt off and replaced with new brands. The Soulless have no pity or remorse, not for even their own kind, and aren’t bound to Faust’s weave.
“That’s why they call them the Soulless, Woona. Because they just die. They don’t journey to Tartarus nor Elysium, and they certainly don’t rejoin the cycle through the Springbringer’s blessing. Nothingness; that’s what they come from, what they spread, and where they go.”
From where she stood practicing with Sydney, Summerset snapped, “Belli, that is enough of that. You’re frightening Luna and Dirge,” hoof pointing to where Dirge huddled in the grass, ears pulled down and eyes screwed shut.
“They should be frightened,” Bellicosa huffed, pacing in front of her sisters. Her eyes flashed with ire and her lips twisted up in a snarl. “Blessed Thuelesia was all that kept the Soulless trapped in the deserts and hills. Every year they venture further and further. Their raids take more Earth Ponies from the Free States’ shores each year, sending them back to work in their cities until they die and are then eaten. Pegasi are shot down with nets, their wings clipped, and kept for purposes even I shudder to contemplate.” She stopped in front of Luna, her eyes growing narrow as she sneered. “But it's what they do to unicorns that is the worst.”
“What do they do to us?” Luna asked, though she didn’t really want to know. Her sister’s grin grew fiercer, making her knees tremble.
“They hunt unicorns for sport and cut off our horns to make—”
“Bellicosa! Enough!” Summerset stamped her hoof and marched up to her sister, her face a livid cherry colour. “What in Faust’s mane is wrong with you? Just because you are a poor hoof with a sword and sore that you lost is no reason to torment our sisters.”
“I’m not upset about that.” Bellicosa snorted, then added, “they need to hear the truth, Summerset. You and mother can’t coddle them from the disc forever,” before marching off.
Coming up to Summerset, Dirge asked, “Is what she said true? About the Soulless? Do they really cut off our horns if they catch us?”
“Of course not,” Summerset gave her little sisters a reassuring smile. “You know how Belli gets. Don’t believe a word she said.” She then leant down, and in a conspiratorial whisper added, “Besides, if they ever came to Coltsica, Sir Sydney and I would chase them away. Isn’t that right, Sydney?”
The captain gave an emphatic nod. “Too true, your Highness.”
Luna and Dirge both smiled and were at ease.
2
Racing before the dusk with oars stretched out to kiss the sea’s rolling surface a galley of painted golds and crimson swung towards Coltsica’s southern tip. She glided with practiced ease through the warm, blue waters, her scowling prow a sword that cut the waves in half. No whips cracked at the rowers, only the measured tone of a drum to keep them in time, although they hardly required the help.
This was a crew that had many times worked together. Their comfort and understanding of each other complete and well tuned in all aspects of the galley’s operations, whether open sailing or during the heated rush of battle.
A pleased smile broke across the Master’s long face, turning his perpetual grimace into something altogether unpleasant to look upon. His steel grey eyes crinkled in mirth at the trepidation of those nearest. Heart glowing from the smooth voyage, her turned a moment to look to the south where one of the few concerns on his mind lay.
There, just visible through the miasma clinging to the ocean’s top where it created a clinging bank of fog-like horizon, a number of black shapes could be made out. The Master squinted and counted as he had every half hour that day.
At the end of his count he grunted and pushed himself away from the railing. His tread was heavy as he made his way towards the captain’s quarters. To fit through the door he had to duck and angle his head so his horns went through one at a time, lest they strike the frames and leave another gouge in the wood. Stooping his massive seven foot frame in the cabin did little to lower the impression of strength in his muscular form.
“It is as you thought, my lord; the griffons are on the hunt,” the dusky skinned minotaur said without preamble or greeting.
Sitting behind a long desk, helmet at his side, the captain’s brown eyes flashed with keen intellect up to the Master before returning to the charts spread out before him. They had cost a minor fortune to acquire from a slimy little Armetrian merchant, but had proved their worth a hundred fold already.
“Aye, but Roam or Coltsica? Or do they seek to slip between the two and strike further north or west? What do you make of their numbers?”
“Three or four dozen; no more.”
“Not Roam then. Do they seek the same treasure as us?” The captain clicked his tongue and shook his long red hair. “No matter. Griffons do not hold our interest, and where they are headed is inconsequential. We will wait for them to pass, then head to Coltsica. Our plans remain unchanged.”
“And if it is us they hunt?”
Booming laughter broke from the captain, his head tossed back in his mirth. “As unlikely as that is, if we are their goal then they should have brought more ships! We will send them all to Parhemane’s bone filled fortress at the ocean’s bottom, then continue on to collect our bounty. Riches and glory await us, my friend, if the priest’s visions are right. And if they are not, then nevermind, as it is an adventure regardless!”
The Master’s grin broadened once more and he nodded to the captain before leaving to tell the pilot to alter course.
3
A grin on her face, Luna floated on a downy bed of fluffy dreams. Covers pulled up to her chin by her hoofmaiden, she couldn’t have been more comfortable.
It was into this wonderful, formless bliss the clanging of bells from their towers came, their sharp peels harsh against Luna’s ears. Mind foggy and desiring nothing more than to bury her head underneath her pillows, Luna rolled over and tried to block out the noise.
Still they rang, their notes growing more shrill and frantic by the moment. The shouting of guards came next, torches alight along the battlements. Grumbling, Luna rolled back to glare at the noise. Dirge had already left her bed, nose pressed up against the foggy glass. She turned to say something to Luna, but it was lost the blare of a dozen horns stretching out to encompass the castle and town beyond.
In answer, or perhaps spurred by, came screeches like those of diving eagles
Dirge’s eyes shrank to pinpricks, driven to her hooves by the ferocity evident in the screeching and the panic rising from the courtyard. Shadow raced over the castle, blotting out the moon and stars to the heavy drum of wingbeats.
“What’s going on?” Luna cried, ducking deeper into the false safety of her quilts.
Dreamsong Castle awoke into a chorus of noise and activity through the windows. Lights sprang up beyond the walls, spotting bonfires stocked atop the towers, with the guards rushing yon and hither. Before they could prepare a swarm of griffons appeared out of the gloomy night. In their talons they held bronze tipped spears while simple barding of boiled leather covered legs and body and plain helms sat low on their brow.
Such was the shock and speed of their appearance that the griffons overran the walls at once. Dirge’s scream as a pair of guards were tossed from the walls, the earth ponies hitting the hard earth with jarring finality, brought Luna’s head up. Just as she did two griffons burst through the windows, shards of glass dancing across the room.
Dirge grabbed Luna and pulled her sister away from the intruders. At the same moment the door to the room shared by their hoofmaidens was hurled open. Though they had no weapons besides a small knife each, Dewey and Bassinette launched themselves at the griffons.
Yelling for Dirge and Luna to run, Bassinette broke her blade on the nearest griffon’s helm. She was brought down before she could even register the loss of her weapon, the griffon leaping onto her back, beak and talon sinking into soft, unprotected flesh. Dewey fared only a little better, her knife catching her griffon in the flank before his spear pierced chest and heart.
There was no time for Luna to process what had just occurred before she and Dirge were out of the room, their short legs carrying them as far from the grisly events in their room as they could. Her thoughts spun and whirled, and she wondered if perhaps this was all just a terrible dream.
Throat raw, it took Dirge striking her across the muzzle for Luna to realise she’d been screaming.
“Sister, look at me. Look at me,” Dirge commanded as she grabbed Luna by the face. Some of Basinette’s blood had splattered across her muzzle, leaving reds marks beneath eyes as wide and panicked as Luna’s own. “We have to find mother at once. She’ll know what to do. Quick, quick, before any more griffons find us!”
Pulling Luna along, Dirge headed right for the quarters their mothers shared.
Down the hallways they fled, the battle beyond the windows growing in intensity. The orange flicker of a fire burst from the gatehouse, flames consuming the floors and spewing out into the courtyard. There the few knights Coltsica possessed had rallied the guards, spells and aura-clad swords ringing out. In a futile effort, they laid down their lives to keep the attacking force from the keep.
Within the keep itself a greater fire had started, whether on purpose or by accident didn’t matter. It came racing up from below, consuming the heraldry and paintings, leaping from rafter to rafter and filling the hallways and rooms with thick, cloying smoke.
The acrid fumes made the two fillies cough as they reached their mothers’ chambers and found the doors already torn open. Luna’s heart skipped a beat on seeing the heavy, iron banded oak wrenched apart, twisted and shattered remains embedded into the opposite wall. There a long red stain flowed down the stones and a crushed griffon talon hung limp and broken.
“Mother?” The pair called together, afraid of what they would discover in the room, but unable to do anything else but search.
Dirge craned her head around the corner first, and pulled it back at once, face green from what she saw.
“Do not look, Luna,” she commanded, holding her sister close in order to prevent her from darting past.
“No,” Luna shouted and forced herself free, leaping from between Dirge’s legs to enter the bedroom. “Mother? Mother!”
After only a few strides she came to a sharp stop. Her mothers’ bedchambers were destroyed beyond recollection. The bed they’d shared wrenched apart and scattered. Bedposts had become spears, affixing several griffons to the walls, dead tongues hanging from their beaks. Smashed furniture lay shoved up against the walls, and the scent of spent magic lingered in the air like the smell of rain. Of their mothers there was no sign.
“Mama? Mother? Where are you?” Luna darted left and right, using her hooves to shift some of the debris.
“It’s no good, Luna,” Dirge snapped as she grabbed her sister and pulled her back. “They are gone. Probably to help the knights drive the griffons off.”
“We have to help them, Dirge!” Luna tried to free herself again, only this time Dirge held her tighter. “They could be hurt, trapped, or worse!”
The beating of hooves on stone gave her a moment of hope. Hope that was bolstered at the appearance of Summerset and Bellicosa out of the growing smoke. Both had wrapped cloths soaked in water over their faces and carried bloody swords in their auras. This did little to keep the smoke from stinging their eyes, but allowed them to breath.
“Summerset, we can’t find mother,” Dirge called on seeing her elder sisters.
Hardly a glance was spared for the destroyed room. All Summerset’s attention was on the two fillies, relief flooding her raw eyes at the sight of them alive.
“Belli, grab Dirge, I’ll take Luna.” Summerset’s voice brokered no dissent from her sisters, Bellicosa nodded but once before scooping up Dirge and setting off at a gallop. “Luna, we need to go.”
But Luna refused to leave the door. She ducked beneath Summerset’s reaching hooves, shouting out, “But, what about mama and mother? We must find them!”
“I am sorry Luna, there is not the time to argue.” Summerset grabbed Luna in her magic, her sister letting out a desperate shriek as she was carried away. “The castle is overrun and we must get you to safety. Mother would order it if she were here.”
From the orb of magic she dangled within Luna gave the twisted doors a last, plaintive look before she was brought around a corner and they vanished. She was moved to Summerset’s back so that her sister was free to draw her sword, a sword that was quickly put to use as Bellicosa and Dirge came running back chased by the griffons that had entered Luna’s room and killed the hoofmaidens.
The first griffon Summerset cleaved through the head, her sword lodging itself deep in his skull. With a grunt she tore it free, splattering herself and Luna with the griffon’s brains and gore. Heedless of the danger posed by the mad-eyed princess, the second griffon pounced, intending to tear out Summerset’s throat as he had with the hoofmaiden. Luna screeched, and Summerset took his head in a single swing that broke her blade.
Discarding the useless hilt, Summerset stepped over the dead griffons. “Bellicosa, Dirge; come!” She commanded, and such was her power and the fierceness of her visage they dared not argue.
They made their way towards the great hall, Summerset taking up a discarded sword from one of the castle’s slain defenders. On the stairs their progress came to a halt, the heat of spreading flames driving them back up.
“What do we do?” Dirge cried, clinging tight to Bellicosa.
“The servants stairs,” Summerset responded, making towards the other side of the keep.
Knowing they were too far from the side passage, Luna lept down and shouted, “No, this way. I know a secret way that leads outside behind the portrait of Queen Florenza.”
Outside the battle had reached a crescendo, inside the castle was being gutted by fire. Luna held her breath as they reached the hidden door, and her heart pounded as they went down rather than up as she was accustomed to doing. She prayed that she had not led her sisters into a trap, and that the far door would still open. It did, and the four princesses burst out onto a narrow ridge beneath the palace on the cliffside.
From there, illuminated by the burning castle, they beheld a fleet of ships entering the harbour. The town similarly besieged, flames dancing from rooftop to rooftop as the griffons cut this way and that, grey feathers glowing in the ruddy light as they chased the pegasi. In the distance more fires could be seen coming from the orchards and farms.
“Come on.” Summerset’s voice wrenched Luna from the sight.
Bellicosa lead the way along the edge, her hurried hooves kicking stones over the cliff’s edge. A drop two hundred hooves high awaited them if they slipped. Swallowing her fear, Luna was kept between Summerset and Dirge.
A flash of moonlight on steel was the only warning the four had of the ambush. Bellicosa gasped, staggered back, and turned to face her sisters. She opened her mouth to speak, but only blood came forth, pouring from where a chunk of her throat had been torn loose. Luna’s hooves flashed up to cover her mouth, and to keep her from retching. Eyes rolling into her head, Bellicosa toppled off the cliff. She was dead before hitting the rocks at the bottom.
Overcome by all that had happened, Dirge and Luna both emitted shrill shrieks and ran pell-mell into the darkness. Neither heard Summerset shout for them to stop lest they slip over the edge themselves. Nor did they hear the clatter of steel on steel as their eldest sister defended herself from the descending and victoriously shrieking griffons.
Rounding a corner Luna lost her footing. The narrow path lurched, and the last thing she saw before tumbling towards the cold waters and slick stones was Dirge being chased by a trio of laughing griffons. Her shoulder hit an outcropping, sending her spinning, and the next moment was pain as her head struck a tree growing from the cliff face, and then blissful nothingness.
4
Cold water lapped at Luna’s hooves, dragging her from the blissful oblivion on which she was suspended, and filling her with new sensations. Damp sand clung to her legs, and a crusty layer of salt left her fur matted in hardened spikes. She shivered, the slight motion enough to bring a sharp stabbing of pain through her head, radiating from horn down to the base of her neck.
The events of the previous night came in disjointed flashes without order or reason. Luna would have dismissed them as a nightmare if she’d awoken anywhere else, but cracking her eyes open showed her the beach south of the castle.
At once she found herself snapping her eyes shut, stung by Sol’s harsh rays. Rubbing at her head, she sat up slowly. Her hoof was sticky when she pulled it away, blood clinging to her fetlocks. Grumbling and squinting with this new pain on top of the aches throughout her body, Luna forced herself to her hooves and up the beach. Every step brought with it fresh reminders of how horrible her previous day had been. Her head pounded, and chills invaded her legs leaving them weak and her wobbly.
Part of her managed to hold out hope that it was merely the bump to her head, that the castle hadn’t been attacked, and Bellicosa wasn’t… Luna doubled over at the memory of her sister’s last moments and began to retch. For several minutes she heaved and gagged, but nothing came up.
She stayed sitting there, unmoving, for hours, numb in body and spirit. Everything she knew was gone. The final image of Dirge running off into the dark sprang up behind closed eyes, driving her breath from her as forcefully as any physical blow. Everypony was dead, and she was alone.
It was a heavy rain that eventually drove her from the beach, her small body shivering violently from emotion and the cold. With no idea where to go, and unable to see more than a few yards in the torrent of thick raindrops, she staggered and stumbled her way up towards the hills. Hooves slipped often in the mud, coating her legs and belly in grime, and once she scuffed her knees deep enough to draw blood.
Bitter winds whipped up the coast, and sent pounding waves onto the beach Luna had been sitting on earlier. Even through the rain she could make out the heavy thumps before a howl made her press her ears flat to her head. Blinding blasts filled her nose and eyes, further hindering her progress.
Part of Luna wanted to simply lay down in the mud. Whether momentum or something else, Luna didn’t give into to the weight now she was moving. There wasn’t any thought behind her actions, even the desire to survive was muted and shallow. She merely moved because she was moving, her steps mechanical and rote while her mind was blank.
A flash of lightning in the deepening storm showed her a hut. Pressing ahead, she forced her way inside, a hard shove with her shoulder necessary to close the door and muffle the cacophony battering the shuttered windows.
No relieved sigh broke from Luna. She had no sooner turned to inspect the hut then wish she’d never found the shelter. Three dead ponies lay on the floor, an overturned table and spilled food laying around their bodies. Gashes in throats and withers showed that the griffons had shown as much mercy on the common earth ponies as those in the castle.
Hunger twisting at her belly, Luna did not sit idle staring at the bodies long. Taking care not to get too close to the dead ponies, she snatched up a piece of stale bread and some cheese from the floor. Greedily she bit into the old food, taking no notice of whether it was stale or not.
Afterwards, Luna took a quilt from the beds in the adjacent room and draped it over the unfortunate ponies.
A few simple toys lay discarded on the floor of the bedroom, the smaller two beds telling Luna that the family had foals. She did not see any other bodies than the adults.
Curling up on the bed, Luna wondered what had happened to the foals. Had the griffons killed them as they had their parents? The thought made her shudder and crawl deeper into the dusty sheets.
Feverish nightmares haunted her dreams all that long night and next day, scraping against her frayed sanity with claws of grief and horror. Bellicosa’s death loomed largest of all, her final moments seared across Luna’s vision so every blink the scene repeated.
She dared not leave the small hut, but as the second day loomed a foul smell began to rise from the bodies. Decay was setting in with the growing summer heat. Stomach churning, Luna knew she’d have to find a new place to stay, or do something about the bodies. A single step towards the side of the hut with the corpses was all she could manage. Anything more and her legs began to tremble and a surge of confused emotion drove her to the corner where, panting as she scraped at her head, she remained in a growing cold sweat.
Movement outside the windows broke her from her panicked state. Somepony—or something—large landed, and given the rattle of armour Luna could not think of it being anything other than a griffon.
Like a rabbit she darted underneath the bed. Her heart beat so heavy against her chest that Luna feared that the griffons could hear each thump. She cringed at the creaking boards outside, and clamped a hoof over her mouth to hold in a gasp.
“This place was checked once already,” one of the griffons spoke, his voice nasal and high pitched. “Why does the captain care so much about a single pony?”
The door was thrust open, a griffon cataphract barging his way inside. His shoulders rolled with a determined swagger, and his eyes cast an angry gleam across the room as he searched. After a quick glance he began to turn away, only to stop as he gazed down on the covered ponies. On the table he saw Luna’s leftover dishes and his eyes narrowed.
He began to move in a wide circle around the hut, peering into the cupboard, then flipping open the small chest in the corner.
“If you come out now, little pony, you won’t be harmed.” The promise was barbed and poisonous. Blood not the griffon’s own stained the colour of his feathers a rusty red.
Luna wanted to shrink deeper into the gloom, but dared not even breath.
The griffon clacked his beak, boards creaking under his tread as he drew closer to her hiding place. Luna whimpered as his shadow fell over the edge of the bed.
From outside came an odd noise, drawing the griffon away.
“Tibalt? You find something?” The griffon called out to his hidden companions, and received a gruff affirmative grunt in response.
Thumping towards the door, the griffon grew irritated, and snarled, “What was that? Enunciate, you—” The rest of his words ended as he reached the door and looked out.
Through the bright slit of light emerged a gore covered sword. So swift was the stroke the griffon had no time to react before his head was taken from his neck. Even with her mouth covered Luna failed to hold in a scream as the head landed in front of her hiding place, the body falling into a twitching heap.
Over the mass of feathers and spurting blood stepped not a pony, but a minotaur that had to stoop to enter the low door. Bare chested, with nothing more than a leather strap over a shoulder from which dangled an assortment of fetishes and totems made from animals feet and ears, his bronze skin shone with oil and stank of sweat in the noon sunlight pouring over his back. A thick hand came up to brush back a tangle of black locks from his eyes. Snorting, breath making the ring in his nose bounce, the minotaur looked around the room once before stooping to grab the griffon’s head.
Cold dread gripped her as her eyes came into contact with his. Luna’s heart raced as those grey discs darted across her face. It continued to pound against her ribs as he straightened and used a leather thong to tie the head to the belt holding up his simple loin cloth. Hooves thudded away from her hiding place, and Luna let out her breath.
Exploding into action, the minotaur spun back, hooking a hand on the bed’s edge and flinging it aside in a single motion.
Luna screamed as his other hand reached out and grabbed her by the mane. She continued to scream as she was dragged from the hut and then hefted up beneath the minotaur’s arm like she were no more than a sack of grain.
“Quiet,” he commanded in a gruff, foreign tongue, “or I gut shrieking pony like I do griffons.”
This did not have the desired effect, as Luna’s screams grew shriller and her kicks more frantic. It took wrapping a strap over her muzzle to silence Luna. Whimpering, terrified tears matting her fur, she shivered as the minotaur carried her down the hill, passing two more dead griffons on the way.
No matter how much she struggled or glared at her captor, Luna could not escape. The muscles of the arm holding her were like corded iron, and her blows bounced off his chest as they would hardened oak. Even should she have managed to wriggle free, she had nowhere to run. After an hour of being carried she ceased moving entirely, resigned to her fate.
He stayed near the shore, and did little to hide his presence. Occasionally her captor would slow to cast an eye to the sky, but otherwise gave no appearance of concern about there being other griffons about.
The reason for his ease came into view as they rounded a hill overlooking one of the many wide bays.
A large galley stood anchored in the pure blue waters, tall forms moving about it’s deck and the shore setting up camp. Many more stood on the beach at the ready, recurve bows grasped in their hands and arrows thrust nearby in the ground to be plucked if needed. Next to the arrows sat spears resting in neat tents with round shields.
Fear grew in an icy spike in her gut as they drew closer and her captor waved and called to the nearest of the sentries. Leather armour covered his body, a short skirt and greaves providing protection for well toned legs. But it was his head she could not pry her gaze from, and where his bull horns should have been but were missing. This sentry held an aura of martial might that Luna had never seen about the guards of Dreamsong Castle. She did not think that perhaps it was her fear that made him loom so large in her mind, though he certainly was tall and imposing.
Her captor’s deep voice boomed in Luna’s ear, but the meaning behind the words were utterly foreign and nonsense.
Behind his masked bronze helmet the sentry nodded as he spoke in that same harsh, guttural tongue and indicated with a jab of his hand some point further down the beach. Further inspecting the sentry, Luna’s eyes almost burst from her head as she saw not hairy hooves, but coppery, sandaled feet.
These were certainly not minotaurs, but something far, far worse. More terrible than even the griffons. Luna now understood why her captor had been so unconcerned during the trek from the hut. An entire war-galley filled with soulless had come to Coltsica.
Luna swallowed a lump in her throat as she was carried across that dangerous beach towards the ship, any hope left in her heart for rescue fading with each step.
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I lovely piece. As a fan of the Conan stories myself in my youth (I haven't read them in many years; I should probably do that at some point), I must congratulate you on both recreating the tone of those works and blending them with your own work for this pseudo crossover.
A quick question, while I'm here: what, if anything, is the status of Equestria Girls in the Myths setting? I am aware that your work predates EG, but I can't help but wonder if you'd given it any thought. The same goes for other post season two material.
Nicely done, Tundara! I love Conan, and this hits all the right notes. Now to read the rest!
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Short version; The general idea of the Equestria Girls is the jumping off point for humans on Ioka.
Long version; In 2300 BE (Before Equestria) the Silver Gate appeared in the foot hills and lands that would become known as Narmada and later Saddle Arabia. Through the edifice came the humans in a great, migrational wave that completely over-ran the ponies in the area, sweeping north, east, south, and west. The humans within a few decades had essentially expanded to their eventual peak. In the north they abutted the pegasus cloud-fortresses. The east held massive mountains that held back their movement and divided them from Canton and Neighpon. To the south they clashed with the griffon empire, while across the Minotauran and Soulless Seas there arose the Empire of Thuelesia in 2250 BE ruled by Faust.
The humans broke down into seven kingdoms, each worshipping its own god or goddess. To this they added Faust (Ol' Firemane) and Iridia (Goldenmane), who they worship as either mounts or companions to their own gods, or as impostors. It varied by region and inclination, and would shift over time.
War between the humans was common, whether it was resources or religion. Each kingdom held that they were the first through the Gate and the true rulers of all seven lands. It was prophecised that one day a king would emerge who'd unite the seven kingdoms and lead them into a golden age of prosperity. It was one such attempt that saw Nimrud conquer Babus to form Babrudas. Babus' culture was subsumed by that of Nimrud, with the Cult of Sobek seen to purge their rivals in a wave of blood until no traces remained save a few, buried temples in the desert.
Faust and Iridia had not been idle during the first century, and soon uncovered that it was the moon that was the source of the Silver Gate opening. During the days around the New Moon the gate would open, and humans would pour through. Faust and Iridia devised a method to stem the tide by creating the Nauta Anar Isilye, a sigil that force Selene and Sol into perpetual opposition, and thus locked the moon into her Full state. Before that her flight was faster compared to Sols, and she possessed phases as we'd be familiar with them.
It was this act that firmly cemented Faust and Iridia's position within the human pantheon. Faust became seen as a trickster, taking on various guises such as an old crone or young maid and given to teasing and tormenting men with impossible riddles or tests to see if they were worthy enough for the gate to be re-opened. Iridia was a more distant figure with much the same role as among ponies.
What set the humans apart from the native Iokans was the very nature of their existence. They became seen as having no souls as they did not take part in the great cycle like even the griffons and minotaurs. Magic (Such as that used by Velvet Sparkle) that could damage or manipulate a pony's soul had no effect on a human. No Thane ever came to collect a human's soul. The saying became, 'They come from Nothing, they spread Nothing, and they return to Nothing.' It didn't help that, even by our standards, the humans that journeyed to Ioka were a violent, brutish set of people and cultures.
About the only good that can be said of them is that they despised everyone else equally, though griffons more equally.
Over time the human kingdoms began to settle down. They adopted more and more of their neighbours sensibilities, and they may have thrown off their violent pasts entirely if not for Discord. The Quus caused a madness in man that was unequalled among any other race. His mere presence on the disc enough to drive the hardiest folk insane. When Discord made his way to their kingdoms they rallied behind the banner of the last king of Parmeria, united at long last, and attempted to drive Discord away. A futile gesture, and within the space of just a few years the race of man disappeared into legend, their cities empty and silent.
Into the void stepped the Saddle Arabians. Descended from pony bloodlines mixed with the horses brought by their ancestors from their original world, the Saddle Arabians had the size and strength of a horse, but the soul and spark of intellect of their pony heritage. Even into the modern age they venerate their creators, placing man on a pedestal. By the time of Myths its been a thousand years since the last human was seen on Ioka.
Backstory! I loves it!
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Maaaaaybe?
See my other comment on this chapter. >.>
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Thanks! I might have gone a little too close with the opening. It makes me a little squeamish that it could be considered plagiarism, but I wanted there to be absolutely no mistaking from the get-go which stories I was trying to honour. I tried to keep everything else stylistic in nature without directly lifting things. I really enjoy the way he would write his action.