• Published 11th May 2015
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Myths and Birthrights: Anthologiae - Tundara



Anthology containing stories set in various periods of Ioka from Myths and Birthrights.

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The Book of Selene: Tamashi

Tamashi

By Tundara

Following her trials crossing the lands of the Soulless and the impregnable fortress-mountains of the Hymarelians, Luna came onto Canton and Neighpon, with their white towers and jade palaces. Once again among her own kind, she’d never been more of an outsider. To the many titles she wore as a broken crown she was given another; Reaver. And, thusly, the nations of the eastern-rim would tremble at her passage.

—Book of Selene

1:The Princess

The drumbeat of hooves on loose stone broke way to a crash, a carriage careening off the narrow road and down a shallow hill. Reins snapped, throwing the pair of earth pony drivers pulling the carriage. Head first one hit a tree, his neck snapping at once, while the other was caught beneath the carriage itself as it tipped and rolled.

From the wreckage emerged a slim unicorn in a torn dress cinched tight about her willowy waist with a broad emerald sash. She stumbled away ignoring the dead drivers, and instead made her way towards the nearby line of trees.

Behind the carriage, whooping and yelling as they started down the hill, came a half-dozen brigands. Brandishing their swords in strong auras, sweaty foam flying from their bodies, they bounded towards their prey. Ill-fitting helms and battered armour covered the brigands, all taken from the dead of a battlefield. The unicorn glanced over her withers and let out a desperate whine as she attempted to flee. Only a few paces from the woods she stumbled on the edge of her voluminous dress, and the brigands were upon her.

“Mercy, soldiers of Tatsuo!” she cried, laying on her back with a hoof outstretched to the nearest of the brigands. One she recognised, though this did nothing to quell her fears. “Lord Koji,” she began to plead, “You had honour once. Release me, I beg.”

The mad-eyed fiend just stared and cackled, his grin one of carnal desires. He leered down on her and jerked her roughly back to her hooves by her mane. The mare screamed and thrashed, pleading with the brigands to let her go.

“Release you, princess?” The stallion holding her mane let out a raspy, unearthly growl next to her ear. “When it was your brother who reduced us to this? Oh, but where is he now? Nothing but food for maggots and worse. He can’t protect you anymore. Beg and debase yourself all you like, Himiko Kazumi; it falls on ears deaf to your honey-sour words. You are far better than any ransom of gold, which we will have too when you are spent. Now, hold still or we’ll send the king your head.”

Horror gripped the mare, all fight draining from her at the knife edge placed next to her throat. Tears of rage and disgust ran down her cheeks, making the brigands laugh louder before they began to sort who would spoil her first.

So taken with their prize, none of the brigands noticed the dark figure emerge from the woods until a stout branch shattered the jaw of the one with the knife. They blinked dumbly down at their writhing companion, then turned to regard the figure staggering out of the shadows.

A bottle of wine drifting lazily at her side, Luna glared with bloodshot eyes that sparkled like azure pools of hatred at the remaining assailants. Around her neck she wore a simple sash of once white silk, now stained a deep burgundy, with a barely visible dragon emblem hidden beneath. With a casual disinterest she chewed on a tangled lock of powder blue mane matted with oil and dirt. Spitting it loose as the brigands began to spread out to surround her, a fierce grin broke across her face and she tensed the sinuous muscles beneath her filthy coat.

Rumours of the foreigner swirled through back-alley dens and smokey, secretive holes. A Reaver from the west, she’d appeared on Neighpon’s shores three months earlier and earned a small reputation in the underworld for her vicious, short fights in the illegal arenas. Fortunes had been made and lost betting on her matches. Few of the scoundrels and raiders outside the city believed the tales, and dismissed it to their fellows with the usual scoffing laughter used against other tall-tales.

“That was a mista—” The lead brigand began, only for his threats to die in a mangled scream as the knife that had been threatening Kazumi was plunged hilt deep into his throat.

With a twist and jerk of her aura, Luna wrenched the short blade free of the corpse and regarded the four remaining stallions. They gaped between her and the dead. She moved first, bursting into fluid, darting strides utterly at odds with her haggard appearance. Taken aback at being charged, the stallions reacted too slowly. A scream broke from the rightmost brigand as the bloody branch shattered a knee while she descended on his compatriots.

The next few seconds were a blur of frenzied shouts and motion. Luna darted this way and that, her branch and knife striking again and again. Only the furthest of the brigands had sense to turn and flee, his long strides carrying him up the hill and away from the carnage near the woods.

Hoof clutched to her mouth to hold back her shock, Kazumi could do nothing but stare in wide-eyed terror as the brigands were beaten until they no longer resembled anything similar to ponies. Blood and gore dripping from her face, Luna let out a long, weary sigh and discarded her branch before taking a long drink from her bottle. Another sigh, this one of annoyance, left Luna, then she noticed the petrified mare lying in the dirt and blood at her hooves.

“Here,” was all Luna said, shoving the bottle forwards.

Her own aura trembling, Kazumi dared not refuse, and took a quick, shallow sip. It was enough to send her gagging, the wine tasting like piss mixed with vinegar. Laughing, Luna reclaimed the bottle, and after finishing the dregs within, began to wander back into the forest.

“Come,” she commanded at the tree-line without looking back. “Unless you wish to see if their friends will treat you any kinder.”

Caught between following the bloody minded unicorn or staying amongst the dead, Kazumi elected to follow. First, she went to the wagon, cringing as she stepped around the dead, and from the sagging wreck she pulled a long, white box. This she carried close to her side, her aura so tight it formed little sparks that crackled in shifting pinks and blues, as she hurried to catch up to her rescuer.

Luna eyed the long box with only slight curiosity tempered by impatience as Kazumi came stumbling through the woods. Branches and thorns reached out to snag the edges of Kazumi’s complicated and ornate dress, snatching at the emerald necklace she wore, or scraping along the box at her side. Cursing, Kazumi swatted away the underbrush.

“You’re a Reaver,” she said through gasped breaths as she came up to within a few strides of Luna.

“Ai, I’ve been called such,” Luna responded, with little interest in her voice, as they rounded a set of stout trees to enter a simple camp. She began to pack a set of ratty saddlebags and kick dirt over the tiny fire sitting in a stone ring. Her possessions were few and meager, merely a sleeping roll to toss on the ground, and a small pot to heat her food. Old, torn chain barding she tossed over her back, and a battered, one-winged helmet was slid over her head, pressing her grimy mane across one eye. The only other thing of note was an ornate box with the same dragon symbol as on her sash. Luna hesitated as she fondled the box, staring at it for several long moments as her face grew more pinched with reserve. Shoving it into a bag, she snapped, “You got a name?”

“Oh, P-Princess Himiko Kazumi.” The words stuttered from her mouth, bringing a sharp blush to her cheeks.

Why did she feel such embarrassment underneath the foreigner’s gaze? It were as if those crystal blue eyes were able to peer into the depths of her being, there was such an intensity to their light.

Luna looked the princess over, and shrugged. “Right, Kazumi. I assume there is some sort of reward for your safe return?”

“Reward?” Kazumi crinkled her nose in distaste and released a petulant huff. “I should think that the battle was reward enough for your kind. Isn’t that all you foreigners desire? To slaughter and maim then drink yourself into a stupor?”

A shallow laugh broke from Luna and she threw on her saddlebags. “If that were true, would I not have killed you as well? Perhaps I will, though there is no challenge or honour in besting somepony as frail and frightened as you.” She waited for her words to sink in, tossing out another of her dark, grim laughs, before adding, “A pony has to eat, and as you tasted, my wine has turned sour. A few coins for the rescue of a princess is usual, even in these lands, I think.”

Kazumi was silent and did not argue the point. Seeing that she was, probably, safer with the foreigner than alone, Kazumi said, “Very well. If it is gold you desire.”

Evidently satisfied by the answer, Luna finished tightening her saddlebags and barked, “Come on, let’s get you home then, princess.”

2: The Blood Slicked Road

As they walked Kazumi peppered Luna with questions. Part of her was terrified of the mare beside her, but an equal part was deathly curious. Luna did little to sate her curiosity, speaking in little more than the occasional gruff ‘yes’ or ‘no’. This only drove her to new questions, pride forcing Kazumi to continue. Eventually, even she had to admit that attempting to draw answers from Luna was a pointless endeavour.

Seeing as the conversation was one-sided already, and afraid of the silence, Kazumi filled the rest of the day with a running monologue of everything from the lotus blossoms in her gardens, small gossip about the various servants of the palace, and tidbits about her own past; anything to prevent herself from contemplating her narrow escape.

“So, the bandits are actually ronin?” Luna asked a few hours into their journey, startling Kazumi out of her hurried ramblings.

“Oh, uh, yes,” Kazumi grimaced, wondering how she’d let this knowledge slip. “Some, anyways. My brother killed their leader, Suda Zeshin, a former retainer of our father, not a week past. We’d hoped that would be the end of it for good. They’ve been little more than a nuisance the last few years, until now.” There was sadness in Kazumi’s voice, and tears rimmed her eyes.

Her brother had given his life to end the bandit’s reign of terror on the countryside, only for his actions to spur them to greater heights of depravity.

“Even a wounded dog will lash out when forced into a corner.”

“I suppose.”

“Well, it is no concern of mine.” Luna shrugged her powerful shoulders, showing off the toned muscles beneath. She stared beyond Kazumi for a short time, and then grunted, “Eyes are playing tricks again,” and picked up her pace.

“Something the matter?” Kazumi attempted to follow Luna’s gaze, but saw nothing but fields broken by old forests. For one brief instant she thought she saw a shape dart amongst distant trees, but she blinked, and it was gone.

“We should hurry,” Luna replied, no longer looking back but firmly fixed on the road ahead. “Your herd must be anxious for your return.”

With that, at last, a silence fell across them.

Kazumi retreated into the thoughts she’d feared, seeing over and over the bodies of the drivers, and then the bandits who’d been so close to ravaging her. She shivered, though the day was warm and muggy, and panic began to grip her heart as if the bandits surrounded her still. With great effort she shook off the oppressive weight of the morning, taking solstice in the presence of the strong mare at her side.

Under the bright light of Sol, her coat showed signs of many battles. A wide crescent scar cleaved a path near the base of her neck, the tangle mess of mane hiding it at times. Thin, puckered white lines criss-crossed legs and withers. But, it was the patch of missing fur on Luna’s nebulous, black cloud and moon cutie mark that caught Kazumi’s imagination most of all.

Unable to pull her eyes away from those firm, toned flanks, Kazumi found herself wondering at the foreigner’s past.

Luna was so utterly unlike anything Kazumi had seen or read about in her books. She showed no signs of fatigue nor remorse, her stride long and with a confidence born through many battles and thousands of miles of winning her way across storm tossed seas, sun blasted desert, cutting a path in choking, fetid jungles, and braving the wind clawed peaks of desolate mountains. She was a barbarian unlike even those in the books and stories used to caution little princesses of the lands to the west.

Danger hung in a thick cape around Luna, and though Kazumi could only guess at the adventures needed to create such casual confidence, they left the young, sheltered Neighpon princess enthralled.

Clutching her long box tighter, she formed a question, and then let it drift off her tongue in a long sigh. Several minutes passed. Kazumi’s gaze drifted up to the mangy, old saddle bags, and the painted box poking out of the worn cloth, before returning to the network of scars.

Having watched Kazumi’s roving eyes, Luna let out an amused chuckle. “Stare all you want, but I have no interest in a dainty, painted doll.”

A dark blush burned across Kazumi’s entire face. She sputtered, and twisted her head away in a sharp huff that only made Luna’s chuckles grow into a long, rolling laughter.

“I— That is— Never in a hundred, thousand, million years! Gah!” Impotent to do anything else, Kazumi stamped a hoof, intent on unleashing a torrent of scathing barbs as soon as they came to her.

Her tantrum was ill-timed, hoof striking a crooked stone and twisting sharply. Kazumi fell with a yelp, sharp pain radiating up her leg and before she could understand what was happening she was on her side, half lying in a puddle. This latest injustice was the final straw. She’d only just barely been holding the reigns of dignity. Leg throbbing, embarrassed beyond reason, it was only natural that she was overcome by the swell of emotions.

Tears quickly became heavy, rattling sobs mingled with furious oaths as Luna threw back her head with booming amusement.

Laughter abating, Luna offered Kazumi a hoof. “Come princess, we have a lot of ground to cover still.”

“No, I can go no further!” Cried Kazumi, holding out her sore hoof as added explanation. “My hooves aches. My legs ache. Let us rest a while.”

“Rest?” Luna spat the word as if it were a poisonous berry. “It has been barely a few hours. At this rate it will take a week to reach your father’s castle.”

“Well, unlike you foreigners, I do not revel in the mud and dirt. The straps of my shoes will begin to cut my pasterns if you insist we keep this pace. My lord-father will be very angry if you were to cause such wounds by forcing me to trot down the road like a common earth pony.”

Kazumi knew she’d erred before she’d finished speaking. Expression one of cold fury, Luna grabbed hold of the princess and tore off her golden shoes and the hem of her dress. Appalled, Kazumi shrieked, and tried to fight against Luna’s aura, but found the foreigner’s grip to be like steel, unyielding and just as cold.

“There,” Luna grumbled as she used the strips of silk to tie the shoes together before draping them across her back. “You may chip a hoof, but that will do you some good, I think. Had we the time, and coin, I’d have you properly shod. There is nothing like being well shod on a long journey.”

A frightened squeak broke from the princess, and she shrank into herself, eyes wide and darting between Luna and the woods.

“Shod? With nails? Like an Earth pony? You can not be serious! A true unicorn would never allow such a disfigurement!”

In response, Luna raised a hoof to show the simple Tarkanian shoes she wore. The Horse-Lords of the rocky steppes were the greatest ferriers on the disc, the health of their horses—and ponies—a point of great pride and necessity. A burning lump of hatred for the Tarkanians, lodged deep in her chest, could not counter the practical truth that she’d likely never find a better shoe. To the ferrier’s considerable skill, Luna added a touch of magic to make the shoes last longer. Even after so many thousands of miles they still shone as if they were new and had been nailed in place but yesterday.

Horror twisted Kazumi’s face, and with great effort she wrenched her gaze from the metal bands.

“There is no reason to whinge, I only speak in jest. We are not going near far enough for it to be an issue.” Luna stamped her hoof a couple times, the metal ringing on stone, and used her aura to pull Kazumi up. “Now, let us…”

Her words drifted off on the late summer wind, movement in the corner of her eye from down the road catching her attention.

A large number of ponies approached, and even though they were a half-kilometer away, the nature of the group was clear in the patchwork armour and weapons strapped to their sides. The moment they spotted Luna and Kazumi a wild shout broke out from their number, and they broke into a hurried march.

“It’s Lord Tatsuo!” Kazumi gasped and trembled.

“Come, come!” Luna shouted as she broke into a gallop, near dragging Kazumi off the main road onto a narrow lane that lead up towards the mountains. Behind them the bandits broke into a maddened rush, chasing the pair into the wild, dangerous hills.

3: Flight Beyond the Mountain

Not far from the trail on which Luna and Kazumi galloped, visible through the gaps of trees and when they passed the rice fields, rose the jagged spines of Mount Hinoe-Uma, highlighted in a fiery glow. High up on the cursed mountain resided an ancient fortress-temple to Tirek. Blasted black basalt walls and twisting spires littered the plateau on which the fortress resided. Foul things slumbered within, an eerie glow clinging to the mountain at night, thick puffs of smoke curling from the yawning mouth of the doors leading into maze like chambers.

Within the fortress resided the Black Sisters of Hinoe-Uma. Witches of the foulest sort, every pony of Neighpon knew to give the mountain a wide berth. Only ravens perched in the sickly trees that clung to the barren slopes, and snakes slithered across jagged crags. No wolf dared prowl the narrow paths twisting and winding up her sharp slopes, bears refused to make dens of the many caves, and even foxes were not to be seen. Tended by their slaves, the witches practiced rituals of blood sacrifice in the name of their demonic lord.

“Why have we not seen any other pony?” Kazumi asked as they fled further into the mountain’s shadow.

By way of explanation the forest broke, and the mountain came into full view.

At once, Kazumi went rigid with fright.

“Not Hinoe-Uma!” She gasped, and pranced on the spot, looking between the bleak mountain and back along the way they’d fled.

The rising voices of their pursuers pressed her onward, hooves kicking up the damp dirt.

At the mountain’s base sat a squat, ill-kept shrine. Roof rotted away in large chunks left the misshapen idol on the altar open to the elements. A few trinkets and offerings lay scattered on a cracked ceramic plate. Nopony chose to take the overgrown road and have to pay a tribute to the capricious sisters.

Luna rushed past the shrine without giving it a second glance.

“No, no! That mountain is prison and home to the witches,” Kazumi protested, beginning to slow, only to be picked up in Luna’s iron aura.

“There is no time,” Luna barked, her magic unrelenting as she darted up the path, Kazumi and her long box bobbing in her wake.

A violent blush overcame Kazumi. She sputtered, embarrassed rage mangling any words, but couldn’t break Luna’s aura. Even injecting her own magic into the icy bands that held her did nothing more than create a slight shimmer. Kazumi could find no flaw and weakness within which to wedge her own magic. It further amazed the princess that Luna could be so precise, her magic akin to a giant hand, rather than the suffocating cloud used by almost all unicorns. Luna’s grip was absolute, strong as the finest blue steel the smiths of Neighpon could forge.

Not a moment was spared to consider putting Kazumi down. The brigands’ breaths snapped at their tails like the teeth of braying hounds and quickened Luna’s heart.

Had she a sword, Luna would not have hesitated to turn and face the brigands. Weaponless, discretion was far wiser.

Further and further into the mountains Luna carried Kazumi. Twisting back on itself, the path narrowed and cut up a harrowing hill, loose stones lying in wait for an unwary step. To one side soared a slate wall. On the other the ground dropped away in a sheer cliff face. Far below a thin stream glided out of a gully surrounded by jagged stone.

Tatsuo and his brigands lagged a little further behind where they’d slowed to offer coins to the shrine. At the sight of their quarry, they lowered their bearded heads and rushed. One of their number missed a step and plummeted to the unyielding valley below, the wet thwack of his sudden landing reaching Luna’s ears with a pleasing ring.

Legs burning, chest heaving, but her step sure, Luna felt alive for the first time in months. She laughed at the first arrows and slung stones that pattered harmlessly just behind the tip of her tail.

Behind a ridge she vanished, and came to a sharp halt, a fork in the path before her. To the right the path widened, but continued its climb. A glance up this way showed her the black sided fortress not too distant. On the left the trail grew narrower still, broken here and there by little cuts formed behind heavy rains in years past.

“We must go down,” Luna stated at once.

She could feel eyes on her back, unseen and unnatural in their pitiless gaze, watching her from the air, the broken stones, and the crawling insects. A younger, less experienced Luna would have insisted they continue up in the hope that their pursuers would think better of stepping hoof on such unhallowed ground. Instinct honed through long years and many adventures warned her to stay away from the mountain peak and its ruins. What beasts claimed the site now she did not begin to contemplate, only that the mountain was cursed and to get off it with all haste.

The trail down was as rough as that they’d used to climb the mountain. Steep drops hundreds of metres long waited any false step. Loose gravel added to the treacherous nature of the decent. Despite the dangers, Luna picked up her pace, each step placed as assuredly as if she’d been born to the mountain. Scraggly shrubs began to appear, clinging in the crags, black thorns scratching Luna through her coat and tearing Kazumi’s dress further.

For once the princess did not complain. Now they were leaving the mountain and its hidden horrors, Kazumi almost pushed Luna to go faster.

Unseen behind them the clouds about the mountain began to swirl and gather. Twisted by unnatural currents the became as a chariot large enough for three black specs to step onto and disappear. The cloud spun about the mountain peak once more, and then began to follow Luna and Kazumi at a watchful distance.

Through a narrow gash in the mountain they went. Even Luna, accustomed as she was with hard marches and long flights, began to feel the effects of climbing then dashing down a mountain. Kazumi gasped and panted, mane matted to her face and robes slick with sweat where they rested on her back and withers. The canyon opened out onto the narrowest ledge yet, and Luna, who’d begun to think it a good place to make a stand, abandoned the thought.

A more promising sight was in view regardless, a small village resting not a league away in the space between the mountain and a series of rice paddies. On and on they galloped, drawn to the prospects of assistance offered by the flickering lights.

No wall surrounded the village, only a short ditch which was filled with brackish water and filth. A dismal air clung in thick miasmic clouds, seeping around dirty, soot stained walls and about overgrown gardens. Weeds stuck up among the pathways, showing this to be a place of despair and drudgery. Long before they reached the village’s outskirts, Luna knew they would find no assistance within.

Doors barred and shutters drawn, the village gave off the air of being inhabited only by ghosts.

4: The Blind Village

Kazumi looked around the empty square, resting her long box against the well around which the village was built. Greedily, she dropped the bucket into the black depths and pulled up fresh water. For the moment her haughty air was abandoned, Kazumi throwing back her head as she gulped down the cool liquid straight from the bucket.

Briefly, Luna saw not a princess, aloof and indifferent to the disc, but a young mare, a little ragged, but still beautiful. She was struck suddenly by the resemblance Kazumi possessed to another young mare Luna had known.

Icy dread clutched Luna’s insides.

Setting the bucket down, Kazumi looked around the empty square. “Where is everypony?”

“Hiding,” Luna stated, setting down her saddle-bags and retrieving her small box.

Undoing the gilded clasp, Luna opened the lid with a hesitant sort of reverence. Bad memories swirled in violent storms within the red painted interior. Through a clever set of enchantments no pony alive could replicate, the space within was far greater than outward appearance would indicate. Every time she used the box, Luna felt like a filly peering through a window into a house.

“We are outsiders, and this village has seen hard times. They will not help us for fear of retribution,” explained Luna as she retrieved a long, pink ribbon. Blood stained the edges of the fabric, faded lines and creases showing where it’d been tied into a bow.

“What about our anger?”

“Two mares? Running from a large group of brigands?” Luna quirked a brow. “I’d hoped that some guards or perhaps retainers lived in the village that you’d be able to command. But, no, this is as desolate a place as the mountain within which shadow it resides.”

With a wide gesture, Luna indicated the various shutters open just enough for a pony to peer out. Behind them, hidden in the dark, the villagers watched.

Face stormy, Kazumi puffed out her cheeks and issued a low growl in the back of her throat. “Then, I will order them to open up and let us in. They must listen, as I am the princess of these lands.”

“Aye. And when Lord Tatsuo breaks down the doors and drags you out into this square along with those who’d given you shelter, what will you do? Order him to leave?” Luna chuckled and resealed the box before slipping it back into her saddlebags. “Let them cower. The town itself is a boon. Find a place to hide, a cellar or some crates, and wait. Should an opportunity to run present itself, do not hesitate to seize upon it.”

“Hide?” Kazumi huffed. “I am not some earth pony to burrow into the ground. I’ll stand with you. My magic may not be much, but I can at least distract a few.”

Tying back her mane, Luna lifted her face to the sky. Sol was low in the west, ready to be guided to her rest by the unicorns of Luna’s homeland. To the east a silver glow edged the mountains as Selene prepared for her nightly flight. The time when Luna felt most alive was at hoof.

For a fleeting heartbeat, like the ghostly passage of a cool breeze, Luna was overcome with a rare piety. She was not a mare to trust in prayers. Not since the dreadful days spent in Tarkania, when love was ripped from her hooves and left asunder on the bleak, bare stone, and she became no more than a slave to the horse-lords and bitterness. Unused to the sensation of reverence, Luna bent her head.

“Faust… Mother…” She paused, scrunched up her face, and let out a slow, heavy laugh. “Heh, nevermind. Praying to you is as pointless as asking a scorpion not to sting. You know which strands I am about to cut from your tapestry. Stop me, if you must. Or don’t. I care not which you chose.”

Kazumi’s prays were far more fervent, a plaintive, desperate air lending them greater weight than Luna’s cold dismissal. Her lips moved, but what she said was between her and Faust alone.

Lord Tatsuo and his stallions, and a few mares, had long since rounded the final bend on the mountain path. Seeing Luna and Kazumi no longer in flight, they slowed to a determined trot and began to spread out so as to encompass the village. They sported mostly old nagatinas, haphazard armour covering their shoulders and flanks. Only a couple sported weapons in well repair and well tended barding. Numbers were their greatest advantage, and it gave them confidence as they advanced.

Of the brigands, only Lord Tatsuo himself caught Luna’s eye with his stern lines, muscled legs, and the horn thrust through his green and blue speckled mane. From the way he moved to the fine swords at his side, he exuded an air of martial prowess. How long that mein would last, Luna grinned to imagine. He was also the only unicorn among the brigands.

Luna knew she should have been worried, or afraid, but all she felt was joy. She let out a long, snorting laugh, and grabbed the stoutest piece of wood she could see. It was no sword, or even a decent club, but it would have to do.

“Stay behind me, princess.”

“I know,” Kazumi snapped back, heeding Luna’s advice, and kept close as the rough stallions formed a loose half-circle around them.

At a barked command, the brigands charged in a disorganised clump. Luna snorted, and struck her branch against the first stallion’s jaw. Brittle wood burst in a shower of splinters flecked with fur and flesh. Ducking a chop at her head, Luna snatched up the sword of the stallion she’d hit, and drove it into his throat. Blood burst over the hilt and through her aura, sending a pleasant tingle into her horn.

There was no time to enjoy the kill, Luna darting to the right and between the rogues. Stinging blows fell on her flanks, and she lost the tip of her left ear, but she broke through the ensnarement. As she passed she cut the hamstring of one brigand, and gave a stunning blow with her pommel to another. Growling like an enraged juggle cat, Luna pounced before the stallions could begin to encircle her again. Another fell, Luna’s borrowed sword lodged between his ribs, and as before she snatched up his fallen blade, this a finely crafted short tanto.

Weaving tight cuts as she advanced, she split open the throats of two more stallions.

Her blood sang as it had not done in ages. She exulted in the thrill of battle and conquest, in seeing the light snuffed from her enemies’ eyes. Death was her oldest friend, almost a lover after so many harrowing adventures. To be in His company again, under such a glorious night, bathed in Selene’s silvery glow, was a bountiful comfort.

She was a Reaver, and embraced the role as she would the lips of a lover.

Luna ducked and wove, giving up precious ground. The Tanto was soon joined by a new club, and a cluster of stones from the rim of the well.

“Get her, get her,” Lord Tatsuo shouted, spittle flying from his fat lips, eyes wild with hateful lust. A stallion came from the left, two on the right, and another tried to circle around behind Luna. Her club shattered the muzzle of the closest, blood and teeth embedding themselves into the old, dry wood. Stones pinged off armour, and cracked against hooves and head of any who dared venture too near. She fought like a hell-beast loosed from the darkest pits hidden beneath Tartarus, and for a moment the crowd of stallions around her hesitated.

Luna laughed, chest heaving with life and excitement. It had been too long since she’d faced a real challenge. Too many had come to test her might, and too few had proven worthy of attention. Though none of the rogues had skill or talent to prove more than a fleeting distraction one on one, through numbers alone they proved a deadly force. The few she’d killed or wounded were but a fraction of the bloodthirsty band of brigands closing in about her.

“What are you waiting for, be done with it, already. She is but one against thirty!” Lord Tatsuo shoved his way forward, and drew his long, ancestral blade.

From their windows villagers peaked, frightened gazes unable to move from the scene in the square. They did not know who to fear more; Lord Tatsuo and his brigands, or the mad-eyed foreigner covered in blood and wounds who drew such pleasure from the slaughter.

Grin growing wider, heart pounding against her chest, Luna challenged Lord Tatsuo with a flip of the short bladed tanto, blood running in thick rivulets from the chipped steel.

5: Laughter of a Witch

From her place huddling next to the well, Kazumi watched Luna with a mixture of horror and fascination. The brief encounter in the forest had been but a prelude to the barbarian’s prowess. Any other pony would have been killed in moments. Yet Luna stood, covered in the blood of brigands more than her own. She towered above the ponies about her like a feral tiger among lambs.

Perhaps, if there’d been a few unicorns among the brigands numbers, the tides of battle would have been different. Even then, Lord Tatsuo alone was enough to put Luna onto her back hooves. His blade cut a sharp line, intercepting Luna’s tanto in a ringing flash, but he did not advance beyond a few steps.

For years, Kazumi watched her brother train. She had learned some things from her window, such as judging the range of another unicorn’s aura. Lord Tatsuo, for all his wild gaze and spittle flecked shouts, kept his distance and allowed his stallions to harry and wear Luna down. Like Kazumi, he could see that Luna was the more skilled. The brigand-lord refused to risk drawing within range of her deadly tanto.

Luna’s slashes were too fast to be followed, only the crimson wake flowing from her aura telling the deadly tale of her skill. A bloody mist clung about her hooves, and a primordial light of battle frenzy lit her blue eyes so they shone as reflections of the rising moon.

She did not go unharmed, a deep cut opened on her flank, and a shallow slice tracing the line of her jaw. The wounds went unnoticed, for the moment at least, blood mixing with sweat. Another brigand, nagatina clutched in both forehooves, drove Luna back with a sharp jab towards the tightening circle of blades. His intent did not escape Luna’s keen eye, and more akin to a jungle cat than a pony she struck and burst from their deadly ring. At once they closed in around her again.

Nothing within Kazumi’s power could alter the tide of battle. No matter how Luna fought like a demon possessed tiger, she was but one against many. Eventually, she would be worn down, exhausted, and the hounds would feast.

“Are you dogs afraid to fight with honour?” Luna laughed, a wild cut nearly taking the eyes of another brigand. For a moment there was a lull, as each side re-appraised the other. “You must pile like hyenas on a lion, it is the only talent you possess.”

“We are ronin and scoundrels all,” Lord Tatsuo snarled back. “Honour is lost to us, and so why should we give it consideration? You stole from us, and we will have our prize returned, along with your bloody head so all know the price of crossing us.”

He took a bold step forward, one that turned into a quick dart back as Luna’s tanto came flashing in. A slight line of red showed where he’d been nicked across the nose. There was no time for further banter from Luna. A nagatina thrust in from the side. Kazumi tried to cry out a warning, but too late. Luna’s wounded ear flicked towards the grunt and scuff of hoof on stone. She dropped low, and the blade only tore a long gash from shoulder to the rise of her withers, instead of piercing her side. Thick blood washed down Luna’s side, hot and sticky, filling her rent and torn armour. Rolling to the side, she grabbed the head of the weapon. With a hard shove, she drove the butt into the brigand’s gut, forcing the air from him and dropping him like a sack of flour.

Seeing their hated foe so gravely wounded, the mob rushed in before Luna could regain her footing. Bodies pressed together. Shouting. A bubbling cry. Furious kicks and stinging cuts as desperation fueled by hatred drove every stab and cut. And then, from the deepening clear night, a bolt of lightning struck the ground.

Frightened, the brigands all darted back, scanning the star studded sky with wary eyes.

Luna tottered before them, left eye closed where she’d been struck in the face. She was a terrible sight to behold, weary, ragged, and torn. In the scuffle she’d managed to wrest control of an axe, gore flecking its head already, though whether it was hers or not, Kazumi was unable tell.

Heavy magic coiled through the night, tingling across Kazumi’s hackles, whispering to her that foul things were about. A cackle, like that of a wild jackal, burst from the shadows. Green lights flowed around the square, drowning out the little light given by the brigands torches, or slipping through cracks in windows and doors.

A brigand screamed, and then was gone, dragged into the coiling night. There followed the cracking of bone, and a slick noise of entrails spilling across stone. Huddling closer to their leader, the group now worried more of the night than the weary barbarian they’d been moments from slaying. More screams, a vicious howl, and a black beast, wizened and desiccated, loped off carrying a pony.

Collapsing next to Kazumi, Luna hissed through bloody teeth, “Demons! Hide in the well, princess.”

Frozen with terror, Kazumi was unable of responding. Her eyes bulged, and mouth hung open as the brigands were picked off one by one until only Lord Tatsuo remained. His sword trembled, aura flickering upon the hilt at the dread seeping through his will. He darted the blade left, then right, swinging at the slightest movement, and finding naught but shadow.

Bubbling laughter filtered through the village on the wind, sharp and foalish. The witches of Hinoe-Uma, Sakura the Gold, Oka the Red, and Umeko the Blue remained hidden, their voices scratching along the ear like poisoned thorns.

“Look at the poor ronin, sisters; cast out, alone, a pariah fated to die at the bottom of a bottle if he’d not crossed our mountain. Isn’t it so sad?”

“Sad? Nay. No honour. No strength. A mediocre stallion in all regards. If not for his troupe, the barbarian would have sheared him in half.”

“Yes, yes! Snick-snick clack, and dead. Heh-heh-heh.”

“Aw, she’s hurt though. The poor ronin damaged our prizes, sisters. What should we do to him? How can we make him pay for ruining our fun?”

“Kill him and be done with it, as we did the mud ponies.”

Lord Tatsuo snorted and made to shout some challenge. Instead there was a long crunch, and his head twisted around and around until it came off his shoulders with a stomach churning pop.

“There, punished. Cast to Lethe. Swallowed by oblivion. Heh-heh.”

The brigands dead to a pony, the gloom retreated, and the witches emerged fully in the green-hued light. Scales of bronze and blue glimmered up their legs, across their chests and throats, coming to an end just beneath crimson, serpentine eyes. Fangs parted supple lips, and curved horns rested upon proud brows. With manes of gold, red, and blue, the witches sauntered towards Luna and Kazumi.

“What of the others? What should we do with the princess and the barbarian, sisters?” asked Sakura, the tip of her tongue darting out to wet her velvet lips. She pranced and skipped, a giddiness lending her the air of a filly. She darted between Luna and Kazumi with a rolling purr.

Luna tried to stand, but her strength at last utterly failed. She collapsed on her side, letting out a long, wheezing breath.

Standing apart, Oka gave her tail a dismissive flip. “The foreigner is near dead. Lethe will claim her soon. Leave her. The princess will pay both of their dues.”

“Yes, yes, no. Trespassers must pay. ” Umeko blinked unfocused eyes, rolled her head, and grabbed Kazumi with her magic.

Long shrieks rippled from Kazumi as she was lifted into the air. The witches became as thick smoke, their bodies intertwining until they’d become a cloud that surrounded the princess and carried her off to the top of Hinoe-Uma. Cruel laughter taunted Luna at how powerless she was to stop them.

Exhausted, Luna tried to stretch out her magic, leg lifted as if she could grab the witches. Unable to move or summon more than a few sparks of aether in her wound-addled state, Luna began to drift away. Through the descending haze Luna heard a ghost call her name, and the last thing she saw before being consumed by the grey between life and rivers to the underworld was a tall, murky form bursting into the village square.

6: The Ghost

Perched on the precipice of death, Luna wandered through a nightmarish dreamscape of her own design as fever and infection ravaged her weakened body. Into the past she plummeted, dead faces, distorted and rotted, flashed in gloomy walls that formed her prison. Howls accompanied by the clash of steel, the brays of wounded horses, and soft whistles as arrows cut through an invisible sky chased every moment.

The dead were near beyond count. Her parents, her sisters, friends and lovers, enemies too; they formed an accusatory horde. Hooves and hands pawed at her, tugged at her mane, dragged fingers torn to the bone down her legs, gripped her tail and tried to drag her deeper into the nightmares.

Luna could sense madness as it crept ever closer on needle pointed feet. It scuttled across raw sinew, dredging up tragedy upon tragedy, whispering in dead voices that slashed across an already wounded soul. She curled in on herself and tried to weep, but all that came were trembling grunts.

A ray of light blazed through the gloom, scattering the dead and guiding Luna back to safer pastures.

Her eyes flickered open to find a sunny ray falling through an open window at the perfect angle to sting her weary eyes. Shielding her face with a bandaged hoof, Luna found herself in a room in one of the village homes. It was a simple room, with a single window and door. A few shelves held various boxes and ceramic jars, and a dresser pressed between the bed and window. Bloody bandages and a basin filled with warm water lay on table tucked in the far corner of the room. Near the end of the bed, in a corner, stood a squat stool.

Groaning, Luna tried to get up, only to fall back as the ghost from the night before swept into the room. Surrounded by a cloud of red hair, the women moved with efficient grace. By most human standards, the woman was tall, with a strong set of features surrounding unusual yellow eyes. Luna had known her when she’d been a scrawny thing fumbling through youth. To see her grown up filled her with a sliver of doubt.

“Orange?” Luna asked, uncertain if she were awake or simply in some new, more vivid nightmare.

“I don’t recommend trying to get up, princess,” the flame haired ghost said with a soft smile as she sat on the stool. There was an otherworldly air about the woman, an aura of proud mystery and knowledge wrapped around her in a voluminous cloak.

“You’re dead,” Luna cried out and threw up an accusatory hoof. “I saw you and the others die. An arrow took you through the heart, and fell into the churning rapids of a winter river. This is impossible! No, this must be some vision, or a trick played by the witches, or mother.”

Corner of her yellow eyes crinkling, Orange shook with laughter. “Ain’t going to argue otherwise with Her Highness, Princess Luna, last daughter of Coltsica. I know how stubborn you get. Truth is, I ain’t here at all, and this is all in your head.” With a long finger Orange tapped her temple.

Calming a little, Luna snorted and crossed her hooves.

“Out with it then. What advice do I have for myself?”

“That’s more like it,” Orange slapped her knee and rocked back on her stool. “I’m just here to see what you plan to do about that poor filly rustled by them witches is all. Ain’t got no advice or prophecies for you tonight. Well, maybe just one. If you’re willing to listen for once, rather than stick that thick head o’ yours in the dirt.”

“I think I need a drink,” lamented Luna, rubbing her forehead with her good hoof.

Face darkening, Orange seemed to grow, to fill the room with a seething rage. Her robes and hair billowed as if in a swirling wind, and she overflowed with a power that frightened even Luna. “Solace ain’t in the bottom of a bottle, Princess. It is in your friends. In leaning on them when you hurt or in trouble. Together…”

Orange’s voice trailed off as Luna held up a pleading hoof.

“The power of friendship is a naive con given to foolish fillies as a blanket against the cold realities of life.. Friendship… Love… What point is there in placing your faith in either? They are incapable of stopping a sword, or the wickedness inherent in all beings.”

A mysterious grin pulled at Orange’s lips. She leaned back in her chair, fingers steepled in her lap.

“Friendship will save you, when you are in your darkest place. It will be many years yet, in a land far away, surrounded by the ruins of a castle once shared with your sister. That prophecy, however, ain’t why I am here.” Orange pushed herself up and crossed to the window from which she gazed up at Hinoe-Uma. “Kazumi is important. You must save her.”

“No pony is truly important, in the grand scheme of the Weave,” Luna waved a dismissive hoof. “Ioka will continue through the void, no matter who is on her disc.”

“Well, I could give you some codswallop about how she is destined for this-or-that. Truth is, she is important because she is part of your story. This story.” Orange waved a hand in a slow motion to encompass the room. “We both know you ain’t going to let the witches win, and have their way with that poor filly. So, stop wallowing in self-pity, and do something.”

Sighing, Luna rubbed her temples. When she opened her eyes, Orange was gone. Another sigh was followed by a sharp epitaph on the nature of ghosts. A tremor ran up Luna’s back, and she forced herself up. Aches pushed aside, Luna glared out the window towards the nearby mountain. The bright flash of pink caught the corner of her gaze. Cleaned, her bloodstained ribbon sat folded next to her other possessions and the long box Kazumi insisted they bring.

Her hauberk was beyond ruined. At last it’d succumbed to wear and was little more than a few chain links set in a haphazard pile. The tanto she’d taken was next to the armour shreds, cleaned the same as everything else. It was a decent weapon, she supposed.

Pulling back her main to plait it, Luna could hear what Orange would say, were she alive.

“No, I am not planning to go up there with only this butter knife,” Luna huffed to the empty room.

Luna traced the edge of Kazumi’s box with a hoof. Strong suspicions of what lay hidden inside tickled the back of her head. With a few deft movements she flipped open the lid.

On a bed of red velvet rested a long, curved blade of the purest black, like it were carved of solidified night. Gold bindings twisted down the length of the hilt, ending at the white jade pommel. Identical white jade formed the tsuba, images of the moon, clouds, and lotus petals worked into intricate curls around each other in a flowing dance. The sword stretched longer than Luna herself, a third for the hilt alone.

She took it up without comment, giving it a few practice swings.

The sword was heavy, unwieldy, and nothing like a good Unicornian blade or the falcuta favoured by men. Poorly balanced, with flashy, inferior materials, it was a show-piece and not a weapon fit for battle.

Luna was about to discard the sword, when she sensed something kindle within the sword. A presence leached up through her arua, touched her mind, and whispered to her. The sword grew lighter, and a shimmer ran the length of the blade. A gasp came from Luna, and she looked on the sword with new eyes, twisting it so that it caught the light flowing through the windows. Now, she could make out faint inscriptions within the metal.

“You knew this sword, didn’t you, Orange,” Luna whispered as if her friend stood beside her. “Of course you did. You were a Seer. Ishata damn you.”

Luna performed a few more cuts, the sword reacting quicker, growing lighter with every swing as it joined with her. When she was confident in the blade, she left the house. In the yard, a middle-aged mare sat over a wash basin cleaning the soiled bandages.

“Thank you, for tending to me,” Luna said, bowing to the mare.

The mare looked up with a start and frowned. “Yes, well, just be on your way, and that is enough. We don’t need the troubles you foreigners bring.”

Heart heavy with the renewed loss of her old friend, Luna tightened a girdle about her waist, and thrust her odachi and tanto through the band. She fixed her eyes on the peak of the mountain, and the friend she may still be able to save.

Without another word she set off.

7: Fortress of the Black God

The mountain loomed over Luna, an imposing edifice of stone burnt black, lifeless but for her, with the fortress of the witches there upon the peak. Tiered towers thrust into cloudy skies so that the uppermost tops were hidden behind white shawls that hung in shimmering ethereal bands. Sides of polished obsidian gleamed with a nameless menace. Promises of horrors hidden behind the glass smooth walls were heavy in Luna’s mind. Her heart rang with a thick rage and pushed through the hazy dread permeating the air that would have otherwise left her paralyzed and quivering, unable to lift her head towards that terrible place.

She tightened her girdle, and drew strength from the great blade strapped to her side. Power flowed where the enchanted moonsilver steel rested against Luna’s thickly muscled flank. Forgotten were the wounds of yesterday, subsumed by youthful vitality and the burning pulse of red-hot vengeance that filled her as if poured from some primordial forge.

Invigorated, Luna ascended towards the mountain’s peak. Within a few hours she approached the turn to the fortress where the day before she and Kazumi had passed in their hurried flight from the bandits.

The path narrowed as she climbed, the walls of a tight gorge pressing in on either side. She glared at the pass with deep suspicion. Unicorn instincts hissed in her ear to avoid that path. Death, she knew for certain, lay hidden further along, waiting as a tiger would in tall reeds to pounce and carry her to the underworld. For a pony, there was no other route to the witches’ fortress, with all manner of curse and foul sorcery laid in traps for the unwary.

Luna smiled, and thanked the vision of her long dead friend, for it reminded her of another way to reach the fortress. Aether entered her horn, flowed into ancient runes taught to her by Orange Delight. The blue-white glow of aether flowed over her like a misty shroud over a moonlit lake, hauntingly silent and tingling with energies formed before the first stars coalesced in the night sky, or grains of time fell in the hourglasses of eternity. Down her neck and over her strong withers rolled the aetheric fog, continuing until it covered her entirely.

The contours of Luna’s body shifted, blended, and reformed. Bones popped as they morphed beneath malleable muscle. She stood upright, wobbled, then caught herself as her back straightened. Slowly at first, and then quicker, her face flattened and became sharp, like a flint arrow. Dark fur gave way to ivory skin while her powdery blue mane darkened to a shiny black that fell to her waist. Hooves split into fingers and toes at the ends of toned arms and legs. A small bosom with pert breasts bloomed above a flat stomach, and the transformation was complete. Where a unicorn had stood moments before there was now a beautiful woman, strong and vital, with features of such striking wonder that they had stolen the hearts of princes, kings, tyrants, and lords. Only her eyes remained unchanged, still the same, piercing tamerlane blue, so utterly different from the dark browns and blacks of the men of the disc.

She took a moment to stretch and flex, reacquainting herself with the peculiarities of a bipedal body. Rocking on the balls of her new feet, she quickly found her balanced and center of gravity. This done, she retrieved her bags, and the small box that contained all her possessions. Her pony barding had not been the only armour she owned. The armour of her years in the lands of the Soulless, with all its dents and damage, slid over her with ease. Fur lined bracers from Tarkania, steel breastplate from Parmeria, Narmedian greaves and leather armour skirt; it was a hodge-podge of styles that managed to form a whole. Other than her bare upper arms, she found the protection adequate.

After donning her armour, Luna took quick stock of her remaining aether, and found it greatly depleted. Unconcerned, as she’d never mastered the knack for spellcraft as a human, she cast a long look up the gorge’s sides.

With the speed of a supple panther, she leapt up the rocky slope. Hands grasped ledges, and with supernatural strength she pulled herself up the cliff face. Only a couple times she slipped, stones clattering before crashing to the bottom of the gorge far below. Digging her toes into a crack, Luna gathered herself, then launched herself upwards. Fingers clapped over a narrow handhold. For a moment she dangled by one arm over the long drop, then she pulled herself over the edge with a growl.

Atop the gorge, she found a long slope of ground all the way to the fortress walls. Darting from the shadows of large boulders, Luna moved with added care. Half-way across the slope instincts compelled her to dive aside. No sooner had she hurled herself sideways than a thick bolt of pulsating pink lightning smote the earth where she’d have been if not for honed reflexes. Crouched low behind a split rock, Luna paused, took a deep breath, the leapt out like a lioness towards a gazelle. Another blast of pulsating magic tore at the ground, scoring it black and licking at the heels of Luna’s sandaled feet. Landing palm first, Luna rolled behind the next boulder.

Fifty yards remained between Luna and the walls. If not for the lightning, Luna would have believed herself alone on the mountainside. She’d yet to see the source of the magic for even a moment. As she redied herself for the next sprint, a horned head appeared over the parapets, glassy eyes staring out over the rocky plain in search of her. Grabbing a stone in a slender hand, Luna cocked back her arm. With a sharp yell she hurled the stone.

Up and out, higher and higher, it arced until, at the very precipice of its flight, it was met by a scintillating blast of energy. There the stone hung suspended as if on marionette strings, a black spec within the flashing white, for several seconds before it fell in a long stream of dust grabbed by the wind and scattered over the mountain slopes. Had that been Luna or any mortal flesh, the effect would have been no less destructive. Yet, Luna now knew it was not the witches themselves casting spells up on the walls, but rather their acolytes or slaves. The spellwork was too slow and imprecise for the witches.

Emboldened, Luna leapt out again.

Were she a normal woman of ordinary flesh, blood, and spirit, she would have made no more than a few strides before being transfixed by hellish magics. Body sculpted by powerful, transformative energies, and animated by primordial will, she kept a step ahead of the spells that rained upon the slope. Long, lithe legs carried her with the speed of a panther, dark hair flying about her like an obsidian cape as she darted and dodged. Far and wide, the brilliant flashes and deafening retorts of a cloudless storm were observed as Luna taunted the acolytes of the black fortress. Once a bolt came close enough to almost kiss her cheek, and a couple burnt the tips of her luscious hair. None came any closer.

At last the acolytes’ magics were spent, and a pervasive silence once again claimed the mountainside. Chest heaving with breath, Luna sped towards the gatehouse. The fortress lacked a moat, or even a portcullis, the inhabitants entirely reliant on their potent sorcery and the dread of the witches to keep invaders away. Only a teak door banded with iron stood in her way.

Again, instincts screamed a warning. Instead of rings to pull the doors open, there were the heads of brass serpents with bodies coiled through the teak like scaled rope. Emeralds shined with menace in their eyes, and Luna could sense them waiting for her to draw near enough to strike. From her hip she drew her tanto, and in a quick slash struck the closest head. An unnatural shriek burst from the snake along with a gush of thick, acrid black blood. Where the blood splattered it sizzled and burnt the ground. A quick spin put Luna out of reach of the deadly ichor. The other snake hissed, rose up, and was similarly struck from the door.

Guardians removed, the heavy door was shoved open. It took all Luna’s strength, equal to that of a giant barbarian whois arms were made of corded steel as thick as most others thighs, to wrench open the mighty portal. Protesting with a deep groan, the ancient hinges swung with the greatest of reluctance.

Peering through the crack, Luna saw a narrow courtyard filled with a rolling, rosy cloud. On the far side a set of broad steps led to a raised section that circled the length of the courtyard. Up on this area the panting acolytes had arrayed themselves with long handled curved knives gripped in weak auras. With their aether so spent, even this was an effort.

They could not run without suffering the wrath of the witches, who they feared worse than the prospect of facing one of the Soulless, or even death’s icy grasp.

After sucking in a deep breath through madly grinning teeth, Luna leapt out into the floating clouds, and dashed towards the far side. She dared not let the rosy tinted clouds touch her. A worn path showed where the acolytes crossed the courtyard, and this she followed. All became bedlam as she landed among the stunned acolytes. Whatever powers the clouds possessed held no sway over her.

Elbow connecting with the first unicorn’s jaw, she sent him tumbling over the edge. He hit the ground with a weighty clunk, mouth open in a silent scream. Thrashing about, the unicorn spasmed with such violence the snapping of bones could be heard. His back arched, and a bloody foam gurgled from the corners of his gaping mouth. On and on poured the foam, until all that remained was a withered mummy, as if it lain in a desert for a thousand years.

Luna ignored the unicorn’s death throes, and threw herself at the remaining acolytes with a bloody minded abandon. Her tanto slashed and stabbed in a silver flash of lethal steel, red ribbons of hot blood flowing in its wake. While still sore from the many wounds left by the bandits, and climbing back up the mountain, Luna was beyond all but the greatest of knights when it came to a blade, no matter the form she took.

Among the acolytes she waded with fatalistic fury until their bodies were heaped about her thighs.

With the back of a hand she wiped blood from her face, and proceeded onward.

8: Ajrog

Into a cathedral tall entrance hall Luna slunk. High overhead leered the grim aspects of stone fiends, gnarled hands tight on the lips of their perches. About them swirled carven scenes of all manner of debauchery. Thin limbed mares writhed in the fierce embraces of dragons. Stallions were consumed by the same beasts, while beyond them burned a desolate wasteland. Enchanted by an expert spellsmith, the scenes moved as if animated into a mockery of life.

Suppressing a shiver, Luna moved deeper into the hall. Around her sprang sardonic laughter from every shadow. Candles blazed higher in their sconces, almost blinding in the previous darkness.

Before Luna appeared the witches, aglow with seductive poise. They swayed and watched her with furious yellow eyes.

“What is this that steals into our home and slays our pets? Why, a brute of the west!” purred Sakura, her full lips pulled into a coy smile.

“Selene’s blade should be dead. We killed her, dear sister,” Oka responded, looking Luna over from head to toe. “And in such a lovely form, too. Far more fitting a she-beast than the soft fur of a pony. It befits one nearly as soaked in blood as we, dear sisters.”

Luna made to leap at the witches, tanto held tight in her hand, but found herself checked by some translucent barrier of oily strands. About her they flung themselves, grasping her by the legs, arms, and throat. Luna’s eyes bulged with rage, her sinewy muscles quavered in taught iron strands. Even with her magical strength, the strands held her fast, their strength drawn from the hellish pits beneath Tartarus from whence they’d been summoned.

“She seeks to steal our lawfully claimed prize,” Oka tutted, and shook her head. “It is a wonder that she thought to challenge our millenia old sorcery, gleaned from Aesmyr’s own madness spewing dreams!”

The witches laughed as one, the sound akin to a rotten finger trailing down Luna’s cheek.

Her heart beat with furious ire, spurred by her royal blood tempered in battle’s forge. Each thump shook her, filled her with growing hatred for the witches.

Laughing louder at her spiteful flashing tamerlane eyes, the witches called out, “Ajrog! Come, play with this thief. Feast on her entrails, and bring us her still beating heart as a prize.”

Out of the darkness above the witches unfolded a nightmarish creature. A primeval beastial horse twice the size of the greatest steeds of Tarkania, whose horse-lords were renowned for the strength of their mounts, with wings of tattered supple leathery black, the demon landed before Luna on bleeding hooves. Serpent fangs parted snarling lips in a wedged shaped head, and a forked tongue tasted the hatred in the air gleefully. Worst of all were its eyes. Malevolent orange, they oozed a foul ichor that brought a wave of revulsion over Luna.

Bound, there was nothing Luna could do against such a fiend. She strained until sweat poured down her face and back. A defiant shriek gathered in her throat.

Dripping foulness, the demon loomed over Luna with lustful hunger. Rancid breath washed over Luna, cloying in her nose and making her gag. Ajrog’s tongue trailed down her cheek, tasting the bloody sweat splattered over her face. Adamantine will shining from Luna’s eyes grew brighter.

With a yell of one acquainted with death, who knew him almost as a lover, Luna broke the bonds holding her fast. Like shards of shattered crystal, the strands fell away.

Possessing the speed of a wild jungle cat, Luna thrust her tanto at the demon’s breast. The blade slid along rubbery flesh, bent, and then broke. Only a thin line of brackish blood oozed from the superficial wound. Before Luna’s eyes the shallow cut mended with a hiss as she jumped back. Her incredible speed was overcome, Ajrog moving quicker than even her honed reflexes.

Struck by a wing as a blood curdling roar rattled from Ajrog’s foul throat, Luna was hurled across the hall. She struck a column with a sick crunch, breath exploding from her lungs, and would have died there had she not tensed her back into a steel hard frame. Stars burst before stunned eyes, and her fiery, adventurous spirit urged her to move.

She rolled aside just as one of Ajrog’s massive hooves crushed the spot on which she’d landed. Springing up, Luna groped over her shoulder for Kazumi’s sword. It swung free with a gleeful ringing tone.

On the first swing, Luna sheared off one tattered wing. As if possessed of a will its own, the wing flopped, spasmed, and refused to still. Ignoring the unsightly display, Luna hurled herself at Ajrog as the demon reeled back. Wounded, howling with incoherent agonised rage, Alrog was far from defeated. Around snapped its whiplike tail. The barbed tip cut through Luna’s breastplate as if it were common cloth. Hot blood washed down Luna’s breasts from a deep gash stretching across the top of her chest.

Luna staggered back, and then set her feet. Advancing, the next several minutes were filled with hacking, slashing ferocity. Neither side gave an inch, yells accompanying rending blows. Deep gashes opened on Luna’s thighs and arms, and Ajrog’s heavy blows threatened to buckled her legs. She worked with equal abandonment. Spurred to greater effort, she severed Ajrog’s bladed tail, then his head. Splattered with fiendish, black blood mixed with her own vital red lifeforce, Luna stood on wobbling legs over her defeated foe. One, twice the massive brute twitched, and then lay still.

Ajrog was dead.

“How?!” Shrieked the witches. “How could our beautiful Ajrog have fallen?”

Across the hall Luna sprinted. Her legs burned with exhaustion and chest heaved for breath. She neared the limits of even her supernatural endurance. Yet, her sword felt light in her hands, as if she’d only just taken it up.

At the witches flew an avatar of doom, and the witches threw themselves into spellwork with desperate speed. From Umeko flew spheres of blue fire. To touch them was death. They swarmed like bees until they formed an impenetrable cloud.

Luna fell back, eyes darting about the chamber in search of escape. There was none. A sheet of rainbow light sprang over the entrance she’d used to access the hall. As Luna watched, one of the balefire orbs impacted the shimmering wall. A brilliant flash and tremendous bang rang out as the two forces clashed. Arm thrown up over her face, Luna swore an oath to Ishtara.

The witches cackled, once more assure of imminent victory. Ajrog’s destruction was nothing more than a minor setback. Luna had nowhere to run, and the witches were beyond her reach. Tighter, she gripped her odachi, until her already ivory knuckles went white as snow. Defeat never found purchase in her heart. The wild spirit that had carried her through dozens of perils, each enough to claim the fiercest of men or bravest of ponies, filled her breast.

If this was to be her death, it would be in the whirlwind of dancing blades and pounding blood, not crouching behind a pillar like some coward. Luna, last of the Coltsicans, refused to fall mewling as she prostrated herself for mercy.

She unleashed a warcry and bounded into the cloud of balefire orbs. Silvery moonsteel flashed quicker than the eye could follow in a cross. Smashed balefire washed over the odachi, seared the soft skin of her hands, and was devoured by the blade like a wolf feasting on the inner parts of its prey.

Only a single globe needed slip through her guard, and she would be the one consumed. Sweat flowed down her face, ran in thick rivulettes over arms and back. In a fevered pitch she swung, but failed to advance. Luna began to be pushed back towards the lethal rainbow wall.

Her hair crackled in the scintillating energies of the wall, heels on the very edge, when a side door to the hall burst open.

9: The Blade Named

Samurai retainers of Shogun Himiko were sent in search of the princess when she failed to reach her father’s castle. In groups of ten they followed the roads south. One such group came on the village beneath Himoe-Uma shortly after Luna departed to rescue Kazumi.

From the villagers they learned how the princess had been in the company of a foreign barbarian, the slaughter that followed, and the arrival of the witches to whisk Kazumi away. After sending a messenger bird to inform the shogun of the grim news, the samurai followed Luna up the mountain.

There’s was a grim procession, certain of the doom that awaited them on the cursed slopes. As they climbed, they heard the battle rage ahead. Lowering their heads, they hurried up the slopes, passing by where Luna had transformed and left the path. The stallion in the lead died a few short strides afterwards. His eyes rolled luredly in his head, tongue hanging from parted, blue lips twisted in silent agony. A convulsion powerful enough to snap his neck shook him. Though his head hung at an unnatural angle, he remained standing rigidly in place. Every fibre of his body had been turned to stone. Even his armour had become eternal granite.

Shocked, the samurai drew back along the gorge and discovered the route Luna took out of the ensorcelled pass. Taking turns, they levitated each other up the otherwise impassable cliff, unknowingly mimicking methods used by unicorns of the west, who lived in mountains far steeper and jagged than those of Neighpon.

Over ground scoured black, and through the open gate they charged. Here they paused a moment to gape at the carnage of Luna’s passage. Ajrog’s roar jolted them back to action. Finding the door to the main hall held fast by powerful enchantments, the nine samurai made their way along the courtyard until they came to a side entrance used by the now dead acolytes of the witches. They came out onto a gallery overlooking the hall. The gallery ended in stairs down to a servant’s corridor. From this vantage the samurai watched as Luna struck Ajrog down and confronted the witches.

Why one of the Soulless of the west confronted the witches, the samurai did not question. Down the stairs they raced to burst into the hall and charge the witches with drawn steel.

Against any other foe, with such surprise, the nine would have carried the day. It was against supernatural foes they flung themselves, spawned from the loins of an aged dragon.

With agility to match Luna’s own, the witches reacted together. The first three samurai fell to the balefire orbs. Hideous death screams tore from their throats, bodies engulfed by unquenchable flames. Within moments only charred bones remained, twisted into grim aspects that mocked life. The others pressed onward, undeterred, fatalistic jaws set. They too would have fallen, if not for Luna.

The moment the samurai appeared, Luna seized her chance. With the graceful ferocity of a tiger, she pounced. Down arced her sword at the youngest witch. Laughing with murderous glee, Umeko failed to notice her danger until her head toppled to the floor, and she looked up at the blood spurting from her own neck.

Still, she refused to die. Her headless body staggered towards Luna as Umeko formed voiceless curses. Another terrific slash, and her body was split so that even her foul spirit failed to keep it animate.

So died Umeko the Blue.

At the destruction of their sister, Sakura and Oka unleashed a horrendous wail that seared Luna’s ears and struck the samurai dumb. Around herself and her sister, Oka threw up a crystal barrier. Recovered, the samurai slashed their blades at the witches throats, only for them to clang and rebound.

Before they could swing again, Sakura hurled a ruinous glare. Luna and the samurai saw the room waver, like they peered through a warped mirror. Luna flet a powerful, horrific presence at the edges of her mind. It attempted to enter her thoughts, bend her to an alien will. Swaying, Luna clenched her teeth and steeled her wild heart against the intruder.

For an eternal moment the battle between minds waged. At last there was a noise like splintering wood and Luna staggered forward. In the contours of thought, where spirit and will prowled, she sensed the triumphant, smug satisfaction of her sword. Any crude attempt to ensorcel her mind would fail as long as it remained in her grasp. Ever would she be protected from all but the most insidious of foreign influence.

Lacking protection, the samurai wavered and were overcome, except for one.

When they arranged themselves before the witches, the last samurai said nothing. He looked at Luna, and each saw the spark of independent intellect in the other. Without comment they stood side-by-side, weapons at the ready.

Both sides sprang at the same moment. Four to one, ordinarily even Luna’s prodigious talent, dulled by battle, would have been overcome by fighters of such skill as the samurai. Swords flashed in razor winds. The superior reach of a unicorn aura was matched by the long blade of Luna’s odachi combined with her supple speed. Steel clashed in the ringing song of desperate battle. A spray of hot crimson blood, and a possessed samurai fell, his chest cleaved open. Panting, with fresh wounds on her bare upper arms and thighs, Luna dashed over the fallen unicorn. The others leapt to intercept. It was a ruse, and when Luna landed she barely touched the ground before she pivoted, sprang up, and brought her odachi down on the witch’s shield. Luna’s eyes shined with the triumphant, frosty gleam of a wolf as the shield shattered like brittle glass.

At once the witches fled, fear for an outsider in the blackened, withered hearts for the first time in their unnatural lives. Into deeper chambers they flew on oily clouds. From these chambers came a mortal scream born of a pony’s throat and tormented spirit.

The sound of his princess imperrelled drove fresh vigor into the last samurai. Violent bursts of motion followed, his and Luna’s swords working in unspoken unison. Each flowed with the others movements as if they’d fought beside each other their entire lives.

Bereft of their new mistress’ presence, the remaining enslaved samurai became sluggish, minds dulled as if in a lotus fog. A single swing opened up the throats of Luna’s foes, sticky blood splattering over her sandaled feet. Next to her, her newfound companion worked with equal brutality. There was no pity nor hesitation in the stroke of his flashing steel. The lives of his former companions ended the moment the witches stole their minds, and honour.

Alone except for the dead, Luna and the samurai faced each other. Kinship born on the battlefield shone between their eyes. Though she had little trust for the nobles of Neighpon, and he thought her to be one of the beastial Soulless, each made exceptions for the other.

She acted with honour, and carried the fierce bearing of a true warrior. He showed strength of spirit and skill with a blade to equal Luna’s own. All this was communed in a glance, and by unspoken agreement they gave chase after the witches.

Through cloistered halls of fiendish natures they dashed. Few entered the inner chambers of the fortress and managed to avoid recoiling in superstitious horror. Effigies to the dark gods of ancient nightmares covered every surface, leering at the pair intruding on their domain. Stairs of jet inlaid with jade figures of demonic origins, and embossed in glimmering gold, descended towards the most unholy place in the black fortress. There, on a dias covered in soft silks, lay Kazumi as an offering to the witches’ draconic father. From the princess they intended the addition of a new sister carrying the burning blood of dragonkind mixed with the noble line of the Neighpon royalty.

Beneath Kazumi’s chin Oka held a curved dagger used to carve the still beating hearts from sacrifices on the same altar.

“Halt!” cried the witches, “Or we will slit the princess’ pretty throat.”

Kazumi trembled in unspeakable terror. Her dress was gone, replaced by the bridle of a broodmare. Jeweled bangles encircled thin limbs, and her tail was done up in harlots braids to make her ready for her intended purpose. Beneath wide eyes was painted thick khol bands.

“Khonda!” She whimpered to her loyal retainer. “By Faust, run away! Escape! I am lost!”

Khonda hesitated, impetus of action conflicting with the demands of his princess.

No such divided loyalties warred in Luna’s breast. With the ferocity of a thunderbolt she struck. Over her head arched arms taught with all her remaining strength. With a roar she hurled her sword. As it flew from her fingers, Luna banished the transformation of her body. Torn armour burst off her natural shape, clattering about her in a spray of dented plate and mail shards. Hooves clacked on the jet black marble floor, blue mane flying about her horn sheathed in a unicorn’s aura. Distracted by Luna’s transformation, nopony noticed an identical glow direct her sword until too late.

Blood spurted as Luna sank her blade into Oka’s withers, shattering the witch’s spine and bisecting her unholy soul-mark. With a savage twist and yank, Luna completely bisected Oka.

An unearthly cry of rage howled from Sakura at the loss of her remaining sister. Even in her fury, she knew better than to challenge such an avatar of destruction. The tides of Fate were against her. She shimmered, and vanished, retreating to a place Luna could not follow.

“Luna?” Kazumi gaped at the ragged, tottering Coltsican. “I believed you dead, yet here you are, flesh and whole. It is like a nightmare turned to surreal dream. Am I dead? Is this some fever in the moment before the thanes come to claim me?”

Around Luna’s neck Kazumi threw her hooves, and held her tight.

“Let me go,” Luna snapped, her shining blue eyes sweeping over the jade walls. “The witch will be back soon for vengeance. She has retreated to form a new evil within which to bring us our dooms.” With flagging strength she removed the princess.

“We must be away before the witch recouvers, Your Highness,” agreed Khonda.

This at last sombered Kazumi. They fled along the same path Luna had carved, retracing her steps. In the entrance hall Ajrog’s body had become a slimy mass, bones thrusting out at maddening angles, hissing and bubbling as it churned. While crossing the courtyard Kazumi gaped at the heaped dead bodies. Together, Luna and Khonda carried Kazumi down the sheer cliff into the gorge, setting her next to the statue of the first, unfortunate samurai. Down the mountain they galloped like the hounds of Tartarus brayed at their tails.

Hateful eyes lay heavy on their backs. Only when they neared the village did they dare slow. Kazumi turned to thank her saviours when a great winged shape swooped from the grey skies. Luna’s instincts snapped like the twang of a taught bow. She pushed Kazumi out of the path of seeking talons, each as long as her odachi.

Her strength was far beyond even her exceptional limits. Any other would have fainted long before. Adamantine will alone kept her on her hooves. Luna glared bolts of defiance at the screeching doom that fell towards her.

Talons began to close around her. Then, from between the narrow homes of the village, lept a giant fox. Fangs clamped onto the diving horror, and tore it apart. Wings became legs of a pony, the face equine, not some hellish beast. Bone cracked, and the fox tore free the witch’s beating black heart. So perished Sakura, last witch of Himoe-Uma.

Warilly, Kazumi and Khonda watched the giant fox with its four tails that danced like flames in a hearth. Golden eyes shone from a face of shimmering dark blue.

Luna collapsed at last with a laugh. “Orange Delight! Why did you wait so long? That witch almost got me.”

“A wizard arrives only in the knick of time, just as they intend, and never a moment before necessary,” spoke the fox in a voice that rumbled in the hearts of those who listened. “Besides, had I stepped on that mountain, the witches would have known and been on their guard. You always thrived on that sort of thing. As you have again.”

Orange bowed her head to the odachi thrust through Luna’s gridle.

“Aye, Tamashi has served me well. She is already like an old friend. But, you knew that already.”

“I did, just as I know she will serve you for many more. Beyond the fall and rise of Queendoms, the madness of the draconiquus, and the longest of nights. And no, I ain’t going to give you no details, so don’t bother asking.” Orange chuckled, and crossed her paws as she laid down.

“Well, this has been a night of hot work. I really could use some wine, now,” Luna leaned against her oldest friend, returned to her after what seemed impossible journeys. Next to her Kazumi and Khonda sat down, surrounding her in friends old and new, and Luna was content for the first time in years.

Up on the mountain, the black fortress trembled, and slid from sight, gone forevermore.

Author's Note:

This chapter is edited only by myself.

Two years. I started this story nearly two years ago. It has undergone a fair number of changes in that time. There are places where the style shifts a bit. A byproduct of long stretches of time between writing segments. The last half, from when Luna goes back up Himoe-Uma after Kazumi onward, is very strongly influenced by Howard's work.

I treat the 'Young Luna' stories as love-letters to the pulp stories Howard penned of Conan. Luna herself bears strong resemblance to Howard's titular character. While both are pragmatists, thrive in battle, and are adventurous souls, Luna is a broken character in this story, who has almost given up and disengaged from life. She wanders aimlessly, caring only enough about tomorrow to have enough wine to drink herself into a stupor.

Originally Tatsuo was going to be the big-bad, with him and Luna ending up dueling before the gates of Kazumi's palace. Tamashi was also, initially, intended to be a reward for Luna saving her from bandits using only a stick.

Some might remember that it was mentioned that was how Luna received Tamashi. Unless, it was only in my notes. Actually, I can't recall if it has been mentioned before in a published story how Luna got her sword. Oh, well, this is the (new?) canonical version!