Interlude - Two Distantly Related Moments
Turuncu Desert - Dig Site
“Boss?”
Dusty Tomes let out a sigh as he turned back towards the entrance to his tent. The tan material was still just as drab and dull in color as it had been a few weeks ago—the new grant hadn’t done much to expand their purchasing budget—but it at least was, combined with the slope of the mountain and the hollow the diamond dogs had assembled it in, cooler than it had been a few weeks ago. Though no less dry.
The tent flap flipped open, bright light spilling across the floor and momentarily blinding him. He squinted, narrowing his eyes against the glare even as a large shape moved across it and then into the tent, the flap falling shut behind it.
“Boss?” It was Slate, Coal’s cousin. Coal had left the team a few days ago, for reasons that hadn’t been explained past “some changes in the tribal setup.” Probably just some new leader who wanted to make their powers known or something like that. Still, it wasn’t his place to complain. It was just their culture, like his. He’d have come running if the Princesses had summoned him.
Or would I? he wondered as he held up dusty orange hoof in front of the diamond dog. “Just a second, Slate,” he said as he turned back towards the documents he’d been pouring over. He didn’t have the originals of the manuscripts he was currently studying—those were back in Sheerwater, safe and sound in both the private collections of several griffon clans and the Empire National Museum. But the copies he had were the only copies, so he had to take care of them. Any loss or damage on his part would mean the holding-up of the entire dig while he or Stal went back to Sheerwater to procure another set; a tedious enough experience that he didn’t want to repeat it if possible. Which was why the tent was off limits to lanterns, torches, or candles. Any open flame, really.
Maybe we should see if somepony here could make some extended copies, he thought as he ran his hooves across the paper, trying to smooth out the lines and make sense of them. But that would take someone away from the dig, and we’re short-hooved enough as it is with the loss of Coal, Amber, and Granite. He ran his hoof down the line of broken ancient text, his eyes flicking between it and a nearby line.
Maybe we did misread this, he thought, glancing up at the map of the dig site that was pinned against the wall. Several sections of it had already been marked off, large, black “X” marks crossing their surfaces. But if this is the north side, then maybe we should be digging … there! His eyes locked on the sector two spots up from where they were currently digging. If he and Stal had misread something, and the copy of the ancient diagram was actually meant to be facing the other direction …
That’s a lot of ifs, he thought as he made a mental note of the sector. If we’re reading the changes in terrain right. If we’re translating an ancient, sub-dialect of griffon properly. If we followed the directions on the obelisk properly. If, if, if. He took a step back and stared up at the map. At least we’re not worried about funding any more. The obelisk find was still being discussed between the Canterlot Museum and the Empire National, but both had agreed to extend their dig in pursuit of additional finds. They had another two, maybe three months of not having to produce anything at the current rate before they’d need to justify their expenditures again.
Still, it’d be enough time to search a decent chunk of the massive valley the obelisk had pointed them towards. And when it comes to that … he thought as he stared at the map. Going off of that idea, the next section we search should be grid D-5. It was a bit further north of anywhere they’d searched so far, but it was well within the location the ancient obelisk inscriptions had directed them towards. And the smattering of artifacts they’d found over the last few weeks—though few—could have come from the area.
“All right, Slate,” he said, stepping away from the low wooden table and turning towards the pale grey diamond dog. The origin of her name was pretty obvious, at least to him. “What’d you need?” The look on her face told him everything he needed to know even before she opened her mouth.
“Yer wife wanted me t’ tell you that another—”
“Storm’s moving in,” he finished in time with her words, their voices overlapping. She gave him an apologetic grin.
“Sorry, boss,” she said. “I know it’s bad news.”
“No, no, it’s … It’s alright,” he said, dropping his head as he shook it. “It’s not your fault.” He let out a faint sigh, biting back the irritation rising in the back of his mind. “How far away is it?”
“Stal said we got another three hours before it gets here, boss,” Slate said. “But she did say it’s a big one.”
“They’re all big ones,” he said, tilting his head back and trying not to let out a long groan. We didn’t even get a full day to dig this time, he thought as the groan slipped loose. Slate didn’t even blink. Apparently she’d grown used to his reactions. “I mean, I know we’re near the center of the desert,” he said as he dropped his head back down. “But this is ridiculous.”
“I know, boss,” Slate said as he trotted past her, his hooves kicking up small puffs of sand with each step.
“I mean, we’ve had to leave the metal stacked next to the tents full-time.” He swept the tent flap aside with one hoof, blinking rapidly as the bright light outside made his eyes water. “Some of the workers don’t even bother to take the stuff down anymore.” Sunlight glinted off of the sand-polished metal sheeting as he began walking across the camp, making him squint his eyes shut even further. It was as if the nearby tents wanted to help him prove his point. “We’re getting hit so often they don’t care about the heat.”
“I know, boss,” Slate said again, matching his pace as he moved out of the camp and across the baking, burning sands toward the dig site. She was wearing a pair of tinted sand goggles, similar in design to the ones some of the other diamond dogs wore around the dig. Most diamond dogs had small eyes, but they were sensitive to light—adapted to their underground warrens—and some of the dogs he’d hired preferred the tinted lenses or to wrap their heads in cloth rather than let their eyes painfully adjust to surface living.
“Yeah, I know you know,” he said, shaking his head again as the ground began to slope gently up beneath him. “I‘m just griping about it is all.” Up ahead he could just make out the location of the current dig, a widespread area marked by loose ropes that was set right into the steep edge of the valley end itself. If the ancient city they were looking for had been here—and it looked like it was—and if they’d followed the directions correctly, then logic dictated that based off the admittedly scarce records and general look of the place that it had been built somewhere in this depression. Right at the end of the valley. Nice and defensible, and if it was low enough it would explain why a lot of the records from that era don’t mention it.
“So,” he said, glancing in Slate’s direction. “How’s the digging going?”
“Slow,” Slate said, her lower jaw protruding slightly. “We face th’ same problem you do, boss. The storms. We dig, then we get t’ bury everything we dug a few hours later, only to dig it back up again just a little faster next time.”
“Any interesting finds today?” The sounds of the dig site were closer now. The soft, almost wave-like sound of piles of sand shifting under the concentrated efforts of paws filled the air along with faint clouds of dust, mixing alongside the faint chatter of several diamond dogs, ponies, and griffons as they worked.
“A few,” Slate said. “One or two small stones, little detail. And more bones.”
“Right,” he said, a faint shiver working its way down his spine despite the heat. “More bones.” He’d known beforehoof that they were digging for the Necropolis, the ancient, legendary lost “city of the dead,” but somehow the few bones they’d found scattered about had made the title a bit more … literal.
“Has Age dated them yet?” he asked.
Slate shook her head. “No idea.”
“Right,” he said. That meant the mare probably was working on it over on the other end of the dig site, under the only cover they needed at the moment. Nopony else was working hard enough for them to need to give anypony time off under the lone shade cloths. “Well, thanks for letting me know. See what you can get done before we have to close it all back up.” Slate gave him a quick nod and then bounded off in the direction of the rest of the diggers, her long, almost loping run kicking up sand behind her.
Right, he thought, turning towards the shade cloth on the other side of the dig. It only took a moment to cross the expanse of the dig, several of the workers looking up and offering him quick greetings of various kinds before turning back to their work. Then he was stepping up to the covered inspection area, where a sky-blue unicorn, her dull red mane tied back from her face in a tight ponytail, was pouring over the findings so far for the day.
“Hey, Age,” he said as he trotted up to her. “I heard we found a few things.”
“Hey Professor,” she said, her eyes flicking upward for a second before darting back down the the small stone she was holding in her pinkish magic. “Yeah, as soon as we got back down there, we started finding stuff again.”
“That stone part of it?” he asked, holding out one hoof. She dropped the triangular bit of rock into his hoof and he moved it up close to his face, taking a closer look at the small piece.
It was old, its surface almost worn smooth, but he could still see the details that had made the diggers pick it out from what had probably been dozens of similar finds over the day. Its edges were too regular, too straight to have occurred naturally, especially not with the chisel marks—faint, but there nonetheless—along the one side.
“Yeah,” she said, her horn lighting again as she lifted something else out of one of the plastic bins on the table, something long and thin. “Dating matches up too.”
“Around fifteen-hundred to two-thousand years ago?” he asked as he handed the piece back. She nodded as she took it, setting the next piece in front of him.
“Yep,” she said as he eyed the long, thin piece of bone she’d placed on the table. “Same for this piece.”
“More bone, huh?” He didn’t reach out and touch it. Better to let her handle it with her magic in case it was brittle.
“More bone,” Age said, nodding as she set the triangular piece of stone back in the bin. “This one’s a griffon fibula. Back of the rear leg,” she said when she saw the confused look on his face. “Lower part.”
“Ah.” He still didn’t touch the bone. “Stal have anything to say about it?”
She shook her head. “Nope. Just wanted me to run the usual scans and categorize it like everything else.”
“Right.” His attention shifted in the direction of the empty space where his wife had been working. “I didn’t see her on the dig. Is she off getting lunch?”
“No,” Age said with a flick of her ear. “She wanted a closer look at that storm that’s coming in.”
“Oh, okay.” I wonder why she wanted to go see that? he thought. “About how long ago did she leave?”
“Almost an hour,” Age said, using her magic to sift through various bits and pieces the diggers had delivered to her. “She should be back soon.”
Tomes gave her a nod and stepped over to his wife’s table. Unlike her students, Stal’s table was covered in books and carefully weighted down charts, the former holding down the latter. Small bits and pieces of pottery and stone, recovered from the dig site, were scattered across the table, arranged in faint, unlabeled patterns that only made sense to the trained eye.
Looks like her translation has hit a few walls, he thought as he stepped up to the table and took a look at the finds. A notebook sat nearby, its pages open with a pencil sitting atop it. He took a quick look at the hastily scratched translation attempts.
Nothing concrete, he thought as he looked down at the various scratched out symbols. She’d been attempting to piece together the faded writings on the sides of some of the pieces they’d discovered, but the sand had done a lot of damage. Most of the markings were partially faded or missing almost completely, swept away by the ages and leaving her with little to work with. He could see that there was more than one page of reconstructed possibilities in her notebook.
A rush of air from outside the cover had him turning just in time to see his wife land, a cloud of dust kicking up around her. She emerged from it spitting, shaking her body to clear bits of sand from her feathers, her empty canteen bouncing against her chest, and he grabbed one of the full canteens sitting on the table as he headed over to her.
“Thanks, baby,” she said, cracking him a smile as he handed her the canteen. She unscrewed the top and gulped down a beakful of water, rivulets of the liquid making their way down the side of her face. “It’s hotter than Tartarus out there,” she said as she dropped the canteen away. She took a long breath, then lifted the container once more.
“What were you doing up there?” he asked as she drained the canteen, sinking back on her haunches with a sigh of relief.
“Getting a better look at that storm,” she said as she flashed him a smile. “Age! Any new finds?”
“Not since you left, professor,” Age said without looking up, her horn glowing away as she continued her examinations.
“Just as well,” Stal said, shaking her head and giving him another smile as she began to move towards the table. “I’ve got more than enough on my plate here.” She tapped at her notebook. “You’ve seen this, I’m guessing?”
He nodded. “Yeah. Any luck?”
She shook her head. “Sorry baby. I’ve picked out a few glyphs that I’m pretty sure are correct, but most of it’s just been guesswork so far.”
“So no proof,” he said, his head sinking a little.
“Hey,” she said, running her talons through his mane in a motion that sent a nice shiver running down his back. “Relax. Sure, it’s not the proof we want. But something was here. Anyway,” she said, reaching out and flicking through the pages of her notebook, the pencil bouncing away across the tabletop. “This is why I was looking at the storm.”
It was a map of the valley and the surrounding area, one she’d obviously drawn. And superimposed across it was a series of paths, long dotted lines that curved in faint arcs across the paper.
“You see the pattern?” she asked as she picked up her pen in her talons. “I started last week. It took a few chats with some traders to get some of the more drawn out paths but …”
He frowned as he looked down at the map. Behind them a shout rose up from the dig. Probably one of the undergrads finding another bone. “Are those the paths of the light storms?”
“Yep,” she said, her wings fanning out with pride. “Yep. I got curious as to why we’re getting so many.”
“So you started tracking them.”
She nodded again. “And there’s the pattern,” she said, tapping the map.
“Sun above,” he said as he followed her claw. “You’re sure?”
“I had to extrapolate a few of the paths,” she said. “But it definitely explains why we’re getting one every few hours.”
“Yeah,” he said nodding. The map was clear, almost every storm in the immediate area passed over the valley they were camped in, many of their paths bending in an arc if they didn’t just pass overhead outright. Most of them were slight, true, but it certainly explained why they’d seen so many. “But … why?”
“Why the paths? Or why would anyone build here if it’s always been like this?” she asked.
“Both?”
“I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head. “I was thinking about it on the way back. Maybe the griffons that lived here had a use for the storms?”
“Maybe they wanted to keep away outsiders?” he offered.
She gave him a shrug and looked down at the pottery. “Maybe if I can get these fragments translated, we can get a clue as to why, but until—”
“Boss! Boss!” He and Stal turned at the same time, just in time to see Slate run up to the edge of the cover, panting heavily in the heat. “We found something.”
“Big?” Stal asked. Slate just nodded, her heavy, thick teeth bared in a massive grin that Tomes felt could probably swallow his head whole.
“How big?” he asked. “Can you move it?”
“Only in pieces,” Slate said, turning and waving them towards the dig. “Come on, bosses, you gotta see this!”
“What is it?” he called as they both took off after Slate. “A pot?”
“Bigger, boss!”
“Another obelisk?” Stal called. They moved down onto the dig site. He could see all of the workers clustered around something on the far end of the grid.
“Not quite,” Slate called. “Maybe better!”
Better? He glanced over at Stal, but his wife just shrugged, What could be better than a—? The crowd parted and he got his answer.
“Is that … ?” he asked as a prickling sensation ran across his entire body. For a moment the entire dig was silent, until Stal opened her beak.
“It is,” she said, taking a few steps forward, her eyes wide.
Scattered before them in the upturned dirt were dirty-grey stone bricks, spread and worn, but still sitting somewhat close together in an unmistakable pattern, the gaps between them closing with every inch he moved his gaze east. The diggers had been hard at work, he could see, clearing away massive amounts of sand to expose more of the ruin.
“It’s a road …” he said, his excitement fighting with the shiver that was moving up his back. “Stal, this must be it.”
“Yeah,” she said, her voice strangely forced. “It is.”
“Wha—?” His voice died off as he saw what she’d seen. The second thing that the diggers had found, its form still mostly captured beneath the sand where it was lying next to the just uncovered road.
A skeleton. A complete griffon skeleton, its limbs spread wide, its skull toward them, as if it were standing guard over the road itself. It gave him an eerie, hollow feeling that competed with his excitement. What looked like stone knife was clutched in its talons. Or had been, at one point.
Still, they’d done it. As Stal let out a wild whoop, the rest of the dig site breaking out in cheers, the sense of prickling unease faded. She wrapped her forelimbs around him, hugging him tight against her chest, as the excitement among the workers grew.
This was it. All they had to do was follow the road and they’d find it! The city of the dead!
But for some reason, he couldn’t quite find himself to be quite as excited as everyone else. Maybe it was the storms. Or the way that no one else seemed to remember the place. The way the location made no sense. Or the way the sands seemed to have buried it.
Or maybe, just maybe, it was the faint sense of unease he got looking at the empty skull of the griffon skeleton as it lay there in the sand, its eye sockets staring up at him. Silent and foreboding.
Like an empty tomb …
The Bloody Tip - The Ocean of Endless Ice
The knock on his chamber doors was unexpected, and Subtle Eye jerked his head up, his concentration splitting as the knock came again. His mind shifted, his thoughts and theories on the research he’d been making coming to a complete stop, as surely as if they’d been submerged in a cup of water and then left outside to face the fury of the Ocean’s cold. Meanwhile, the part of his mind that could deal with the intrusion was left free, ready to respond and react. It was all part of who he was, the juggling of the parts of his mind. It was how he was such a wonderful spy. One part of him could remain disabled, or if needed, barely lukewarm, observing and reporting on everything he saw, while the conscious part of him could worry about appearing normal to everypony else.
He was already moving across his quarters when the knock came again, his hoofsteps muffled by the thick, heavy, red carpet. The carpet was new, much like the royally colored wall hangings he’d hung at strategic points around his rooms, and he’d already reprimanded several chosen and initiates for referring to it as wasteful. He was a unicorn, the superior of the pony race. Waste was beneath him.
Besides, it kept the room quieter. Deadened the sound. Except in a few strategic spots, like the entrance, which he’d deliberately kept bereft of coverings. It made every knock, every rap of a hoof against the floor echo through the apartment, making it impossible to miss new guests.
He might have been home, but that didn’t mean he didn’t need to keep his guard up. With the prize he’d brought Lord Sagis, there had been more than one jealous glance aimed in his direction courtesy of an upstart mage. Killings within the Order were frowned upon, but not entirely unheard of.
The knock came again as he reached the door, and he tugged at the handle with his magic. The door swung open to reveal a robe-wrapped unicorn with a red band around the base of her horn. A chosen then.
“Yes?” he asked, not bothering to step up to the doorway. “What is it?”
“A summons, sir,” the chosen said. To her credit, she didn’t stammer. “Lord Sagis wants to meet with you.”
‘Now?”
“Now.”
“Tell him I will be there momentarily.” He closed the door without waiting for a reply, his mind already working to pick out the most important details among the frozen mass of memory that had been his study moments earlier.
Remember the key points, remember what you need. As long as he could pick out the most important details, he could recover the rest.
He closed his books and dimmed the magilights—though he didn’t bother putting them out. No sense in making less work for the initiates. Then he donned his robes, checked to make sure that the three ascending bands on his horn were clearly visible and not marred in any way, and headed for the upper levels of the stronghold.
A unicorn slid out of the background as he trotted down the upper halls, sliding into view in the corner of his eyes and giving him a nod as if to let him know that the only reason he’d seen her was because she’d let him. A shadow. One of the Order’s assassins.
“Subtle Eye,” the mare said, her voice a whisper, but one that didn’t carry down the hallway. She was wrapped in tight-fitting cloth, with a color combination that just seemed to blend into everything at once and urge his eye to slide off of it.
“Shadow.” If any of the assassins had names, only their leader, Tripwire, knew what they were. Unicorns who joined her ranks concealed their identity. And their numbers. Outside of their kind, perhaps only Lord Sagis knew how many of them there actually were. “Working hard?”
“Our business is our own,” the mare said, her voice still soft. He rounded the corner and she followed, sticking just close enough to him that he wasn’t sure he’d be able to get a shield up in time to stop her if she tried something, but not close enough to be outright threatening. “But our business will intersect with yours soon enough.”
He almost stumbled at the soft words. “Wait, what?” he asked, but it was too late. There was a purple flash of not-light, and the mare was gone, teleported away with such skill and precision that he’d barely felt the backwash of residual magic. And he’d been paying attention.
The mare’s words echoed in his mind as he reached the entrance to Lord Sagis’s quarters, as always guarded by two bruins, both of whom gave him looks of barely concealed disdain.
Interesting, he thought as they pulled the doors aside. First the shadow, and now the bruins. What development has occurred that I am not aware of?
“Ah, Subtle Eye.” Lord Sagis’s voice seemed to echo through his chambers, rebounding and building off of the walls to come at him from every direction. It was an illusion, Subtle knew, caused by careful magical amplification of the voice from strategic points, but there was nothing wrong with that. Those who couldn’t fathom it would be impressed by it, and those who could work it out would be reminded of the superiority of those whose gift it was to use magic.
“Lord Sagis,” Subtle said, dropping to one knee in front of Lord Sagis’s desk even though the unicorn wasn’t sitting behind it. “You summoned me.”
“That I did, Subtle,” Lord Sagis said. Subtle rose as the unicorn addressed him, looking up at the leader of the Order. He looked … eager. As if he was a schoolcolt who’d just been told that there was a new toy waiting for him at home. His red coat was immaculately clean beneath his robes, his graying mane straight, but there was a hungry gleam in his eyes, the sort of burning desire that came with a long-sought goal coming into sight.
He didn’t need to ask to know what had occurred. But Lord Sagis was his ruler, so he would.
“Good news, my lord?” he asked, noting as he asked the question that two bags were sitting beside the door to the unicorn’s quarters. Packed and ready to leave.
“Of course,” Lord Sagis said, a thin smile slipping across his face. “I received news from the Vault this morning. The key is nearly charged. We’re nearly ready.”
“That is good news, my lord,” Subtle said, nodding as a shiver slipped through his body. Soon, King Sombra will be at our head once more. “How long do you think it will be until the prison is unsealed?”
“Just under two weeks,” Lord Sagis said. “Which is why I myself, along with the rest of our Order’s finest, will be departing today to the Vault. We will be there to help ready our ruler’s prison, to charge the key and show him the assemblage of our power.”
“What of the … anomalies?” Subtle asked. He hadn’t seen the reports, but he’d heard the rumors. Strange, grey, translucent walls of magic that swept through the Vault complex at regular intervals, tickling at the mind and leaving strange whispers running through the back of one’s head.
“There is a leak, a weakness on our king’s prison,” Lord Sagis said, a pleased smile spreading across his face. “A very weak, very slight one. Even the power of the vaunted sisters—” He said the word with a sneer. “—could not hope to confine him forever. His prison has weakened, the anomalies that have been spoken of have been identified as scanning spells. He is learning our modern language, observing our physiology. Proving that we are worthy bearers of his cause. There is nothing to worry about.”
“Of course,” Subtle said, bowing his head again. The twinge of worry in his gut faded. Why should he worry? This was the prison of King Sombra, the greatest and most powerful unicorn who’d ever lived, a unicorn who had dared try to reclaim the rightful birthright of olden times. Of course he would be working actively to get out of his prison.
Still … there was something odd about—No, we shall not go there. He pushed the thoughts aside as he gave Lord Sagis a smile. They were not relevant. Not at the moment.
“Who all will be attending the unsealing with you, my lord?” he asked. A flutter of excitement moved through his insides. If he was one of the lucky few … The finder of both the key and to be present at King Sombra’s glorious return ...
Lord Sagis smiled again, his horn glowing as the desk began to organize itself. “Mage Rogue Cell will be bringing a few of his … ‘gifts’ … to show King Sombra, of course. Mage Tripwire will be attending as well, with some of her shadows. A few of the other mages who we need to speed the charging of the key. But … not you.”
“My lord?” He didn’t dare look up.
“I have a special task in mind for you, Subtle,” Sagis said, stepping around the table. “Word has it that a pair of griffons are looking for you.”
Adrenaline shot through his body, and it took all of his considerable training to keep his body from reacting. “Griffons, my lord?”
“And they have aligned themselves with two known to our order. Barnabas and that traitor to her kin, Frost.”
Frost. He’d heard of her. And her brother. Though he’d been in Equestria for the last few years, news of the pair had filtered down to him. Frost was one of the few unicorns on the entire Ocean who had rejected the purity and place of her kind.
She was also dangerous.
“They’re stirring up trouble for our erstwhile servants,” Lord Sagis continued. “Apparently they set fire to the Cedar Shipyards in an attempt to drive the Bloodhooves out, or so the cowards tell me.” He set a hoof on Subtle’s shoulder, the faint contact sending a shiver through his body, one comprised of equal parts terror and excitement.
“They are cowards, my lord,” he said, nodding. “They break and run at the first sign of trouble.”
“Yes,” Sagis said. “But they also allowed several of our brothers and sisters who were helping them secure the shipyard die. We need them for now, but once King Sombra awakes, they will learn their place alongside the rest of this world.”
“Still,” he said, pulling his hoof away and executing a sharp turn away. “Frost and her new friends seemed determined to cause trouble. So I want you, Subtle, here. In my stead.”
“Sir?” He could hardly believe what he’d been told, though his memory confirmed it.
“You will be the senior mage while we are seeing to the awakening of our king, Mage Subtle Eye,” Lord Sagis said, throwing one hoof out for emphasis as he spoke. “You’ve proven yourself a capable leader in the past, and you deserve to be rewarded for your efforts in returning our king to his rightful place. Whatever reward King Sombra may seem fit to offer you upon his return, in my absence. I am entrusting you with the care of this keep, and with leadership of the Order’s operations in the western theater.” He turned back towards him, his eyes flashing. “Do you accept this position?”
For a moment his tongue almost stuck inside his jaw, but then his reflexes kicked in. “Of course, Lord Sagis,” he said, bowing low and touching his horn to the ground. “It would be an honor to perform your duties until your return.” Maybe not as much of an honor as seeing King Sombra himself return to the world, but still …
“Excellent.” Lord Sagis fixed him with a smile. “Then your first official act as my stand-in shall be to summon a chosen to carry my bags.”
“You’re departing immediately?” he asked. “With no fanfare?”
“News of our king’s return must be kept silent.” Sagis shrugged. “It’s not my place to give the Ocean any reason to want to run before our king’s horn stabs them through the hearts. So keep things … unriled, if you would. And keep an eye out for that blood-traitor and her new allies. They may not have much power, but they can still be a thorn in our side.”
“I will, my lord.”
“Excellent.” Lord Sagis trotted over to the window, his smile reflecting back off of the polished glass. “Never fear, Subtle Eye. Soon all your worries shall fade, and the Ocean will know the true might of their unicorn superiors.” He tilted his horn back, a twisted, purple glow building around its base. “All hail King Sombra!”
“All hail King Sombra!” Subtle echoed, firing his own salute into the air.
Soon.
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t.qkme.me/3q6yyo.jpg
Sorry, it had to done.
And the plot thickens. So it appears that Blade and co. are too late to stop Sombra's return--to be expected given your respect to canon. My guess is that even if Blade gets the key, it will only be because it's already been used.
The question, of course, is how the DG will get involved. With the way things are going, I have a guess: Blade and co. will succeed in their siege on the Bloody Tip, but Sombra will be released, since Sagis left prior. While the Elements of Harmony deal with Sombra, the DG will deal with the remnants of the cult, perhaps because they pose some kind of direct threat to Equestria.
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Actually, I suspect that the key is not to "Sombra's Prison"--remember, the shard of the Crystal Empire, the one thing Celestia and Luna thought could be used to free King Sombra, was NOT stolen. Furthermore, the key artifact had ancient griffon on it. Then look at the cover image--the symbol of the Dusk Guard, made out of ice but located in a desert and melting... I think the key won't free Sombra at all. I think it'll free some evil being entirely different. The Dusk Guard will be sent North when the Crystal Empire returns, only for them to have to change directions to the Turuncu Desert and/or the dig for Necropolis...
If Sombra's locked away in the Ocean, then I wonder what might be sealed in the city of the dead that the world wants to forget...
The golem maker lady from the first book fled to the diamond dogs. The diamond dogs now have a power play going on.
Is golem maker lady coming back as the diamond dog duchess?
Getting some definite Mummy vibes here. Which is an excellent thing to be getting.
Took me a bit to find this chapter. Was wondering why my notices kept telling me this story had a new chapter.
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Souls of the damned heroes that pledged to keep Sombra at bay, many corrupted slowly over the years. But as one remains steadfast, the seal will hold, but it weakens day by day.
Diamond dogs are going to find ancient golden artifacts and a mummy's curse, that will force them to play children's card games with their lives at stake.
Wonder where Sagis is heading off to?
Oh... I'm worried about Tome and Stal now. I just know something horrible will happen to them! And they seem like such an awesome couple.
Anyone else get the feeling that opening that cage the cult is after is gonna be like throwing open the doors to a room full of starving rabid tigers?
Am I the only one who imagined Lord Sagis and Subtle Eye doing Nazi salutes these last few lines? :v
I think I'm irked that a third of the way through the story and the titular Dusk Guard have barely been mentioned.