• Published 2nd Jun 2015
  • 5,376 Views, 707 Comments

The Dusk Guard Saga: Beyond the Borderlands - Viking ZX



Blade Sunchaser is a griffon on the run. Six days ago she was in a jail cell. Now, she's out, and she’s got a job to do, a job with a payoff bigger than any she’s earned before. And she'll do whatever it takes to see her mission through.

  • ...
10
 707
 5,376

PreviousChapters Next
Chapter 31 - Necropolis

??? - Unknown

“—try to follow—”

“—another—”

“—the flow of energy—”

“—internal systems are completely—”

Where am I?

Consciousness returned slowly, bringing with it a foggy, cloudy sensation, like something had stuffed the inside of his head with cotton and then blown it up like a balloon. He couldn’t feel his limbs, couldn’t see anything, but it was hard to focus on one of those sensations, or even on the lack of them.

What’s going on?

He tried to shift his weight, to make his body move, but he couldn’t feel it. He wasn’t sure if it was because he no longer had one … or if his mind was just so foggy he no longer could feel it. All he was certain of was that he was aware. Past that … nothing.

No. That was wrong. He knew more than that. He had a name. He forced his mind to focus, pushing the fog back and feeling almost a sort of strain as he did so. Good. He could feel something.

And he could remember who he was. His name was Alchemy. He was an earth pony. More memories came flooding back now, bringing with them a distant, distorted sound that echoed around his mind like the groan of ice.

Ice. The Ocean of Endless Ice. More memories came back, all at once, storming through his mind and overwhelming his senses. Teardrop Eyrie. Cragtooth Heights. The Pinnacle. The Vault.

The Order of the Red Horn. Anubis. The chase that led them to Sheerwater. And then …

You got captured, he thought, a slow, spike of pain sliding through his head as he thought back on it. They ambushed you, stormed the house, and took you. The strange, echoing sound came once again, almost deafening in volume, and he wanted press his hooves down around his ears.

But he couldn’t. He wasn’t even sure he had hooves. He couldn’t feel his limbs, couldn’t feel his body. It was like he was a consciousness, floating somewhere inside his own mind.

The dull rumble came again, rising and falling, and then he felt something new. Something that hurt. A slicing, burning sensation that was … Along his rear leg! He could feel the pain clearly now! Someone had cut his rear leg! It was still there!

Focus on that pain, he thought, “pushing” his mind towards the pain. Find the source, and find the—ow!

The pain blossomed, spreading through his body, a mix of sharp, intense pains and duller, throbbing injuries. He didn’t care. At least he could feel again.

You’ve been unconscious, part of him observed. This kind of symptom is synonymous with long periods of forced lack of awareness near brain death, usually artificially induced.

In other words, he’d been drugged. And by something that wasn’t a potion, otherwise there would have been bigger problems. But whatever they had used had almost killed him. Unless …

Potion, he thought. Lack of potion. He could feel the faint swell of power in his chest, more than he could recall feeling when he’d finally been taken down.

Someone’s fed me potion, he thought as the long, garbled droning sound around him began to clear, the noises sliding together and forming sounds he recognized. A faint droning that could only be from airship propellers. Sharp, staccato sounds that were tools being moved about. And then … he moved his head, trying to get his ears into a better position.

His head wouldn’t move. He tried again, but he could feel something pressing back, keeping his head from shifting by even the tiniest amount. Two somethings, actually. One across his forehead, and the other just under his chin.

What?

A new noise filled his ears, low but still faintly recognizable as speech. As he strained to hear it, the sound began to speed up, coalescing into something he could understand.

“—movement. Is he awake?”

“I don’t know,” another voice said. “Check his eyes.”

Something tugged at his face, and his world went white as someone pried one of his eyelids open. He tried to jerk, to twist his head away as the unexpected brightness bored into his mind, and then whoever was holding his eyes open let go, darkness mercifully returning to him once more.

“He’s awake, doctor,” the first voice said. “He’s reacting to external stimuli. I cannot say for certain whether or not he is aware.”

“Fascinating,” the second voice said. “His body is actively adapting to resist the influence of the sedative and the sleep spell at the same time. Observe. Do you not see the way his inner magic is distributing itself?”

That explains why I took so long to wake up, Alchemy thought. Sedative and a sleep spell, plus a lack of potion. No wonder I—

He paused. Unfamiliar voices. Restraining straps.

No.

No no no!

He flexed his muscles, pushing upwards, but he couldn’t even feel the barest give in his bonds. He was lying on his back, he could feel that now. On his back on a cool metal table, both sets of legs in awkward angles that probably would have hurt more if his body hadn’t been so flexible. But he was bound. Completely and totally.

“Ah, see the muscles contracting?” the second voice said. “Too rhythmic to be a seizure. He’s truly coming to.”

More than you know, Alchemy thought, probing at his teeth with his tongue. His mouth felt dry, like he’d been sucking on salt and passed out with a piece still in his mouth, leaving his lips sticky and rough. His throat felt raw and cracked, like someone had rubbed it with a rasp.

“Don’t hesitate,” the voice continued. “We only have so much time with our subject, and we must learn as much as possible.”

“Yes, doctor. Resuming the cuts.”

Then again, maybe letting them know he was awake was a good idea.

“—”

Nothing. His throat was too dry, too sore. He sucked at his cheeks, procuring a tiny bit of spittle, and swallowed, the sides of his throat sticking to one another.

“Hey.” His voice was quiet. Barely audible over the drone of the engines to his own ears. He tried again.

Hey.”

Something clattered, and a searing pain erupted along one leg.

“No,” the second voice said. “Deeper. I want to see the muscle.” Alchemy felt something twist, burrowing its way into the meat of his leg and then slicing down towards his knee. Even through the still-persisting fog of his mind, the pain felt like a hot brand burning through his flesh.

He swallowed again, his breath coming in quicker gasps as the blade pulled away from his body. “Ow!”

“Aha!” the second voice said. “So you are awake!”

“Yes,” he said, wincing. The pain in his throat wasn’t nearly as bad, but he could feel blood pouring out of the cut in his leg, the alternating dull-and-sharp throb that told him that he’d been cut deep into the muscle. Part of him wanted to scream, but he gritted his teeth, forcing the shout to roll back down his throat.

“Well, we kept you under as long as we could,” the second voice said. “Not as a courtesy, mind you, though that would have been a kind consideration considering your status as a member of the lower race. But mostly because I wanted to see how long it would take this marvelous mistake of yours to counteract our efforts.”

“Mistake?” He could feel the power in his chest flowing down into his leg now, heat erupting from his wound as it began to pull itself shut. The bleeding had already stopped, but he could tell that finishing the healing process was going to take more than the scarce amount of potion he had in him.

“Your potion,” the second voice continued. “It, and the magical framework that make up your body are clearly a mistake. A gift like this is wasted on you. In our hooves, however—”

“No!” Alchemy jerked, the table shuddering underneath him as he pushed all of his muscles as far as they could go.

“Amazing,” the first voice said. “Look at how his body’s internal magic redistributes.” The voice was cold, clinical.

Completely uncaring.

I want to see them, Alchemy thought as he let his body go limp, his head throbbing. I want to look them in the eyes. He was out of potion now.

“Incredible,” second voice said, a touch of excitement to it. “Look how his field reacts when the outside element has been exhausted. My dear boy,” he said, the voice moving closer to Alchemy’s face. “Your body seems determined to consume itself.” The tone in the voice made the words “dear” and “boy” seem like insults. Mockery.

“Well, we can’t have you dying yet,” the voice said. “Fine Edge? Pass me that eyedropper. Let’s give him twenty-five cubic centimeters this time. I want to see how his body reacts.

“What—” Alchemy stopped speaking as something squirted into his mouth, a familiar flavor that he swallowed almost on instinct, before it could travel down the wrong path. He felt his entire body seize, muscles contracting and relaxing as his potion hit his stomach, and then the sense of power returned once more, his leg heating as the healing accelerated.

“Fascinating,” the voice said. “It’s like throwing a combustive on an open flame. Your system reacts almost instantly.”

“Excuse—Excuse me if I don’t sound too enthused,” Alchemy said, cracking his eyes slightly and squinting as the bright light did its best to blind him. There were two figures standing over him, both too shadowy against the light for him to make out any details. “Where am I?”

“On board the Superiority, of course,” one of the figures said, his image slowly resolving until Alchemy was looking at a grey-coated unicorn with green eyes and three red bands around his horn. An Order mage. The figure across from him resolved into another unicorn stallion, this one younger, with a blue coat and a red band at the base of his horn.

Tartarus. The last sense of hope he’d been holding onto faded. “Cultists.”

The grey unicorn smiled, though there was a cold apathy in his eyes that belied the expression. “Cultist is such an ungainly word. It hardly describes the magnitude of what we aim to achieve.”

“I remember you,” Alchemy said. “From the house.”

“Ah yes,” the unicorn said, still smiling, and as Alchemy’s vision finally returned to normal he could see how cold the smile was. It was calculating. Clinical. “I requested to be in on that little operation for you and you alone, my prize.”

“I am not a prize,” Alchemy said. “I’m a pony.”

“No,” the unicorn said, casually lowering the scalpel to Alchemy’s chest and tracing a thin, red line that closed up almost as quickly as it had been made. “What you are is someone who doesn’t understand. But that’s fine, because we’re here to understand for you.”

“I understand perfectly,” Alchemy said, his muscles tightening. “You’re the one who made that behemoth.”

“I did indeed,” the unicorn said with a smile. “You may call me Doctor Cell.”

“You call yourself a doctor?” Alchemy asked, revulsion swelling inside him. “You’re sick. You torture ponies, break them, turn them into … into sick—”

“I do what is necessary for the good of the species,” Cell said, his expression unchanged by Alchemy’s words. “I serve a glorious cause: The furtherment of all ponykind.”

“You’re a monster.”

“And you’re a child,” Cell responded, turning away. “You stumbled upon something wonderful, and what did you do with it? You hid it.”

“It’s not reproducible. And it’s killing me.”

“Anything that can be done once can be done twice,” Cell said, turning around once more. “And by studying you, we’ll learn how. You hid yourself from us for so long on the Ocean, concealing your abilities. Imagine what would have happened had you simply done the right thing and brought yourself to us immediately.”

“You’re the last pony who should have access to this,” Alchemy said, clenching his teeth so hard he could feel his own potion reinforcing his jaw.

“No, I’m the first one who should,” Cell replied as he turned, a clipboard held in his magic. The scalpel sliced down again, Alchemy clenching his jaw as the blade cut through layers of flesh and muscle. “The knowledge to be gained from what you’ve stumbled upon here is incalculable, and like a petulant child you kept it from everyone else. Watch this closely, Edge,” Cell added as he twisted the scalpel, cutting deep into something inside Alchemy’s chest. “I want multiple observations on how the flesh knits itself back together.”

“It’s killing me,” Alchemy said, pushing the words out past the pain he was feeling. “Every time I take a dose, my life gets shorter. Every time I don’t take a dose—”

“You suffer and slip towards a coma,” Cell said, his voice so nonchalant he could have been discussing his laundry. “We know. We’ve already studied that occurrence on multiple occasions. You see, unlike you and your childish behaviors, I am a doctor. I learn the limits of what is possible, and use my talents to better the race as a whole.”

“You’re a sick plot who experiments on others rather than helping them,” Alchemy said as he felt his chest began to heal up. “You’re less of a doctor than I am.”

“No, unfortunately if that were true, you would be championing my work and have done it yourself, long before it came to this,” Cell said, lifting the scalpel once more. “You would have accepted your place as an earth pony and realized that your call as a doctor was to help everyone, not just your own selfish kind. Instead, you withheld your great discovery, until we were forced to step in and show you the error of your ways.”

“You’re insane.”

“Coming from an earth pony such as you, your words lack merit,” Cell said, looking up at his assistant. “And now, we will continue to see what the limits of your power are—your capacity to heal, your capacity for pain. We might even see if you can reattach a limb. We have a very large amount of your potion with which to experiment, and based on the way even ten cubic centimeters react with your body, it will take us quite some time to reach a large amount, and we’re still going to have plenty left over.”

“Too much will kill me,” Alchemy said, trying not to focus on the pain in his chest. “There. Saved you that.”

Cell smiled again. “Oh, but we already knew that. But, as you should know as you claim to be a doctor, you can learn a lot from how something dies.”

He turned away, and Alchemy clenched his teeth. Don’t show them your fear, he thought. Stay strong. The rest of the team will come for you. Just hold on and stay strong. Cell turned back, a long, thin, pointed metal instrument in his magic.

“As somepony who claims to be a doctor,” Cell said, looking down at him. “What do you say to this? With Edge and I both doing detailed scans, we’re going to puncture one of your lungs and see what your modified internal magic stream does.”

“This isn’t medicine,” Alchemy said as he felt the cold, sharp tip of the instrument touch his chest, probing for a space between his ribs. “This is torture. And you’re one sick, demented individual who should never be known as a doctor.”

“Charming,” Cell said, looking over at his assistant. “Ready, edge?” Alchemy bit back a scream as the probe stabbed down into his chest.

Keep holding on, he told himself as he felt something inside his chest give way, his body fighting to cough. Fight through the pain, focus on something else. The team will come. They’re not going to leave you behind.

They won’t leave you, he thought, closing his eyes as he coughed something warm and sticky free from his mouth, his lungs sucking in oxygen as his system fought to heal itself. You won’t die here.

Right?

* * *

Pitiful, Sagis thought as he looked out over the members of the dig site, clustered together in small groups under the watchful eyes of his followers and a few of Anubis’s skeletal servants. Absolutely pitiful.

The night was clear, with a steady breeze that kept the desert’s temperature much more comfortable than it would have ordinarily been. It was still warm compared to the Ocean, but it wasn’t the sweltering, uncomfortable heat that it would have faced had they attempted to seize the dig during the day rather than under the light of the moon. Not that the result would have been any different. The dig had been staffed by students and academics, not warriors. Even the unicorns had been pathetic in their resistance, more concerned for their research or—even more shamefully—concerned with the lives of the lesser beings they consorted with.

Disgusting, Sagis thought, turning his attention away from the dig members and back towards the Superiority. The airship had been parked on the edge of the valley, well away from the dig site as Anubis had requested. There was a steady line of unicorns making their way back and forth from the camp to the ship, most of them carrying food and supplies down to the edge as the immortal had requested.

I suppose I should go inform him that we’ve seized the camp, Sagis thought, scowling at the thought of presenting himself before the jackal once more. And that we’re almost ready to move out. To where, he wasn’t sure. Anubis had been very quiet concerning what he planned to do after they arrived at his Necropolis. Holding a city in the middle of the desert seemed like a fool’s errand.

Not that it will matter much longer, Sagis thought as he took one last look at the cowed groups of archaeologists and then turned to begin the trek back to the airship. Whatever his plans are, I doubt that I or any of the order have much of a future in them. Anubis had been very cautious about disclosing his plans after reclaiming his city, but it hadn’t escaped Sagis’s notice that he’d also been very quiet about the ultimate fate of the Order.

Regardless of whether or not it was more posturing, or more toying with him, he no longer cared. Because of Anubis, they’d missed the return of the Crystal Empire. They’d sweated away in the Griffon city of Sheerwater while Equestria, with its deplorable princesses, had secured the city that was King Sombra’s birthright. Of the King himself, there had been no mention in the newspapers.

And Anubis, the arrogant immortal that he was, had laughed when he’d seen the papers. Mocked them and their trials. Humiliated Sagis in front of his entire crew before turning on that blasted fear-field of his once more and reminding them that they were no longer followers of the unicorn king.

So you think, Anubis, Sagis had reminded himself. So you think. And the time for making that thought publically known would be soon.

He still wasn’t quite sure exactly what that would entail. Part of him had entertained fantasies of slaying the immortal, of descending upon him with righteous fury and showing the jackal that even immortals were beneath a unicorn of his stature … But he’d dismissed them for what they were: Fantasies. He couldn’t be sure that the direct approach, glorious as it held the possibility of being, would work. All it would take was a slight twitch of Anubis’s staff, and his own magic would fade in the face of complete fear.

No, they needed to be subtle. Or better yet, cautious.

We strike when our opponent shows his weakness, and we show our power, he thought as he neared the airship. And not all strikes need to be direct. Anubis had spoken of that. In fact, a strike needed not be a strike at all.

If we were to vanish? Sagis thought as he made his way up the wooden gangplank. What would happen then? If we all just boarded the Superiority and left, returned to our proper place?

What would Anubis do then?

It would take some proper planning to pull off. They would need to keep the airship, that much was certain. They couldn’t abandon it. Sagis stopped at the top the gangplank, motioning to a few nearby unicorns who were in the process of transporting more supplies.

“Leave at least a week’s worth of supplies aboard the ship,” he said, his voice low. “Anubis’s orders. Just in case.”

The unicorns nodded and went back to work. Branding the order as the immortal’s own had been a nice touch, and he congratulated himself on the sly bit of deception. There were those among the crew, he knew, that had lost faith in the vision of the Order, especially after Anubis had so firmly taken over. Marking his words and plans as the jackal’s own would ensure that they were carried out, even by those who had begun to doubt in his vision and fallen under the sway of the immortal.

He crossed the deck and stepped into the vessel proper, nodding as several members of the order bowed at his passing. They were those who still remembered the station he held and respected it.

He neared the entrance to what had once been his quarters, refusing to flinch as the clicking of bone met his ears. Two of Anubis’s guards—the skeletal griffons he’d procured in Sheerwater—crossed their wings, blocking his admission to the doorway as they looked at him with empty sockets.

“I’m here to speak with Lord Anubis,” he said, glaring at the pair and fighting back the urge to summon a spell and wipe them both from existence. They were eerie, these skeletal creations. Silent, speechless, and—more unnervingly—completely loyal to their master.

We’ll have to have a contingency plan for them when we make our move, Sagis thought as the two skeletons looked at one another, unspoken messages possibly passing between them. And we’ll need to find out what their limits are. Whether or not they’re intelligent or just cunningly instructed, we can’t have one of them surprising us.

The skeletons stepped back, wing-bones clicking against one another as they folded them against their sides once more. For a moment Sagis almost nodded, but then he caught himself and settled for scowling at the sentinels. If they even acknowledged his actions, they gave no sign.

“Ah, Sagis,” Anubis said, looking up at Sagis as he stepped into what had once been his quarters, and soon would be again. “How goes the landing?”

“The dig site is secure and the archaeologists have all been accounted for,” Sagis said, giving the immortal a faint nod but nothing more. “They had already located the city. By the time you arrive, they will have uncovered the front door.”

“Perfect.” The immortal smiled and then turned his attention back towards the top of the room’s desk, where the two pieces of the broken key rested on the wood. “And the supplies?”

“Being unloaded as you ordered,” Sagis said, nodding. Except for a week’s worth, he added mentally. “However, since we are to be claiming a city …” Anubis looked up at him, his dark eyes narrowing. “Perhaps there would be space there for the Superiority to be berthed? I would prefer not to lose such a fine airship.”

“Well,” Anubis said, rising to his full height and looking around the room. “It is a pretty nice bit of portable extravagance.”

“Indeed,” Sagis said, ignoring the bard. “And one ill-suited to being left out in the desert once your city is uncovered.”

“Strictly speaking, it’s not a city,” Anubis said, returning his attention the two pieces on the desk. “But yeah, sure, there’s a couple of storage spaces the ship would fit in. Planning ahead, you know?”

Sagis frowned. He actually wasn’t sure what the immortal was talking about, not from his tone.

“Anyway,” Anubis said, adjusting the facing of the two pieces and then looking back up. “You might as well. Leave a small crew aboard and tell them to board as soon as they see a space for it.”

“Board?”

The immortal grinned. “Like I said, Sagis, Necropolis isn’t a city. Well, it is, and it isn’t. You’ll see soon enough. Speaking of which …” He slammed both of the crystal pieces into one another, a loud crack filling the room as they let out a blue flash. When the light faded, Anubis was holding a partial key, almost identical to the one that had opened the vault, but with a third piece missing. “Let’s go open it up.”

“But …” Sagis closed his eyes for a moment, pushing away his surprise at the way the two pieces had fit together. Strange, ancient magic. “Anubis, the key is still incomplete.”

“Leave that to me,” the immortal said, releasing the partial key from his hands. It floated through the air, coming to rest behind one of the demigod’s shoulders. Behind it the original key floated up into the air, bobbing behind Anubis’s other shoulder. “And focus on your part to play. Like taking me to these archaeologists.”

“As you request,” Sagis said, nodding once more and turning for the door. He managed to make it out of the room before Anubis could pass him, but once they reached the deck, the immortal’s long strides carried him past him, and Sagis was forced to fall back to a place behind the jackal, mixing with his skeleton escort as they made their way down the gangplank.

“Wow,” Anubis remarked as Sagis caught up with him, leaving the clicking of the skeletons behind. “I was kind of hoping that they would have uncovered a bit more of it than this.”

“Yes,” Sagis said, trying not to let his displeasure show on his face. “There is quite a bit of it to uncover before it will be useful.” And I can guess who is going to do the uncovering, he thought.

“Not as long as we have the door,” Anubis said as they neared the small collection of tents that made up the camp. “If we can enter the city, nothing else matters.”

You say that now, Sagis thought, but I imagine that will change once you realize that your precious plan is out of date by almost two-thousand years. Not that there had been much sense building a city in the middle of the desert in the first place.

All the more reason to make our move as quickly as possible and abandon your cause, he thought as they entered into the camp. He could hear shouting coming from up ahead—probably one of the archaeologists causing trouble. I don’t want to be here when the Griffon Armada decides that you’re a fly that needs to be swatted. Or the Plainslands decide that you’re a threat worthy of mobilizing for. You have power, capabilities, Anubis. But you’re a being from another time. A solitary city is nothing more than a target.

But he had to know that, didn’t he? Anubis wasn’t a fool. Which didn’t explain their current course of action, nor the immortal’s good mood, unless there was something that none of them knew.

“—in your place!” someone was shouting as they rounded the last clump of tents to reach the place where the dig teams had been gathered. A trio of unicorns were holding two individuals—a tan griffon and a similarly colored earth pony—to the ground with their magic. Two of the unicorns were pummeling the pair with telekinetic blows, while the third seemed to be using his magic to do his best to grind the pair’s faces into the sand. “You lessors will speak when we tell you—”

What is going on here?” Anubis asked, his voice booming across the encampment. Gasps rose from the clusters of students as they appeared to notice the towering immortal, jaws dropping in shock. The three unicorns that had been engaged in the beating froze, their magic holding the two captives motionless as they turned to face the jackal-lord.

“They were speaking back,” one of the unicorns said, releasing the pair from his magic. The earth pony lifted his head slightly, his eyes widening as they flitted over the jackal standing before him and his attendant skeletons. “They needed to be taught a lesson.”

Anubis scoffed. “Right, and I’m sure that wasn’t completely unjustified, them speaking back.” The earth pony had reached the side of the griffon now, and was helping her up, to stand on shaky legs. The earth pony whispered something, and her eyes flickered up, going wide as they fixed on the one who had saved them.

“I mean, really,” Anubis continued, his attention still on the trio. “What possible reason could you have for beating someone just because they spoke back?”

“My lord,” the unicorn said, an uncertain look on his face. “They’re inferiors. What right did they have to question us?”

“What right?” Anubis asked, his eyes widening slightly, as if he couldn’t believe the pony’s answer. “You want to know what right?”

He lunged forward, his foot lashing out and catching the unicorn right in the gut. “What right!?” he shouted as the unicorn tumbled back in the dust. “You’re speaking to me about ‘inferior species,’ you little mortal? By that logic, I should be able to beat you all day!” He turned to the other two. “One of you has a better answer, I hope? Otherwise I’m going to have to let my opinion of your little organization drop a little once more. I told you to gather the archaeologists, not beat them.”

“But …” the next unicorn swallowed. “They resisted.”

“Yes,” Anubis sneered. “By talking back.” He shook his head. “Pathetic.”

“My lord,” Sagis said, stepping forward. “What does it matter if we’re only going to kill them—”

His head jerked down until he could almost taste the sand, bony talons wrapped tightly around his horn as Anubis’s escort grabbed him. He could hear cries of panic coming from the dig team, either at the movement of the skeletons or his own announcement. “My lord—!”

“Excuse me,” Anubis said, his cold voice cutting him off. “But who said we were going to kill them?”

“I—my lord, why would you not?” Sagis said. “After all, they serve no useful—ah ah!” The cold bone around his horn tightened to the point of pain.

“Why would I—? Wow. Sagis, you really are an idiot.” Sagis tried to look up as the immortal paused, only to have his head shoved even closer to the dirt. “Tell me, Sagis,” Anubis said. “Do you know what the difference is between a massacre with no survivors and a battle where you let the other side retreat?”

“I—”

“Of course you don’t, or we wouldn’t be having this conversation. Witnesses, Sagis. It’s why I’m letting all of these archaeologists go. So they can go back to their homes, back to their little universities, back to their families and tell them all about me, after that knowledge will do them no good. You see what I’m doing here? Putting the pieces together yet?” The bony talons jerked Sagis’s head up, twisting his neck so he could look up at the immortal. “Figuring it out?”

“Yes,” he said, biting back the sharp retort he wanted to spit out instead. “I see.” I see that you and I Anubis, need to part ways as soon as possible.

“Good,” Anubis said. The bony talons released him, skeletons clicking as they resumed their watchful places. “Now,” he said, turning to face the crowd of archeologists. “I need—”

“Lord Anubis!” The immortal paused as the shout echoed through the camp, rapid hoofsteps echoing behind it. “Lord Anubis!” One of the chosen, one who had been stationed on the ship, galloped around the tents, her chest heaving.

“What?” Anubis asked, turning to face the new arrival.

“Airship!” the chosen replied, gasping and shaking her head. “We don’t know who, but approaching fast!”

“How long until it arrives?”

“Maybe eight, ten minutes,” the chosen said, pawing at the ground with one hoof. “Maybe sooner.”

The immortal nodded. “Very well. Tell everyone to move for the entrance of the city now. There’s no time left to dawdle. And you,” he said, turning to the terrified archeologists. “If I were you I’d gather what you can from your camp and run. Except for you,” he said, pointing at a lone diamond dog in the back. “I want to speak with you. Then you can join the rest of your little group. The rest of you,” he shouted, waving his hands at Sagis and the unicorns standing around the camp. “Follow me. We’re short on time.”

Good, Sagis thought as the orders began to relay up the side of the valley. Anubis began to walk towards the dig site, a nervous looking grey diamond dog sharing a whispered conversation at the immortal’s side. Doing things in a rush means more chances for us to make our move. He wasn’t sure how many of the Order would truly join him when the time for that move came, but it would be enough to operate the Superiority.

He had a good idea of who was in the approaching airship as well. The Betrayer, and her newfound group of friends.

Well, minus her older brother. And the earth pony currently in one of the cabins aboard the Superiority. Though perhaps he wasn’t there anymore. The doctor had been making preparations to move the prisoner into the city last he’d looked. Something about wanting more space.

Pity, he thought as he followed Anubis across the desert. We likely won’t have time to relocate him a second time if we do decide to make a break for it. The doctor will be forced to kill him. It was an acceptable plan. After all, the prisoner was only an earth pony, and once the doctor had enough information on the potion, they wouldn’t need the subject any longer.

They were nearing the end of the valley now, the ground ahead of them shifting into a steep climb towards the rest of the surrounding terrain. A combination of metal and cloth had been set up over the sand, covering a portion of the valley that had been cleared away. Anubis slowed, nodding to the diamond dog, who turned and began loping back towards the camp without another word.

“Finally,” Anubis said, snapping his fingers as he stopped. Three of his skeleton escorts stepped forward, wrapping their talons around the coverings and tugging them away from the entrance. Sagis felt a small shiver run down his spine as two more skeletons stepped past him, assisting their fellows. He hadn’t even noticed the rest of them show up.

The covering was torn back, thrown aside to reveal a steeply sloped stone wall with a triangular hollow set in it. Anubis stepped forward, silent as the completed key, the one that had unleashed him from his long wait, floated into his waiting hand.

“Still locked and everything,” Anubis said, pressing the key into the hollow on the door. The crystal flashed, a dark blue aura rippling out from deep within it, and then it floated away from the stone as a low click echoed through the night air.

“They did good work,” Anubis said as the sand beneath them began to shake. A low grinding sound filled the air, and Sagis watched as the hollow impression on the surface of the stone began to slide downwards.

No, he realized as he looked up, spotting a dark, growing line on the top of the door. It wasn’t the impression that was sliding downwards. It was the door. The whole thing was sliding down into the rest of the structure, the ground shaking as mechanisms uncountably ancient moved for the first time in centuries.

“Yes,” Anubis said as the door ground to a halt, a final clunk echoing across the sands. The immortal took a few steps forward into the dark void. “And now … let’s see if they did everything else right.”

The moment the immortal’s foot stepped across the threshold, passing into the darkness, a faint hum sprang up, filling the air. Anubis paused, an expectant look on his face, and then before Sagis’s eyes, the darkened interior of the Necropolis came to life, a green glow rising from somewhere underfoot and casting its light across the entryway, revealing everything that had been shrouded a moment earlier. The raised, stone walkway that extended deeper into the structure. The high, stone ceiling, lit from below. And piled along both walls, in recesses that seemed to have been placed there for that purpose ...

Bones. Thousands of them. Sagis’s eyes widened in surprise as he ran his eyes down the entryway, following the rows of ancient bone as they worked their way back into what looked like a massive atrium, with stairways and paths leading to other parts of the structure.

But every inch of it was filled with bones. Thousands. Millions maybe. Piled loosely along the sides of the walls, row after row of glowing green under the Necropolis’s light.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Anubis said, stepping inside. “You know, I thought it was funny. That Stoneweather guy we talked to? All that stuff about lost cities, all those legends and everything, and no one ever bothered to ask themselves where the griffons who’d built the city went. They just assumed they were gone. The city was the important thing.”

“They never left,” Sagis said, eyeing the entryway. “You killed them.”

“What? No,” Anubis said, shaking his head. “I told them to kill themselves. Big difference. They finished the city, sealed themselves inside and …” He spread his hands, gesturing at the remains. “Now they get to serve me again.”

Thankfully, not all at once, Sagis thought as he eyed the bone piles. He’d seen how much energy Anubis had expended raising the skeletal guardians he currently had. It’ll take you weeks, months maybe to animate all of these.

“Come,” the immortal said, waving Sagis forward. “We don’t have long. Get the rest of your cult in here and let’s finish the activation.”

“Yes, at once,” Sagis said, turning and waving at the rest of the cult making their way towards the city, motioning for them to hurry. He couldn’t hear the oncoming airship, but he knew it had to be getting close. Then he frowned as something the immortal had said caught up with him. “Wait, activation?”

“Yep,” Anubis said as Sagis followed him into the structure. The air was cool and musty, like an old book that had been left out for its pages to dry. “Activation. I told you this wasn’t a city.”

The hallway widened into the atrium that Sagis had glimpsed, only it was larger than he’d expected. Sweeping hallways broke off in every direction, some at higher levels and some that he could look down on. A massive staircase filled the far wall, a grand, imposing thing flanked by two extended platforms that looked almost as useful as defensive locations as they did as imposing architecture. Anubis didn’t slow, kicking stray bones out of his path as he moved straight for the steps, his skeletal attendants behind him.

“Where are we going?” Sagis asked as he followed him up the stairs.

“To the control room,” Anubis said.

“The city has a control room?” Sagis glanced back down the stairs, eyeing the few cult members who were walking in and looking at the massive space with obvious surprise. To think that something so large had been buried under the sand all this time ...

“Don’t think of it as a city,” Anubis said as he reached the top of the stairs. “Think of it more as a … mobile fortress.”

“Mobile?” Sagis shook his head as they passed into another hall. “But it’s a city. How could it be mobile? That would take—”

“A lot of power?” Anubis said. “You’re correct. It would. But that’s one thing that Necropolis has in abundance. Tell me, Sagis, do you know what a light storm is?”

“I’ve … heard of them,” he said as they passed into another wide room. There were no bones this deep into the structure. Anubis paused for a moment, glancing around the room before continuing onward. “They’re a magic storm here that forms here in the desert, are they not?”

“They are,” Anubis said as the hallway underhoof began to slope upwards. “And as those who uncovered my city no doubt discovered, they’re very common here. Which was what I needed.” Up ahead the hallway terminated in another stone door. “A long, long time ago, Sagis,” Anubis said as he placed his hand against the stone. A green glow erupted around his palm, and the door began to part, receding into the walls as he spoke. “I had an idea. But I would need power. Power which was going to take a long, long time to gather. So I moved forward with my other plans, always keeping this one in the back of my mind until I found a use for it.” The door vanished, leaving behind a small, open, rectangular space.

“Come on, Sagis,” Anubis said, stepping into the space and motioning with one hand. “We don’t have much time.” Sagis complied, following the immortal into the space along with the skeletons. The stone jerked underhoof, a momentary pressure weighing all along his body as the floor they were standing on began to move upward.

“I spent decades doing research,” Anubis continued as they slid upward. Above them, what had looked like a distant ceiling was parting, the stone breaking apart and revealing a bright glow from above, not green like the rest of the structure’s lighting, but almost white. “Whole lifetimes worth for a mortal; studying my craft. That’s where my staff came from,” he said, spinning the metal rod in his fingers. “I learned how to mimic spells through other means. My own magic, that which lets me animate the bones of the dead? It was useful, but I needed more. Centuries passed, other plans began to fail, Celestia and Luna began stamping out the immortals that refused to follow our long-gone Creator’s vision … But through it all, I laid my pieces in place.”

“The light storms,” he said as the elevator neared the now open passage, the bright, white light overwhelming everything else. “They were a power source. All I needed was a battery, a collector, and time for enough of the storm’s natural fury to be harvested that I could use it. And, well, as you’re no doubt realizing by now …” The stone they were riding on burst into the open, coming to a jarring halt. “I’ve had all three all along.”

Sagis felt his jaw drop. The elevator had deposited them in what could only be the central nexus of the entire building, a massive, pyramidal room dominated by a raised, circular platform at its center, one with a very clear and conspicuous throne atop it. But the throne wasn’t the center of the room. That honor had been given to the massive crystal octahedron placed behind it, a gargantuan solid eight-sided piece of crystal larger than any Sagis had ever seen.

“Behold!” Anubis said, spreading his arms as he walked toward the platform. “The results of almost two-millennia of planning. A power sink, fresh and full with magic gathered from over a thousand years of light storms. Enough power to create a million light storms of its own. And best of all,” he said, a long, low laugh bubbling free of his throat. “Completely mine.”

“Can you feel it?” he asked, turning and staring at Sagis. “Well, can you? Does your horn itch? Your body tremble?”

“I … uh …” Sagis shook his head, extending his senses and probing at the colossal crystal pulsing its brilliant, white light. Nothing.

“I can’t,” he said, his voice faltering. “I can’t sense any of it.”

“I know!” Anubis shouted, almost dancing up the steps to the raised platform. “No waste, no leakage other than this light. All this stored power in the most efficient, ambitious project I ever put my mind too … and it’s all mine. All it needs,” he said turning and grasping the two keys. “Are these.”

“But … I …” Sagis’s mind was reeling. If what was being said was true, than Anubis was in possession of enough power to do … well, almost anything.

Wait. No he couldn’t. Not with a broken key.

“But … my lord,” he said, gesturing with one hoof as he stepped up to the base of the platform. Now that he was closer he could see the framework that the gigantic battery was resting on, four primary connecting points that were a mixture of stone, metal, and crystal that stretched down into the depths of the Necropolis along a massive shaft beneath it, rather than connect to the metal ring that Anubis was standing on. “One of the keys is incomplete.”

“You never listen, do you?” Anubis asked, his tone mocking as he stepped over to one side of the massive metal throne. He knelt by the side, pulling a small hatch aside and revealing a recessed space that looked almost identical to the one that the key had fit in at the vault. Anubis plucked the complete key out of the air, wrapping his hand around the crosspiece at its end, and then drove it downward, twisting it to one side with a click. The crystal lit up as he let go of it, a hum building in the air.

“It’s like I told you all the back on your ship,” the immortal said as he rose, reaching up and plucking the other, incomplete key from behind him and walking over to the other side of the throne. Sagis glanced around the room, noting that the skeletons that had come with them had taken up positions along the path from the elevator, almost like a silent honor guard. “The keys are mine, and they will come when I ask them to.”

He held out his hand, a faint, magical glow building in his palm, and Sagis felt the familiar tingle of teleportation magic as space itself folded, and with a bright flash, the final portion of the key sat in Anubis’s hand.

“Like I said, Sagis,” Anubis said, his laugh echoing across the room as he slammed the missing piece of the key into place, the crystal fusing with a loud crack. The immortal gave the completed key a gentle spin, chuckling to himself as light refracted off it. “Patience is the key to every victory. And I’ve waited long enough.”

Without a word, Anubis shoved the final key home, twisting it into place as the entire room blazed with light. Sagis took a step back as the room began to shake, a low hum swelling and mixing with the jackal-lord’s laugher.

“Sixteen-hundred years!” Anubis shouted as the room came to life, magical displays lighting up around him. “Sixteen-hundred years of patient, calm, rational planning! And now it all pays off.”

His hooves were almost on the elevator now, and Sagis risked a quick look back, searching for some kind of control or switch. He could feel the entire Necropolis shaking beneath him as the hum continued to build, rising to a dull roar that seemed to be coming from the very stones themselves.

“Power enough for an army of warriors!” Anubis shouted, though he didn’t seem to be directing the words at him. The immortal was watching with an enraptured look as the crystal began to pulse with increased speed, the rumbling underhoof picking up with each pulse. “A statement the world can’t ignore!”

Anubis spun, and Sagis froze even as his eyes spotted the small, magical arrow floating in the air above the corner of the elevator.

“Remember what I said about witnesses, Sagis?” Anubis shouted, spreading his arms. “Well, you just got a front-row seat!”

Sagis lashed out, his hoof passing through the arrow. Beneath him the elevator shuddered and then began to drop, Anubis’s laughter echoing after it.

Patience, Sagis thought. The art of knowing when to retreat and bide your plans for another time.

He needed to gather his mages. Something told him this was one of those times.

* * *

“Right,” Blade said, dropping the binoculars and passing them back to Skylark. It had been hard to make out even with the light of the moon, but the ship that was just lifting off from the distant dig was definitely the Superiority. “Keep us coming in as quickly as possible.”

“What’s the plan?” Frost asked, her horn glowing as she added another piece of icy armor to the thin slices already around her sides and chest.

“Well,” Blade said. “They’re pulling the Superiority back into the air, so we can’t count on getting close. We might have to circle wide and drop in by wing if we want to get close to that dig, while Skylark here plays tag with their air support.” Skylark swallowed, his eyes widening, though he didn’t say anything.

“And if Alchemy is on that ship?” Hain asked.

“Then we hope they come down for a nice talk after we’ve dealt with whoever is left in the camp,” she said, a small shiver rolling down her back as she said it. It was a big if, and she knew it. She took a step back towards the table, where the combat harness and armor she’d pilfered from the guard station were laid out. “With luck, their forces will be split between the dig site, the camp, and the ship, and we’ll be able to keep them that way while we whittle them down.”

“And if the airship comes for us or Anubis decides to step in?” Frost asked.

“The former, we hope we can find cover, or we take it down,” Blade said. “The latter … chug your potion and pray Alchemy was right about it working.” She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as she adjusted her harness. She’d found the four potions Alchemy had apparently finished in her bag, though none of them had dared test them, since there was a limited supply. She was still holding onto two. The other pair had been given to Frost and Hain.

“As far as civilians go,” she said, glancing at Hain to make sure he didn’t object to any step of her plan. “Any that we find we’ll send to a safe spot, hopefully where the airship can’t see them. So a tent or something. Skylark?”

“Yes, Ma’am?”

“If you see an opening, or that big airship isn’t bothering you, I want you to pick up as many civilians as you—”

“Holy-dooly!” Skylark’s shout ripped through the inside of the airship, and Blade felt every muscle in her body tense.

“What is it!?” she asked, jumping up towards the front glass and searching the sky. “Airships? Incoming?”

That,” Skylark said, pointing a single claw at the distant camp, and Blade felt her beak drop open.

An entire section of the desert appeared to be lifting away, rising into the air as sand cascaded from its sides. It was shaking, rumbling, clouds of dirt and dust billowing away from its base as a low, droning hum echoed across the desert.

“Crikey,” Skylark said, his voice barely audible over the sound of the desert ascending into the sky. “I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

“New one for me, too,” Blade said as more sand fell free from the rising shape, exposing a sloped, stone wall. “Guys? I think that’s the Necropolis. And it flies.”

The sand had mostly fallen away now, revealing the long, slanted sides of the city. It was shaped like a squat, stepped pyramid, with each sloped side rising several stories into the air before giving way to a long, flat expanse that stretched until the next level of the structure. Smaller pyramidal shapes ringed the edges of each level, looking like armored gun emplacements stretched along a fortress wall. At the central and highest point of the structure, the final tier, along with the tip of the pyramid, was raised even higher, giving it the illusion of being a bridge or a command area of some kind.

The underside of the city wasn’t nearly as developed, though it was no less massive. Its sides were slanted inward, making the whole structure look as if two pyramids had been slapped together at the base, but the bottom half ended after only descending one level, the flat space beyond that covered with smaller, low-hanging structures that Blade couldn’t even begin to guess at the function of.

What she could see, however, was the size of the behemoth. As well as the open doors along the side of the lower level, one of which the Superiority appeared to be flying into.

“Anyone want to hazard a guess as to the size of that thing?” Frost asked.

“At least seven-hundred meters,” Hain said. “Judging from the size of the Superiority by comparison.

“Crikey,” Skylark said, his beak hanging open. “I feel like stunned mullet. Shake that, we are a stunned mullet compared to that monster.” He turned, his eyes wide. “Now what do you want me to do? We can’t be having a blue with that monster, we’ll be killed!”

“There’s still activity on the ground,” Frost said, moving back from the window. “Civilians, from the way they’re panicking.”

“Right,” Blade said, shaking her head and thinking. “Here’s what we’re going to do. Skylark? Bring us up close to that … whatever that thing is.”

“Sheila, I ain’t—”

“You’re not landing on it,” Blade said. “We’re jumping and flying in one of those lower entrances.” She picked up one of her armor plates and attached it, rapping the metal with her knuckles to make sure it was secure. “As soon as we’re off, swing back and pick up as many of those civilians as you can. Get them out of here. If we were being followed, then you be sure to let them know what’s coming. Whatever’s on that … thing …” She cinched a strap down, tightening a forearm guard into place. “It can’t be good.”

“What about you?” Skylark asked. Around them, the cabin creaked, the propeller’s pitch picking up as he put the Free Skies into a shallow dive. “I can’t just leave you.”

“Don’t worry about us,” Blade said, looking up at Hain and Frost as she cinched the last piece of armor into place. It was light enough she almost couldn’t feel it. “We’ve got a job to do.” She lifted the heavy claymore and slung it over her back as Frost and Hain both gave her slow nods.

“And we’re going to see it through.”

Count of Laws Broken: 0
Total Laws Broken: 111
Damage Value (In Bits): 0
Total Damage Value (In Bits): 391,087

PreviousChapters Next