Lateral Movement

by Alzrius

830 - Soft Whisper

Finding himself adrift in the Astral Plane and without his powers, Lex would have expected to feel relief – or at least slightly less tension – at encountering other ponies there.

But the equine figures who emerged from the silvery gloom only made his anxiety rise, for good reason:

The three ponies in front of him now were all dead.

The leftmost one was near-totally skeletal in appearance, its bones clad in a shriveled gray coating that was all that was left of its flesh. Thin wisps of its mane clung to its skull, and the tattered remains of a robe hid most of its torso. The only other notable features were the pinpoints of green light which burned in its empty eye sockets...and which were trained directly on him.

The rightmost pony, by contrast, was nowhere near as decayed. A zebra mare, she wore little more than a loose skirt and several bangles, displaying a figure that was lithe but muscled. Her mane was cut short, as was her tail, and a rather odd-looking sword – the back of the blade was straight, while its cutting edge bulged out near the tip – was held in a loose strap at her side. But all of that was less notable than the fact that she was entirely transparent, including her clothing and equipment, looking like the popular conception of a ghost.

In between them was a third pony corpse, though with its face completely covered by a golden death-mask, it was the least obviously deceased. Even so, it wasn’t too hard to tell that it was no longer among the living, with faded linen wrappings clinging to its body so tightly as to reveal a figure that was beyond emaciated. With a thin shroud girding its loins, it could have been either a mare or a stallion, and only the fact that its head turned to look at him revealed that it was animate.

The sight of the trio filled Lex with visceral loathing, recalling the horde of ghouls that had infested Vanhoover. These three had been living ponies once, but now they were twisted parodies of themselves, turned into foul mockeries of everything ponykind stood for. The sight made Lex bare his teeth in a snarl as he flexed his claws.

Undead.

Next to him, Solvei gave a shudder. My grandmother told me stories about the living dead, but this is the first time I’ve ever seen them. I mean, I know Sanguine Disposition was one, but...not like this.

Before Lex could answer, the ghostly mare made her move.

Floating closer, she stopped at a distance that might have been a few dozen feet away, though the featureless nature of the plane made it hard to tell for certain. Her transparent eyes flickered to Solvei for just a moment before looking back at Lex. Slowly, she reached up and took one of the bangles from around her neck, one that looked like a house made out of small bones – four of them forming a box while two on top made a triangle – and held it out toward Lex.

“I am Abila of the Tribe of Bones,” she announced. “And I would speak gently with you.”

No sooner had she finished than the robed skeleton floated closer, and Lex belatedly noticed that it was carrying an identical talisman, repeating its comrade’s gesture as it held the bones forth. “I am Oku of the Tribe of Bones,” he said – for the voice was masculine in timbre – “and I would speak gently with you.”

The third one floated forward then, moving so that it was again between the other two, and presented a third instance of the same icon. “I am Babanla of the Tribe of Bones,” they rasped, in a toneless whisper that, like their appearance, made their sex impossible to determine, “and I would speak gently with you.”

Lex grimaced. He’d never heard of any “tribe of bones.” Moreover, despite what sounded like statements declaring their lack of hostile intent, he couldn’t help but recall Xiriel, the devil also having spoken in three voices that were masculine, feminine, and neither in tenor. Bad enough that these ponies were undead, but to be so reminiscent of that monster as well...

Master, I think they’re waiting for a response, noted Solvei, though her disposition was still that of marked caution.

He nodded once, but didn’t take his eyes off of the group in front of him. As much as he wanted to tell these three exactly how little regard he had for the living dead, he knew he couldn’t afford to instigate a fight here. Not when he and Solvei were both completely unable to use any magic.

“I am Lex Legis,” he replied at last, raising his left foreleg to show them the barbed wire wrapped around it, “champion of the Night Mare, and this is my servant, Solvei.” He gestured toward the winter wolf, who inclined her head at the introduction. “If you take no hostile action, then we will do the same. But if you do...”

He didn’t finish that last part, trusting that the message was clear. A fight in their current condition wasn’t one he could imagine himself and Solvei winning, but projecting strength was far better than advertising weakness!

“We have no wish to cause harm,” murmured Oku.

“It was curiosity that brought us here,” added Babanla. “Not malice.”

“We have seen many deaths in service of our faith,” noted Abila. “But yours, Lex Legis, is unlike any that we have witnessed. We would have you tell us of it.”

Lex’s brow furrowed, confused by the spectral mare’s statement. “In service of your faith? You’re a religious order?”

The question caused the three undead to glance at each other, and Lex couldn’t help but feel irked by the gesture, irritated that even the undead could do what he couldn’t in terms of wordless communication.

“Has even the name of the Tribe of Bones been forgotten by living ponies?” whispered Babanla.

“If it was, then this too can be counted among the Defiler’s sins,” rumbled Oku.

Solvei cocked her head at that, her curiosity getting the better of her. “The Defiler?”

“The one you refer to as Iliana,” answered Abila. “She still presides as the ruler of ponies, does she not? For if she had died, we would have been there to see justice served at last.”

Lex’s eyes narrowed then. He hadn’t looked too deeply into Everglow’s history during his time there, being far more interested in its magic – as well as how to get home – but what they’d said was enough for him to recall the little that he’d studied.

“You’re part of that death cult that Iliana destroyed,” he sneered, unable to hide his derision. “The one whose eradication marked the end of her campaign of unification, and the founding of the Pony Empire.”

“The Bloody Queen did not campaign, she warred,” retorted Oku, and the green pinpoints in his eyes glowed slightly brighter. “And it was not to unify, but to subjugate.”

“When she approached us, seeking our surrender, we rebuked her for having taken so many lives,” spat Babanla, their whispering voice becoming a harsh hiss. “Even then, we gave her a chance to atone, to cleanse her spirit in the forgiveness of Soft Whisper.”

At the utterance of that name, all three touched their talismans – their holy symbols, Lex realized – to their chests, placing them so that their heart would have been inside the bone house. “But to the Defiler, this was unacceptable,” concluded Abila bitterly. “Rather than wash away the shame of so many massacres, she added to them, sending her army against us. Though we resisted her as best we were able, we were eventually overcome.”

“She sounds like the pony version of Bolverk,” murmured Solvei.

“The histories say that your tribe struck first,” broke in Lex, uncomfortable with what the trio were accusing Iliana of. “That Iliana sent messengers to negotiate a peace, and you slaughtered them and sent them back as undead monsters to plague their fellows, indicating that there would be no reconciliation.”

“The histories lie,” retorted Babanla.

“The Defiler writes herself as a hero, hoping that time will cleanse her of her sins,” continued Abila.

“But a stain of blood sets deeper by being ignored, until it becomes impossible to ever fully wash away,” pronounced Oku.

Lex frowned.

Although he’d initially been impressed by what he’d heard of the Pony Empire’s queen – being a ruler who had seized power, and put it to use rather than squandering it – Lex’s impression of her had been tarnished by how her nation had lagged behind that of Equestria in every way save for magical development. He’d been willing to give her the benefit of the doubt, however, since Everglow was awash in other races competing for limited resources, dangerous monsters, and meddling deities. Trying to create a safe and prosperous society under those circumstances would have been extraordinarily difficult, even for him.

That Iliana had accomplished as much as she had was – according to what was considered common knowledge in the empire today – because she’d secured the blessings of the pony gods. Specifically, that she’d been favored from a young age by the Sun Queen, and had engaged in a campaign to bring the disparate fiefdoms and scattered tribes of ponies under one banner, a task she’d completed via religious assimilation.

Sanctifying herself before each group’s chosen deity, she’d assembled the various gods into a pantheon (with her own goddess as the head of it, hence the term “queen” in the Sun Queen’s name) and in so doing made their ponies into a nation. And while the process hadn’t always been peaceful – battles had needed to be waged against several groups before they’d been willing to acknowledge that Iliana had their god’s favor – it had been as bloodless as was practically possible.

But having come from a country whose rulers were celebrated for deeds that should have earned them scorn, Lex was aware that histories could be slanted in their presentation. Even so, he still found it off-putting to consider that Iliana could have engaged in the butchery these three were describing. But then, being reanimated warps the mind of the undead, which makes anything they say inherently untrustworthy.

And given that those three seemed to be particularly set on this point, it was perhaps best to change the subject, lest an argument cause the facsimile of sanity they were presenting to break down. “You said my death was unlike any other that you’ve seen. How?”

“Because even now it unravels,” whispered Babanla, floating closer.

“It is as though the universe itself rejects this course of events,” murmured Oku, moving off to the side.

Abila drifted in the opposite direction. “We must know why this this is happening. Why your death is being denied.”

Master, they’re surrounding us! Solvei’s warning was accompanied by a growl, her head twisting as she tried to keep track of all three of them.

But Lex was already reacting, taking advantage of the Astral Plane’s lack of gravity. Concentrating, he imagined himself moving, not in terms of up or down, but in terms relative to the undead ponies. The Libram of Ineffable Damnation had made it clear this plane operated in terms of cognition rather than physicality, and he pictured himself moving perpendicular to the trio, placing himself so that he was orthogonal to them rather than between them.

Once again, there was no sensation of movement, no feeling of actual motion, but all three undead – and Solvei – seemed to drop away, and Lex felt himself rotating so that he was looking at them directly rather than glancing past his claws. He had just enough time to hear Solvei’s mental yelp at suddenly finding herself alone before he summoned her to his side, the winter wolf reappearing with a sudden flailing of her legs, disoriented.

The entire process took less than two seconds, and while a portion of his mind noted that he’d successfully figured out how to navigate the plane, the bulk of his thoughts were concentrated around what he’d just been told, unable to keep a rush of hope from spreading through him. “You’re saying that I’m being brought back to life?”

“Not ‘brought back,’” corrected Abila, making no mention of his having eluded the ring they’d formed around him, rotating instead to look at him directly. “It’s more as though you never died at all.”

Oku did the same a moment later. “And yet you did, and are here, waylaid on your journey to the afterlife.”

“Tell us how you died,” repeated Babanla. “Death undone, without magic or artifice or other mortal disturbances, must be investigated to see if it offends Soft Whisper.”

Master, I don’t like this. That sounded like a threat.

It might have been. But we can’t just ignore what they’re saying about our deaths being reversed.

That made no sense, of course, and while it was just as likely that the trio of undead ponies were simply spouting nonsense as a product of their deranged minds, he couldn’t help but want to believe that they were aware of something that he wasn’t. He had never heard of a god named “Soft Whisper,” but if that was an actual deity, then perhaps they’d given these three some sort of supernatural insight that he was lacking.

Lex was quite familiar with the incredible powers that gods could endow their faithful with.

“I died fighting a dragon, known as Hvitdod,” answered Lex at last, deciding to indulge the triad. “I sustained many wounds during the battle, but the killing blow came from its poison, which felt like it froze my blood in my veins.”

“A dragon,” repeated Abila.

“Of the cold,” noted Oku.

“Named Hvitdod,” whispered Babanla.

They shared another glance, before shaking their heads. “This is not known to us-”

“But it is known to me.”

The new voice made the trio immediately cease speaking, again holding their holy symbols over their hearts as they inclined their heads reverently. “Soft Whisper,” they murmured as one.

Approaching from out of the silvery background was another pony, a zebra mare, but one that looked nothing like Abila. She was corporeal and unclad, her body showing no visible decay or other indications of having died, but to call her alive seemed almost inappropriate, for she carried the weight of incredible age.

The flesh hung from her bones, thin and wrinkled. Her unkempt mane and tail were dull gray, the color suggesting only that it had once been of a more vibrant shade without offering any hint of what their hue might have been. Even the stripes on her flank seemed to connote a sense of exhaustion, for they weren’t perfectly parallel to each other, instead overlapping in a way that was only heightened by her sagging skin.

And the image on her withered flank was the same house of bones that the trio used as a holy symbol.

But it wasn’t simply their reaction that marked the newcomer as a goddess.

Rather, it was her presence.

Even as she approached – walking, rather than floating, despite there being nothing to walk on – Lex felt a profound sense of lethargy, a feeling of exhaustion seeping through him on every level. It was every time his muscles had felt to burdened to go on, every instance when lack of sleep had made him sluggish, every sense of when futility had clogged his thoughts and he found himself wishing for some sort of undefinable surcease.

Had there been a ground beneath his claws, Lex knew he’d have been sprawled on it, all energy deserting him in an instant. As it was, he couldn’t seem to work up the resolve to even feel alarmed by what was happening. Nor did the beast within him offer any assistance; it had no frame of reference to react to what had happened before, but tiredness was something it was familiar with, and its response was to indulge in that feeling so long as there was no immediate threat.

S-Solvei...

Even forming the thought seemed to take an extraordinary amount of effort, and had he needed to breathe Lex knew it would have left him gasping for air. No, even breathing hard would have been more effort than he was capable of at the moment, given how hard it had been to even form a concrete thought.

And Solvei couldn’t even do that much. Although Lex couldn’t so much as bring himself to glance at her, he was aware that the winter wolf had completely succumbed to whatever Soft Whisper was doing to them. Though not unconscious in the strictest sense, his companion had lost all ability to not only do anything, but even process what was happening, leaving her in an insensate state where even basic comprehension required more energy than she had.

It was a state that Lex could feel himself slipping into, and although he knew he should be raging against that – having struggled his entire life against the lassitude that was the culmination of despair – it was just...so...difficult...

The lingering tension fled from him then, and Lex felt his posture collapse as he hung suspended in the nothingness of the Astral Plane. Of its own accord, his head drifted down, forelegs curling in toward his face...

And with the last bit of his strength, Lex dragged his face across the barbed wire that was the Night Mare’s holy symbol.

The jagged metal had always defied the petty rules of physics that an ordinary length of wire would have been subject to. It had never once caught on anything he was wearing, nor had it ever cut anyone who had grasped his foreleg. It had never cut him except to convey the goddess’s anger.

But as the sharp edges tore across his cheek, barely missing one eye as they ripped his flesh, Lex had the distinct impression that the Night Mare was pleased with him now. Or perhaps that was simply his own interpretation of why the pain brought with it a rush of awareness, the injury sending a surge of vigor through him. The sense of profound exhaustion didn’t disappear, still leaving him feeling as thought the weight of the world was on his shoulders in every sense imaginable...but it was bearable now, albeit only just.

Solvei! This time he was able to concentrate on her, managing to order his thoughts enough to summon her directly in front of his fore-claw. Swiping the barbed wire across her muzzle felt like he was trying to lift Hvitdod’s great bulk with just one leg, but he somehow managed anyway, causing Solvei to emit a pained whimper.

M-Master...what’s happening? I’m so tired...

It’s because of their goddess. Turning his head was a minor victory in and of itself as Lex looked upon the ancient zebra. Soft Whisper.

The mare herself didn’t return the look, instead regarding the trio bowing as best they could before her. She looked to each of them individually, and although he couldn’t be sure, Lex thought he could see them shudder beneath the weight of her gaze.

“My emissaries,” she said at last, and her voice seemed to be composed of a thousand sighs escaping from dying ponies, matching her name. “You have assailed this shade needlessly. I am aware of the annulment of his death, and it aggrieves me not.”

“Forgive us, goddess,” begged Babanla. “Our intentions were only to protect your honor.”

“We could not bear another insult being levied against you,” moaned Oku.

“Not after how the Defiler buried your faith beneath the weight of her crimes,” cried Abila.

“Honor does not concern me. Insults do not afflict me. Crimes do not perturb me. So long as the dead rest in peace, all is well.” She looked at Lex then, and the weight of eternity was in her gaze, almost robbing him of his newfound strength. “For them to return to the toil of the mortal world is only a sin if they do not wish to go back.”

“Which...I...do!” choked out Lex.

The other three turned to look at him, but had no chance to react to his interjection before Soft Whisper spoke again. “Go now, without raised voice.”

Inclining their heads to the goddess again, the trio didn’t look back as they floated away, soon vanishing in the silvery haze, leaving Lex and Solvei alone with the death deity.

Soft Whisper made no move to approach him, however, instead leveling her gaze in his direction, her expression unreadable. “Detachment forms the basis for the peace that death brings,” she said at last. “And yet, even among my most faithful, there are those who have difficulty reconciling themselves to how my religion has all but disappeared from Everglow.”

Lex gave a noncommittal grunt to that, though he’d have been hard pressed to do more. Forming words just now had been a spectacular effort, and he wasn’t up for trying it again.

“To soothe the consternation they’ve caused you,” continued the goddess, “allow me to explain what they spoke of.”

Holding out one hoof, she nodded at Solvei. “Ages ago, your ancestor slew the dragon you now call Hvitdod. But although it died, and its soul moved on, it left an impression behind. Like a print left in the snow” – she returned to looking at Lex – “or how you stamp a copy of your psyche upon the fabric of this plane when you shape its substance into a temporary servitor, Hvitdod left an echo behind, embossed upon the very fabric of the universe.”

Had he the energy to do so, Lex would have furrowed his brow at that. So the bones he’d seen had been what was left of the original Hvitdod – no, the real Hvitdod – after all.

“Over time, this etching began to fade, as all such impressions do. Like waves smoothing out the shoreline, the impression of Hvitdod began to fade from the Material Plane. It was only when the local temperature dropped to an unnatural degree that it began to reform. That dragon, known as a linnorm, had always been a creature of unending winter, and so a renewed period of unseasonable cold brought its indentation upon the fabric of your reality back into relief, reviving it.”

That was another question answered, then. Nenet had revealed that Sissel and the others had been the ones keeping the temperature so low, something they’d done in an effort to revive Hvitdod. Apparently they’d had some idea of what was needed to bring the dragon’s “impression” back, though from the way they’d spoken about it they hadn’t seemed to realize that it wasn’t the real thing.

“It was fortunate that Hvitdod’s remnant was so greatly weakened by the passage of time,” continued Soft Whisper. “Because it was, you were able to discorporate it. Now the universe is undoing the actions of Hvitdod’s echo, though only to a limited degree. But even that is enough, as it retroactively removes the poison – which was never truly there – from your body. As that was what took your life, it is now being restored, and so too the life of your soul’s companion.”

Lex would have laughed if he could have. So Hvitdod – or rather, Hvitdod’s weakened copy – hadn’t been able to kill him. That was actually rather gratifying.

“But be warned,” noted Soft Whisper, “this restoration is only partially retroactive. The physical wounds you took in your battle will persist, as well as the indirect consequences of what happened. All of the mutilation you took, before your death and subsequent to it, will remain.”

In an instant, Lex’s mirth died away. The wounds his body had subsequently taken? Something had injured him after his death? Given how badly he’d been wounded already, Lex couldn’t imagine that he’d be able to survive being hurt any worse, poison or no.

Unless...

“Your return approaches.” Despite Soft Whisper’s aura of weariness, Lex managed to feel his tension rise up. If his body was in as bad a shape as the goddess had implied, then he might only have a split second to act upon being restored. “May you find fulfillment in life, so that you can accept your death when next we see each other.”

That won’t happen, vowed Lex silently as Soft Whisper turned and began to walk away from him, concentrating so as not to miss his opportunity. If those wretched alicorns can bungle their way into eternal life, I can surpass them. And once I have, then I’ll have eternity to grow stronger, until nothing can challenge me. You and I will never meet like this again.

Soft Whisper stopped then, looking back over her shoulder at him. “On the contrary, Lex Legis...”

His vision of her faded away then, the silver of the Astral Plane growing blurry in his vision.

But even as he lost sight of everything, Soft Whisper’s voice stayed with him.

“I think we’ll meet again very soon.”

Author's Note:

After a revelatory encounter with a death goddess, Lex and Solvei find that they're about to be restored to life!

Will Lex be able to survive with all the wounds his body has taken? Or will his second chance end before it begins?

Comments

[Alzrius]

While I should probably make this into its own blog entry, here's a quick-and-dirty breakdown for Hvitdod:

An ice linnorm with ten(!) mythic ranks (with most of the mythic abilities and feats drawn from Legendary Games' Path of Dragons) and the Bygone template from Waywalker Studios' Legends of Avadnu (also found in The Complete Book of Denizens).

[Booster Spice]

Owwwwwwwwww.

That was a really obscure bit of theoretical science a few years back, coupled with the latest computational research?

Pashka really been busy, but as long as Lex brain is active he could have 5 plus seconds before total fail, enough for one round of casting?

[Alzrius]

11587412 I was mostly working off of the "reversal" trait from the aforementioned Bygone template, but I suppose the more esoteric explanation works as well.

As for Lex, well, he might be able to get a prepared action off, since his brain's still intact (presuming the fall didn't do too much damage ).

[Not so New Brony]

Wait, wait, wait! Hvitdod was weakened when Lex fought him? And if the stories of Hvitdod's defeat is true, then the one who took Hvitdod must have been powerful themselves though given how history tends to become malleable across time, there's probably more to the story.

Regardless, Lex will be in for a rude awakening when he returns to his body and unless Solvei/Akna can reach him in time to receive healing, they'll be back to see Soft Whisper again. Guess Pashka knew what he was doing.

[Alzrius]

11588539 That was indeed one of the revelations that came from Lex's conversation with Soft Whisper: the remnant of Hvitdod that he fought was less powerful than the original, markedly so (that's something conferred by the template I noted in my earlier comment on this chapter). Given that, had he fought the real Hvitdod, I suspect that the battle would have been far more one-sided.

As for what happens when Lex returns to life in his mangled body, well...here's hoping whatever plan he has works, otherwise it's right back to the afterlife for him. As you said, Paska did indeed know what he was doing; in a world where resurrection magic is widely known (though not widely employed), taking even basic precautions against it is something I suspect a lot of killers do (just ask Dark Streak).