The Underwatch

by thatguyvex

Chapter 5: The Burdens We Bear

Chapter 5: The Burdens We Bear

“It is a trap,” Regarna said flatly, nostrils flaring and expelling mist into the freezing night air. Beside her Ulragnok let out a deep throated rumble of a growl, his claws tearing at the hard stone beneath him in his mounting frustration.

“I know it is a trap! Do you think me blind, Earthsinger!? Always these creatures deal in traps,” he snorted in disgust, his jaws aching with the need to crunch into something bloody and screaming, preferable a damned Aranea. “Yet trap or not we must bring retribution down upon these cowardly creatures, and pile their corpses high to redeem our past failure. How are we to do this if we turn aside every time they lay a trap for us?”

He sensed the other ursa’s own simmering anger, like a tremor in the earth itself. They both stood upon an outcropping of rock looking out upon a wide cliff side within the base of a towering mountain, one of many such snow laden pillars of forest covered stone that marked the deeper territories of the ursan realm. Tracking the Aranea, smashing their small outposts one after another, it had all led to a half a dozen more skirmishes like the one they’d had days ago with the rock slide. No doubt this time too would prove to be some manner of trap, but Ulragnok saw no choice. He would not stop until the last Aranea lay broken at his paws, and with that victory word of his deeds would spread and the stain of the defeat at Beartrap Fortress would be erased.

Through vengence he’d gain back his honor and power, and once he’d assembeled a new, larger horde, he could turn his attention back to the poines that had humiliated him. He wondered if Regarna’s loyalty was predicated soley on the notion that her survival depended on their mutual sucess, or if she too dreamed of vengence as fondly as he did?

“You speak truly,” Regarna said after a moment, voice low and simmering with a mix of anger, frustration, and disgust. With him, the Aranea, or the situation in general, Ulragnok could only guess. “The Demons Below avoid open battle at every turn, and this time too, they drag us along by the nose like fresh-born cubs on our first hunt. I know our only option is to chase them into whatever hole they’ve dug for us, but that does not mean I have to like it.”

Ulraknok watched her claw at the ground, making small yet deep chanting sounds under her breath. If he looked closely he could almost see the tremors in the rock and dirt, followed by a chunk of snow breaking from the edge of the hill and rolling down the steep incline. Behind him he could see the gentler slope on the hill’s other side, where a warband of over fifty of his best braves waited in an uneasy, eager mass if thick fur and pawing claws. These were among his most loyal remaining warriors, who he knew would follow any command he gave. Many of them bore fresh scars not only from Beartrap Fortress, but from engagements with the cursed Aranea.

The rest of his horde was camped less than ten miles away, further down the mountain foothills. They’d moved steadily north and west, following the Aranea’s trail. More than once Ulragnok wondered what the blasted spiders were doing, leading them deeper into ursan territory. He had the angering sensation that he was being led along by the nose. Was it cunning or desperation that led the Aranea to continue provoking him, leading him on this chase?

“The earth speaks to me,” Regarna said with a satisfied grunt, raising her head and nodding towards the distant cliff face, “The stones speak of the Demons Below and their foul presence. There is a cave, hidden by the snowdrifts. Its cavern is vast, and leads to the dark realms beneath the earth. The Demons flee there, but also lay their final trap.”

Ulragnok snorted, “I don’t suppose the stones deigned to give you any details beyond that?”

Regarna looked at him sharply, her glittering eyes flashing dangerously, to which Ulragnok let out a deep growl. He’d welcome her challenge if she desired it. He needed to vent his foul mood, and wasn’t particularly picky about how he did that. Wisely Regarna didn’t press her challening look and instead returned her gaze to the cliff, “The soul of the earth is direct and cares little for details. Our quarry lies in wait within the hidden cave, perhaps only two dozen of them. That is all I know.”

“Hmph, so be it.” Ulragnok turned from her and went to address his braves, holding his head high and speaking in a heavy, hungry tone, “The Earthsinger confirms the cowardly things that prey upon our people now hide in a dank pit within the cliff beyond this hill. No doubt they’ve lain some wretched trap they wrongly hope will save them from the wrath of the ursans! Let us tear and rip them asunder until our jaws run slick with their ichor, and be done with these worthless creatures in our lands!”

His words were met with lusty and heartfelt roars, his braves all eager for blood. It made Ulragnok’s heart swell with a much needed boost of confidence and pride, though it ultimately didn’t do much to quell the tide of rage that surged within. He snorted heavily, glancing the clear night sky. The moon was far from full, but it still cast enough silver light for an ursan’s eyes to bath the world in gleaming hues nearly as bright as day. However once inside the cave the darkness would be absolute.

It was then Ulragnok had an idea that made him bellow in a rumbling laugh. Ursans took pride in their natural strength and ties to the earth, but they did not ignore the power of tools, and among the first of those tools was the great destroyer itself. Fire.

In short order he was giving orders to his braves, and with great effort trees were found and several felled with the combined efforts of many heavily muscled paws. Regarna, once she learned of Ulragnok’s plan, gave a hearty growl of approval and sung to the earth itself to make the work go that much faster. In less than two hours they were ready...

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Thirza didn’t like how long it was taking the ursans to arrive. He knew they were not so far behind him and his hunters that it would take them this long to discover the cave he had his remaining three eights of hunter-caste prepared their ambush within. He had already sent the surviving spinner-caste deeper into the cavern tunnels to prepare a second line of defense, for when the time came to fall back either after the ambush was successful, or something went wrong.

Thirza felt little but contempt for the surfacers, no matter the species, but he hadn’t become Chirziane’s lead hunter by making it a habit of underestimating his prey. Ulragnok and his brutish kin had already survived several well laid traps by either proving themselves more cunning or more aggressive then Thirza had predicted. If Ulragnok was holding back, then it was for a reason.

Silently, Thirza released an attention grabbing pheromones directed at his hunters, all carefully hidden at various concealed nooks and crannies across the back half of the vast cavern they’d set their ambush in. Without needing to use a single spoken word Thirza made a few complex gestures with his four front legs, combined with a few specific, command oriented pheromones, to issue orders to one of the three eights. He wanted them to go scout the cave exterior and determine just what the ursans were doing. Depending on what the scouts discovered, Thirza would adapt his plans. He’d chosen this cave because it connected to the larger network of tunnels that ran across this portion of the surface world, so re-positioning his forces would be a simple matter.

The eight scouts proceeded to quickly and silently move from their hiding spots, little more than gliding gray shadows. However just as they reached the cavern exit, largely concealed by a bank of snow, they halted. Thirza tensed, watching them as the lead scout rapidly gestured signals, relaying information in seconds. They were hearing movement right outside the cave entrance? Too large to just be the ursans?

Before Thirza could puzzle out what that meant, or give any further orders, the snowbank covering the cave entrance exploded inward. Most of the hunters sent forward to scout were able to scuttle back or remain clinging to the walls or ceiling, but two or three got caught in the blast of snow and got knocked to the cave floor. Thirza saw that the entrance was now mostly clear, save for what looks like a set of the strange surface-world stalagmites called ‘trees’ that had had their branches cut off and then been bundled together in some kind of makeshift battering ram. Even as he began to issue orders for the scouts to pull back and the remaining hunters to prepare for combat, Thirza noticed a strange flicker of orange light now coming from outside, just beyond the tied together trees that had been used to smash in the cave entrance.

Thirza recolonized the light of fire just seconds before Ulragnok’s ursans, coming in right behind the battering ram they’d sent into cave, started to throw smaller bundles of tied together tree branches that had been lit on fire into the cave. One after another burning bundles of foliage got tossed into a larger pile at the cave entrance. Thirza’s scouts scrambled back, recovering their fallen comrades, while the ursans continued to pile the entrance with so much burning material that it was starting to look like a solid wall of angry orange flame.

And smoke.

Thirza quickly realized the ursans’ plan and cursed himself for not realizing the possibility. He’d hoped Ulragnok would charge in headfirst, which had certainly been the Warcheif’s normal behavior so far, but at most Thirza had anticipated the ursans being a bit more cautious than normal. Being creative hadn’t been on the list of traits he’d associated with the surface barbarians. The flames weren’t a threat, but the smoke from them would prove fatal if Thirza let his hunters stay where they were.

He started to give orders for his hunters to gather so they could retreat to the lower caverns, where the smoke wouldn’t reach them, when Thirza heard the now very familiar bellow of many eights’ worth of ursan throats roaring warcries. Confused, Thirza paused only long enough to look on with shock as a second battering ram, this one carried by a group of burly ursan warriors with Ulragnok himself at the lead, broke through the burning wall like a bursting eggsack.

He’s insane! The ursans are all insane! Thirza thought as he saw the surface monsters simply shrug through the fire, ignoring the embers that licked at their thick hides, and proceeded to charge straight towards Thirza’s now exposed hunters. He realized that had been Ulragnok’s intent. The fire and smoke had been to get Thirza to abandoned his ambush position, to expose his forces in preparation to retreat, and Ulragnoked had timed things perfectly so that charging in now left Thirza and his remaining hunters out in the open and vulnerable.

Seeing the ursans pouring in now from the cave entrance, with Ulragnok at the head roaring so loudly that it shook the very cave walls, Thirza knew to stand and fight meant death. From the moment of birth from the egg an Aranea knows their purpose in life. It is written into the very blood, their caste establishing all aspects of their destiny. Details might vary, from which Broodmother they might serve, what position of authority within their own caste they might achieve, what prestige they might gain and rewards they could earn, but ultimately their purpose is already decided. To fight and die for the protection and greater good of the Aranea race was the purpose of all hunter-caste.

So it was not surprising to Thirza to sense the steady calm among his hunters even as the ursans bore down on them. It wasn’t that they lacked fear, for each and every one of them had the scent of fear pheromones hanging off them like a cold stench. It was simply that the fear was overridden by a lifetime of ingrained purpose and caste pride. If Thirza gave the order each and every single one of these hunters would fight to the death, taking as many of the cursed ursans with them as they could.

However such sacrifice was unseemly. An Aranea who sacrificed something of value for no worthy gain was not noble, but little more than a fool. There was no shame in retreat, especially given the spinner-caste he’d sent back earlier would have the second line of defense prepared by now. The only issue was that the ursan charge was coming on too fast. Without something to slow them down Thirza’s hunters would be trampled while trying to retreat.

You surfacers will learn to cease underestimating the Aranea. Thirza thought with smoldering resentment making his body bristle.

“Drop the ceiling!” he commanded sharply, coiling his legs to make a mighty leap to the roof of the cavern, the majority of his hunters responding to follow suit.

His command was not quite literal, but rather refereed to the dozens upon dozens of stalactites that covered the cave ceiling. All of them had had their bases pre-cut by the hunter’s enchanted, rune gauntlets so that each stalactite hung on by just enough stone to hold fast, but all they needed was the right push to drop. Thirza had prepared this surprise intending it to be part of the ambush he wanted to hit the ursans with, but it’d instead have to suffice as a means to stymie the bear’s charge.

Speed and precision were hallmarks of Aranea fighting ability, so in mere seconds each hunter’s front legs were flashing like glitttering strokes of lighting, the blades on their gauntlets cutting through the remaining stone holding up each stalagtite they struck with the ease of a knife cutting paper. In moments huge spears of stone were dropping upon front front of the ursan charge. The crunch of bone and grinding of bloody meat greeted Thirza’s hearing alongside the howls of the first ursans to die. Ulragnok charged right through the rain of the stone, roaring defiance as one stalactite shattered upon his iron armor and barely slowed the mighty Warcheif. The rest of the ursans were slowed, however, as the front line of the charge was brought to a stagger from the falling stalactites, leaving Ulragnok nearly alone as he charged forward with only a few warriors managing to keep pace.

Thirza was sorely tempted to drop from the ceiling and land upon Ulragnok then and there in a risky gambit to put an end to the Warcheif, but he knew the ursans would recover their momentum in mere seconds and if he wanted himself and his hunters to reach the second line of defense then they had to use the small window they had now.

“Fall back!” he chittered at his hunters, and nearly as one the Aranea turned and rapidly skittered across the walls and ceiling, heading deeper into the cavern.

Ulragnok’s enraged roar echoed, and he made as if to continue charging after Thirza’s hunters alone, but Thirza saw another ursan reach the Warcheif’s side and slow him with a few hastily shouted words. Thirza thought he recognized the female ursan, the one who possessed a strange magic that controlled the earth. Ulragnok slowed at her words. A pity, it would’ve been convenient if he’d continued to pursue ahead of his horde.

With the ursan charge now slowed in confusion, it was more than enough to allow Thirza and his hunters to scurry into the darkness, scuttling into the inky black of the many tunnel openings that lead into the twisting realm of the underworld beyond. Thirza mentally urged the ursans and Ulragnok on, all but inviting them to continue to chase him into a realm where the Aranea reigned and the surfacers, no matter how many in number, would become little more than prey.

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“We run them down and finish this!” Ulragnok roared in Regarna’s face, nearly foaming at the mouth. She kept her eyes firmly fixed on his, a stone in the torrent flood of his wrath.

“We hunt them, but not with blind fury. Our charge failed. To continue chasing the Demons Below with mindless abandon would only serve the enemy’s designs. We take this slowly. They will have other traps and defenses in place and shoving our muzzles into them would be madness.”

“Perhaps madness is what I prefer.” Ulragnok spat, jaws salivating with the need for blood. He had them! The Aranea had been right in front of him! Then they’d dropped half the damn ceiling on his horde. Ulragnok seethed. His instincts screamed at him to keep the pressure on. His foes were running. His ursan blood sang for the pursuit of his quarry. To flee was to show weakness and if the Aranea were weak then crushing them under paw was the only response! Why did this cursed Earthsinger keep getting in his way with words of caution?

Probably because she had a lick of sense in her head, and the admission of the fact pissed Ulragnok off to no end.

“Do what you must to speak to the spirits and garner what knowledge you can of what lay ahead,” he said with hard assurance, “But we continue on. We press them, we run them down, and we tear them apart with until our jaws run slick with their blood! Come, warriors! Do you all stop for a few measly rocks pelting our heads! Onward, to bring down our prey!”

His braves, their blood already up and boiling, frustrated at the denial of their initial charge, all roared their approval until it seemed the very caverns walls were shaking in an earthquake. Regarna watched him with an even, unreadable gaze, but closed her eyes with a nod and began to chant in a deep song to the spirits. Ulragnok didn’t doubt her wisdom in advising caution, but it was too late to stop.

He was ending this chase eventually, even if he had to delve into the very core of the world to do it!

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Having been born and raised in the Western Barrier Lands, Coldiron had a base knowledge of survival in the woods that practically everypony growing up in such heavily forested country picked up. She was no specialist, but she knew woods, and usually felt confident in her ability to navigate and survive in just about any forest one might care to name.

However the forest outside Victor’s Cliff felt different almost the moment she entered it alongside the majority of the rest of the Underwatch. The forest underbrush was thicker, its trees taller, and the few strands of light that made it through the thick forest canopy was barely enough to illuminate more than gray shadows. More than that, the air simply felt too still, and the normal chatter of forest life was all but muted to only the occasional snap of a twig or rustle of a bush. The most noise being made was by the ponies now shuffling through the forest’s dense and unwelcoming depths.

Windstriker had given orders for the unit to form into three uneven squads, each one staying in visual range of the lights cast by each squad’s unicorns, and to give signals to confirm position every ten minutes. This kept the unit from getting lost or separated as they conducted their search, such as it was. Coldiron was dubious of them finding anything. The forest was gigantic and sprawling, and with their limited numbers searching the whole thing would be borderline impossible. Of course the hope was that whatever that unfortunate young mare had found in here wouldn’t be that deep into the forest. Logically she had to have reached it within only a few hours trotting, given the timing between when she’d last been seen before being afflicted, and when she’d returned to town after she’d been infected with... whatever it had been.

Coldiron felt her spine tingle and her mane bristle with equal parts anger and unease. Ursans she knew how to deal with. As vicious and powerful as the bears were, they at least were a simple, direct threat with an equally simple and direct solution. Bizarre magical afflictions that mutated ponies and warped both their bodies and minds was an altogether new level of wrong. Her disgust with the Lurkers only grew, assuming it was them responsible for this travesty.

“You’re growling,” commented Trixie with a dry tone.

“Was not,” Coldiron said with a disgruntled flick of her tail, then sighed, “Well... perhaps I was. For good reason.”

“I know the feeling,” Coco said from ahead of the pair, the former seamstress stiff and alert as she kept swishing her head back and forth to eye every creeping shadow they passed, which had the result of making her look like a bobble-head.

“What? The growly feeling?” asked Blossomforth, taking up the rear of the group alongside Wildspell, “I’m more on the ‘nervous shiver’ end over here. Does this place remind anyone else of the Everfree, or am I just the only one imagining manticores lying in ambush behind every shrub?”

“A manitcore couldn’t fit in here,” said Trixie, giving a tree a death glare as one of its glow hanging branches snagged her leather battle-coat. With a grumble she flailed a hoof until the offending branch let her go, “I avoided forests in my travels for a reason! There’s nothing good in them. Poisonous things. Carnivorous things. Poisonous and carnivorous things. You can’t eat half of what you find, and the other half wants to eat you. This is what logging is for. Doesn’t the Legion need an ocean-full of toilet paper for all those latrines we dig? Shouldn’t it have cut this forest down by now?”

Coldiron tried and failed to suppress a sigh. She may have come to like Trixie and trust her as a fellow comrade in arms, but there were certainly trying aspects to being in the mare’s presence. Even if she did sort of have a point.

“There has never been a shortage of lumber in the Western Barrier Lands,” she said, “In fact many towns make their living off of logging, since wood tends to be in demand in the other Barrier Lands that lack good sources of building materials. That said, some forests simply haven’t had their turn at the chopping block yet. As large as this forest is, it’s still small compared to the Deepmaw Woods near Skywoad Keep or the Forest of Fogs that cover the border with the Southern Barrier Lands.”

“Yeesh, you guys got forests bigger than this one?” said Blossomforth with an appreciative whistle, “If we ever get weather patrols working out here we’d have our hooves full covering everything.”

“Look, not to be the spoilsport on conversation, but maybe we should keep it down?” suggested Coco, the mare’s pale blue tail flicking in what Coldiron recognized as nervous tension. “If there is anything out here, I’d rather see it coming. Um, please?”

A hint of the mare’s awkwardness was still there, but otherwise Coco was filled with the kind of alertness and serious tone that fit a soldier in the field. Coldiron felt a bit embarrassed she hadn’t thought to shut down the idle chatter herself. Was Blackwall on to something? Was being around Heartlanders causing Coldiron to get too... soft?

“You’re right Private Pommel,” she said firmly, “Everypony, keep it down until further notice.”

“Unless we see something freaky, in which case, scream away,” said Blossomforth.

“Bravely,” Coldiron said, “Scream bravely.”

Blossomforth chortled and gave a quick salute with one hoof before the mares resumed their trek in relative silence, besides the shuffling through the dense underbrush. Coldiron kept her horn glowing brightly alongside Trixie’s, and did her best to ignore the growing ache that started at the base of her horn and seemed to spike its way into her skull. She could practically feel the cracks along her horn’s surface. She could keep this up for hours yet, but the pain would continue to get worse. No doubt Heimlich would give her an earful if he saw her pushing herself, so she let her horn dim just a small bit to keep the pressure off.

Trixie gave her a concerned glance, but said nothing, for which Coldiron was grateful.

Time passed and deeper the ponies of the Underwatch went into the deepening dark of the forest, their progress slow but steady. As uneasy as the forest made Coldiron she was getting used to the shifting shadows and syrupy dark that pressed in from all sides. She personally started to think that there was no way that young filly could have wandered this far in, not without losing her nerve. Too much longer and Captain Windstriker would likely need to call for them to turn back, less they get stuck out here once night fell.

It was then that she heard a shout off to her right, where she could see the unicorn lights from the squad off in that direction halt. She immediately halted herself, letting her horn pulse with a warning signal that the other squad to her left would hopefully see.

“What is it?” breathed Blossomforth, but Wildspell shushed the pegasus with a glance. Coldiron raised her hoof in a signal for the others to take up defensive positions, and Coco readied her claymore, unslinging the massive blade from her back, while Blossomforth held her spear up. Both Trixie and Wildspell lit their horns with overglows of magic, prepared to cast, while Coldiron focused on the lights from the squad that had stopped.

Soon there were flashes of light from that direction, signals from the unicorns over in that squad. Reading the signals, Coldiron said, “They found something, but no immediate danger.”

She sent her own set of signals over to the other squad, and in moments Windstriker and the rest of the left flank squad converged on Coldiron’s squad, both groups heading for the squad on the right to see what they’d found. As they emerged into a relatively clear area they saw their comrades gathered around what looked to be a large cone-like structure made out of a familiar substance.

“Webs,” Coco breathed, glowering.

“Alright, report,” said Windstriker, flying over to the squad waiting by the structure they’d found. Snakebite turned towards her and gestured at the dense cluster of webs, which Coldiron saw was about ten feet tall and twice that around, its strands wrapped around several tree trunks.

“Nearly ran face first into this thing,” Snakebite said, picking up a loose branch and tossing it at the structure. The branch stuck fast to the web-like surface. “I’d say its pretty damn clear who made it.”

“It looks abandoned,” said another legionnaire, a heavy-set earthpony equipped with one of the Western Barrier Lands’ large back-mounted crossbows. He kept his weapon aimed squarely at the entrance to the structure, despite his proclamation.

Windstriker eyed the structure, then looked deeper into the gloom beyond it. “There’s more, further in.”

After a moment Coldiron could see the Captian spoke true, there were at least three or four similar web built domes, or perhaps ‘nests’ might be the better term, deeper in the forest. “I think these are dwellings. Like tents.” she said, “Probably just big enough for two or three of the Lurkers, depending on which type.”

“Sweep the area,” said Windstriker, making swift and commanding gestures with her wings, “Snakebite, cover the right. Coldiron, the left. The rest of you with me. Keep it slow and sharp. I don’t want any surprises crawling out to bite us in the plots.”

With that the Underwatch ponies moved, carefully trotting among the old, dilapidated Lurker dwellings. Coldiron didn’t need to look for long to see that this place had been abandoned for a long time. Even a casual glance inside any of the structures showed that the forest underbrush had largely reclaimed the interiors, and there certainly wasn’t any sign that a living Lurker had been here in years if not decades.

“It’s kinda creepy, isn’t it?” said Blossomforth, poking at some web with the tip of her spear.

Wildspell, looking relatively placid and unconcerned, cast a glance her way. “Creepy?”

“Well, yeah. Think about it. This was like a Lurker village, or maybe an outpost, right? And it was sitting right here, just an hour or two trot from a pony village. Makes you wonder how many more places the Lurkers could just hide out next to your homes without you knowing about it.” Blossomforth frowned as she had to pull hard on her spear, the tip having gotten stuck in the webbing. Wildspell trotted up and with a small and controlled jet of flame freed the spear, blackening and curling the web away. Wildspell gave Blossomforth a level look.

“Focus. The enemy may still be present. Letting your thoughts wander could get you killed. Or me.”

“Right, right, focus. I’m all about focus. Nothing distracts my keen situational awareness.” Blossomforth said, brandishing her spear and turning about left and right to give narrow, suspicious eyes towards random bushes. Wildspell watched her for a moment, shrugged, and continued on.

Meanwhile Coldiron, Coco, and Trixie had pressed a bit further on. The other squads had spread out, checking more and more Lurker dwellings as they appeared. With each conical or dome-like web structure there were also strung up ropes of regular web, interconnecting the structures like a wall. Coldiron realized that they must have been a defensive barricade of some kind. She wouldn’t be surprised if there were smaller webs they’d missed further out that would have been like early warning tripwires. She guessed at least twenty or so Lurkers might have called this place home, when it had been occupied. But why had this outpost been here and what had happened to the Lurkers that built it?

Part of that answer came when Trixie let out a stifled half-shriek, managing to clamp a hoof over her mouth to keep from outright screaming. Coldiron turned to where the other unicorn was staring, and saw the body. It was a Lurker, but clearly long dead. It was one of the smaller types that tossed webbing, and its body was dried out and desiccated, its chitin cracked in several places and stained with long dried blood and pus. It was laying on its back, legs curled in on itself, and Coldiron could see part of its body was webbed to the ground.

Coldiron stepped closer, Coco joining her, her claymore carried in her mouth like a dragging weight. Trixie gulped behind them, letting her horn flare brighter. “Be careful.”

“Pretty sure its dead, Trixie,” said Coldiron, but she remained wary and alert, not eager to let her guard drop. She kept her own horn rimed with magic, despite the pain, just in case she’d need a rapid spell for defense.

Upon closer examination she saw that the dead Lurker was punctured at several points along its abdomen by what might have been knives of some sort, but she suspected instead that they were fangs. The twin nature of each set of punctures suggested it was Lurker fangs that did in this one. Strange. Had the Lurkers fought each other?

Before long others also found bodies, at least eight Lurkers laying dead around the outpost, either inside the dwellings or just outside. Each one was in similar condition to the one Trixie had spotted. Most bore fang wounds and signs of being retrained by webbing. One in particular drew the Underwatch’s attention, just at the opposite edge of the outpost. Snakebite and Heimlich both examined this body closely to confirm their suspicions, and Coldiron felt a uncomfortable twist in her gut seeing the body. This Lurker looked different than the others. It’s body had sprouted additional limbs, like twisted chitin spears, and its face had been split down the middle in an unnaturally large maw of dual sets of fangs.

“You’re sure?” asked Windstriker, glancing between Snakebite and Heimlich. Both stallions looked less than thrilled, Snakebite running a hoof through his mane.

“Not without taking the body back to town where my lab gear is, but the basic look of the mutation is the same. Pretty sure I can lay a bet that this Lurker was being mutated the same way Autumn Leaf was.”

“Da, ist mine conclusion as well,” said Heimlich, grimacing, “It is too similar to be coincidence. May I take samples for study, Captain? I wish to compare condition of Lurker’s body to what I know of Autumn Leaf’s remains. See what similarities und differences there are.”

“Do it, but take every precaution,” said Windstriker, her nose curling, “This whole situation is smelling worse by the second, and I don’t need any infected legionnaires. Seeker, your squad holds position here. Keep our path out clear. The rest of us will continue on, see if this outpost was guarding anything.”

Much of the webbing that surrounded the outpost had fallen away, leaving clear and easy spots through which the legionnaires could walk through. Windstriker led the onward, and Coldiron kept a steady pace alongside her squad. Next to her, Trixie gulped, leaning in to whisper, “What do you think it is? A magical curse? Dark magic?”

“I think speculation is pretty pointless,” replied Coldiron flatly, “We’ll either find out what’s causing these mutations, or we won’t.”

“I hope we find it,” said Coco, voice heated, “We can’t let something that defiles ponies like that be free to do so again.”

“I don’t think this is the kind of thing you can just whack with a sword, Coco.” Blossofmroth said with a nervous twitch of her wing stumps.

“We can always try burning it,” said Wildspell, not exactly smiling, but rather having a small lip spasm that might’ve been a smile in some other, bizzaro dimension. For a moment there was a rather manic shine to her eyes that made Coldiron glance at the other legion unicorn sidelong. She didn’t know much about Wildspell, though her assessment of the mare up until that point was that she was terse, stoic, and steady minded. But something in that not-smile and eye gleam made Coldiron revise her assessment and consider the possibility that she might need to keep an eye on Wildspell... just in case.

Blossomforth, trotting alongside Wildspell, seemed to like the mare’s plan. “I’m down with burning any bad juju we come across.”

“Bad juju? Like zombies?” asked Trixie, shuddering, “Trixie refuses to deal with zombies. We see zombies, somepony else can deal with them. We’re the Underwatch not the Zomberwatch.”

Coldiron just blinked at both of them, “You two are quite nuts, you know that, right?”

“Trixie is not ‘nuts’, she’s imaginative.” Trixie declared, and Blossomforth agreed with a enthusiastic bobbing of her head.

“Yup, we just see things that other ponies don’t see.”

“Pretty certain that’s one of the definitions of insanity,” Coldiron muttered, but without rancor. She noted that even Wildspell had the ghost of a smile on her face. Coldiron supposed the banter was probably doing everypony some good, given the tense situation. Marching into the unknown was never easy, taxing even the strongest resolves.

If anything the forest seemed to grow darker as they moved beyond the abandoned Lurker outpost. The jagged branches of the trees overhead appeared to close in, becoming more dense and grasping downwards like crooked talons. Coldiron licked her lips and kept her horn ready with a steady stream of magic.

After a few more minutes of trotting there was a whistle off to the left as one of the legionnaires signaled he’d found something. In seconds Windstriker flew over to hear his report, and Coldiron could hear just enough to pick up on the conversation.

“Tracks, Captain,” said the legionnaire, whom Coldiron recognized now as Snakebite. “I think this is our young filly.”

Windstriker glanced up at the incredibly thick forest canopy. “I bet the rain couldn’t even penetrate, this deep into the woods. Wiped out the tracks further out, but not here. You sure these tracks are Autumn Leaf’s?”

Snakebite snorted, gesturing at the ground where presumably the tracks were, through Coldiron certainly couldn't see them from where she was. “How many pre-teen mares do you think wandered in here?” At Windstriker’s brief yet blade sharp look he gulped and added, “Captain ma’am.”

“Alright, we must be getting close to the source of all this.” Windstriker flew up a few paces distance, “Take the lead, Corporal.”

“Yes ma’am,” Snakebite said, but there was a nervous tremor in his tone that suggested he was less than thrilled with taking point.

Forward they went, and they didn’t have to go far. Within only another few dozen yards the tracks led straight to something of a clearing in the middle of the insanely dense forest. The clearing was just wide enough to contain a depression in the ground, like a tiny ravine, though to Coldiron’s eyes the depression looked too smooth and circular.

The Underwatch emerged from the forest edge into this clearing, all halting at the rim of the depression, most momentarily stunned. The reason for this was standing tall and plain for all to see in the middle of the clearing, and for a second or two nopony spoke, all just staring at the giant silver shard that impaled the ground at the center of the depression. It was easily twice the size of a pony, perhaps even a little taller. The sharp, tapered shard looked as if it was made of a highly reflective, silver metal, so polished that it was almost like a mirror.

The shard seemed to emit a soft white glow, though Coldiron wasn’t sure if that was literal or just a trick of the many unicorn lights currently reflecting off the shard’s surface. Certainly there was something about the shard that immediately set off warning bells in her head, leaving her feeling uneasy even as she couldn’t quite tear her eyes away from the object.

Even so, she noticed there was a Lurker corpse in the depressing, old and desiccated like the others, and laying at the foot of the shard. Something about the Lurker’s posture nearly suggested a gesture of supplication, from Coldiron’s perspective, but perhaps she was just imagining things.

The silence between the Underwatch legionaries lingered a few heavy moments longer before Snakebite cleared his throat loudly and said, “Right, so... who wants to poke it first?”

----------

Diligent pursuit of duty was among the more calming balms for an otherwise troubled mind, Blackwall reminded herself. She still felt a acidic disagreement with Captain Windstriker’s decision to split off a portion of the unit and leave her and a single squad behind, but she’d resigned herself to following orders with due discipline.

Now if only everypony else could follow suit.

“Be alert, Private. Unless you consider clouds a potential threat to the security of the town.” she said in blunt manner, keeping the more heated elements of her attitude in check as Allie Way gave a slight start and blinked at her, having just been staring up into the sky with a look nearing glazed boredom.

The Heartlander unicorn’s creme colored features flushed red and she sputtering, “S-sorry. I, um, won’t do it again.”

“See that you don’t or I can find something else to occupy your attention with, such as working on putting some muscles on that twig of a body. Did they not put you through any physical training at Beartrap Fortress?”

The pair were walking along the east wall of the town, Blackwall’s eyes never ceasing to scan the surrounding terrain. There were a few town militia on the walls as well, but they gave the pair of legionnaires as much space as they could, seemingly nervous by the pair. Or maybe just by Blackwall, she wasn’t certain. It only entered Blackwall’s mind because it made her evaluate the potential of the town’s residents as possible threats, if for whatever reason they decided they didn’t want the Underwatch around.

Meanwhile Allie Way let out a shaking, half-hearted laugh, “Well they kind of tried to get us going on a training regimen, but that lasted only until the-” her eyes suddenly went distant for a second and the mare shuddered, “-the bears showed up.”

Blackwall grunted at that, still amazed that this mare had survived that battle at all. It wasn’t a thought driven by malice, but simple baffled observation and absolute belief that Heartlanders did not belong in combat. By all reasoning Allie Way shouldn’t be here. None of the Chosen should be. But they were, and the fact stuck a knife right into Blackwalll’s mind and continued its slow, aching twist. There was no hatred here. Not for the Heartlanders. No, her hatred was focused firmly upon those responsible for this debacle, this utter betrayal of the Legion’s duty.

But those traitors were beyond vengeance, now, having already been executed for their crime. The thought was a hollow one to Blackwall, at any rate. It didn’t change that the Heartlanders were now here, part of the Legion. The Legion that had been forged to defend them, whose very existence was for the sake of preserving the Heartland’s peace.

Now, no land in the world would know peace. What purpose then did the Legion serve? Why had she dedicated her life so wholeheartedly to fighting for this cause if the cause itself could be so easily abandoned?

She felt the stone statue wrapped carefully in her saddlebag like it weighed ten times what it did.

Prince and Stone give me strength to bear this burden. I know not what to do.

“Um, Blackwall? Hey, Blackwall! Are you in there?”

She immediately halted, blinking. Allie Way was looking at her worriedly, a vision of softheartedness wrapped up in Legion trappings, but the mare now keenly reminded Blackwall that she’d just been ruminating so hard she’d near forgotten to pay attention.

“I’m fine,” she said irritably, flicking her tail as she resumed their patrol.

The reached the north edge of the wall and started making their way west. The huge carpet of towering evergreens loomed in the distance. Somewhere in there the rest of the Underwatch was searching for signs of the Lurkers, or whatever had caused that filly to transform into a monster. Blackwall muttered a quiet prayer for them. And for the filly, while she was at it. She felt no pride in her actions the other day, only a grim acceptance that it had been necessary.

“Um, if this is a touchy subject just say so, but what’s with that statue you carry around? The one of the broken horn?”

Anger flared, hot and intense, along with memories of a village long lost and the smashed remains of two ponies collapsed on top of her. Blackwall shoved the memory aside, along the the anger, smashed it down with the mental image of cold, uncompromising stone. Her voice was hard as a boulder as she spoke.

“I have told you once that it is not for you to know. Why press the subject?”

Allie Way’s eyes flickered towards the ground for a moment, then rose with a openness about them, a sort of reaching vulnerbility. “We might die together, someday. I don’t want to spend all that time not knowing the ponies I’ll die for, or who might die for me.” A kind of nervous, strangled laugh escaped her again, “I mean, if you die Blackwall, what am I supposed to say at your funeral? ‘Here lies Blackwall, she was standoffish and liked her horn statue a lot’?”

A strange noise huffed out of Blackwall’s lips, and it took her a moment to realize it had been a laugh of her own. Odd, she usually didn’t do that. She eyed Allie Way, annoyed, but not as angry as she’d been a moment before. They’d reached about two thirds of the way across the north wall, and Blackwall halted a moment, taking a deep breath.

“The statue represents Prince Terrato’s broken horn, an injury he received doing battle with Fenrir in ages past. It is a symbol of my... faith. Worship of the Prince is not encouraged, but worship of a symbol of his sacrifice and the ideals that represents is... tolerated. My parents were of this faith, the Stone Bearers. I carry on the tradition. There are not many of our sect, perhaps only a few hundred per city, and far fewer in the smaller towns. Here in Victory’s Cliff I’m probably the only one.”

“So its some kind of spiritual belief? Not quite a church, more a...” Allie Way struggled for a moment, and Blackwall could imagine the mare was trying to find a word to use other than ‘cult’, “Community of like-minded ponies?”

“We are those who believe in following the example of our Prince and embracing the nature of stone. Stone carries all burdens. It is the belief that we, as ponies of the Barrier Lands, exist as a stone wall between the terrors without, and the peace within.”

“Monsters like the ursans and the... the Heartland, right?” Allie Way asked, ears lowering.

“Yes. Some see the Legion as a mere job. Others as a injustice to complain about or...” Blackwal growled, “Betray like cowards. But we of the Stone Bearers know our burden is a task of spiritual importance. It is we who have the burden to bear, and to bear it like stone; strong and eternal.”

Saying the words, which were familiar ones, spoken by both her mother and father, left Blackwall both warm and incredibly tired. The words offered comfort and assurance, an old familiar mantra, yet the stark reality left her feeling exhausted. What good were the words, or the faith that spoke them, if it had all been for naught? The ones to be protected now stood to bear the same burden Blackwall had believed she and those like her had been forged to bear alone.

“Hey, um, I know you’re probably still mad at us. Heartlanders I mean. This Stone stuff sounds like its really important to you, and having us here kind of messes with all that, right?” said Allie Way, her voice awkward as it fumbled for words, “But that doesn’t make your belief wrong. You’re still carrying the same burden. Its just that the ponies you’re carrying it for are next to you, instead of behind you.”

Blackwall grunted, “Coldiron said something similar. Its not so simple a thing. You should not trouble yourself over it.”

“Listen, I’m going to trouble myself over it, because like it or not, we’re kind of stuck with each other,” Allie Way said, voice raising slightly, which surprised Blackwall. The unicorn still looked nervous, but there was a odd light of conviction in her eyes too, unsteady as it was. “I’m scared half to death most the time. I want to know I did everything I could for everypony I could, because far as I know at any moment something terrible could happen that leads to any of us just dying for no good reason! I...”

Allie Way took in a trembling breath, “I watched so many ponies die at Beartrap. I should have been one of them, but somehow I didn’t, and ever since I feel like I’ve been living on borrowed time. I’m not spending what might be the last days, weeks, or months of my life being scared of my comrades. So just stop acting so damned standoffish and realize we Heartlanders are here to stay, and you better figure out how to deal with that, okay!?”

Blackwall stared at the other mare for a good long minute, Allie Way turning a bit pale as the fact that she’d just been yelling at a higher ranked legionnaire, and one who was usually in a bad mood most the time, started to sink in. Blackwall for her part took in what Allie Way said, not quite showing what she might be thinking on her face. Eventually she said, “It occurs to me that we both have a poor impact on the other’s sense of discipline. We’ve spent more time talking than patrolling. Perhaps the rest our patrol should pass in silence.”

Allie Way gulped and nodded, “Yeah, silence sounds good.”

Blackwall returned the nod and then turned to resume their patrol.

However it was at around that time that she noticed a scuttling sound from the wall itself, and looked down just in time to see a spidery shape rushing up the wall, unleashing a thick strand of thick web from its abdomen. The web hit Blackwall squarely in the face, and before she had a moment to react or brace herself, she was yanked squarely off the wall.

She heard Allie Way shout her name as Blackwall went into free fall. Her eyes were un-obscured by the web covering her mouth, nose, and a good part of her neck. She knew the wall was a good twenty feet high at least, but the ground was muddy and soft from the previous night’s rain, so her odds of surviving were decent. Just not without likely breaking a leg or two. Still, she forced her panic down and tucked her body in, ready to try and bounce and roll to her hooves.

Instead of the painful impact she expected, instead she hit something stringy that stuck to her hide and armor. Glancing around she saw she’d fallen right onto a web that had just been strung up between two more Lurkers beside the one that’d pulled her off the wall. Both spiders immediately leaped to start trying to wrap her up in the web they’d caught her in, but Blackwall flexed her forelegs and tore as hard as she could, ripping web as she went. The web was still thin enough that she was able to escape, chancing one look to see that it wasn’t just one Lurker who’d gone up the wall, but four. Three of the small web-shooting types, and one she recognized from briefings as a ‘hunter’, its huge body covered in bristling fur and bearing bladed gauntlets etched with glowing runes.

Allie Way was looking over the wall, and upon seeing the Lurkers cried out, her horn blazing alight with a nimbus of pale teal. One of the web spinning Lurkers jumped up after her, throwing web, but Allie Way dodged and cut loose with a ball shaped aura of magic that rolled through the air and knocked the Lurker off the wall.

Blackwall couldn’t see any more than that as she had to deal with the Lurkers in front of her. She couldn’t breath past the web on her face, and estimated she had only a minute or two before she’d run out of breath, but in battle minutes were akin to hours. She rushed the Lurker to her left, lashing out with a hoof. It sidestepped with the agility and speed Blackwall had been told to expect from their kind, so she’d already prepared a follow up. She planted her left fore hoof into the muddy ground and pivoted on it, spinning around and kicking out with her right hindleg. The move was timed just well enough to catch the Lurker in the face, and Blackwall’s prodigious strength, not to mention the thick metal greaves she wore, crunched the thing’s face in a shower of ichor.

The other Lurker, seemingly undisturbed by its companion’s demise, reared up and started making fast motions with its own forelegs. These motions warped and twisted the web it spun out of its spinnerets, and Blackwall saw a runic sigil form that then blazed with green magical light. Blackwall had no idea what magic the Lurker was working, but she knew she didn’t want to stay still. She threw herself to the side just in time to avoid a bolt of emerald fire that splashed across the mud where she’d been standing.

There was a sharp whistle in the air, coming from another Lurker nearby, this one larger than the web spinners, but in very similar shape, with a big bulbous body covered in dark chitin with oddly colorful blue stripes. This Lurker was joined by around four more spinners and another pair of the hunters, and Blackwall realized she wasn’t going to be able to handle them all... especially when she saw Allie Way get picked up by the hunter on the wall and covered in webbing from the two other spinners left up there.

Militia ponies of Victor’s Cliff, seeing what was happening, were scrambling to come help. No doubt the other Underwatch ponies, who would have been on patrol in the town streets, would also be on their way, but it would be too late to help, Blackwall knew.

So instead she resolved to do what damage she could before going down. If she hurt the enemy enough it might weaken them to the point where they’d abandon any attack on the town. Growling and using one hoof to tear away some of the webbing from her snout, she lowered her head and broke into a full galloping charge towards the larger group of Lurkers, containing the blue stripped one she imagined was the leader.

She covered the distance quickly, but not so fast that the two hulking hunters couldn’t get in her way, forming a wall of skittering legs and raised gauntlet blades. Blackwall came on, putting on more speed, hooves thundering. When the hunters smashed their bladed gauntlets down towards her she pitched herself forward into a roll that took h er through the descending curtain of blades and landed her right under one of the huge Lurkers. She then heaved upward with all her might, smashing her back into the Lurker’s underside, lifting the thing completely off the ground and tossing it through the air like a log.

She then spun on the other one, ducking one of its slashing gauntlets and then reaching in with her forelegs to wrap around the Lurkers’ extended appendage. With a heave she tore the limb free, the joints popping out with a burst of thick blood. Blackwall then twisted around with full momentum and smashed the Lurker’s own leg, bladed gauntlet and all, into its chest, tearing a huge bleeding gouge out of it. It chittered and fell back, remaining legs flailing.

It was then, while Blackwall was still unbalanced from that maneuver, that the four web spinners started hitting her with ropes of web, pulling her further off balance. Despite having several limbs pulled out from under her, Blackwall snarled and yanked one of the spinners close, punching it repeatedly in the abdomen until chitin broke, ichor flowed, and the Lurker squealed.

Then somethng happened that made Blackwall freeze for a second. She heard a voice speak in a high pitched squeak.

“No no no, bad pony, stop flailing. We only want to make you talk interesting words, so sleep now please.”

It was the blue stripped Lurker who had spoken, in a voice that was unmistakable feminine yet somehow utterly off from normal speech as it pushed air out of a mouth not meant for the language of ponies. As it spoke this Lurker spun web as well, turning out a series of runes into a web it angled towards Blackwall. The runes on the web flashed with bright light, creating a shower of dust-like sparks that bathed Blackwall’s head, and suddenly she felt incredibly tired. She struggled to stay awake, even managing to stand while dragging another Lurker down, but it was like having her body pressed under a thousand warm blankets. Her very blood felt hot and heavy as molten lead.

The last thing she saw before passing out was that Allie Way was being dragged by, completely wrapped in webbing as well.

Author's Note:

Whew, took me entirely too long to do this chapter, but we're moving right along. The ursans are chasing the Lurkers into the underworld, and it won't be long before our Underwatch heroes will be following suit, once they figure out what the heck the deal is with these shards. Oh, and Blackwall and Allie Way figure out how to get out of their present predicament.

Hope you folks continue to enjoy reading, and let me know what you think of things. 'Till next time.

Comments

[Starlight Nova]

If the main OCs of this series, as well as Blossomforth and Allie Way, were voiced, what would they sound like? ...Leyshi sounds like Sonata Dusk, right?

[Emil]

If she hadn't decided to go with her friends, Allie could probably work well in a field artillery unit.

[Elsaack]

Finally caught up. And have to say I love the world you've written, a peeve of mine is when writers concoct raises and cultures that are consciously evil as antagonists. No culture (that lasts) is based on that kind of morals, what they do makes perfect sense to them and often is considered good. They just have drastically different values and norms. With the Ursans and Aranae they make sense, you can believe a culture could function with them and it's addicting to read.

An aside though, wow that Blackwall is a killing machine. The mane cast had a tough fight taking on a single low caste lurker, and warriors took down a bunch of the Arrow Vale fighters without a loss. Aranae overtook a whole village in the last book and now despite being surprised Blackwell took down three? Damn...

[Follower of Chaos]

If I were Ulragnok, I would just seal that particular tunnel entrance and regroup my forces. Let the Aranea come to me, it doesn't take the genius to know that giving someone the home field advantage is never a good idea and someone who has just recently suffered a big lose because he underestimated the ponies should know that.

I'm not even sure why he's so insistent n destroying this group of Aranea in particular. Even if you slaughter all of them, there's more underground and all you get for your trouble is having your forces whittled down even more. He even admits that he's being a damn fool but he does it anyway, his pride is going to be the death of him and his horde at this rate.

Well now the Underwatch have found the shard at least, hopefully no one took Snakebite's joke seriously and actually poked it. Come on guys, put two and two together, that shard is not friendly.

Gotta give props to Blackwall for putting up a fight at least but god damn it Allie Way pretty much asked for that to happen. Never tempt fate Allie Way, I can only hope Leyshi at least doesn't see the point in killing you two.