Chapter 14
Even gentle hoof-steps sounded loudly on the stone floor.
Though to call it a floor would be unconventional. The vast tunnels were a world between natural and pony-made.
Braeburn had never seen anything like it.
It had all happened so quickly, nopony could put their hoof on it.
Strange earthquakes outside of Appaloosa, not too far from the Buffalo territories, churning up the sand and hills, turning plateaus into canyons and vice versa. Not damaging enough to the ponies around to cause any trouble, thankfully. But then stranger things happened.
Buffalo and Appaloosans were going missing. No-one saw or heard anything but no less than twelve ponies from his hometown had disappeared and, according to reports, around eight buffalo.
Most recently, the buffalo had seen someone attempt to make off with a semi-conscious Little Strongheart. She’d been rescued without injury but the tribe had been adamant that a pony was seen committing the crime, fleeing to the new landforms and disappearing.
Hostilities could not be allowed to let fester again. The one responsible had to apprehended and brought to justice.
With a revolver in his holster and the handle of an oil lamp clasped between his teeth, the young stallion ventured further in.
An enormous underground grotto met his gaze in the light of his lamp, as large as a palace hall. Braeburn found his hooves walking upon steps carved out of the rock, leading down into the cavern.
Tentatively making his way down, his muzzle wrinkled as a horrific stench hit him like a brick wall.
He couldn’t remember the last time he...
Then he remembered. Years ago, he’d been called in to investigate a coyote attack on the chicken coop. One of the hen’s stomachs had been torn right open. The smell was appalling.
Braeburn gulped as he put two and two together.
Had something died down there?
And, more importantly, if it had...what had caused it?
“H-h-hello?” he asked nervously, voice muffled slightly by the lamp handle in his teeth, as he made the final step down.
He drew back instinctively as his hoof splashed on the floor.
The entire place was flooded. A clear three inches of water bathed the cavern in a great lake.
The smell was becoming more and more unbearable and grew stronger as Braeburn edged further into the chasm.
“Hello?” he asked again, turning left and right.
He saw something out the corner of his eye. He turned to face it.
The cavern echoed with a great scream as Braeburn fell backwards with a splash, the oil lamp falling from his clutches and clattering to the ground.
For the moment there was darkness. Braeburn was, for the moment, not quite sure if what he had seen was real.
He shook the water from his face and mane and stumbled to his hooves.
The water tasted...salty. Overpoweringly salty.
His eyes widened in terror.
‘Oh Celestia...No...’
In an instant, the cavern was illuminated in a sickly khaki light from hanging lanterns high above.
Braeburn was not thankful for the light as the sights before him gripped his insides and shook him to his core.
He was staring at bodies. Hundreds of bodies all over the cavern. Ponies, buffalo, mules, changelings, diamond dogs, all of them had died slow and grisly deaths as the floor around them was immersed in a literal bloodbath.
The closest body, the one that had shocked him in the dark, was a young mare he used to pass by not so long ago in Appaloosa, orange-pink with a curly brown mane and a cheeky wink whenever he passed. The poor creature was hanging with an iron collar round her neck and her limbs cut wide open, exposing the stringy tendons underneath the skin.
She twitched and Braeburn yelped again. The young cowcolt paled as he saw sharp needles carved out of bone inserted into her cranium, causing her body to spasm even long after death.
All around him, others were impaled, upside-down or right-way-up. Some had been sawn in half. A few had placed on seats full of barbs and still crowned with cages with inwards-pointing drills.
From the sight of their agonised faces, not a one of them had died painlessly.
Fighting nausea, Braeburn scrambled frantically back to the steps, wanting nothing more than to get the hay out this cave of nightmares and wash away the blood. Placing one forehoof on the first steps, he looked up at a figure standing before him.
Before he could catch his breath, the stallion was seized by the throat and hoisted high in the air. Gasping for air, he stared at his captor.
Whoever he was, he was large and clearly very strong. He was also wearing a mask, jet-black with four white curling tusks jutting up from its sides. His eyes, staring at him through the holes in his mask, bore into him menacingly.
A growly, unhinged voice sounded.
“Transgressor!”
With a roar, the enormous stallion hurled Braeburn back into the centre of the cavern. Shaking the blood from his mane again with a cry of disgust, the cowcolt saw he was surrounded.
Masked ponies, theirs were of pink pigs, all of them bloodstained, their hooves curled around jagged hooks they were trailing along the lake of blood they stood in, snorting and snuffling excitedly.
Braeburn drew his revolver and pointed it hysterically, teeth bared with rage and horror as he yelled.
“Don’t any o’ y’all move! Y’all under arrest!”
The pig-faced marauders all gave amused snorts at the sight. The large boar-masked stallion lumbered forward, wading through the red lagoon. Braeburn turned, cursing his circumstances and fired.
There was a dull click and a weak spurt as his revolver failed him, the powder wet and useless.
Cursing, he resolved to throw a punch with his forehoof.
It was caught and met with the boar-mask’s own, sending into the pool again before being held up by his mane, a rusty hoof hovering inches from his belly.
“You have defiled a shine of the Great Sow, transgressor!” he growled “We must cleanse it once again...in the blood and bile of the heathens”
Braeburn’s mouth quivered with terror, no sound escaping as he closed his eyes.
Just a day ago, it had been a pleasant day in Appaloosa. Waving hello to the locals, checking the apple harvest, having cider with Cherries Jubilee at the tavern, spending the evening with Little Strongheart on the hill with the pond.
And now he was, swimming in a lake of blood, about to be gutted by creatures out a foal’s nightmares.
How had this happened? What would it lead to?
“Strongheart...Applejack... Everypony...” he whispered, voice cracking with despair “Please be safe”
“DEMONS!”
A hoarse voice sounded from above as a frantic masked stallion scrambled down the steps, waving his hooves and yelling.
“DEMONS! THEY’RE DEMO-”
‘Shunk!’
He stopped, his entire body jerking forwards then backwards, struck dumb by an arrow protruding out of his mouth, its feather-tipped tail sticking out the back of his head. Swaying morbidly, he slumped and toppled into the red lake with a splash and lay dead.
As he was dropped by his captor, Braeburn looked up as the pig-faced madponies stared, knives still drawn and shaking in their hooves.
There was a faint chatter.
“Is it the Six Heathen Breeders of Canterlot?”
“Nay. The Bearers of the Blasphemous Hexarchy do not kill”
“There are three. Dressed in black...and armed”
There were gasps and wails all around.
“It’s them! By Saint Erymanthius’s Sulphurous Phallus, it’s them!”
Sure enough, three ponies, dressed in shimmering jet black long-coats and dark shades, slowly made their way down the steps.
The one on the left was a lean pegasus mare, navy-blue coated with a flowing silver mane adorned with a braid. The collar of her long-coat was adorned with a flurry of feathers every shade of the night. She was spinning a throwing knife in one hoof and snarling with a mixture of disgust and anticipation.
The one on the right was an elegant unicorn stallion, leaf-green of coat and with a long sandy-blonde mane. He wore a scarf over his long-coat, grey-dappled like marble stone. In his lime-green magical grasp, an ornate whisperwood bow hovered in front of him, a keen arrow notched and ready as he scowled at the savagery before him.
And the one in the centre was a hardy male batpony, coat of grey with colourless eyes behind his shades and a straight white mane upon his scalp. His collar was turned up-high in the style of the classic batpony and the long-coat itself was accented with silver stripes of command. His hoof was curling round the handle of a long and menacing broadsword, his fangs bared in an intimidating manner.
He spoke, his voice low and level but commanding respect, dominating the cavern.
“Cultists of the Piggsicorn” he said “For environmental disruption, housebreaking, abduction, torture, rape, cannibalism, mass murder, terrorism, the practice of illegal magic, active heresy and royal treason to the Equestrian throne and its citizens...you have been sentenced to death”
*
An Apple’s work was never done.
Big Macintosh made the most of sleep whenever he could.
He didn’t tire easily and this he owed to his routine.
He never snored and wasn’t one to sleep lightly.
Yet something got his eyes open that night.
He rose steadily as the sound of scratching and a slight whining from downstairs intruded his ears. They twitched for a moment and lowered.
The great red earth pony sensed all was not well. If Winona needed to, as Applebloom was partial to calling it, ‘go to the little lady dog’s tree’, there was the flap on the door she could exit and re-enter through. And no other aggressive animal came so close to the cottage as to cause Winona to leap into action as she was trained to do. Winona was a well-trained dog and when she was agitated, that was often grounds for nearby ponies to feel the same way.
Throwing off the blankets, Big Mac quietly made his way downstairs, taking care not to cause so much noise as to wake up Granny Smith.
He found Winona by the doorway, pawing frantically at the door, whining in a tone that sounded distinctly worried not for her sake but for someone else’s. As he approached, Mac was jumped slightly at the sound of a knocking on the door, slow and hard.
Who would be knocking on the door to Sweet Apple Acres at this time of night?
Quietly opening the door, he greeted the late arrival.
“Eeyu...uh...huh...oh...”
For the first time in ages, Big Macintosh was completely stunned, horrified into silence at the sight before him.
Cheerilee supported herself on one shaking foreleg with her other foreleg raised, quivering, at where the door was and her back-legs lying limp behind her.
She was covered in her own blood, head to hoof. She’d left a trail of it all the way up to the porch. Deep incisions across her forehead, shoulders, legs, sides and flanks had bled copiously, colouring the entirety of her grape-pink body a far darker shade of red. Her light-pink mane had become drenched with it and was cut untidily here and there to make room for more incisions across her scalp.
Her head rose, staring at the stallion with wide, traumatised eyes, her bleeding lips trembling as she whimpered weaker than Winona.
“Mac...help...”
Three words were all it took for the delirious and dreadfully wounded mare to pass out. The young schoolteacher fell into the massive red stallion’s chest who held her as gently as his shaking forehooves could manage.
“Oh no...Oh no...Oh no...Oh no...” he mumbled, tears and sweat pouring down his cheeks in a salty stream of horror. Beside him, Winona whimpered rubbing her nose against his side in worry and confusion.
“Mac?” an elderly voice hollered down the stairs “What in tarnation’re you leavin’ the dang door open for?”
“Granny...i-i-it’s Cheerilee!” Big Mac managed to stammer, frantically checking the pulse of the mare he’d always been so fond of.
“It’s what now?” she crooned, creakily ambling down the stairs, blinking dimly in her night attire. As her vision cleared, she noticed the calamity lying in her grandson’s shoulders.
“Mah stars an’ garters...That there’s Lil’ Bloom’s teacher! What the hay’s happened to the poor mare?!”
“She...She’s hurt bad! A-a-ah gotta’ get her to hospital!” Big Mac got shakily to his hooves, gently placing the prone form of Cheerilee over his shoulder.
“Go on, Mac, hurry on now!” Granny Smith hollered as the stallion stampeded into town.
“It’s gonna’ be alright, Cheery” he whispered to the unconscious mare at his shoulder “It’s gonna be alright”
It was there he noticed things were certainly not alright.
Though he guessed the time to be early midnight, there were a lot of lights on and a lot of ponies outside. The loudest commotion came from just outside the clearing before the Everfree Forest.
Doctor Horse and Nurses Redheart and Tenderheart could be seen keeping the crowds at bay and ferrying ponies in a similar state to Cheerilee to the hospital. He approached unsteadily, edging over to Redheart who was dressing the wounds of a barely-conscious Shoeshine.
“M-Ma’am?”
“Big Mac!” she jerked up and looked hopefully at the stallion “You’ve found Cheerilee! Thank Celestia!” She helped Mac put her down and checked her over, beckoning Snowheart to her side.
“What’s going on here?” Mac asked nervously “What’s happened to everypony? Has the whole gol’ dang town gone mad?”
He peered through the traumatised crowds.
There was a trail of fire still flickering on the ground before the Everfree Forest around seven trees that had been soaked crimson and had thick cords still lashed around their branches, cut limp.
As he stood straight in front of the flames, he realised somepony had written words with flammable oil and set it alight on the grass.
He read it.
WE’RE HERE
Big Mac didn’t quite understand what had happened here or why.
But he didn’t like it.
He felt Nurse Redheart’s hoof on his shoulder.
“Excuse me” she said worriedly “Did you find anypony else? Anypony in a similar way to Miss Cheerilee?”
“Nope” Mac answered “Why?”
The nurse paled, more so than usual, and took a shaky inhale.
“Well...Cheerilee was among seven friends who went to Cloudsdale and, we believe, were attacked on their way back. With Cheerilee with us now...We’ve only found four”
“F-four?” Big Mac stammered.
“Yes” Redheart spoke between unsteady breaths “Cherry Berry...Caramel...and Berry Punch. There’s no sign of them anywhere...Whoever did this...has kidnapped three of our friends”
*
Quartzwald boasted a large airship station, built for heavy cargo. In times of war, they could host a fleet.
Three gleaming, golden-plated flagships greeted Captain-General Shining Armour and Sergeant Flash Sentry as they entered.
Soldiers, builders and ponies of related professions were unloading munitions in enormous crates, marching in single file to lug them into the hold one-by-one.
Out the corner of his eye, Shining Armour turned his attention to the forestallion engaged in an argument with a certain royal pony he wasn’t all too keen on.
“You can’t expect me to lug these ungainly things to and fro! What do you take me for? A Diamond Dog Miner?”
“I apologise, your highness, I meant no offence but-”
“Your highness, did you say? So you are aware of who I am. And your brilliant mind brought you to the conclusion that it would be acceptable to waltz over to me and say ‘Howdy-doo your princeliness. If you’d be so kind as to do a spot of heavy maintenance!’ What sort of imbecile are you? I demand to see your supervisor!”
“What’s the commotion?” Shining Armour approached. The forestallion bowed whilst the one he’d been arguing with turned and sneered.
“Captain-General. I assume you can talk sense into this degenerate?”
“Prince Blueblood” Shining Armour positively groaned the name “I must confess, I had not been informed you were coming”
“Evidently, given your general squalor” The white-coated, golden-maned stallion withdrew a handkerchief and dapped it at his muzzle fussily “Would you kindly tell your subordinate here that his insubordination will not be tolerated?”
“I only asked him to help with that crate, sir” The forestallion pointed to a medium-sized crate of cloaks.
Shining Armour glanced, unimpressed, at the prince who’d made such a fuss over it.
“Excuse me?!” Blueblood snapped, catching sight of the Captain-General’s look “A member of the royal family is not expected to haul the belongings of others on any occasion! These are the uncallused hooves of a noble!”
“A unicorn noble” Shining said slowly “Couldn’t you...levitate it?”
“I have better things to do with the magic passed down from my exalted family than tow common paraphernalia!” the prince huffed “I sent Conkers out to get me a drink. If you want something done, ask him when he finally gets back. Until then, kindly do not ask me to degrade myself in such a manner!”
Captain-General Shining Armour rolled his eyes and Flash Sentry seemed all too willing to put his hoof somewhere on the princes’ person. The blue-maned unicorn resolved to levitate the crate and deposit it into the open hold as if to demonstrate to Blueblood how easy the request would have been.
Blueblood did not seem to register.
“What exactly brings you here, if I may ask?”
The arrogant noble gave a toss of his mane.
“I resolved to conduct a formal visit of the Crystal Empire. Your most regal wife recommended I stay here, goodness knows why”
'I know why. She wanted you out of her mane so she left you with me' Shining thought dismally 'Thank you kindly, wife-of-mine...Though I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same'
“Well, I’m certain we can accommodate you, your highness” he said with as much courtesy as he could muster “We are, at this moment, stockpiling and readying emergency forces in response to the threat posed by the...”
“Sir! We got a situation!”
The door was practically burst open by a tower guard, hurrying into the docking station, breathless and pale.
“I just found it, thank you” Shining pointed subtly to the prince.
“No sir! Up on the walls! Now!”
An alarm sounded across the fortress as soldiers and labourers rushed to their stations.
The Captain-General paused, worry turning gradually to dread.
As Shining, Flash and Blueblood raced up to the walls. Lemon Hearts was up there along with various other scryers and officers.
None of them paid much mind to their arrival. All of them were staring out, speechless, into the spire forest.
The rolling rumble of war drums flooded their ears as the Captain-General looked out across the landscape. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped.
“Sweet...Sacred...Celestia...”
“Oh...” Flash Sentry was heard to say “I picked the wrong week to get away from Sunset”
The clearing outside the spire forest was swarmed with beasts of war, armed to the teeth and howling for blood. The roar caused the drummers to beat even louder. As the noise ripped through the quiet of the forest, the mist surrounding the spire forest dissipated.
Sonic Drums, anti-magic war instruments rendering any long-range spells in the area useless.
Shining Armour saw the full force of the enemy surrounded Quartzwald in its entirety, hundreds and hundreds lined-up before them.
The horde comprised of warriors of the frozen north. Pale, shaggy-coated ponies of the plains, mountain goats and bighorn sheep, screeching white griffins with faces of hawks, owls and gulls, and the largest of them, the most armed and the most armoured, were the moose. A great crimson-furred specimen was roaring at the top of his voice, shaking his antlered head from side to side.
Intermixed were great bloody-muzzled wargs, held in place with chained collars, fur bristling as they howled with their masters.
To the sound of the drums, there came a chant from the horde.
“Jotnar! Jotnar! Jotnar! Jotnar!”
Shining Armour took one step back before he reminded himself that this was his fortress, his empire and his subjects.
All of which was under threat.
“Commander Flash Sentry” he said, trying hard not to chatter his teeth “See to it that the defences are in places then rally the fliers”
“Yes, sir!” The orange pegasus saluted and flew back into the fortress.
“Alma...” Lemon Hearts, dressed in light but durable battlemage armour and a starry cloak, looked out worriedly “Where’s Alma?!”
“I’m sure she’s safe, Lemon. What matters now is holding them off and finding some way to get through to...” The Captain-General felt a nervous tapping on his shoulder.
Prince Blueblood shuffled on his hooves, his face betraying no small amount of terror.
“Um...I’d quite to go home now...sir...Could you please point me to the exit?” he squeaked.
“I’m afraid that’s not an option, your highness” Shining said grimly.
Blueblood stamped a hoof, griped and swallowed nervously, speaking through gritted teeth.
“Look, I’m sorry I was rude earlier. I’ll carry the crates. Whatever you want, anything! Please just get me out of here!”
“Your highness, we can’t leave even if we needed to” the Captain-General looked out upon the foe “They’ve surrounded the fortress. And these guys have anti-magical apparatus at their disposal. We can’t teleport out of here or even send messages. If we’re going to survive, we need to fight them off”
A weak little whine escaped from the Prince’s mouth...at least that was the most likely place it escaped from.
Shining sighed.
“You may barricade yourself in my office, your highness”
“Thank you! Thank you tremendously! You’re a good soldier...whatshisname...ta-ta” Blueblood stammered in gratitude before rushing down below at an impressive speed.
Shining Armour was, if anything, glad to see the back of him. A panicking prince would have been hell to keep out of trouble.
Gritting his teeth, he bellowed out an order.
“Man the artillery! Archers ready! Prepare to repel the offensive!”
Flash Sentry cantered through the workings of Quartzwald’s walls, heading to the scrying chamber. The main defence systems were powered by vast crystal conduits which worked without the need of unicorn magic. They’d be hindered by the war drums but not rendered ineffective. It’d be enough to send a distress signal at the very least.
He paused, mid-canter.
The lights were out on the corridor he was set upon. The torches extinguished.
He drew a blade, a sleek, single-edged specimen crafted from a iron and bronze alloy. Skysabres, prized by battle-pegasi, minimal wind-resistance and capable of conducting electricity in a lightning storm and storing it for temporary usage. It lit up as it was drawn, producing a faint blue electric light. Holding it aloft, Flash Sentry edged down into the darkness.
His hoof hit something. Lowering the sabre to cast a light, he jumped back in shock.
A guard lay dead, slumped against the wall, his neck twisted so far to the side that the bone jutted out through the flesh, the skin split open, the blood still pooling.
Clutching his mouth, Flash Sentry fought hard to remain on his own hooves. Shutting his eyes tight, fighting tears and wondering if he’d ever seen or talked to this poor pony before now, he whispered.
‘I’ll find them. I’ll find the bastards who did this, I promise you’
“...please...”
His ears pricked to the sound of a mare’s frail whimper. Edging down the corridor, his wings out for balance as he took each step quietly, Flash Sentry peered.
Alma Rose lay shaking beneath a gigantic figure, its armour, reflecting the faint light in the shadows, covering nearly its entire body. A pair of thin but massive antlers twisted and wended out the sides of its head. One of its forehooves pinned Alma’s wing to the ground. The other was held up against its ear, communicating on some sort of earpiece.
Alma whimpered again.
“...please don’t...”
“Quiet” The figure’s voice was low but distinctly female and possessed of an odd accent. She spoke into the earpiece “Very good, Strilda. Inform him we shall not disappoint. Now if you excuse me...I have company”
‘Curd!’ Flash Sentry cursed as he stepped into the shadows, sword raised, trying to look as daunting as possible.
“Let her go, right now, and get on the ground, dirt-bag!”
The figure tilted her head.
“Am I supposed to be intimidated by this folly?” she asked nonchalantly, her voice seemingly devoid of emotion.
“You don’t belong here!” Flash snarled.
“We’re just passing through”
“Who are you? What’s your business at Quartzwald?”
“I thought Equestria kept itself informed. Flattening your vassals in the Crystal Empire will be easier than we had thought. Let us hope Celestia learns a lesson in the importance of information when she receives little Princess Flurry Hearts’s head on a spike”
Flash pointed his blade before his foe.
“In the name of Princess Celestia and Captain-General Shining Armour, I’m placing you under arrest”
The figure’s hoof slowly moved from her ear to her belt, slung across her shoulder, where she removed and held up a small crystal-operated switch.
It didn’t take Flash Sentry long to know what she’d been up to in the darkness.
What she was holding was almost certainly a detonator.
To what, he didn’t wish to know.
“Take one more step, pegasus” she said, her manner almost goading.
Alma gave another terrified squeak and covered her face with a matted wing.
Steadily, reluctantly, Flash Sentry lowered his blade, gritting his teeth.
Encased in a helm that covered the face, the antlered fiend raised one eyebrow.
“Well...you’re no fun”
Her cloven hoof shifted and the detonator gave a click.
*
Pipsqueak gave a small shuffle in his sleeping bag as he stirred.
The light of mid-morning was escaping through the curtains in the living room.
Sparkler’s bed was empty and Tungsten was still in his sleeping bag, patiently sketching for his various fan-made game booklets.
He gave him a smile and mouthed a ‘Morning’, the majority of the colts and fillies still seemingly asleep.
The CMC had just re-entered the room, wearing small aprons stained with batter.
“Everypony” Sweetie Belle said softly, comfortably rousing those present “Sparkler’s made pancakes. There should be at least two for everypony but don’t hog, okay”
“Yay!” Truffle Shuffle cheered merrily, shuffling out of his sleeping bag and plodding to the kitchen.
Pipsqueak turned to Dinky, who was laying with her back to him. He gently nudged her shoulder.
“Come on Dinky. Pancakes”
There came a groan from Dinky’s camp-bed and the small colt realised she was hunched over in the foetal position.
“Dinky”
“P-Pip?” she whined, turning to him “I don’t...feel very good”
Dinky’s normally bright and perky face looked pale and clammy. Her eyes were bloodshot and her teeth were chattering distinctly.
“Dinky? What happened? You look very sick”
“I...I don’t know...I just feel really...ugh...Maybe I just ate too much popcorn and candy last night...I think I...” Struggling out of bed, she suddenly clutched at her stomach.
“Go, Dinky, go. Hurry. I’ll get Derpy and the Doctor” Pipsqueak hurried her to the bathroom.
It was so like Dinky not to make too much of a fuss and bother, even when under particular duress.
Most remembered when Diamond Tiara was tricked into thinking she’d eaten a slug. She shrieked and wailed and staggered to the bathroom, clutching her mouth and stomach, multiple times that day. The whole class was in a complete state the first time but by the end it had gotten rather boring.
Dinky meanwhile, tottered a little unsteadily but quietly towards the bathroom, without disturbing anypony, such was her usual wish and manner and one of the many things Pipsqueak so admired her for.
He hoped everything was alright. He knew for certain Derpy and the Doctor would never let anything happen to their little filly.
Gently tapping on the door to Dinky’s parent’s guest room, he called.
“Mr and Mrs Doo? Um...Dinky’s not feeling very well. I think she might be quite sick. Can you check on her?”
There was a mumble behind the door until he heard the Doctor’s voice.
“Okay, Pip. Thanks. We’ll be right out. Where is she now?”
“She went to the bathroom. I’ll check on her”
“Okay, Pip. Thank you. Tell her it’s gonna’ be okay” Derpy’s voice betrayed anxiety but then it rarely ever didn’t when something was wrong with Dinky.
Making his way to the bathroom, he placed his ear to the door and spoke.
“Dinky? Are you okay in there?”
There was the sound of a retching filly, drawn-out and distinctly uncomfortable.
Pipsqueak fought hard to put the image of a filly he regarded with near angelic grace and beauty expelling her stomach contents and decided to check for himself.
“Okay. My mum says you always feel a bit better after you’ve thrown up so maybe if we get you some water and...”
He stopped.
Dinky was gasping shakily, staring at the vomit she’d thrown up into the basin.
It was a dark red.
Some of it was still trickling down her lips and was now running from her nose and ears as her hooves began shaking wildly.
Her amber eyes bulged and Pip could swear they were bleeding out the corners as well.
“...Pip...I...” she squeaked, strangulated “it...it hurts...”
That was all she managed to say before collapsing on the floor, a small but growing puddle of blood gradually pooling beneath her face.
The small pinto gave a terrified cry and rushed to the periwinkle fillies side, holding her head in his forehooves and frantically running tissues under the tap, dabbing at the bleeding areas, desperately trying to staunch them in some way.
“Help!” he screamed “Dinky! Dinky! DINKY!”
Hi everyone.
Bit of a short one. I've been spending a bit of time at home, trying to recuperate.
I've been suffering from stress-related anxiety. Started with worries about my uni work, now I'm worrying about my health. Nothing's wrong as far as I can see it's just that my brain's taking a while to exit Panic Mode.
The next chapter will continue these story points. This is technically happening while the Elements are facing the Mercenaries in Boulette. Just to say.
Hope the Eternal Knights are still impressive.
Bringing in more and more of the show's characters into the mix. Enjoying them really.
I know Cheerimac is now considered non-canon but it's my story and I haven't explicitly stated they're a couple so 'Ha!' 
Hello again, Blueblood. Why is it he's so fun to write.
Don't worry, he might surprise you...again...if that's proper English. 
I mentioned in comments with how I've tried to 'flesh out' Flash Sentry. Let me know if you think it's successful.
'Jotnar' is the plural for Jotunn, the Frost Giants from Norse Mythology.
Gosh. Big Mac and Pipsqueak both traumatised and terrified for the life of their loved one.
Stallions have it tough!
Thanks for any and all feedback and I hope I haven't neglected you.
You're awesome, guys. 
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You're awesome too. Don't die on us, Dinky! You're too young to die now! The Knights, impressive as always! Given how blueblood is, I can imagine that he would dare to insult the Eternal Knights, (which I would not do)
Do evil versions of the Mane Six appear in this story?
8178291 I hadn't planned on it. Why?
8178208 Not entirely.
You remember in Intriguing when he was quite a bit braver than we expected?
He can surprise you.
8178814 I do. Juust head to think of the show counterpart of him
8178817 Yeah.
Don't worry, there's a difference between stupidity and general suicide.
And Blueblood likes his head too much to want to risk it, poking fun at Nightmare Moon's undying bodyguard.
8178820 Yeah, Wolf would quickly lost her temper with his insults, that's more sure
Going in then. Poor Dinky. And not one of my guesses, bloody vomit is never a good thing. I'm not sure why the villains benefit directly from this, but it probably feeds into some plan or another.
I hope the three missing ponies will be OK. They're probably going to end up traumatised whatever happens, but that's better than dead.
The Knights have clearly been busy, if they're specifically known to the Cult. Good, someone needs to take those twisted cultists down.
Should probably be "if it had...".
8179111 Oh yeah, sorry. I'll fix that.
It's not their main shrine but it'll lead to it if they're careful.
And you'll hear about the rest later.
Thanks for reading.