Shadows on the Ice
♠♣♥♦ King of
Diamonds
The Ambassador's Son - Book 2
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Chapter 26
Shadows On The Ice
An MLP:FiM Fanfiction by Midnight Shadow
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Arcane fire rent the sky as the dome of the heavens was torn asunder, accompanied by a roar of thunder that rolled through the mountain peaks, ominous and penetrating. A gleaming hulk of an airship emerged into the darkening sky above the Iceveldt; rotund like an overfed dragon, with stubby wings like a runty pegasus, it shed magic like the blood of a dead god. It listed heavily to one side, and flames billowed from several broken windows on a number of decks.
Nyyrik wrinkled his scarred beak, pulling his ratty cloak closer around him as he leaned on his faithful skymetal staff, clutched firmly in his foreclaws. There were lives clinging to that broken beast of a machine. He could feel them. They were weak, their spirits confused and lost, but they were alive. He was a hengenpuhuja; it was his calling to know that which was hidden and to help where he could, with his life if necessary, and where the windigo spread their vicious hatred, it was his place to bring succour.
Nyyrik's eyes narrowed as he thought of the windigo. He watched, grinding his beak angrily, as the stormclouds he'd been suffering under for the last three days twirled and spun, wreathing themselves around the slowly tumbling airship. The clouds seemed to be reaching at it, clawing and grabbing. The howling winds, as they once more built to a crescendo around him, almost seemed like the screams of some distant animals… which, in a way, they were.
It would take blood to arrest the machine's descent; nothing else would slow its fall enough in the short time left before the airship and the ground had a serious disagreement about right of way. Grunting, he pulled out a small hip-flask from the depths of his cloak and hastily unscrewed it. Swallowing a quick gulp of moonshine, he warbled throatily in appreciation of the burn before secreting the flask away whence it had come. Then, suitably fortified, he lifted a foreclaw and delicately sliced across his breast. He hissed in pain as the scarlet drops spilled across the pristine white snow, steaming as they fell. He took up his staff and pressed it to his breast, coating one end red before plunging it into the snow. He leaned on it again for a few seconds, wincing in pain, as the wound slowly healed. When it had, he straightened, then turned in a circle, dragging the tip around with him. One perfect circle complete, he drew another, larger circle just outside it, taking care not to step upon the first. Then he inscribed several sacred sigils between them, the passing of his staff sizzling through the snow. The sigils left behind glowed faintly. Where his magic circle begun, the wind had dropped to nothing. It flowed instead around the circle, leaving his work untouched. Nodding slightly, Nyyrik observed his work: the five point star of folding, the curved gate of summoning and the mark of binding. There then followed two very specific sigils, far more complex than their simpler geometric cousins. The snow continued steaming and melting long after they were completed, the designs more than just blood on ice. Satisfied, he moved to the center of his makeshift summoning circle.
"To me, demons of art and air!" he cried, fighting to raise his voice above the growing wind. "Your servant calls upon you now! Furtur, lord of storms! Chenor, granter of desires! Arrest this great craft's fall, that it may but softly kiss the bosom of Adatiel!" Nyyrik threw back his cloak, clasped his aged staff with both claws, and drove it into the ground. The sigils scrawled in the snow burned with blue fire, spectral flames leaping into the sky. Sparks and cinders rose high into the air, tumbling end over end, to surround the foundering airship like a cloak of stars.
Slowly, ever so slowly, the aircraft's tilt was corrected, and its rate of descent slowed.
Very slowly. Too slowly.
With a cacophony of sound that loosed snow from distant peaks, the craft struck the earth, burying itself into the deep snowdrifts, where it settled, burning still.
Winded, Nyyrik hobbled towards it, snatching more sips from his illicit flask. The Iceveldt was harsh on the old, but it was even harsher on the lost. He prayed to Veguaniel that he was not too late.
♠♣♥♦
"Fire the Wing Motion Gun!"
"But what about Chip and—?"
"Just fire it! Now!"
Bethany had watched, heart thumping so hard she could have sworn it would burst, as the dark, mighty shape of a bird so huge it blotted out the sun was torn from the sky when the fearsome main cannon of the Great Harmony bellowed once. Below, in the city, buildings were toppled, their bricks pulverized into dust. Innocent bystanders were sent fleeing from the devastation, screaming and hollering in fear. The massive airship had lurched and listed, dead in the air like a beached whale. Klaxons wailed mournfully as all the lights went out and the controls died. The noise was deafening, almost physical. Their song was a jumble of sound, perplexing and insistent. It seemed to ring inside her head, battering her body in its intensity. It was then that the changelings had attacked, the few that had managed to get in before the ship's defences had come back online had come screeching through the hallways, wings buzzing madly and fangs drawn. They had fallen upon her and her friends in a vicious frenzy, changing forms freely and often until it was impossible to know friend from foe. Bethany had watched as Bella had retaliated the only way she knew how: with fire. And the airship had burned. The flames had blinded the young griffin, the belching black smoke had burned her nostrils—
With a start, Bethany awoke. The return from slumber was not a pleasant one; her head ached, her beak was quite possibly bent and it felt like she'd been pummelled all over by a large bag of rocks or a medium sized mace... and flashing warning lights were indeed half blinding her, and her nostrils were indeed stinging. The rank, acrid stink that brought tears to her eyes was emanating from a small glass vial held in front of her face – it held smelling salts. It had been these that had jolted her from her slumber. Ruff still held them out hopefully, shaking her every so often.
She batted them and their bearer away and rolled to her claws, glancing around at the ship with shock as she did so. The bridge was in shambles and listing to one side. Some of the diamond windows had shattered, though many were cracked; this was somewhat fortunate, because it had let the smoke from the burning instruments out and they hadn't died from the almost certainly toxic fumes. It was also troubling, because it was letting some very frigid air in and the temperature was dropping rapidly. As if that wasn't enough, whilst there were a number of greenish-blue puddles filled with pieces of black chitin strewn about the area – the remnants of the changeling incursion – she had no idea if that was all of them. Then again, paranoia wouldn't be useful. Changelings so far had only used their shape-shifting for offence. She'd been knocked out, that much was clear. Since she'd woken up, she and her friends had obviously won. Just at what cost?
"Oww my head," Bethany groaned as she fought to sit up, lashing her leonine tail and fluttering her wings. "Split pinions… is everyone in one piece? What happened? You know, after..." She put one foreclaw to her head, shaking it gently.
"Ruff not sure," replied Ruff, helping her up. "Ship go into other space… ship come out of other space. But when ship come out, not flying straight. Ruff think we crash." The pup looked around ruefully, rubbing the back of his own head.
"Urgh. I thought Chip was… Chip is okay, right?" Bethany squawked, her neck feathers fluffing up with worry. "I don't think we'd have jumped without him, right?"
"Ruff… uh… Ruff not sure." Ruff's ears stuck out sideways and he whined. "Ruff go check! Ruff find!"
"Hey, no, wait—" cried Bethany at the retreating shape, but the pup was too fast. "Just… be careful out there," she mumbled. The little mutt was swinging from pawhold to pawhold like some sort of miniature monkey as he propelled himself through the battered ship. In moments, he was gone. He'd have better luck traversing the ship than she, Beth realised, if the corridors were at all in similar condition to the bridge. She picked up the jar of smelling salts that Ruff had left behind, and went in search of the others.
She found Bella near the orrery, snoring. She rolled the mare over and held out the bottle of smelling salts. For a brief moment, nothing happened. Then the mare convulsed, lifted her head, took a deep breath and almost threw up.
"Beth?" croaked Bella, eyes fluttering open. "What happened? Last I remember was… changelings attacking?"
"'M not sure," replied Beth, helping the groggy unicorn to her hooves. "Ruff says we crashed."
Bella gestured with her horn at the devastation around them, shifting some of the debris with her magic. "I'm inclined to agree."
"...And you'd be right. Hey girlfriend!" crowed Carmine. The pink hued griffon leaped in from the lower decks – now more the 'sider' decks, since the ship was listing so badly – and glided awkwardly to the floor, or at least to the curved wall which was currently enough floor-like to get away with walking it. Penny fluttered awkwardly down next to her.
"So what happened whilst we were out?" asked Bethany, pointing a wing at herself and Bella.
"After the changelings jumped you and Bella and tried to suck out your brains, you mean? We've been chasing stragglers, by the way. They're not a problem anymore." Carmine picked at one of her claws with her beak, then spat into one of the puddles that lay around the decking.
"Don't take this wrong," said Bella carefully, exchanging glances with both Carmine and Bethany, tensing her neck muscles and igniting her horn in readiness to defend herself, "but can I be sure you're you?" She lashed her tail as she stared coolly at her two friends.
"Well if I were a changeling," said Bethany slowly, eyes narrowing as she thought for a suitable answer, "I wouldn't know that Chip vanished before our eyes when we went to see the emperor, or that Chip had an embarrassing attack of coprolitus aureus when he came back? And if you can trust me, you can trust that I can tell the difference between changelings and the real thing. That's Carmine and Penny, and Ruff was authentic too. So're you, by the way."
"Gee, thanks," huffed Bella. The unicorn dug her hoof into the decking thoughtfully. "Okay then; for now, we're who we appear to be. So, what happened to you two?" She stared at Carmine and Penny.
"The changelings would've got me and Penny too, but I was in the WMG chamber when they sprung us. The little bastards got in when the big gun went off. It knocked out all our systems for a few seconds again, like last time. Then, I guess, Chip got onboard and we jumped. After that, Pen and I were busy repelling the boarders we'd taken on when the lights were out. Then we crashed."
"And what happened to Chip?" asked Bethany.
"He's not come to find you?" squawked Carmine, eyes going wide. Bethany shook her head. "He is onboard though, right? He must have been… I assumed he was busy with changelings too, but… I haven't found any for a while."
"He was," replied Penny. "Ship wouldn't have jumped without him. Last I heard he was outside, heading for the cargo bay. On wings." She flapped her own wings for emphasis.
"Then I think we have a problem," said Carmine warily, staring each of her friends in the eyes. "See, Penny and I killed the changelings… but I think something else may have come aboard after we crashed."
"Oh no," groaned Penny. "Then we'd better get down there and find Chip immediately. And Ruff!"
"And put out the rest of these fires," grumbled Bethany, glaring at Bella.
"When all you have is a hammer..." muttered the unicorn, but she did at least have the decency to blush.
♠♣♥♦
Distant whispers impinged on the darkness, indistinct sounds that grated in his ears. Chip groaned as he pried his eyes open. There was a sudden flare of bright light, and he squeezed them shut again until little stars burst in his vision. The glare hurt. The chittering whispers that had been echoing in his ears grew louder, and then suddenly stopped. The silence was deafening.
"Come..." whispered a voice, so silent Chip wasn't sure he'd heard it.
"Ugh, go 'way!" he mumbled, kicking out with his hooves and rolling about helplessly, heedless of the discomfort of his wings digging into his sides.
"Come with us..." the voice whispered again, seemingly nearer. Chip kicked out with a hoof again, but met nothing. He wanted to sleep, he wanted to rest. Why wouldn't the voices leave him be?
"Come…!"
"By the bells of Tartarus won't you leave me alone!" Chip shouted, striking out with all four hooves. He winced; pain wracked his body as his hoof impacted a netting spur. The jolt sparked him fully awake, and he rolled onto his belly, breathing heavily until the nausea passed. "My head," he groaned, holding his forehooves to his temples. "What happened?"
Chip realised he was alone, shivering in the dark. It was cold in the cargo bay where he'd passed out, as the airship had left Leviathania. Frost coated the walls of the hold and the room was slowly filling with snow. It was streaming in through the open hatch, as was an odd, bright light from somewhere outside. The dancing shadow of something moving around outside played across the walls.
"Hello?" Chip called, standing up slowly, his ears flicking about as he searched for the source of the sounds. "Who's there?" He held his breath as he listened, afraid to move lest the rattling of his armour drown out the noise.
"Come with us, brave warrior. We're waiting for you. We're all waiting for you..." The voice was soft and sibilant, but it hurt his ears.
"What? Who are you? What do you want?" Chip looked around the deserted bay, trying to get his bearings; the airship was dead - its silence in that new corner of his mind worrying, like a limb numb from removal that he frantically wanted to just move once please! - and his head was ringing like a bell. To top it off, some clowns were dancing around outside, flashing bright lights about. He stepped warily towards the cargo bay door, only to pause; the flickering lights and the shadows they had cast had retreated.
"Who is that? Carmine?" Chip bounded forwards, his hooves sinking up to his fetlocks in the snow as he stood in the middle of the hatch, his figure framed by the ship. The lights and their bearers only retreated further into the distance. He bounded forwards again a few steps, weighed down by his armour as it filled with snow. He shrugged off what he could, barely feeling the biting cold as it now drove at his pelt, before bounding on a few more feet with renewed vigour and lighter hoofsteps.
"We're waiting for you… come with us… you'll not fear the cold… you'll not fear hunger…" The voices were wheedling and indistinct, not so much speaking to him as pushing buttons somewhere deep inside, neither their volume nor their clarity affected by the wind. He shook his head, pulling back; there was nothing but darkness ahead, no sounds but the howling wind and the soft pitter-patter of the falling snow… what was he doing out here again? Just as he was about to retreat back inside, he caught sight of the flickering lights again, far off in the distance; dimly seen shapes, lit by those ghostly blue lights, trudging through the snow...
"Carmine!" he yelled, spurred into action. He'd seen her! It had to have been her! It had to have been Carmine... and Bethany? What were they doing? Where were they going? Even Penny, Bella and Ruff were out there… he shook his head as he leaped forwards towards the lights and the shadowy figures that bore them. The blurry shapes of his companions faded ever further into the distance, even as he sped up to catch them. He was far outside the airship now, hock deep in drifts and half blind from the blizzard-driven snow, but he didn't have time to worry about that. Why were his friends abandoning him? Was this just some game to them?
"No!" he cried, as he once again spied his friends. "Come back! Wait! All of you!"
"They left you. They came with us. You should come with us. Come…"
"Bloody well wait for me you rat bastards…!" Chip half galloped and half bounded, wings half-spread, through the snow as it piled up around his belly, in pursuit of the flickering lamp lights of his compatriots, urged on by the whispering, cajoling, half-heard voices in his head. The airship was soon lost far behind, and the storm swallowed him.
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Queen Emerald hissed in displeasure as the last of her minions hobbled back to the hive. The hunting had been weak in Leviathania - several of her prime new worghound specimens had been lost and her quarry had slipped from their grasp. All in all, she was tempted to call the entire operation an abject failure. Her lips curled up over her fangs in displeasure and she briefly considered what punishment to mete out. The silent clarion call in her mind from the dragon queen Akhekhu dismissed such broodings, she would have to postpone judgement. With a tendril of thought, she established a scrying link with her... employer, and was somewhat surprised to find amusement emanating from the wyrm instead of the wrath she had expected.
"You are not vexed, Lady Akhekhu?" asked Emerald. "I, for one, am perplexed. That which we sought has fled; we are left empty hoofed and my hive is diminished."
Akhekhu, deep in her distant lair, smiled languidly. "Do not fret, Emerald, my pet. The game is afoot, that is all."
Emerald bristled at the label 'pet', seething silently. "Then it is to plan that the little prince has… slipped our clutches?" replied the changeling queen, airily, needling the dragon.
"Details, details." The dragon waved a claw nonchalantly, then gestured at Emerald with a single, shining talon. "I have other work for your hive, and a new shipment for you to drain, convert and feed your hive with. I understand the loss of your infantry is taxing, but I assure you, they were as replaceable for you as they were for me."
"They were my children, Lady Akhekhu. I mourn every one that is lost." Emerald's eyes glowed for a moment, angry and bright, and she lashed her phantasmic fiery tail.
"Build them a monument, then, to attest to their… exemplary performance," Akhekhu grinned, showing her teeth. "My plans continue apace, and I require your services still. Or have you already grown weary of your consort?"
"My lady, we are still as one in purpose as we are in mind." replied Emerald, stiffly.
"Calm yourself, my pet," said Akhekhu, ignoring how the changeling queen bristled again at her choice of words. "When one fishes for sport, and the prey is hooked fast at the end of the line, one does not trouble oneself with fighting it as it flees. On the contrary, one lets it run. One lets it think it has escaped. One lets it tire. And then, when it has expended its energy in futile acts of flight, then is the time to strike. It is then that one reels it in, and then that one lands it. I shall be in touch, Emerald. Be ready." Akhekhu cast another globe of light before her as she cut contact with the changeling hive. The ball reformed into the likeness of an earth pony, though it bore an odd type of pack-saddle on its back, to which were affixed a pair of wings.
The dragoness stroked her muzzle thoughtfully, picking pieces of something small and furry from her teeth. The little troublemaker and his friends had bested Emerald's devilhounds, they had bested her own Haljaspawn Chittering Crows and they had even downed a roc. This prize was one worthy of her talents. She resolved that she would own the little prince from hock to hindquarters; she would have him bow down before her, and she would have him crush the life from his erstwhile companions by his own dainty little hooves, and thank her for it.
She was amused, that was all.
So very, very, amused.
"Swim, little fishy," she said quietly, as the flickering figure puffed into smoke at the snap of a claw and vanished. "Swim."
♠♣♥♦
The capital city of Leviathania – officially known as D'Long Kerk, unofficially known by a large number of epithets and a few choice gestures – was a diverse and complicated metropolis. In places it was opulent, extravagant and glistening with riches. In other parts it was run down, pokey and downright decrepit.
It wasn't usually, though, quite so decrepit.
"I do hope nobody was hurt, my dear Quincy," said Celestia sweetly, neatly stepping over a pile of rubble that had once been the wall of a rather spacious warehouse. "And I hope the damage isn't too extensive."
"Oh, nothing major. Just infrastructure. I appreciate the offer to help with the repairs, however," said a large, sinuous, multi-coloured, winged serpent as it padded through the streets next to her.
He stood a good metre or so higher than Celestia, and though he walked with an ungainly gait on two relatively small hind legs, he held himself with such presence that it was easy to forget that he waddled. It wasn't proving easy for Celestia, however, to forget that the vexing creature could appear as any size when he put his mind to it, and had chosen to be just tall enough that to address him properly, she was forced to lift her head each time to look him in the eyes. "I am… only too pleased to assist those nations which are less fortunate than Equestria," she replied, smiling magnanimously. She hadn't offered. And he knew it. "Do you require any assistance with medical services?"
"The dragons and other citizens that fall under my aegis are well in claw, my dearest princess, though you may be able to offer better care to your own people who have been inconvenienced by this occurrence."
"There are ponies here? I didn't know that any were involved. I shall arrange for their immediate extraction, so as not to be a burden on your already taxed rescue services."
"Oh they are no burden, your highness, but you may of course take your people as you see fit. I shall provide you with a full list of travellers to my realm. I do keep track of visitors." Quincy – otherwise known as Quetzalcoatl, the emperor of all dragons – smiled toothily.
Celestia paused, just for a moment, then resumed her carefully measured hoof-steps. "Would you happen to know what caused this… incident?"
"It is strange you should say that, but there was an unannounced arrival from, we presume, Equestria. By airship. An airship of most curious design, the likes of which I have not seen before."
"A curious design, you say?" wondered Celestia aloud, blinking innocently. "Do tell."
"It appears this airship was no merchant vessel, your highness. It was bedecked for battle. Replete with cannon. One of which, it appears, suffered some sort of malfunction. I can fathom no other reason for it to fire upon my city and place my people in danger." Celestia's half-drawn breath sounded loud in the sudden quiet. She put a wing to her muzzle in shock, eyes wide. A gesture with the other wing at the devastation from her was accompanied with a slow nod from the draconic emperor. She dropped her head, brow furrowed, deep in throught.
"Rest assured, your grace," said Celestia, softly, raising her head once more, her gaze and voice both full of steel, "that I am even now endeavouring to get to the bottom of this most tragic of accidents." Celestia smiled sweetly, but her jaw muscles locked as she showed her pristine, white teeth.
"Ah, be calm, my dearest Celestia. I am sure that this whole thing is indeed nothing but a rather unfortunate accident. I place no blame on, nor do I deliver insult to, you or your diarchy. It would be rather premature, not to mention hasty and short-sighted, to see today's most unfortunate happenstance as an act of aggression or, may the Egg forbid, of war."
"I would indeed be loath to call upon my own forces and exchange blows with the most esteemed nation of Leviathania, much less the draconic hegemony. Such action would be petty and fruitless. I would much rather we discuss our issues like two civilized creatures, exchanging what information we have for the betterment of both our causes. For instance, I am informed that there may be…" Here Celestia stopped for a good long moment. She waved a wing around as if it were searching for an air current. "I am informed there may be dragons involved."
"Dragons? Oh my. My hegemony is large—"
"And I assure you, I am firm in the belief that they are acting upon their own agency, should my information prove correct."
"Thank you for candidness, your highness. My own agents inform me that this battleship – not that I am suggesting you are responsible for such a ship of war appearing in my skies – was crewed by beings from Equestria."
"Equestrians? That is a shocking development. Would I could tell you more, but I have no agents of the crown within your demesnes, merely travellers, and you surely must understand that matters of defense of my own realm is a private affair, even amongst such good friends as you and I."
"I don't doubt your word for a moment, my dear Celestia. Having agents in another's domain would be quite the insult. I would have to summon your diplomats and chastise them most severely."
"As I yours."
"Indeed."
The two stopped in the middle of the ruined street, smiling at each other with genuine amusement and camaraderie, despite the hardness behind their eyes, before continuing their tour of the devastated city sections.
"You have a beautiful city, Quincy. It rivals even my own citadel of Canterlot," Celestia whispered, a few minutes later.
"Ah, but nothing could rival Canterlot, my dearest Tia. It is a beautiful city, overshadowed only by your own radiance." The dragon lifted Celestia's hoof and placed a gentle kiss upon it.
"Sweet talker," Celestia muttered under her breath, exactly loudly enough for only Quincy to hear.
Quincy laughed, spreading his arms and wings wide. "Come! A state visit should end with a state banquet!" He clapped his paws, and from seemingly nowhere, attendants arrived with two carriages. He gestured for Celestia to climb into one, and then retired to the other, and the colourful procession moved swiftly off towards the palace.
♠♣♥♦
Swinging paw over paw, Ruff eased himself into the battered hold.
"Chip? Chip? You here?" he called, his voice echoing in the silence. It seemed the hold was empty. In fact, the airship itself seemed to be… dead. Even the engines were quiescent, their all-pervading hum absent.
There was no answer. There was also no Chip. He shivered. The hold was half full of snow, and frost covered every available surface. The bay was dark, even the light-crystals had dimmed, but now that Ruff looked around, he spied odd, dancing shadows on the walls that grew more and more distinct. There was somebody outside, maybe rescuers carrying lamps?
"Hello?" Ruff called. "Who there?"
"Come…" said a whispering voice. It was joined by many more voices, all clamouring with similar sibilant exhalations for him to follow. He growled, low in his throat. There was something wrong here, something just didn't smell right.
"Who are you? What want?" Ruff bared his fangs, scrabbling at his ears as the voices became nothing more than an odd, discordant buzzing. Their noise hurt, it made him sick. "Shut up!" he roared. As the echoes died away, he found they had.
And then the ball of flame flittered in through the open hatch.
"Who you?" Ruff asked it, as it flickered around the room. It ignored him, but seemed no less self-propelled. It flickered to the dead light-crystals, then danced up to the cargo crane. Ruff padded forwards slowly, to the center of the cargo bay, watching as the odd sprite made a few more circuits, seemingly interested in the doors, windows and other tech. He racked his brain, thinking carefully, as he tried to figure this thing out. He'd heard of creatures such as these... Once, when visiting distant relatives, he'd been told stories about ghostly lights by an aged great aunt of some sort, the only member of the pack that had ever done more than threaten to kill him.
"Ruff knows of you!" the pup cried, half in fear and half in anger. "Wisp! Will'o the wisp! You leave! You bad!"
As Ruff cried out its name, the flickering flame stopped, then floated slowly towards him, growing larger and yet less distinct as it did so. Ruff took a step back as the flame billowed and coalesced into something closer to a form he recognized; it grew four spindly legs, the tips of which were shod with cloven hooves. It grew a tail – ghostly and wretched, but a tail nonetheless – and a head with a long muzzle and two mobile ears, atop a long neck with a ratty, unkempt mane. It had two eyes that burned blue with malice. It had what appeared to be teeth, though they were pointed, shattered and broken instead of flat and even. Each step it took rattled, and Ruff's eyes widened as he spied spiked, bloody chains wrapped around the twisted, wraithlike creature, chains that tore into its glowing, see-through flesh and dripped burning blood that vanished before it touched the snow.
"We are not wisps, little dog. We are so much more." The voice that emanated from the ghastly creature was no longer soft and sibilant. It was like claws scraping on a chalkboard, as hideous as its owner's features. Ruff whined, stepped back, then gestured. With a horrific tearing noise, a spire of rock speared through the hull of the ship and pierced the spectral monster. It didn't even flinch, it just grinned wider, showing more broken teeth. Its eyes glowed brighter still as it advanced, and Ruff felt fear wash over him. His blood sang in his ears and the room darkened. He folded up into a ball, whimpering, as the temperature in the room dropped even further. His breath steamed, his fur turned white as frost crept across his body like rot on a piece of fruit, and slowly – ever so slowly – his shivering body grew more and more still.
"That's right, little troll. Give in, give up… let your fear consume you as we consume your soul…" Its face, already decrepit, grew more hideous as it neared the whimpering troll. Phantasmal skin melted away to reveal leprous, broken bones. Its rotted, matted hair fell out in clumps. Its grin, already rictus, consumed Ruff's failing vision and its rank, fetid breath choked him. Ruff batted feebly at the monster, whining, his motions erratic and pathetic. He gasped as he felt his heart falter, mouthing like the fish he would catch in the streams at home, flopping helplessly on the bank as they drowned in the air… the world grew dim, there was a rushing in his ears...
"Adnachiel! Miczariel! Nestorats!"
There was a sudden bright flash of warm heat and light, and the malevolent wraith threw back its head and screamed. In a blink, it folded in upon itself and fled. Moments later, Ruff felt friendly claws reach around his forearm, lifting him upright.
"That's it, my young pup. Up you get. Easy now, take it easy, but you must get up."
Light and life returned to Ruff as he felt a warm cloak envelope him. A warm, fragrant cloak. It smelled of spoiled fruit and rotten meat.
"He-help… help Ruff! Help Chip!" Ruff moaned, staggering, as he looked up into the kind, wizened eyes of an old griffon. The cloak that was around his shoulders was the creature's wing, the feathers greasy and ill-preened.
"Vetis, breathe upon him," whispered the griffon, and he gestured with a claw, writing sigils in the air. Where the griffon's talon passed, fire burned momentarily in space. All of a sudden, Ruff felt himself… kind of inflate, as energy seemed to well up within his body.
"Who…?" Ruff gasped, as the world gained colour and warmth once more. Unfortunately, that included the full restoration of his sense of smell. He continued to gasp, though now his breaths were accompanied by whines and scrabblings at his nose with his claws.
"I am known as Nyyrik, my young friend," the old griffon cawed, grinning thinly. "I am here to help. And by the looks of it, I got here just in time!"
"You must help Ruff, must help us all!" begged Ruff.
"I will, young one, but first…" The griffon stiffened as more ghostly lights sent twisted, flickering shadows dancing upon the walls. "I fear I must help myself." He spun, raised himself up on his hind paws, spread his wings and threw open his foreclaws. "Pazuzu! Lord of the Plagues! Master of the four winds! Blow!"
Ruff yelped as the howling wind that had been playing freely outside the ship suddenly boomed throughout the cargo hold and a gale bludgeoned the walls.
"If you have help to get, young master Ruff, then I suggest you go get it!" the scruffy old bird cried, as the flickering lights began to gather yet again in the darkness outside.
"Ruff… Ruff get help!" the pup replied enthusiastically, and he bolted out the cargo bay door, weaving between the flickering flames. In dismay, the pup skirted his friend's armour, pausing only to get his quarry's scent, before bounding off into the snow, following the tracks Chip had left.
"That's the wrong… damn and blast it! Come back!"
"Ruff getting help! Ruff fetch Chip!" Ruff shouted back as he disappeared into the blizzard.
"You're going to freeze out in the open!" yelled Nyyrik, bellowing as loudly as he could. "And that's if those wretched—"
"Ruff diamond dog! Ruff not freeze, Ruff dig!" The pup's distant words were swallowed by the storm, even as more flickering lights poured in through the doorway, ignoring the troll in their eagerness to deal with the old griffon.
"Fresh from his first taste of the wisps, and he has already forgotten their sting," grunted Nyyrik to himself, uncorking his ever-present hipflask and taking another swig. "I am not sure if that is bravery or foolishness." Replacing it, he set his staff upright before him even and bowed his head, motionless. The wisps billowed out to take on the corpse-like demonic pony shapes that had attacked Ruff before, leering and cackling amongst themselves.
"Hear me now, Och, my master. Aid your disciple in his hour of need," mumbled Nyyrik.
"Feel our cold, daemon-speaker… feel your bones rot, feel your blood freeze in your veins. Feel your heart falter…" intoned the ghastly horde, as they poured into the hold. Nyyrik ignored them, and continued whispering to himself. They advanced inspite of this, cautious step after careful step, screeching and calling to each other.
"Fill my lungs with your breath, my master. Fill my body with your heat…"
"Your breath grows shallow, little worm. Your wings grow weak. Your words… fail."
"My… master…" Nyyrik croaked, huddling closer to his staff as more and more flickering lights drifted in through the open hatch. As the creatures grew closer still, taking on their twisted pony-like forms once again, Nyyrik felt the cold of the chamber intensifying. His breath caught in his throat and his grip on his staff faltered.
"We have you now, old one. We will strip your flesh from your bones, we will pluck out your feathers one by one, we will—"
"You'll do no such thing!" cried a new voice. "Girls? Get 'em!"
Nyyrik looked up, his beak falling open in shock, as four forms appeared in a doorway behind him and all but exploded into the cargo bay. There were two griffins, young hens with but a few years since their first flight. They set about the wretched wraiths with their wingblades, slashing and jabbing, whilst two ponies – a unicorn and a pegasus – leaped into the fray, flailing about with their hooves. The despair that had gripped his heart lifted in a moment, and he bellowed out an amazed laugh, standing up straighter. "My good young friends, such bravery! It quite warms my heart! Let me show you my appreciation! Master Och! Now! Let your breath fill my body, let your voice be mine!"
Nyyrik took a deep breath, opened his beak wide, and screeched a war-cry that filled the cargo bay, then overflowed out into the driving snow. The griffons and ponies before him cowered as the bellow burst through the enclosed space, but the effect it had on the ghastly apparitions was even more pronounced. It swept across them all, picking them up and slamming them around from wall to wall, battering them against what cargo remained before finally blasting them out the hatch.
The whirlwind from nowhere then subsided, leaving the four young adventurers reeling in shock, whilst the dirty old buzzard coughed and hacked, wheezing as he lifted a grubby metal hip-flask to his beak for another swig.
In the relative peace that followed, Nyyrik hobbled forwards, hunched over his staff and breathing heavily. "Young ones, I must congratulate you on such a display of what must be—" he huffed, half spent— "either selfless bravery or brazen foolishness. Whichever it was, was most well-timed. I thank the Lords above and below. Quite a sight for sore eyes. Quite a sight indeed." He grinned lecherously, flicking his moth-eaten hawk's tail out wide and puffing out his chest.
"Any time, old one," said Bethany guardedly, clicking her beak. Her gesture was mirrored by the others of their small group - quiet thanks behind guarded expressions.
"Just one question," chirped Carmine, holding up one foreclaw and levelling it at the newcomer, both to address him as well as to keep him at claw's length distance. "Well, two. Who are you… and what were they?"
"As I said to your impatient young friend Ruff, I am Nyyrik. And those wretched, vile creations are known as the pooka."
"Pooka?" asked Carmine, blinking furiously.
"Yes. They dwell on the souls of the lost, taking on the forms they once had in life. If young… Ruff? Yes, Ruff, was right about them taking your other friend – Chip, I believe the pup said his name was – then I fear there is little to be done but mourn his loss, and the loss of young Ruff too."
"Mister," huffed Bethany, clenching her claws into the snow beneath her body, "you had better be wrong about that. We've come far too far to give up on each other on the words of some…" her eyes roved up and down his decrepit appearance, and her ears flicked back flat against her head, "filthy old bird."
"Ixnay on the ilthy-fay," hissed Penny, hoofing Bella in the ribs. "He's a mobile WMG and I don't think you should piss him off!"
"I don't like the look of him, and I don't like how he's looking at me," hissed Bella back. The old griffin laughed, bowing mockingly, his eyes roving up and down the unicorn's flank. Bella turned pointedly towards him, subtly lowering her horn.
"Fear not, my dear mare. I am sworn to protect the good and virtuous, even those with foul mouths." He waggled a foreclaw admonishingly, then turned, gesturing with a wing as he headed for the cargo bay hatch. "Come on, there will be time for fuller introductions and better explanations later. For now, we should not tarry here. If only you had not seen fit to find your way to the Iceveldt in early spring, but that is air under the wings. In summer, you would merely have to deal with the worgs and tatzlwurms; in winter naught but cold which freezes the blood and the icetrolls that prey on the unwary; but spring… spring and autumn is when the pooka hunt. Come. Come!" Nyyrik staggered out into the driving snow and darkness, gesturing with his staff before taking another swig of his seemingly bottomless flask.
"What do you think?" asked Bella.
"He is a magus," muttered Bethany. "He speaks true, even if he is filthy and lecherous."
"And I have good ears, too!" Nyyrik squawked. "Follow, and quickly. If you desire proof of my words about your lost compatriots, then look no further than their tracks. Lumos!" The dirty old griffon raised his staff, and it burst into cold fire that illuminated the veldt, revealing a blustery tundra submerged in ice and surrounded by snow.
Carmine slunk out into the cold behind him, fluffing up her feathers against the biting wind. There, leading off into the distance, were three sets of tracks. One belonged to Nyyrik, the other two clearly did not. She swore something most unladylike, then turned to her friends. "Come on, the old buzzard is right. There's nothing we can do now."
"Then shouldn't we stay here?" asked Bethany, raising her voice against the howling wind as she joined Carmine outside.
Nyyrik shook his head, clicking his beak. "The pooka will hunt until sun up. If you stay here, you'll be naught but bleached bones by break of day."
"Then shouldn't we search for Chip and Ruff?" argued Penny, fluttering her wings and spreading them over her body for warmth.
"Only if you have grown tired of living," grumbled Nyyrik. "The storm will blow for a good few hours yet, and when it clears the temperature will drop. All who wander without shelter will freeze."
"All the more reason to find Ruff and Chip then!" yelled Bella angrily, stomping a hoof and sending up a puff of snow.
"No, the old one is right," huffed Bethany, her breath steaming in the cold night air. "Chip'll have to take care of himself, and if Ruff has any smarts on him at all, he'll dig in under the snow until morning. Take us to safety, magus, and quickly. I hate the snow."
♠♣♥♦
It truly was dark. The sun had gone down an unknown number of hours ago and there was nothing to guide him any more, not even Chip's scent. The wind had dropped to little more than a light - if bone-chilling - breeze, too slight to do much but agitate the almost solid wall of snowflakes as they fell around Ruff's ears and settled on his back.
It was pitch black, the kind of darkness you only heard about in old fairy tales told around warm campfires. He was surrounded by the sort of stygian darkness which usually only lurks outside the holt whilst you curl up safe and warm beside mama and papa under the furs.
Not that he had been safely under the furs next to mama and papa for a long time… until he'd become a Skychaser. Suddenly, Ruff felt very, very alone. And very, very determined. He had a pack now, and his position in it was so very, very far from the bottom. He had a duty. He would not let Chip or the others down. He would not let himself down.
And that meant, he realized, that Chip was on his own until daybreak.
Almost as if it had been waiting for his own ray of light to pierce the darkness, the snowfall stopped and the billowing clouds parted to reveal a carpet of diamond-bright jewels studding the inky velvet expanse of the night sky. Ruff could almost see the temperature drop; starlight was reflected in a myriad points of lights across the tundra that spread out before him, a billion silvern pinpricks painted on the snow, the rocks, the plants, their leaves and even the trees.
He shivered as trunks cracked, cannon-shots sounding out from distant battles against the chill. Chip was out there, somewhere, in all this ice… but Chip wasn't here. Whether they had both been led astray or had just wandered, they were both well and truly lost. With the return of Celestia's sun, and hopefully some semblance of warmth, he'd be able to hunt for food and his friends, or at least he'd be able to skirt back to the airship and then, maybe, retrace their steps. But right now, he wasn't going to be able to get anywhere better than right here.
Ruff lifted his nose, sniffing, then dug his nose into the snow. Pulling his muzzle back up and sneezing the ice crystals out, he had confirmed Nyyrik's advice: It was cold out here. Who'd have guessed.
Scrabbling with his forepaws, he excavated down under the snow, digging deeper and deeper until he hit cold, hard dirt. And then he dug some more. Some time later, and he had dug himself a cozy little nest in the dark, several feet under the almost petrified topsoil, with two entrances to ensure airflow and a minimal, slightly raised hollow to retain his body heat.
Curling up tight against the residual chill, Ruff closed his eyes… and thought of home.
♠♣♥♦
Moonrise over the mountains set the tundra aflame with blue fire as the brilliance of the heavens was reflected and refracted by a sea of snow and ice. The storm had blown over hours ago, but Chip hadn't stopped walking. The temperature had dropped rapidly once the cloudcover had vanished, but that had just numbed the pain from torn muscles and his barely healed wounds.
The voices had never stopped talking to him, had never stopped revealing to him how his friends had betrayed him, how they had left him, how they had abandoned him. The voices said his friends had vanished into the night; they hadn't needed him, they hadn't wanted him.
Well maybe he didn't need them.
He thought about sleep. Sleep sounded good. More than once, he stumbled and fell, plunging his body into a snowdrift. The last few times, the icy sting had woke him from his semi-slumber. This last time… it almost felt warm. He'd even stopped shivering. With ice in his heart, the pain had all but vanished.
But… no. Something wasn't right. Something wasn't right at all.
The voices cajoled him louder as they felt him falter. Shutupshutup… he shouted inside his head until he'd drowned out their cacophony. He shook his head as he finally found silence, and room to start to think again. He'd been the one to run out on his friends… there had been lights but… they couldn't have been his friends. His friends wouldn't do that to him.
They just wouldn't.
Then why, prodded a part of his mind that he had long though he'd lost, were you so busy cursing their names. Why were you so busy chasing after phantom lights?
Chip didn't know what pooka were. He might have been told stories about them, many years ago… but pooka weren't something grown foals bothered with. He did know, now he thought about it, that snow shouldn't feel warm. All in a rush, sensation returned. His legs burned, his wounds stung, his chest hurt. His nose and ears were numb, and a thick coating of ice coloured his mane and tail almost whiter than the snow. With pain, came clarity.
"Luna's Night!" he cried plaintively, lifting his head to the heavens, as agony coursed through his frame. "What have they done to me? I… I have to get to shelter! I have to get out of this cold!"
Breath steaming in the cold, freezing into ice on his muzzle almost before it passed his lips, Chip forced himself to move, forced himself to warm up. If he'd been a pony, he'd be dead. He'd have keeled over from hunger already if it hadn't been for the banked embers of his flame that even now flickered, deep inside. As it was, he was awfully thirsty and his belly ached for something to fill it. A quiet, worried part of his mind asked what happened to a dragon when his fire went out. Chip didn't want to know. Snatching mouthfuls of snow as he berated himself for being so stupid, Chip thought about what to do.
Chip glanced around, thoughtfully. Mountainous terrain surround him on three sides, and the fourth avenue led downwards, an unimpeded trek to the treeline. There was only two directions he could go then, in reality: up, or down. Flight wasn't something he felt capable of. If he could get into the air at all, he thought mirthlessly, there was no guarantee he wouldn't just pass out. He nosed at his frost-coated wings gently, as if apologizing to them - should he fall from the skies, it would be game over. No, he was ground-bound, at least until morning. If he saw morning. So! He could either travel up, into the mountains - and his draconic heritage ached to be amongst the icy peaks - or he could travel down, into the valley.
He chose down.
He knew, from his previous life in Stalliongrad, that the air in winter is colder than the snow. He also knew he had to get out of the snow as soon as possible - if possible. Right now he was some way above the treeline, but not so far he couldn't see it start. That might just save his life.
Charging down into the valley through the snow, finally getting warm enough to feel how cold he was, he started to see brush poking up out of the snowy expanse. A short time later, and he found that he was approaching a copse. The firs were little more than large, indistinct, white cones because the snow was so deep upon and around them, but they were firs. That was actually a good thing.
Wriggling and digging as carefully as possible, panting hard from the exertion, his pelt steaming in the cold, Chip forced his way through the packed snow into a relatively snug and sheltered crawlspace deep under the tree's branches. He wormed his way deeper and deeper until he found himself next to the trunk, swearing profusely at all the twigs and other detritus, twisting and turning about until he finally allowed himself to relax once he'd dug an almost snow-free burrow. Here it was still cold, but now he was in here, his body might just keep it warm enough to stop it from being completely deadly… now it would merely be almost deadly.
He would have to do something about that. The solution, when it came, was obvious. And more than a little nuts, considering.
"I have no idea if this is going to work, make things better, make it worse… or just set the forest on fire," murmured Chip to himself as he gathered a rough circle of stones towards the outer edge of his nest-like bower. "Then again, a cheerily blazing forest fire would definitely garner attention. So… win-win on that, I guess."
Snatching what branches as he dared to from the tree above him to both provide fuel and prevent his pyroclastic attempt from spreading too far - should it even succeed, he reminded himself, eying the sodden timber - Chip stacked the pieces of wood gathered together, took a careful breath, and spat a glob of liquid phlegm onto the pile. Blowing on it gently, he eventually got it to burst into flames. Jabbing a hoof up through the snow and coughing from the smoke until the air cleared, he formed a makeshift chimney. Gradually, the snap and crackle of burning twigs filled his ears and he started to actually feel warm. Hoping he really was as fireproof as he thought he was, Chip curled up and closed his eyes. Things would look better in the morning. And now… he might even see it.
Outside, in the dark and the cold under the stars, twinkling blue lights gathered around the dim, warm, flickering light of a campfire burning inexplicably under the snow. The pooka could wait. The pooka could always wait. Their prey rarely got far, not once they had been bewitched by the ghostlights. They hadn't finished feeding yet, and a meal was all the more delicious for their ripping of more than mere flesh from the bones.
♠♣♥♦
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Never take a pookah for a ride. I do like the linkage of the windigo concept and the pookah legends.
He also has a large, single, muscular arm. And in his free time, he burninates the countryside
Oooo, an old gryphon shaman? Cool.
Flickering lights? Will-o-wisps? That's almost never a good thing.
Love the Celestia & Quincy scene, that was fun dialogue to read.
Okay, maybe not wisps.
Pervy sage? Pervy sage.
Welp, even if they are out in the dangerous cold, at least neither Ruff nor Chip appear to be in a situation where they will be freezing to death before rescue.
3921857 TROGDOR!
3921857
3923550
He's not Trogdor god ruined forever
3921186
In my canon, I link windigo, pooka and changelings together through various progenitors... along with several other species
3923254
he's pervy, but he does know rule number one - look but don't touch.
3923875
fc05.deviantart.net/fs71/i/2010/176/a/b/Quetzalcoatl_by_Blackpassion777.png
He can manifest as nearly anything, so I picture this and imagine Ricky Gervais voicing him.
3924444
Oh that's a beautiful picture!
Bravo! C'mon guys we editors worked hard on this, how bout some feedback?
Um, y'know and Middy worked his butt off too.
... I do have to wonder if you did your homework on the snow burrows and building a fire, and the snow chimney... it really reads like you did!
I like to think I'm pretty good at writing descriptions, but as always, reading some of these scenes makes me realize I have to up my game.
3924444 3921857
Hmm. Now I'm torn... I really like that picture, but now it somehow feels incomplete without consummate V's.
Oh, and that song is stuck in my head now, so, thanks for that, I guess.
3926726
Bwahaha.
3930316
dammit, you are correct. that must have been there for about a year now...
3930499
why yes, yes he did. Be careful with draconic post...
3933966
They're not references of anything else, they're thestrals. Interestingly enough, both cherry and nutmeg are - in some ways - poisonous...
**CHAPTER 23 SPOILERS!!**
Ooh nice to see you spent a great deal of time digging ever further into the fertile mythology of North Western Europe for this story! On a related note I do believe this is the first time since Odin Sphere that I've seen or heard of pooka. Its also good to be reminded that, barring the more recent 'Disnyfication' of these myths, a lot of those 'cute little fairies and elves' of classic myth were pretty darned malevolent in their source material!
In any case back to the story! I have to admit I'm a little confused, did Chip deliberately teleport the Yamato, er I mean Great Harmony to such a harsh environment, or was he just going for "anywhere but here!"? I have to admit, amidst all the excitement I kind of forgot.
I definitely enjoyed the little exchange between Quincy and Tia, and the whole song and dance they went through with regards to all those "non-existent" operatives and schemes they both know full well are going on. If nothing else its good to see they both have a sense of humor about that sort of thing.
Also really been digging Nyyrik so far. Might have something to do with the fact that despite being a powerful magus named after an ancient Finnish deity who is perfectly willing to put his life on the line for complete strangers, he's also a dirty (literally) old lech who barely has the decency to keep his hands to himself. Heh Pervy Sage indeed!
3936767
Well, the gang are up in the Frozen North, so why not go a little bit Scandinavian on them, huh?
The pooka have been fun to come up with - they're not exactly the pooka you'll hear about from old Earth legends, as they're actually a bit of a mix between will'o the wisps and the more malevolent pucca. Apparently some pooka are kind. These aren't. They also have a few more tricks up their sleeves...
Nyyrik is fun too. He'll be with us for the duration, and if I ever write book three then he (And a few other side-characters) will definitely be in it. I was wondering if anybody would get the name I gave him, glad somebody did! I wanted a character which didn't quite fit the "mysterious old wizard" trope. Let's see if I can manage it, huh?
As for the Yamato - I'm still chuffed that this translated to Great Harmony - Chip did, indeed, mean to teleport it where it went. He knew, roughly, where they were going because the legend in the old castle told them... but the staff itself wants to be whole. It was guiding the ship, and has gotten them relatively close, just not quite close enough...
derpicdn.net/img/2012/12/23/191624/medium.png
In any case, great chapter. Nyyrik is a fascinating character; I look forward to more of him. As for the pooka... (checks comments) Ah. Eaters of emotion along with flesh. Largely incorporeal ones at that. Seemingly undead, though I'm willing to bet that their ectoplasmic corpus is freely mutable; they just went with the "rotting flesh falling off bones" routine to inspire fear.
Sorry. I like analyzing magibiology.
Definitely looking forward to more, especially since I get the feeling that Akhekhu is letting out just enough fishing line to hang herself.
3960619
Lumos! Yes!
I do love Nyyrik. I want to write a side-story about him now... drat. Don't have the time to, really. He's wonderfully filthy, with a heart of gold. Really grubby, tarnished gold. That he probably stole.
And yes, the pooka are able to fiddle with not only their appearence somewhat, but how they are perceived. This is going to be fun...
Akhekhu is a great villain for me, I wish I could write more about her and Emerald because everyone loves a good villain.
4024541
India and November? Those are strange words... I wonder what they mean?
4196930
Oh it gets a bit darker in places, but not too dark, this is a YA novel, not a Stephen King
4200419
I was enjoying myself entirely too much when I wrote that...
Ah, I have caught up now, and quite enjoyable by far at this rate. I suspect that the loop-de-loop is approaching though yes?
4202225
There are quite a few twists and turns left. I'm pretty sure the astute can guess, but I won't spoil it by acknowledging correct ones