Dragon's Descent

by Compendium of Steve

Act 2 Verse 3

Act 2 Verse 3

Of Doorways and Crossroads

A few minutes of brisk walking has put me a good long distance from the village (and any avenging cohorts). The holding area (as Campe called it) is vast, with what had to be networks of tunnels and caves dug out from the surrounding walls. No doubt made by the other inmates… the less friendly variety, if Ty’s to be believed. Didn’t want to go digging around if it meant fighting some nameless horror. I’d get worn out pretty quick.

However, there’s a wide cave opening with an inviting array of torches set into it close by, and would luck have it there’s a concentration of lampads hovering to and from it. A good enough place to start. I take to that opening, and follow those guiding lights further in.

I take a moment to reach into my shirt and pull out the necklace hanging within, checking on the green gem embedded at the end of the chain. Took Twilight five days to learn about and make this puppy: a teleportation amulet, supposedly capable of relocating someone to a set point from anywhere on the globe. My ticket out of here. She said she set it up so that only I could activate it, and that seems to hold true judging by the flawless shine coming off the gem’s surface. Doesn’t hurt to make sure it’s still there, at least.

As I’m putting the necklace back into the confines of my shirt, my “travel buddy” chimes in.

That surely was a rousing welcome from the locals. Though I’m surprised you didn’t take a more diplomatic approach in getting information.

“That guy seriously pissed me off. And in a prison setting it’s best to assert dominance from the get-go, right? Makes it less likely for them to get in my way later.”

Ahh, now that’s the right kind of thinking! And it serves as a chance to vent your frustration over not being able to kill off King Gladius in a satisfying, ultraviolent manner, as you’re wont to do.

Being able to hear Discord talk to me had been a major tip-off that something was screwy in the griffon king’s throne room. And the fact he’s babbling now is a good indicator that I’m in the right place.

Indeed: this place is rife with chaos energies. Not as concentrated as in the throneroom, though. It’s far more spread out. Practically pulsing with old chaos. It’s quite soothing to this old heart.

“So I’m guessing you’re able to talk to me because of all the chaos around.”

Absolutely! My, your deductive reasoning has improved immensely in my absence. Now I won’t have to bother explaining the obvious so much, huzzah!

“Are you gonna be talking the whole time?”

Well someone has to stem your boredom. You see this place? Aside from its residents, it’s not exactly the most thrilling place to visit. Besides, someone’s gotta watch your back down here.

“I work best alone. Why not go say hi to Fluttershy or someone else? Bet she’d be thrilled to know you’re back.”

But we make such a good team. Like how we worked together in hunting down Luna in her own home while killing several innocent guards and servants in the process. That was a stellar display of jolly cooperation if there ever was one!

“Right. So could you enlighten me as to the secrets and inner-workings of Tartarus? Provide something that I couldn’t gather from any pony-written document?”

Playing to my unfathomable wisdom; you’ll go far yet, kid. As for humble Tartarus, it is a very old institution of rehabilitory banishment. It has been in existence far longer than before the first pony trotted the earth, steeped in ancient magicks time has long since forgotten.

“I gathered that much already. So much for a font of helpful knowledge.”

Patience, young swordwielder: these things take time to build up. Now, the worst and most evil criminals and creatures are cast down here for the well-being of the surface. To ensure it remains that way, there are all sorts of safeguards, defenses and the like put in place to keep those put here from climbing out.

“Security measures. Such as?”

Apart from the massive iron gate and a very deep hole without ladders or lifts serving as the main entrance, I do believe the deeper reaches of Tartarus are labyrinthian in nature. I’ve never actually been down here myself, mind you, but if I was some lowly mortal who wished to imprison someone as grossly powerful and destructive as, say, myself, I’d want to make it as confusing for them to escape from as possible. Granted they don’t have clairvoyance or omnipresent sight, in which case your typical ancient architect would rely on a bevy of doors, gates, barriers, puzzles, riddles and traps to hold them back, or at least tire them out.

“Uh-huh.”

By the by, did you make sure that trinket of yours works? Twilight always has this tendency of making things half-cocked, and it’d be highly unfortunate and embarrassing if it fizzed out upon use.

“She wouldn’t have let me come down here if she wasn’t one hundred percent certain. You were saying about those security measures?”

Right right. Apart from traps, there’s the old standby of stationing capable guards to dissuade or suppress any escapees. Like the one bounding toward us right now.

Too late I pick up the approaching thuds, but I have enough time to turn before a thick wall of bone and fur slams into me and sends me flying. After a rough skid on my butt and a messy tumble, I spring up and see myself staring at the three drooling, growling faces of Tartarus’ head watchdog: Cerberus. Guess they stuck him here for the time-being (where else?).

You can’t go slouching with your reaction time down here, my precious ward.

Got that message loud and clear. Before I have time to reach for my sword, Cerberus comes bounding and snarling with all three jaws open. I bring up my claws in time to snag the upper and lower jaws of the middle head, locking them in place as I withstand his bulk. My feet tear through the ground a few yards before we completely stop, only his other two heads pull back to snap at my scaly self.

I loosen my grip slightly and let the closing lower jaw lift me up away from danger, letting go once airborne and landing on his back. I then notice the spiked collars around his necks, and immediately take hold of the center on and hang on for dear life. The three-headed hound hops and barks madly trying to buck me off, but I hold on through the rough bouncing.

I get an idea, and during one very high hop, I sidle off his neck without letting go of the collar, and swinging below him I put all my might in yanking down his collar. My pulling plus our descent allows me to slam the middle head hard into the ground with his chin. I back away and take out my sword while he staggers around, but with two heads untouched he takes little time to recover and stare me down, growling and snapping his three sets of jaws. I level my sword and wait for his next move.

“What has gotten you so riled up, my pet?”

Cerberus immediately settles down and lowers his three heads, stepping back timidly and whimpering at that gentle, yet commanding voice. Even I’ve gone still.

“Could it be that a new guest has come to pay us a visit?”

I lower my sword, then turn around carefully. What I see before me is like something peeled right off some ancient pottery art. Most of her body is covered in a simplistic, but spotless red and white toga ensemble that accentuates her strikingly slender frame. But most striking of all is that upon her lofty shoulders is the head of a well-groomed canine, with a long slightly curved snout akin to a jackel’s, or a very old hunting breed. Her fur shines as though anointed in oil, her ears are erect and keen, and her eyes glimmer majestically in the firelight. Her two slender arms are outstretched to either side, with one holding a blazing torch and the other a bow. Definitely a breathtaking sight, almost godly. And that’s not even counting the fact that she’s as tall as a grain silo.

Now I say this with utmost reverence: that’s a HUGE bitch!

“You move through these high-vaulted halls with purpose, to be able to withstand my faithful Cerberus. Not at all like the forlorn, pitiless souls whom I watch over. A pleasing sprig of vigor in a vast field of desolation.”

This is definitely the type of person I need to be diplomatic with.

“The others back in the village told me there was a warden hereabouts. I take it that it’s you?”

She cocks her head almost playfully. “A warden? What worth are titles in a realm devoid of civility? But if it is aptitude in quelling the unruly you speak of, then I am fairly high in that regard. Thus a warden I must be.”

She takes a long step forward in golden sandaled feet, and just when I’m thinking she’s about to step on me I notice in surprise that she’s inexplicably shrunken down to just twice my height. As I’m processing this shift, she goes over to Cerberus and pets his middle head, earning a happy whimper from all his heads. Then I realize that her torch had switched to the other hand and the bow is gone.

“I am Hecate: overseer of the souls condemned to Tartarus. As well as master of this prison’s most fearsome protector, Cerberus.”

“And the master of the lampads floating around.”

“That would be correct.”

Straight to the point, huh? Works for me.

“Normally it would be a surprise for one so freshly cast from the surface to be aware of my handmaids’ existence, but you are no ordinary arrival. And you have questions pertaining to my servants yet, which I will answer promptly.” She stops petting Cerberus and looks to me. “But come, walk with me. There would be little chance of interruption deeper into my abode, and we can talk along the way.”

The dog-headed warden turns and walks off casually, leaving Cerberus to sit and see her off. This practically screams of a trap, but I'm here for answers and I'll put my trust in the fates. Thusly, I follow suit.

I catch up and keep pace beside her. And it seems she's shrunk down to only a head taller than me. Weird.

“It has been a long time since anyone dared to venture into my cavern,” Hecate says, still carrying that torch. “I'm sure you and Cerberus would have gotten along famously in time. Few can match his might and prowess, and the poor thing could use a playmate that can handle him.”

“Yeah, he seems a swell enough pooch. And I've gotta say, you're very dignified for a canine yourself.”

“If that is in reference to those mongrels called Diamond Dogs, then speak no further. They put all their energies into the lowly act of digging, foregoing the thrill of the hunt to scrounge gems in the dirt. I weep over the waste of my species’ attributes. Though admittedly, I am a rather exceptional example of my kind. As were all other gods.”

The dog-headed warden steps ahead slightly, lifting her head in wistful memory. “Long ago, gods like myself were needed to maintain and watch over the world to keep it alive and fruitful. We measured the rain, raised the crops, controlled the seasons and granted safe passage and prosperity to those who paid their due respects and tributes. I for one was matron of the early hunters, and the keeper of knowledge in the handling of herbal medicines, to list but a few of my former roles. Yet as mortals became more self-reliant and capable of shaping both their land and their destinies on their own, the necessity for gods dwindled rapidly, and soon they vanished from both the earth and mortal memory. A sad fate, but as inevitable and unavoidable as the very passage of time itself.”

Oh joy, one of those reminiscing old betties. Don't you just adore how they shower melancholy over everything with their insipid stories?

“That’s the sad fact of time: things eventually change, and very few of them can stick it out as they originally were.” She smells strongly of olive oil.

“That it is verily, with you yourself being a prime example. Dragons have oftentimes been unruly, following their own creeds and shunning the ways of others, yet you walk in simple but finely-tailored clothing. And the sword you carry is nothing of the crude weaponry exhibited by your kind. Perchance you have allied with some kingdom of another race?”

“I grew up with them. Raised by them, educated, trained to defend myself. They sheltered me, and I protect them in kind.”

That’s quite a stretch with the last part, huhu.

“Peculiarly noble for a creature born into greed. They must have loved you no different than a true blood relation, and you must have cherished them just as devoutly—Pffffft hehehehe.—Even in your current environs you think only of their safety—BWAHhahahahaha oh that’s just too rich!—It is a commendable show of devotion—Oh please stop her my non-existent sides, haHA!”

“I suppose it is. And it’s those kinds of thoughts that make me curious about those fairies floating around overhead.” Gotta get focused here.

“Of course. They are the ones you came to know of, after all.” Lifting up a dainty hand, a lone lampad comes fluttering down and alights softly on her fingertips, flapping its wings and holding its own torch up. Really does look like the breezies in the pictures. “These lovely things were a gift granted to me for my aid in shaping the cosmos from the black ocean of chaos. The flames they carry were borne from the very first fires to bring warmth to the young world, and thus burn with essence from that original chaos.”

“Which can cause a mortal to go mad if near its light for too long.”

“Indeed; you are very astute. This effect of my little ones prove quite useful for my present role. They themselves go to and fro amid the depths of Tartarus, staying vigilant for signs of trouble and unrest, but the torches they carry help cull the inhabitants. Their warmth can muddle minds, disorient, and distract the lowly and the ill-tempered from focusing on uniting or forming a means of escape from their just sentences. In this manner, I preserve order without having to resort to violent means. A most tidy approach.”

She lifts up her hand, sending the lampad fluttering back up to its brethren.

“Yes. It’d be a real big mess if one of them happened to fly out and mess with the heads of someone capable of doing some great harm.”

“There would be no worry of that, young one,” Hecate says with a soft smile. “The lampads obey my word alone. So enamored to their master, there would be no concern for them to wander off and cause mischief.”

“Meaning if one were to fly around where it shouldn’t be, it would be because of their master’s command. Would that be correct?”

Ohhhhh boy, here we go!

The dog-headed goddess comes to a stop, no doubt feeling the hard look I’m giving her. Then she begins laughing softly. It seems she’s grown five feet.

“The mischief they caused must have been considerable, I presume.”

“I’d call it dire.”

“Then it is not my servants that you seek.” Her head doesn’t move, but she’s giving me a sidelong glance. “It is the answer to my indiscretion, yes?”

“That it would be.”

She shines her canines at me. “Your forbearance up to now is admirable, and for that you shall be rewarded.” She forwards her gaze. “We have arrived.”

I look up and around, and get a start over the abrupt change in the scenery. The cave walls had closed in a little, and there are doors set into them. Hundreds of them, of different materials, colors, and sizes, set evenly in rows and columns around the cave. Reminds me of a prison block, only no walkways and guards. Sucks for the ones locked up top.

Hecate starts moving about, waving a hand over the line of doors at mid-level… a good twenty feet up.

“While most of the inmates can be contained by my lampads’ flame, there are those far more tenacious, and much too strong of will to be so easily numbed. These exceptions are kept locked away in their own private chambers, which are carved specially to accommodate their respective dimensions, needs, and punishment.” I see her other hand wave out, now holding a set of scales. “Like any dutiful jailor bound to their service, I regularly check in on these individuals from time to time. Though it may be easy to throw something unwanted into a deep dark pit, you invite danger the moment you forget.”

“That’s good advice. But I thought you were going to explain yourself.”

She’s shrunken down, her torch having changed hands unseen. “It was during one of these rounds, close to a score of years ago, that I conversated with one particular soul. As I sometimes do, when there would be no harm in doing so. What made that occasion different was the request he had made. It seemed innocent enough: to use but one of my lampads to venture out from Tartarus and observe the world above and beyond, to see how much the world had changed since his imprisonment. Their existence was negligible to mortals, he reasoned, and if kept far above cities or other populated area then no misdeed can come about. Despite soft speech and suppliant form, I could sense a deeper motive, a desire for trickery. Yet I assented all the same, and let him make use of one of my servants, under the command that they only observe and never directly engage with mortals. He accepted this condition readily, and thus far he has upheld the agreement to my satisfaction.”

Very cunning of them. We’re dealing with one clever cookie.

“Only that lampad had nearly caused war between two powerful nations.”

The dog-headed goddess “hmm”-ed. “Even almighty gods fell victim to squabbling and petty conflicts of interest. It only takes the slightest offense to bring ruin to one’s house, as well as their neighbor’s.”

I forget how fond the old ones were with spouting warnings of ill-tidings and mortal follies. At least I learned to tell it up front when it was a bad idea to irk me.

“If you sensed trickery in what they wanted, then why would you let him have the lampad? That sounds to me like a very gross oversight.”

“It was very much intentional, though my reasoning for it was rather selfish. For in truth…” She turns to face me. “I did it because it meant I would come to meet you, Spike the Dragon.”

That got me surprised, and it must have clearly shown because she’s looking at me with a knowing look of satisfaction.

“I knew of our encounter for quite some time. Though my roles on the surface were numerous, I was primarily worshipped as the Goddess of Crossroads.” Suddenly two extra heads phase into being, one on each side. “I kept watch over the intersections faced by travelers, protecting them from the fell spirits of the afterlife and the beasts in the night.” As she’s talking, her heads phase in and out, each taking turns speaking. “I served as protector of doorways and entrances to any and all homes who pay me respect. I held dominion over the verdant earth, the boundless heavens, and the wine-dark sea, all at the same time. And for every soul I encounter, I know of everyone they have ever met and will ever meet.”

I find your head trick to be rather excessive than impressive, madam.

The phasing heads go away, leaving just the one. “I foresaw your arrival when that prisoner spoke his request, and my cooperation in his endeavor assured it.”

“So you let them have a lampad because you wanted to meet me? What for?”

“Because of what you are.” Now she’s up at my side. “Mine had become a life of monotony, you understand: overseeing the same wretched souls, who have long ago given up all that had made them fierce and virile. Yet in my talk with the one who wanted my lampad, I saw a glimpse of something fascinating. Of a being that radiated with a will and determination the likes of which I have not beheld in centuries. And having spoken to you, to be in your presence, I discover that there is so much more.”

She begins walking ahead. “You have met many in your travels… killed many. In you I see hardships overcome, empires fallen, lives irrevocably changed and destroyed, and an insurmountable devotion to upholding duty. Long has it been since I encountered a mortal who had altered the face of the world to the extent that you have. The moment I learned of your existence, there was no doubt in my mind of what course I had to take. To simply meet you was worthy of any unfortunate outcomes, and the consequences that may follow.” She turns to face me. “Now that you know the extent of my involvement, what shall be your course? A warrior of terrible might such as you surely wants more than simple explanation, in coming to this most wretched of recesses, the den of the world’s most wicked denizens. So I ask: what is it that you seek?”

The answer is obvious.

“I’m just here to find the one responsible for those unfortunate outcomes, simple as that. And if need be, to put a stop to them from causing any further trouble (whatever the cost).”

The dog-headed goddess nods. “Ever true to your original intentions. For a dragon, that is a another character trait deserving of fascination and reward.” Hecate begins walking to her left, carrying just a torch. “The one you seek has been committed to the deepest depths of Tartarus for a most diabolical crime. To venture there unguided would take weeks and prove excruciatingly arduous, even for one of your mettle. But allow me to open a more expedient route.”

Hecate comes upon a door matching her height of twelve feet, and holding up her hand her torch turns into an ornate key of solid, faded yellow metal, which she then uses to unlock the door with some unnecessary fanfare. The door pulls open without protest, and stepping closer I can see the dark hallway beyond.

As I’m about to ask her what I should expect, she beats me to it.

“Before you lies the most direct path to that which you seek. But heed the words of this deathless god: therein lies the worst ordeals Tartarus has to offer for you alone. You will face adversaries that will tire your body and weaken your heart, but if your will withstands and remains true to your objective, then you shall inevitably earn your prize.”

I look to her, then look into the darkness through the doorway, then look back up to her. “You say you know the people someone will meet in the future, right? Am I actually going to find them?”

“Though I know the answer, it is not my place as warden of this realm to interfere where unnecessary. Furthermore, one’s own future can only become theirs if they pursue it by their own merit rather than relying solely on prophecy alone.”

Sure didn’t stop you guys from throwing them around like lottery numbers.

“How will I know who it will be?”

She gave me a patient smile. “For one as perceptive as you, it will be no concern. And I am certain you will have help from that touch of chaos in you to see you to the end.”

Another surprise there, but I face forward so as not to let it slip again, then begin walking. Though after a few steps, I stop and look back up at her.

“Thank you for your help. It was a nice talk.”

“The pleasure was all mine, Spike. May you find success.”

She waves to me, and after a quick wave back, I bid the dog-headed goddess farewell and step through the door and into the corridor beyond. Comforting that this time around the door doesn’t shut behind me.

Aside from her buffeting us with those airs of hers, that was remarkably easy. Wise move there, Spikey boy. Never a smart thing to start an argument with a classical god type.

“The benefits of reading ancient morality plays during downtime at the library. But I got a feeling it’s only gonna get a lot harder and messier from here on out.”

With your track record? There’s no doubt!

That assuring thought in mind, I venture deeper into Tartarus, readying myself for the worst.

…

…

…

…

…

“Yours will be a difficult undertaking, troubled Spike. But know I have the utmost confidence in your success, for when we meet next, everything will be considerably more interesting.”

Author's Note:

Never knew about Hecate personally until Touhou came around and set me straight. Kind of a neat figure in the Greek pantheon that I don't think too many people recall. Certainly makes for a neato extra boss with an equally killer boss track. Have a listen:

Probably wise on Spike's part not to fight this one, eh fellas?

Comments

[Pyro The Reader]

Stay determined Spike! Your troubles will be over... eventually.

[GrimmWolfDragon]

The join in hell begin.

[Steadfast Hoof]

This should totally be the theme of the story!

[Compendium of Steve]

8114829
Damn. This would have been perfect back in Death by Dragon.

[Compendium of Steve]

8114843
This definitely would fit well in Spike's early days as a killer for the crown.