Thieves, Spirits, and Romantics

by Impossible Numbers

The Colossus

The golden plaza was empty, save for the pillars and benches. On one side, the temple-like library loomed. On the other, the rich red clay of the preserved ancient temple loomed. Up ahead, the camel racing arena loomed. What the colossus did was shadow them all, brass almost blinding in the midday sun.

Between the globe-like hoof-shoes of Great Saddle, the earth mare tapped a hoof impatiently. Glowing in her other hoof, the Djinnestone swirled tendrils in a never-ending turbulence. Six Djinn encircled her. Two of them carried struggling sacks over their shoulders.

Twelve fireballs hovered over them. Secondary defence. The mare was taking no chances.

“What’s taking her so long?” she muttered.

Had she looked behind her, she might have noticed the crouching Twilight Sparkle atop one of the globes. That suited Twilight fine. The closer she got, the better her chances.

I hope this works, she thought. Opposite, Spike peeked round another leg and gave the OK-signal.

They all looked about. No one was approaching. Insultingly, the sun inched across the sky.

“Come on…” murmured Twilight.

“You getting impatient too?” said the mare suddenly. “I’m not stupid. I know you're there.”

Twilight sighed. So much for Plan A: Stealth.

When she stepped out, she reared up and raised both hooves in a gesture of surrender. “OK, you caught me. I’m not going to attack.”

“How did you find me?” The earth mare tilted her head. The hat’s brim flapped. The sunglasses slid slightly.

All non-laden Djinn about-turned at once. Four glares targeted Twilight. Twelve balls lined up before her. She didn’t move.

“I thought the Watch would’ve cleared this area for sweeps,” said the earth mare. “Of course, I've got my own ways in. And presumably you have yours too, eh? O great hero Twilight Sparkle?”

“Exactly,” said Twilight. “Midway between the Watch HQ and the alley. The most economical point between two vectors is the one that bisects the line connecting them. I guess it was a useful explosion in more ways than one.”

The mare reached into her trench coat. What emerged looked at first glance like a cherry made of papier-mâché.

“A useful bomb,” she said. “More specifically, a cherry bomb.”

“Hm. Not a Saddle Arabian invention. Smuggled from the eastern countries, I take it?”

“Of course. Handy in a corner, and besides, I’ve always liked mixing cultures. You know, it’s a shame we have to be against each other. I hear you’re quite a smart mare.”

She gestured with a hoof. As one, the Djinn aimed horns. The fireballs quivered with anticipation.

For a while, Twilight felt nothing but the heat of the sun, even under the shelter of the colossus. Plan B was riding on one very simple assumption that may nevertheless utterly collapse like paper in a bath.

The earth mare raised a hoof. Instantly, the fireballs stopped quivering.

“OK,” she said. “What’s the catch? You should be shooting off spells by now.”

“Catch?” said Twilight innocently. “The only one getting caught is me. I’m powerless against the Djinn that even All-Hazes struggled to contain. What possible catch could there be?”

“Where are your friends?” snapped the earth mare.

Twilight’s glance darted to the two struggling sacks. Their respective Djinn stared back with the utter unconcern of those saddled with risk-free chores.

“Hanging around?” said Twilight with a shrug.

Spike leaped.

Unfortunately, the two laden Djinn spotted him. Whip flames lashed at his arms and slammed him into the podium underfoot.

“Spike!” Twilight closed her eyes.

Under the teleportation spell, the world whooshed past. Opening her eyes, she saw the Djinn on the opposite globe, staring at or hovering around the spot she’d just vanished from.

The earth mare picked things up fast. She spun round. Sixteen shrieking fireballs burst from the Djinnestone, followed her gaze, and shot towards Twilight.

Just as Spike breathed over his cuff links.

Baby or not, a dragon was a dragon. On top of that, Spike’s particular brand of flame sparkled and danced with magic long since granted by a dozen Canterlot spells. Bits that didn’t melt off simply vanished along with the flames, which curled around and shot towards the distant rooftops.

He and Twilight leaped forwards. Neither had any real physical skill, but the Djinn hardly required any black-belt karate. Sparks blossomed and returned. Within a minute, sixteen fireballs hovered as though lost over the podium.

Lit from behind, Twilight and Spike cast their shadows over the earth mare. On either side, the laden Djinn took hasty steps backwards.

“Those Djinn are past their best-before date,” said Twilight, advancing slowly. “Not surprising: being crammed together in a hidden gemstone for over three thousand years can’t be good for you.”

“Now, see here –” The earth mare almost dropped the Djinnestone in her haste to skip out of range.

“I want to be merciful,” said Twilight. “Please understand. I can help you.”

The twelve hovering fireballs shot forwards. Twilight sighed. So much for Plan B: Reasoning.

Her horn flashed. So did the Djinnestone: out of existence.

At once, all fireballs vanished. Two sacks fell before Twilight’s spell caught them and eased them onto the podium. No Djinn remained.

Casual as Rainbow Dash, she stretched one leg across. Another flash, and the Djinnestone landed neatly in her expectant hoof.

Even behind her collar and sunglasses and brim, the earth mare’s gape was obvious. “No…”

“Ha!” said Spike. “That’s right. You don’t mess with the likes of us!”

“Control the ‘anchor’, and you control the Djinn. Now,” said Twilight while Spike clapped his clawed hands cheerfully. “I’ll ask again. Will you please come quietly? I genuinely don’t want to hurt you. I’ll see what I can do. I believe in second chances.”

“No…”

Twilight squirmed a little where she stood. Repeated denial in the face of the obvious wasn’t something she enjoyed dealing with. Opposite, the earth mare tore off her wide-brimmed hat, exposing the spiked mass that passed for a mane. She pulled down her collar, exposing the spasms torturing her lips. Finally, she swept aside the sunglasses, which cracked on the podium.

Embarrassment clutched Twilight’s heart. The earth mare’s eyes swam in misery.

“I didn’t ask for this.” Whining tones drained her of energy; she fell onto her knees. “I only wanted to do the job right. It’s not fair… It’s not fair…”

“It doesn’t have to be this way.” Twilight smiled down at her. “Some ponies make decisions that seem fine at the time, but only because they ignore what their conscience tells them.”

“I… I can’t…” The earth mare pressed a hoof deeply into her chest. Her collar hung slightly lower. “Do you… P-Please… I just… Can you help me!?”

“Yes. You don’t have to go down this dark path. If you’re willing, I can show you a better way. Sometimes, all it takes is a good friend to show you where to look –”

The earth mare pressed harder. Crackling yellow flared –

Twilight’s body exploded with nipping, slashing, spiking pain. Blue and gold blazed everywhere. Brief weightlessness freed her before the world slammed into her on all sides. Shaking bones and jerking muscles left her a little ball of consciousness, blank, helpless, tumbling.

She skidded to a stop. Glass-like tinkles died down nearby. Spike’s echoes called her name.

When her head stopped trying to shake her brain out, she focused on the distant podium. Lightning crackled around the earth mare’s chest before she lowered her hoof from it and hopped down to ground level.

“Lightning sceptre,” said the approaching earth mare, and in the depths of her coat the yellow glow faded. “Little something I stole from a temple once.”

“Mmmmuh…” Twilight forced her lungs and throat to move right. Her lips didn’t want to respond. Sparks crackled across her prone body.

Ahead by barely a leap, the earth mare picked up the Djinnestone. Scuff marks showed where it had bounced and tinkled. As soon as contact was made, fifteen fireballs flared into being.

Oh my. Come on, body. Get up! This is not what I had in mind.

The fireballs closed in.

Then paused.

Spike yelled as someone hit him. Twilight saw the little dragon as a purple dot tumbling across the plaza and bouncing towards the library’s columns. Each bounce got a yelp out of him.

Spike! No! “Mmmmoh…”

Rubbing her hoof on the podium was the unicorn thief. Another sack struggled over her shoulder.

Devoid of any kind of trench coat, hat, or sunglasses, the thief hopped down from the podium – sack bouncing on her shoulder – and strode over to them, calm as a shark fin gliding across the placid sea.

Grinning, the earth mare turned to face her. “You got out! I was beginning to worry my bomb hadn’t worked. Quick! Let’s grab her and go.”

“Soon enough.” The thief smirked at Twilight. “But first, that diversion. Want to keep them busy.”

I knew it, thought Twilight. She willed her limbs to move. More leftover sparks leaped from one to the other. She felt herself shaking against the tiles.

The thief frowned at the earth mare. “Three down. But still three to go. Where are they, anyway?”

“Beats me. Looks like the Djinn are weaker than we thought. We need to regroup. Let’s get out of here while we still can – OW!”

The thief’s horn glowed. In response, the Djinnestone zipped over to float beside her scowl. Fifteen fireballs vanished.

“Never send a novice to do a veteran’s job,” she muttered.

The earth mare gaped at her emptied hoof. “That hurt! Look, you’ve chipped the edge.”

Muffled shouts emerged from the sack. For a moment, Twilight stopped trying to force her body to move and listened. The harmonics sounded raspy. And spirited: the sack refused to shut up, and even through the muffling it ruptured the air with its sheer verbal violence.

Turning, the thief raised the Djinnestone high as an offering to the colossus.

“And if we’re going this far,” she said, “let’s splash out a bit, huh? I always liked good production values.”

“Took me ages to get the edge all shiny, and you’ve gone and chipped it. Thanks a bundle.”

The muffled shouts reached such a pitch it was a wonder the sack didn’t split open. In that moment, Twilight recognized the voice.

Rainbow Dash! No!

Across the plaza, the purple dot of Spike the Dragon rose unsteadily to its feet.

Come on, girls. Where are you? Twilight’s head trembled trying to rise a few inches. Her eyes strained in their sockets to look about. I need help! Now!

Pink and purple flared. She looked down the length of her own chest and stomach, past the gaping earth mare to the levitating blaze of the Djinnestone.

A dozen streaking fireballs spiralled outwards, and then another dozen spiralled after them. Blotches of fire obscured patches of the brass colossus, yet shrank as they neared it. The fireballs splashed on impact, and then seeped through the metal. Pink and purple and black stains faded away.

Metalwork groaned.

“Unlike you,” said the thief to the earth mare, “I think big. Colossal, in fact.”

Globes cracked underfoot. On the podium, the two abandoned sacks of Pinkie and Matilda squirmed under the raining debris.

A burning aurora flared into life around the statue’s outline. Pinks and purples and the occasional black streak fought each other in endless waves and eddies. Overhead, metal screeched when the head tilted downwards. Fire engulfed the cold smile on the gigantic face, twisting it into a grimace. Featureless eyes sparked; purple infernos glared, pink pupils contracted and enlarged experimentally, and when it opened its mouth and roared, the inside was pure flame.

Great Saddle yanked a leg out, then another. Globes cracked into two. Jagged-edged domes crashed onto the plaza as the giant carefully stepped off.

Twilight’s brain screamed, firstly at the vandalism and secondly for more conventional reasons. Her glare met the thief’s smirk.

How could you!? That statue was ancient. It’s survived so many wars, revolutions…

“That should keep ‘em busy,” said the thief. Her smirk widened. “And now, alas, I’m afraid the Bearer of the Element of Magic is just another heavy sack to lug around. Haha, how I’ve waited for this.”

Twilight’s struggles became frantic and as before utterly, utterly useless. Sparks still crackled along her body.

The thief sauntered over. Over her shoulder, Rainbow Dash struggled. Behind came the crashing footfalls of the statue taking its tentative first steps. The Djinnestone rotated gently where it hovered.

So much for Plan C: Backup. Come on, body! Please!

And then Rarity leaped into view with a “HIIIII-YAH!” Hoof smacked chin. Rainbow's sack thumped on the ground as the thief somersaulted under the force and landed with such a painful thud on her stomach that even Twilight winced.

“Owww!”

Djinnestone, bereft of magic, tinkled on the ground.

Scratch that: Plan C is a go! “MMrruh?”

“Sorry-for-the-delay-some-of-her-spirit-things-ambushed-us,” said Rarity in a rush. Beyond, Spike was a running figure closing in. Rarity’s glare forced the earth mare back; dressmaker she may be, but that painful thud wasn’t lost on the would-be attacker.

A crash of metal on tiles. Even Twilight felt her body jump off the ground for a moment. Surprisingly, the shock brought a bit of life back into her limbs. If her body was getting bothered by the unexpected lack of activity, the violent smack along her back was pushing it into panic territory.

The next step of the colossus was so heavy that Rarity, the earth mare, and Spike jumped inches off the ground. Twilight’s next smack loosened her forelimbs enough to flex them about.

“Darn it.” The earth mare spun around. Spike one way. She spun around again. Rarity the other. She turned towards Twilight, who sat up at last. Sparks of magic pushed out the last sparks of lightning.

The earth mare’s hoof reached for her trench coat –

“Don’t let her attack!” Twilight willed the energy back into her mouth, and this time it took. “Her lightning sceptre –”

The earth mare glowered. She slammed her hoof on the ground petulantly.

One cherry bomb rolled out of the sleeve and across to them. Its fuse fizzed.

The earth mare turned pale. “Uh oh.”

Twilight’s spine jolted her up to her neck. Momentum cracked further up to her horn. The last thing Twilight saw was the earth mare yelling and seizing the thief by the shoulders.

Then the world bloomed smoke. The blast tore chunks out of the ground.

Twilight’s shield spell shot out of her horn and rippled with the chunks crashing into it. Rarity yelped and cowered while debris harmlessly pattered over the swirling dome. Beyond was blackness.

“You OK!? Rarity!?” shouted Twilight over the din.

“Aheheheh!” was the reply. Rarity’s already-deteriorating curls were now a mass of spirals.

Another footfall crashed. The din vanished and they jumped up inches again. Smoke cleared, making way for the eclipsing bulk of brass and the one cracked hoof raising a hollow shoe over them.

The earth mare and the thief were gone. Rainbow Dash was gone. More to the point, so was the Djinnestone.

Twilight lowered the shield and focused on the teleportation spell. A flash later, the gigantic hoof stomped down, shattering tiles and scattering stones.

Between the empty podium and the library wall, Twilight and Rarity flashed back into existence. One brass head like a classroom turned. Across the plaza, one blazing eye aimed.

“Spike!” Twilight reached forwards. The blast had sent him flying back the way he’d come.

“‘m OK,” he mumbled, batting her hoof aside and pushing himself up. “Now what?”

“Where are those thieves?” Rarity’s mane whipped her neck while she looked about. “I’ll give them what-for! That priceless statue!”

Twilight’s heart roared its assent. The might of Great Saddle was just a bellowing, metal-screeching monstrosity. Flames burned with sickly colours. She curled her lip just looking at them.

And we can’t stop it. Without those thieves, we don’t have the “anchor”. Without the “anchor”, we can’t control it.

She checked the podium. Pinkie and Matilda were gone too. Fire burned in her chest. Those monsters will pay for this! For everything!

“Do something!” yelled Spike.

Brass crashed. Pillars ground under shifting colossal hooves. Flames opened the mouth of Great Saddle.

Twilight fired. She knew it was stupid. Djinn wouldn’t fall to spells at the best of times, one of the reasons the Watch were so competent. Her bolt of magic simply bounced off the brass breastplate. It was worse than armour; at least armour merely protected soft insides. This just protected more impenetrable metal.

A plume of fire streamed towards them. Instinct shot through Twilight’s horn. The shield bubbled around them –

The familiar blue fireball of Blue Shift shot out of nowhere and into the space between them. Great Saddle’s plume of fire engulfed it and then ran around and into it as though it were water down a drain. Rushing flames smothered the Djinni utterly with purple and pink hues.

“My word,” said Rarity.

“She’s absorbing the phlogiston!” said Twilight.

The plume finished. Blue Shift’s fireball turned blue again and then landed. Four hooves hit the plaza. Blonde foxtail whipped round. Pale face was calm and sharp as a resting sword.

“This is police business!” she yelled. “You have to evacuate immediately! Go!”

“You can’t win!” Twilight shouted back. “There are two dozen Djinn inside that thing!”

“The rules are there to protect you! I won’t ask again!”

Blue Shift leaped into the air and transformed again; her fireball shot towards the statue’s scowl. Pink blasts, purple flares, even snapping jaws that shrieked with the unnatural strain: Blue Shift dodged them all, weaving like a fly around an angry dragon. Even when the fire attacks struck, she might as well have phased through them.

Yet her own returning plumes and whips bounced off the brass. One ricocheted and hit a pillar, gouging a chunk out of it and sending it crashing onto the tiles.

Twilight didn’t move. There must be a way to beat it. Can we track down the “anchor”? But those two could be miles away by now. If only All-Hazes’ magic hadn’t been so powerful, I could’ve solved this easily…

“What do we do now?” said Rarity.

“I’m working on it. Plan D was contact the Watch as a secondary backup. I think that one’s taken care of itself. Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no! Where’s Fluttershy? Where's Applejack?”

Her heart sank. Suddenly, she wanted every friend visible, right in front of her. Safe. The mere memory of that thief edging towards her, Rainbow Dash's sack casually thrown over the shoulder, gripped her spine tightly.

“There she is!” Spike pointed.

Indeed, a yellow dot zipped into view. A very small dot: evidently, Fluttershy wasn’t keen on getting a close-up of a statue visible from several hundred feet.

A snap: Great Saddle’s jaw missed Blue Shift’s zigzagging fireball, but in that heart-shocking moment the head froze. The gaze aimed up at the yellow dot instead.

“Oh no…”

Twilight waved her hooves frantically, but the plume of fire shot like a geyser. The yellow dot dropped suddenly in a panicky dodge. Another plume burst up, trying to intercept her. Arches of flames ran over the city.

We can’t waste any more time! Every second we waste on that thing – My goodness, the city! That’s the idea! No distraction’s better than an existential threat!

That… That MONSTER!

Twilight galloped towards the statue, ignoring the yells from Rarity and Spike behind her. If there was the slightest chance she could stop it, end it here and now… Her own brain screamed at her to see sense, but then the colossal gaze ignored Fluttershy in favour of her, and all thought ceased.

She jinked away from the first attacking plume, which splashed across the tiles behind her, and aimed her horn. There had to be at least one spell that’d work on the statue.

Telekinetic magic flowed across the domes and the legs. Under its influence, the aurora of sickly colours shrank down and transformed to a sparkle.

That's it!

Then one leg rose irritably. The spell cracked and shattered. Sickly colours flowed back in. Another pillar toppled as the leg knocked it.

Twilight jumped up inches with the stamp. Right in front of her, a slope of brass showed her reflection. The statue had tried to stamp her into the tiles, but whether through carelessness or mistiming had aimed badly. She skidded and jinked around the obstruction.

She looked up in time to see the statue sprout a single, flaming obelisk of a horn. More metal screeched as its hoof-shoes scraped across the tiles, ploughing them up utterly. It assumed a familiar stance: a magic-caster’s.

The air blazed with the magical charge.

Desperate, Twilight fired a shot. To her non-surprise, it passed right through the horn and fizzled out.

One boulder of fire shot out. Its surface swirled and rippled. The boulder shrank to a dot, small as the yellow of Fluttershy still hovering between a desire to dive down and a desire to fly off to the nearest horizon and hide.

The boulder exploded. In its place, a saucer of flames spread out, tore apart, became a gigantic firework that must’ve shadowed the city.

Fireballs rained down.

Bombardment.

Already, Twilight staggered where she stood. Too many knocks, too many bumps, too much strain, and now the horror seeping into her every nerve and daring her, torturing her, forcing her to shut herself down. Give up. Give in. Don’t die.

Fluttershy’s dot weaved in and out of the fiery rain. Over this distance, her screams were shrill suggestions in the still air.

Twilight shook out everything. She’d have only a few seconds, but one last burst of rage pushed her on.

She fired shields into the air. As soon as they hit, clusters of fiery rain incinerated the shields, wiping themselves out with the fuel. More shields bubbled. More fires flashed and went out.

Blue Shift shot up, ricocheting from drop to drop. Blue blurs wiped patches out. Soon, she’d cleared most of the air over their heads. Across the city, more Djinn shot upwards like mirror images of the rain; even the most distant ones couldn’t ignore the sky. They rubbed more clusters out of existence.

Still, they couldn’t get them all.

Chunks blew away from the rich red clay. A stray fire hit the podium, splattering the nearby plaza with yet more fires. Rarity and Spike yelped and backed away from the splatter.

As Applejack came galloping past the podium, a third struck near her. Years of rodeo threw her legs into a leap. She weaved through the stray shots. Twilight’s next shield wiped the last one before it could hit, and then Applejack launched herself at the nearest colossal leg and kicked.

Fractures split across the surface. Gouts of purple spat through. Knocked back, the leg crashed into the side of the neighbouring one. Tinny screams of rage screwed up the air around them.

Of course, thought Twilight. Even though the Djinn are encased, the statue’s still a physical object. It has weaknesses. And all that straining must be damaging it.

Physical object…?

There must be something about the phlogiston too. What was it?

Twilight tried to remember what she’d read in the Guidebook. A common assumption was that phlogiston was magical fire. That was an obvious mistake to make – even now, Great Saddle fired more plumes into the air, trying to knock nearby Djinn away – but spirits were something else. Not creatures of magic. Creatures without bodies.

Creatures of the mind.

I know this theory. I know it…

Commanding all her brainpower, she scowled hard. She’d discussed this with Celestia before leaving for the port yesterday. A Saddle Arabian theory of being.

Another screech of metal broke her concentration. Applejack landed and galloped between its legs. Great Saddle raised a rear limb that rained chunks of brass onto the steps of the arena. Rage screeched. It aimed its horn upwards – the air blazed with the second magical charge –

Forget it. The statue’s not the enemy. It’s the fire. Phlogiston is still fire.

Blue Shift’s fireball blossomed; flapping flaming wings, the Watch Pony dived at the horn, smacking it so hard the metal beneath the base twanged. The head juddered briefly. Blazing magic dimmed again.

As the Watch Pony flew past, the distant bucket-shaped water tower caught Twilight’s eye.

Water?

Back in the Watch Headquarters, she remembered seeing Commander Zahir pour out a glass of water. Blue Shift had watched him the entire time, and not with her usual glare either. Her face had been alert, like a fox watching a hound running towards it.

Tiles smashed underfoot. Everyone jumped a few inches with the impact. Twilight took a deep breath.

She had no idea if it’d work. She had no proof. But she had no time.

Closing her eyes, she gritted her teeth and willed. Heat began to swell inside her head. She tried very, very hard not to think about it exploding.

Far ahead, wood cracked. She forced her senses past it, feeling their way inside, running over the tons of water sloshing within.

She risked a peek.

One river of blue swirled through the air and weaved in and out of the rooftops to cut a shadow across the temple roof nearby. It rushed towards the blazing eye, and Great Saddle leaned across and eclipsed the sun.

Its head tilted. One blazing stare fixed on Twilight. She was straining as it was to keep the water airborne. She could not move an inch.

Please work, she thought.

One colossal hoof rose up to stomp. Twilight could see the hollow shadow inside the teeth of the broken globe. Part of her weakly laughing mind wondered how far it could press down.

Applejack and Rarity leaped over at once. Two voices yelled: “HIII-YAH!”

Such was the force that the eclipsing body cruised backwards, revealing the sun again. Its raised hoof missed and hit its other leg. Twilight bounced inches as the creature stumbled to stay upright on legs not built for speedy recovery.

Her waters smothered its face. Screeches cut off at once. Twilight ran the still-streaming river over its neck, across its breastplate and down its legs and belly. Soon, a shimmering package loomed over her.

But fire can boil water…

Under the distorting veneer of mobile water, the aurora burned on. Bubbles fizzed across its surface. Twilight felt her nose burn through sheer effort –

Last plan.

The water crackled. Whiteness ran up its legs and shot across its torso to its neck and head.

A colossal ice sculpture blazed under the sunlight.

And then, as though Twilight had fallen through a door she’d fought to bash open with a battering ram, she toppled forwards. Out of seemingly nowhere, Spike’s claws caught her before she hit the ground, and eased her back up.

Fractures ground against each other with effort. Bits of ice shook and fell off as white dust. Under the whiteness, the aurora flickered… dimmed… shrank… and went out.

The colossus was still.

Twilight could hear nothing except her own breathing. Then, the yellow dot expanded. Fluttershy’s beating wings wafted a breeze over her face. She didn’t realize she was burning so much, but the cool breeze woke her up to the contrast. Hooves clopped over to her; Rarity and Applejack stared up.

“Did we win?” said Applejack.

Phasing through the ice, purple and pink and black motes drifted in an unseen current. Rarity and Applejack stiffened.

“Don't,” said Twilight. “That's just the spirits disintegrating.”

True to her word, the motes faded into nothing. Soon, the air was still again.

In defiance of the exhaustion hammering at her door, Twilight grinned. Adrenaline rushed into her legs. She actually leaped into the air.

“HAHA! Success!” Delirium crowded her mind. She bounced about them, barely registering their puzzled looks. “We did it! We stopped all twenty four! We stopped half of All-Hazes’ Djinn, the worst of the worst!”

“Er… Twilight?” said Spike.

“I mean, true, they were exhausted and weakened and the stunt with the statue didn’t really help them much, but we did it! Oh yeah, and we stopped a statue! We saved the city!”

“I’m not so sure we did,” said Fluttershy.

The unexpectedness of this remark pushed through Twilight’s crowded head and smacked her one. She stopped mid-jump. She landed. She followed Fluttershy’s gaze.

Overhead, the ice was one big spider’s web. Chunks cast themselves off. Shattered fragments smeared water among the one row of pillars near them. One chunk from its shoulder splashed them with glass-like gravel.

Then, the statue underneath groaned. Embarrassing as a shipwreck in a treacle pit, the whole thing sagged and leaned away and groaned until gravity met the nearest temple and the rich red clay broke underneath its weight. Tons of brass sagged. Clay bunched up beneath the statue's chest.

The groan stopped, as did the statue. Halfway through the preserved ancient temple, or at least halfway through what was left of it. The whole resembled a child that had fallen onto a sandcastle.

Whooshing noises drew up behind them and then went whoomph. After a suitably cold pause, Twilight turned around.

Blue Shift stood there, tapping her hoof against the ground.

Twilight coughed nervously. “Uh… I don’t suppose it’s helpful to point out we just saved the city?”

Blue Shift’s hoof-tapping continued unabated.

“Ahem… I suppose the trespassing, property damage, and general recklessness need to be accounted for?”

Blue Shift’s scowl could have laser-sliced the statue in half.

Twilight tried a weak smile. Under her own sweat, it evaporated fast.

She sighed. Already, exhaustion burst through the door with its cronies, demanding back taxes and peering behind the furniture. Argument found its legs pinned down to its sides by the no-nonsense grip of guilt.

“Now, hold on a minute –” said Applejack instantly.

“No. Let it go, Applejack.” Twilight offered up her hooves. “Is the Watch looking for those thieves?”

“Of course,” said Blue Shift, sprouting her horn. “Every officer in the Watch has their description. Those criminals will have a hard time leaving this city, I assure you.”

Cuffs clicked around Twilight’s legs. Rarity spluttered with rage.

“But they have our friends!” she wailed. “You ungrateful –”

“We should be looking for them right now!” Spike hopped from foot to foot as though afraid he’d burn one if it touched the ground too long. “Don’t shove us back into that jail! I hate it in there!”

“I agree,” said Fluttershy. “Though of course I don’t want to cause trouble.”

“Too late for that.” More whips cracked from Blue Shift’s horn. More cuffs clicked among them all. “This is going all the way to the top.”

“Good,” said Twilight. “We can do something with that.”

Blue Shift held her gaze for one second longer than was remotely comfortable. “Subversive,” she spat.

“But look!” insisted Applejack, struggling against the cuffs. “If we hadn’t broken in here to begin with – Ah mean, come on. Like you’d have done any better against all them Djinn things. You’d have been knocked around like an egg in a barrel-rollin’ contest!”

“Nevertheless, you are under arrest. Everyone must pay for their crimes. Anything else is a mockery of the system.”

Blue Shift gestured towards the corner, past the craters and the scorch marks and the toppled pillars. On cue, the last remaining pillar creaked and fell over with a crash.

“Move,” she said.

“Just go,” said Twilight; Applejack had made to rush forwards. “We can work this out. Trust me.”

All the same, she and Spike brought up the rear. Exchanging glances, they sighed. That they were getting arrested twice in one day was not even the most groan-worthy part of it. As they passed, bits of Great Saddle’s jagged feet broke off and thudded on the ground.

They passed the podium. The ghosts of struggling sacks haunted Twilight’s mind.

Rainbow Dash… Pinkie Pie… Matilda… Hang on. We’re coming. I promise you. I just hope we’re not too late.

Being the only one not having to hop in cuffs, Spike reached across and wiped under her eyes.

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