Twilight Sparkle & the World Eaters

by Jet Magnum

3. Someone Steps Up to the Plate

3. Someone Steps Up to the Plate

“Haaaah hahahahahaaa!”

The smell of sulfur and death hung heavy in the air, mingling together in an unholy combination that assaulted the nostrils and the psyche in equal measure. Tendrils of smoke still drifted from the ruined walls of the castle battlements, chunks of stone still glowing with heat where they lay scattered about the courtyards below. Beyond the castle walls, the ground itself lay barren and cracked, void of life and unwelcoming to the very idea of future growth.

Gig took it all in, basked in the atmosphere that stood as mute, stagnant testament to unlife. And he grinned.

“Rivers of blood…mountains of flesh! A glorious world of pain! Feeble meatbags, crushed like the insects that they are!” The floating shields that flanked his shoulders snapped outward, the claw-like prongs at their tips wriggling greedily as he opened his arms, as though to take it all into himself.

Off in the distance, standing against the red-orange sky, three great silhouettes lumbered slowly across the landscape, large as mountain peaks each in their own right. All three stood upright, bipedal like their master.

The one in the center was vaguely hourglass shaped, with four cross-like forms hovering in a semicircular pattern above its form, bobbing lazily as though in time with its breathing, had it a need to breathe.

The one to the left of it was a thing of sweeping curves, its body shaped like an overly elaborate robe or cloak, with its hem sweeping up into hook-like cusps at either side and two long, spindly arms curving down by its sides.

The final one, to the right, was the most similar in shape to its commander, its form that of a wingless upright dragon in jagged, pointy armor. Its most notable feature, however, was that its forearms were detached from its body, hovering at its sides with no apparent need for an upper arm, each surmounted by three long, curved claws.

“Looks like my lovely pets are enjoying themselves,” he mused aloud, smiling wickedly. “Let’s see…which useless relic do I find to be more of an eyesore?” His crimson eyes scanned the bleak, lifeless horizon, and finally lit upon something. He nodded. “Ah! That castle will do.”

The structure in question lay within the barren remains of a dead forest, surrounded on all sides by twisted dead trunks with leafless branches reaching to the skies around them. It was already in pretty sorry shape, but he had a feeling that if he finished the job, its former owners just might take notice.

“Alright, Feinne!” Gig snapped his fingers, as though the far-distant behemoth could actually hear such a tiny sound from so far away. “Do that voodoo that you do!”

From the middle, hourglass-shaped titan, a faint blue glow began to build up in the center, where its torso was narrowest. From where he stood, Gig couldn’t hear the hum, but he knew what was coming. He didn’t even need to shield his eyes as raw, destructive power streaked from the World Eater’s body, ripping into the crumbled castle with such calamitous force that all visibility was briefly reduced to a blinding white haze.

When the light cleared, all that remained of the castle was a shattered, lifeless ruin, only the sturdiest walls of one chamber and a single tower still standing. He threw back his head and roared with triumphant laughter.

“Shattered down to the very foundations!” His hands opened and spread, beckoning as he turned this way and that. “Well? C’mon, you little shits! Humans, griffons, dragons…hell, even ponies! Do none of you have the balls to face me?!” He waited a moment, and then another, and then with a dismissive shrug his left hand dropped while the right raked impatiently through his hair.

“Ah, well!” he laughed. “Then just put your heads between your legs and kiss your asses goodbye while I cut ya down, one-by-one! G’hahahahahahaaaa!”

That was when his crimson eyes spotted something against the burning crimson sky. Two tiny shapes, mere pinpricks against the red backdrop. But more than seeing, he could sense their power.

And he smiled. “Finally, someone steps up to the plate.” His hands opened and beckoned out toward the two flying shapes in the distance, one shining a soft white as it approached, the other a deep indigo. “This better be worth my time, numbnuts…”

******

Huh…a dream?

Lying somewhere in the comfortable haze between sleep and reality, Twilight’s thoughts were nonetheless completely aware as the nightmare lingered in her imagination, refusing to be banished.

Was that…the past? she asked him, already fearing the answer.

Oh…hey, kid. Gig didn’t seem sure whether to sound satisfied or chagrined. Saw that, huh?

You…you’re a monster! She shuddered.

No shit. Gig snorted remorselessly. You’re just figuring that out? You probably saw that because we’re joined. Man, that friggin’ sucks! Next time, don’t look.

That confused her. Why would he care if she saw his dreams of the past? He usually seemed downright proud of his accomplishments.

Regardless, cracking her eyes open revealed the early morning sun peeking wanly through her window. Time to get up…it was going to be a long train ride. Last time they’d ridden to Appleloosa it had been a two day trip even by train.

Groggily dragging herself out of her bed, the cold wooden floor under her hooves went a long way toward alerting her drowsy mind. Her slowly percolating thoughts only led back to more and more questions, and as she half-stumbled her way toward the vanity to start taming her bed-mane, she decided it was as good a time as any to get some answers.

Gig, were…were those the World Eaters? In your dream?

Heh heh. You got it, kid. In her mind’s eye she could see Gig’s sinister grin. Better check and make sure you didn’t wet the bed.

You’re disgusting. Twilight glared halfheartedly at her reflection as she magically manipulated her brush across her mussed mane. They’re huge, though. I’ve never seen anything so big, before. Where does something like that come from?

Who knows? She felt him shrug mentally—it was an odd sensation.

You mean you don’t even remember? she asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

Look, kid, I bet when you’re two thousand plus years old, you ain’t gonna remember every little unimportant detail of your life, he shot back, irritated. What’s it matter? They’re mine, they’re unstoppable, and they’re all at least a tenth as powerful as me. Ain’t you seen enough yet to know that giving up your body to me is the easy way outta this?

She ignored his transparent attempt. I just wish there were some record of them I could study. If I could just learn more about them, then maybe…

Maybe you’d know just how screwed you really are. Gig sneered. But hell, sure, I’ll throw ya a bone. Celestia may have been too spooked to keep any records about them—or if not her, whatever pony scribes survived at the time—but ponies weren’t the only little weaklings I stomped into the dirt. If any o’ them other races ain’t gone extinct yet, they might have some records.

Hey, that’s right! Twilight perked up a bit, excitement chasing the sleep from her eyes. Thanks, Gig. Pardon my saying so but I wasn’t exactly expecting you to be so helpful on the matter.

Don’t get the wrong idea, kid, Gig grunted. I only want to see your face when your little ‘friends’ go running for the hills after they find out what you’ve dragged ‘em into.

They’d never do that, she responded automatically, hardly even giving the notion a second thought. She was too busy trying to recall details of Gig’s dream. Hmm, let me see…dragons are definitely out, it’s almost impossible to even hold a conversation with one and I’m not sure they have a written language. Griffons, perhaps… That’s when she remembered a detail that puzzled her. Gig, what’s a human? She hadn’t given it much thought at the time, too overwhelmed by the sheer horrific atmosphere and the World Eater’s raw power.

Just another worthless bag of skin waiting to die, Gig tossed out offhandedly. Fragile, short-lived things. No inherent magic of their own, so they have to use staves or read spells out of books. They look kinda like me, I guess, but not half as awesome.

Now you’re starting to sound just like Rainbow Dash. Twilight smirked, deciding that her mane was as neat and level as she could get it and laying her brush down in precisely the spot and position she’d found it.

Yeah, well, I’ll give the colordump points for guts and attitude, he conceded, but she’s about as badass as a retarded puppy. And half as smart.

Hey, Rainbow Dash is not dumb! Twilight defended her friend, making her way over to her bed and using her magic to fluff her pillows and begin straightening the covers. She’s just…hasty, sometimes.

Oh yeah, she’s faster than the speed of thought, alright. Gig snorted with amusement. Her own.

Twilight gave an exasperated groan as her only response, to which Gig cackled in her mind. She filed the topic of studying the World Eaters away for future discussion. Gig would be no further help in a mood like that, and if she recalled correctly one of the World Eaters had been left buried close to what were now marked as griffon lands.

That was not going to be fun. The Griffon Empire were not on bad terms with Equestria, but their aggressive, militant bent was often at odds with the more laid-back pony lifestyle; the two seldom mingled well, and while griffon lands were not closed to trade or travel, their borders were closely patrolled. If they—if the Emperor—knew about the World Eater, getting close to it would be an unenviable task.

Twilight had no doubt that was exactly why her brother had not been brought into this. Shining Armor would have wanted to send an armed escort with her, surely, if not accompany her himself. That would have been fine within the borders of Equestria, but she had a suspicion it would not have been seen favorably by the griffons.

Speaking of unenviable tasks, Twilight found herself faced with yet another now: trying to wake up Spike before he was good and ready.

“C’mon, Spike,” she murmured, nudging him a little with her nose. “Time to get up. Big day, today.”

“Mwrg,” the little dragon articulated, grumbling softly and turning away from her, tugging his blankets closer to himself. “F-Five more minutes, Princess…”

Twilight’s eyes narrowed. She’d known this was going to be the most unpleasant part of the morning. Well, aside from dealing with Gig. Being a baby dragon, Spike needed his sleep, of course, and lots of it; it wasn’t uncommon for him to fall asleep in mid-task or even mid-conversation, when the hour crept past his bedtime. Being a baby dragon meant that waking him too harshly was hazardous for one’s health, and certain extreme measures had earned her a light coating of soot on her face in the past at best.

Hey, hey, I got one for ya! Gig’s malicious glee sounded a little too much like Spike or Rainbow Dash with a new prank in mind. How about you toss him in the squeaky yellow one’s bedroom window? Oh man, that’d be priceless!

Twilight gasped. I would never do something like that to poor Fluttershy! Or Spike!

And that’s why you’re no fun, kid, Gig sighed, disappointed.

Returning to the task at hand, Twilight laid a hoof gently on Spike’s tiny shoulder, shaking a little harder. “Spike, wake up. It’s morning, we have to go.”

“Hazzawuzzah…” Spike mumbled incoherently, flailing his little claws in her general direction. “Mnooo, Twilight, I dun wanna wear the pink bow…”

Twilight blinked, then sighed, rolling her eyes ceilingward. A haze of magenta light enveloped the sleeping dragon, blankets and all, and hoisted him up from his bed to curl up on her back. That whole part about ‘waking’ him could wait until the train was rolling.

From the endtable next to her bed, Twilight magicked another scroll, snapping it open and then lifting the quill that had been lying next to it. Extending her magical focus further, she lifted the lid off the ink well next to that, dipped it in, and took a deep breath.

“Saddlebags?” The saddlebags he’d packed and placed thoughtfully at the foot of her bed came next, lofted into place just behind where he lay, pale blue with a starburst clasp matching the image on her flank.

“Check!” The quill scratched a mark into the corresponding box.

“Reference materials?” One side was laden with several of the volumes she’d requested, though to her disappointment not all of them.

“…mostly check.” Another quill scratch. Admittedly, it was still packed so tight that its seams strained a little, but she still cringed at the missing texts.

“Blank parchment? Check! Quill and ink? Check! Spare quill and ink? Check! Trail mix? Check. Spare brush? Check. Spare toothbrush? Check. Coinpurse? Check."

There certainly wasn’t enough room for books in the other side, for that was where Spike had packed all her travel necessities, well aware that she’d want everything neat and organized and not have such things packed amongst her precious books. The World Eater map was in that side, however, curled into a neat roll fastened with a scroll clasp and poking out of the corner of the closed flap.

“Map? Check…” Tucked below that, against the inside of the saddlebag, she could see the red gem of her Element of Magic glinting in what little light reached it.

“Big Crown Thingy of Harmony? Check!” She certainly wasn’t going to wear the thing for the entire trip.

Much to her distaste, there was one item on the list that she very much did not want to bring along. Still, she was not going to ignore her Princess’s, her mentor’s instructions. She levitated the black sword from the table on which it lay, sliding it with care into the loop of her saddlebag, where the cold black metal rested against her side. She’d have to see about getting some form of harness for it made, perhaps in Appleloosa.

“Creepy black sword? Check.”

An obnoxiously loud snore drew her attention over her shoulder, where Spike stirred and hugged his blanket closer. At this, she smiled subtly. “Dragon…check.”

Her list satisfied, she rolled it back up and dropped it back onto the table, alongside the quill and inkwell.

Okay, okay, you’ve got everything, already! Gig could finally stand no more. Let’s get going.

I didn’t expect you to be in such a hurry to save Equestria, Twilight probed as she began making her way downstairs from the loft that housed her bedroom

The sooner we get underway, the sooner you realize how pathetically helpless you are, the sooner you give in and ask me for power, the sooner I start taking over your body for real, Gig spelled out for her impatiently. I mean, don’t get me wrong. You’ve got a lot of juice, and now that your power’s joined with mine you’re probably more than a match for whatever average trash you might have thought of as a threat before. But against my World Eaters? You still might as well be sneezing on ‘em.

You keep saying that, but you admitted Princess Celestia knows what she’s doing, Twilight countered. I’ll take my chances.

He didn’t retort to that. Taking what small victory she could, Twilight smiled and stepped toward her front door. Stopping there, she turned around and took a final, long look around the library, committing every detail to memory. There was no telling when she’d see all these familiar shelves again, proudly displaying the spines of her beloved books.

But she would see them again, she silently promised herself. No matter what happened, she and her friends would all come home safe. With that silent pronouncement in mind, Twilight turned back toward the door and opened it, setting forth toward the unknown.

******

The “unknown” met her at the train station.

To be more specific, Pinkie Pie met her, having somehow gone from enthusiastically bouncing (threatening to dislodge the contents of the silvery tray balanced precariously on her back) and waving her hoof from the midst of the small crowd of five at the platform to right up in Twilight’s face, during the space of a blink of her eyes.

Gah! Gig yelped, echoing her own sentiments. Holy crap, how does she do that?!

“Hi!” Pinkie chirped, beaming at her as though blissfully unaware of the gravity of their mission. “I brought snacks!” A pink hoof darted back to the surface of the tray and then forward again with a blur, and Twilight found herself forced to chew or choke. Her sense of taste, finely honed during her short time living in close proximity to both Pinkie and Applejack, happily identified chocolate éclair.

“Hey…that actually ain’t half bad,” Gig admitted as she chewed, surprised. “Hey, kid, eat another one!”

“Ooh, he likes it!” Pinkie clapped her hooves, pleased. How she managed to stay upright without her front hooves on the ground, the tray still balanced perfectly, was…well, what Twilight had long ago learned to think of in highly scientific terms as "Pinkie-ism". “Here, try this one!”

No sooner had Twilight swallowed the éclair than she found Pinkie’s hoof stuffing another treat into her mouth faster than her eye could follow it, replacing her attempt to speak with an “mmph!” This time it was a raspberry tart, the taste making it hard to maintain her level of irritation.

The fact that Gig could still talk while she chewed did much to stabilize it, though. “Hot damn, you are good for something! Alright, Pinkie, long as you keep the good food coming, I suppose you can tag along.”

“Oh, hey!” Pinkie Pie bounced in place again, yet somehow still managed not to dislodge anything from her pastry tray. “He knows my name already!” Her hooves seized Twilight’s head between them, yanking her close as Pinkie’s forehead pressed against hers, big blue eyes staring into her own as though they could actually see Gig. “You must be psychic!” Twilight blinked, and suddenly Pinkie was gone and her head released, leaving her wobbling a little in place.

Wait…the hell? That…that can’t seriously be her name…

Gig…meet Pinkie Pie. A deep, dark part of Twilight took an unhealthy amount of pleasure in the idea of someone else having to share in her vain attempts to understand the elusive Pinkius Pie-icus.

“Oh! Oh! Guess Applejack’s name next!” Somehow the exuberant party pony had ended up next to their orange friend, and was pointing a hoof excitedly at her. AJ just gave her a deadpan stare.

“Anyway, can we get a move on now?” Rainbow Dash finally spoke up, though she filched a donut from Pinkie’s snack tray. “Train’s waiting to leave. Funny thing, though, it doesn’t look like it’s admitting anypony else.”

Sure enough, though there were a number of cars trailing off down the track, more than they could see the end of from their platform, not a single face was visible from the windows and the rather stern-faced conductor pony (who bore a suspicious resemblance to one of Celestia’s pegasus guards, it should be noted) was steadfastly refusing entry to the few other ponies determined or deluded enough to be up and trying to travel the rails at such an hour.

Upon seeing their small group approach, however, he gave a curt nod and stepped aside, permitting them to climb up into the passenger car. They filed in one-by-one, Twilight somehow managing not to dislodge her slumbering cargo, and Pinkie inexplicably fitting her snack tray through the door without losing a single pastry.

Thankfully, the car was laid out more like a dining car or a suite than a passenger compartment, which meant there was a table with a fine, gold-bordered white cloth draped over it for Pinkie to deposit her load. The table was partially surrounded by plush semicircular seating, the cushions a rich maroon velvet bordered once again with gold trim.

Further toward the back of the car was a full set of equally plush benches lining either side, of the car and following the walls around the corner to the door that led to the next car. Filling the empty space in the center was a long, rectangular table, with small stacks of pillows to sit upon spaced evenly apart along its length. Lining the ceiling, just above the windows, were storage compartments of varnished wood, intricate abstract swirls and curlicues etched into their paneling.

“It’s almost like a conference room, or something…” Twilight noted as she took it all in.

“Or a party car!” Pinkie piped up.

“It is your conference car, Miss Sparkle,” a gruff voice sounded behind them, prompting Fluttershy to squeak and duck down behind Applejack. The group turned, facing the white pegasus in the conductor’s uniform as he slid the door closed behind him with a wing, barring entry to a disgruntled brown stallion with a curious hourglass-shaped Cutie Mark.

“Begging your pardon, darling?” Rarity asked him, her expression perplexed.

“Corporal Thunderhead, Ma’am,” he addressed her rigidly, snapping off a militant salute with one wing. “Twenty-third Aerial. I’m to be your escort. A full military detachment is, of course, out of the question for political purposes, and so I shall be serving as an incognito attaché. I’ll be overseeing the management of this train.”

“What…by yourself?” Rarity looked justifiably uncertain. “Are you quite sure, my good sir? I’m certain we could lend you a hoof here and there if you—”

“My field experience and training are quite diverse, Ma’am,” he interrupted her dispassionately. “And in addition, the train engine was crafted with numerous safety enchantments. You will find yourselves in more than capable hooves during this trip.”

“Military ponies now?” Gig barked a derisive laugh. “Oh, man. What’s he gonna do? Flap his wings at the big bad monsters until they go away? Or maybe ask them really, really nicely?”

“W-well, it’s always worth a try…” Fluttershy mumbled.

“That would be the infamous ‘Gig’, I presume,” Thunderhead glanced at Twilight, his metallic blue eyes narrowed slightly in a way that made her want to duck down under one of the tables. “I trust that he will make this an…eventful journey.”

“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, Private Pantywaist.” Gig’s voice was laden with deadly promise.

“So…escort?” Rainbow looked him over skeptically. He wasn’t a small pegasus, by any means, taller than the average male and half again as broad as any of them. Big Macintosh would have still dwarfed him, of course, but that was hardly a fair comparison. But he was still only one pegasus. “Did she forget about the whole…y’know, ‘we beat up like fifty Changelings and didn’t break a sweat’ thing?”

“I’m sure the Princess is quite well aware of your…prowess,” Thunderhead replied diplomatically. If her words had offended him, it didn’t show on his impassive white face. “However, as Miss Sparkle is technically part of the royal family, it is official protocol that when embarking on a mission that concerns national security she should be accompanied by a Royal Guard escort.”

“…oh, yeah, she kinda is, ain’t she?” Applejack blinked, as though the idea had just occurred to her, and she gave her friend a newly appraising look.

“Never really thought of it like that,” Dash added, smirking as she stepped up toward her purple friend. “How’s it feel to be a royal egghead, huh?” She nudged Twilight with an elbow. “Even get your own personal bodyguard!”

Twilight was too busy flushing brilliantly and trying to think of a spell that would let her sink into the train car’s floor.

Wait, what…you? Gig questioned her incredulously. Ha! Seriously?

Only by marriage! she hastened to correct. My brother kind of married Princess Celestia’s niece, so…

Thankfully, a loud snore from the nearly-forgotten bundle of blankets on her back drew attention away from her.

“Wait, so that’s what that was?” Craning her neck to peer over Twilight’s shoulder, Applejack chuckled. “Aww, lil’ feller’s cute when he ain’t runnin’ off his mouth.”

“Excuse me, Corporal,” Twilight gratefully accepted the distraction, “but my assistant is…a late sleeper. Is there someplace he can…?”

“If you’ll follow me, ladies, I will escort you each to your cars.” Thunderhead gave them another brisk salute, and then he trotted toward the door at the back of the compartment.

“Hey, did’ja hear that, Rarity?” Applejack nudged her shoulder with an elbow. “Yer own private car this time.”

Rarity didn’t even respond. Her eyes had lit up the moment Thunderhead uttered the words “your cars”, and she looked very much as if she were strongly considering the merits of pouncing upon the faux-conductor and kissing him ecstatically. AJ took that for all the answer she needed, and with a chuckle she followed as the group filed out of the conference car.

******

Twilight’s car was at the very back of the group, and by the time they’d reached it she was alone with Corporal Thunderhead, as with each car they passed the group had dwindled as its tenant stopped to settle herself in. Celestia had clearly put a great deal of thought and planning into this; each car was decorated to its owner’s tastes, and the Princess had proven today that she knew those rather well. There was enough room left for personal rearranging and touches to be done, as well, which had left each Element Bearer quite satisfied as they settled in.

Twilight’s, of course, was like a small library wing and study all in one, with twin bunks for her and Spike in the back of the compartment. It even had a writing desk, complete with quill and ink already provided and laying neatly upon its surface. This ride would be a far cry different from their last trip to Appleloosa.

Smiling, Twilight’s first step was trotting to the back and depositing Spike onto the smaller of the two beds, even as she listened to Corporal Thunderhead speaking. The dragon gave a smoky little snort, rolling over and sinking into the cushions with a contented little sigh.

“And if you require anything, just pull on the bell-cord by the door,” he was wrapping up, his face every bit as expressive as a rock. “This car may be furthest toward the back, but the Twenty-third Aerial are known for their excellent response times.”

“Actually, I was wondering about that,” Twilight admitted, levitating her saddlebags and the black sword off her back, hanging the former from a rack built into the wall beside her bed until she had time to find places for the books and compare them to what volumes had been stocked in the car. The latter she propped against the desk for lack of a better place at the moment. “I mean, not that I want to complain, really—no offense, Corporal, but a bodyguard is the last thing I’ve ever really wanted, and I don’t think I especially merit one more than my friends…but why is this car furthest from the engine out of ours?”

“Hah, ain’t it obvious?” Gig broke in before the Corporal could answer. “It’s in case you ever slip up and give me total control. That way they can separate the car from the rest and buy some time to run for it. Not like it’d save ‘em.”

“Oh, Gig…” Twilight rolled her eyes…but she couldn’t help but note the way Thunderhead shifted a bit on his hooves, looking as close to “uncomfortable” as she’d ever seen a Royal Guard. Or a conductor, for that matter.

“The Princess is well aware that you are a studious mare,” Thunderhead explained in a slow, measured tone. “That is also why Miss Fluttershy’s car is between yours and those of your other companions. In this way, you will be able to research as you need in peace.”

“…I see,” Twilight answered, her smile just a little unnerved. Still, she nodded her head gratefully. “Thank you, Sir. I’ll make good use of it.”

“I’ll see to getting the train moving, Miss Sparkle,” he continued with a brisk nod of his own. “Barring unexpected developments, we will be arriving at the Appleloosa station by midday tomorrow. Feel free to use the conference car as you will. You and your friends will be informed when lunch is served—the dining car is two cars back.” The Corporal backed out of the door, sliding it closed behind him, and she heard him trotting up the aisle that passed through the interconnected sleeper cars toward the engine.

With a sigh, Twilight turned and made her way toward the writing desk, whisking a sheaf of parchment out of her saddlebags and availing herself of the quill and ink on the desk.

The hell’re you doing, kid? Gig inquired, only half-interested.

I’m starting a journal so that I can log the progress of this mission for Princess Celestia, she explained. That way once we return I can present her with a full, detailed report.

Ponies. He rolled his eyes, giving Twilight another odd sensation to catalog. You’re always so goddamn optimistic. You’ll learn soon enough, soulmate.

Twilight didn’t dignify him with a reply, instead setting quill to parchment, reading aloud while she wrote as was her habit. “Dear Princess Celestia…”