Daring Do and the Hand of Doom

by Unwhole Hole

Chapter 63: Regrouping

Daring Do immediately spilled her oats. Except that it was not oats that came out, but more black fluid and pieces of living metal. Seeing it only caused her to continue to retch until her stomach retained some semblance of calm.

Above her, she saw Flock tear the dial from Rainbow Dash’s chest, shoving her back in the process.

“Hey!”

“You don’t need it in this phase!” snapped Flock. With one swift motion, he ejected the moonstone and replaced it. He then attached it to his own chest and took a long, deep breath. “Finally…”

Daring Do stood up. She was once again in the front entryway of Flock’s castle, or warehouse or whatever it was. Likewise, as her nausea from the teleport cleared, she felt her body regaining its youthful strength. She had forgotten just how terrible she truly felt in the real world.

They were not alone. Flock, it seemed, had ceased to care about much of anything at all. He had left no ponies behind, as he no longer had a reason to differentiate between sides.

White was present, as well as Sweetie Drops- -or what was left of her. So were Caballeron and his henchponies. Caballeron looked sickly and thin, and his mane had been largely shaved away. A barcode had been printed on his head, like the ones that all ponies bore in this reality. Rogue, who was likewise thin and pale, had a similar one, as did Withers, although Withers seemed grotesquely sole, with parts of his skin drawn outward by the presence of subdermal metal.

Few changes had been made in the other members of his party. The abandoned white Pegasus was almost identical, save for the fact that she had complete eyes and long, smooth hair instead of a Mohawk. The changeling and the zebra were likewise unaltered, save for the fact that the changeling rendered in white instead of black. The alicorns of this realm, apparently, were only interested in ponies.

“Oh wow,” said Argiopé, admiring herself. “I look just like Shining Armor’s illegitimate son!”

No one thought it was funny. The unnamed white Pegasus looked at White and gasped.

“S…sister…”

White smiled. “Hello sister.”

The older Pegasus hugged her. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry!”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” said White, sounding somewhat confused.

“Your eyes. Your eyes are so pretty!”

“So are yours.”

Caballeron tried to take a step. One of his limbs buckled, as the joint had been altered beyond its ability to function. He ignored it and instead faced Daring Do. She saw a strange look cross his face. It was a look he had not given to her since she was far younger. She supposed her body looked as good as it felt.

“What is the meaning of this? What have you done to us?”

There was a flutter of wings. Flock appeared inches from Caballeron’s face. He sneered viciously. “I should be asking what you just did to ME.” His head twisted toward Daring Do. “What BOTH of you just did to me!”

“We did nothing!” protested Caballeron.

“My point exactly!”

“We still have time,” said Daring Do, pushing them apart. Caballeron felt desperately bony. His body in this realm was very weak. “If we can get it back from the Questlords- -”

Flock shoved her away. “You don’t understand! The Hand has already been linked to a host! It’s too late! The Questlords are completely irrelevant!”

“What are you talking about?” demanded Rainbow Dash. “I have no idea what’s going on!”

“You just let them end Equestria,” snapped Flock. All to protect THEM.” He pointed at White and the changeling. White did not recoil, but the changeling did, at least before she could stop herself. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“No,” said Daring Do, curtly. “Because you haven’t been entirely honest with us, have you? You never once said what kind of artifact the Hand of Doom actually is. Or what it can do. Or what it was MEANT to do. What’s the matter? You didn’t think that was important information?”

Flock glared at her. “It wasn’t at the time.”

“Well it is now. What in Celestia’s name did we just allow to happen?”

Flock continued to glower, but then turned away. His voice grew more calm, but was still saturated with hatred. To whom it was directed, Daring Do was not sure.

“The Hand is not an artifact,” he said. “It is a piece of a living, sentient creature. A vandrare.”

“A what?”

Flock’s eyes narrowed. “A vandrare. They are interdimensional parasites. The Hand is literally one of their hands.”

“But, if it’s just a hand,” said Rainbow Dash, “then we should be okay?”

“Unless the Questlords elect to use its power,” sneered Caballeron. “Especially to pluck the wings off a goddess.”

“You don’t understand anything! Can you primitives really be that thick? What they use it for doesn’t matter, because it can’t be used! The Hand is a living creature! In its inactive state, it is largely harmless- -but once grafted to a host, it will reactivate. It will begin to regenerate.”

“Meaning it will grow the rest of its body back,” said Daring Do. “By consuming the pony it’s attached to.”

The eyes of the two white Pegasi widened. Rainbow Dash, though, almost shouted. “But that’s Absence!”

Flock nodded. “I now understand why the biology of the Questlord clones was so unique. They were designed to withstand containing the Hand. Or else she would already have been devoured by now. But it’s not good enough. It won’t hold forever. The infection has been slowed, but it will eventually overcome her.”

“But then we have to help her!”

“She can’t be helped,” said Flock. “Nor can we. Because once the vandrare consumes her completely, it will manifest.”

“And then what?” asked Argiopé.

“The infection will spread limitlessly, and they will feed.”

“On what?”

“On everything.”

“Can we stop it?” asked Daring Do.

“No. Whatever technology and magic it bears, it is far beyond even our slightest comprehension. Nothing we possess can stop it.”

“We need to get the Elements of Harmony,” said Rainbow Dash. “You need to get me to Ponyville. Right now.”

“To do what?” laughed Flock, without even a hint of humor. “To make friends with it? To teach it the value of love and harmony? Or maybe just to blast it to little tiny bits using your death-magic? No. It doesn’t work that way.”

“Yes it does! Well okay not the death part, but the rest!”

“It eats magic as easily as it eats matter. Is that really something you want to use Equestria’s most powerful magical force on?”

“No…but….well, it always worked before!”

“This isn’t before! Our only chance was for me to contain the Hand before it could be reactivated. But guess what? It’s active now. All of Equestria is lost. And it is all YOUR fault.”

Flock glared at them one last time, and then evaporated into a plume of crows. They cawed and s shrieked, and then flew upward into the belfries of his castle. The rest of the ponies were left alone and without him.

“What now?” asked Rainbow Dash.

“I’m going to talk to him,” said Daring Do, taking flight. “You and White stay here. Make sure Caballeron doesn’t try to steal anything.”

She found him in a room full of things. Endless things, things without names. A lifetime of things. They were trapped, tagged, and categorized in the walls, waiting silently even though they would never be free.

Some of the chambers had been repurposed. Daring Do realized that the rear of that particular hallway terminated in a vast cylindrical room, and that it had been converted into an aviary. Crows flew throughout, tending to nests and to chicks that would eventually become Flock, if they were not already.

“Flock!” she called as she entered. Many of the crows stopped what they were doing and looked at her. “I know you’re here. Come out.”

There was a rush of wings. Daring Do turned to see behind her. She saw him standing there, waiting. He was facing away from her.

“What do you want?”

Daring Do stared back for a long time. “It was all a lie, wasn’t it?”

Flock looked back at her, pretending not to understand.

“You’re Gxurab Al’Hrabnaz.”

Flock let out a long sigh. “Don’t try to pronounce it. Your vocal organs aren’t nearly advanced enough.”

“Tell me the truth.”

“Why?” Flock pivoted suddenly, so that he was facing her. Yet he did not appear angry. “What would it really affect? Would it make you feel better? To have deduced something that I never tried especially hard to hide? Congratulations, then. You’ve discovered something that makes no difference.”

“But it does!” Daring Do moved forward toward him. He did not retreat, which was disconcerting. Anger was rising in Daring Do’s voice. “You were using me too, just like they were! You weren’t trying to contain the Hand of Doom! You were trying to do exactly what they’re doing right now!”

“The difference being that I would have been successful.”

Daring Do was taken aback by his honesty. “You…you would have built a Necroforge? Even after everything you’ve told us, everything you’ve seen?”

Flock’s eyes met Daring Do’s. They looked almost pony-like. Never before had Daring Do believed that he had once been a pony so much as now. “If the Eternal King had asked it, yes. I would have.”

“You would have built it for Sombra,” she said, in disbelief.

“Yes,” said Flock, casually, as though it were obvious. “I am the last one. The last one who stayed loyal. All this?” He pointed farther down the hall, toward the artifacts. “All this was done in his name. To protect Equestria. To safeguard it for his return.”

“To supply him with weapons and power when he gets back, more like it.”

“That too. Yes.”

“You’re insane. Sombra was evil, a dark tyrant- -”

“Where you there?”

Daring Do once again stumbled on her words. “No. But it’s common knowledge.”

“I was there. I was Eight of Thirteen. Gxurab Al’Hrabnaz.” When he said it, the words came out vastly differently than Daring Do had interpreted it from her writings. He apparently did possess the vocal organs to pronounce it, and the sound made Daring Do shudder.

“So you’re saying he wasn’t evil, then?”

Flock looked at her for a long moment. “Sombra was a visionary. You have to understand that.”

“Yeah. And I’m pretty sure I know what his vision was.”

Flock sighed. He started walking, pacing. “The society that I am from,” he said, looking up at the birds caring for their young. Birds that were him. “It is ruled by a matriarchal hierarchy. And I had the profound misfortune of being born male. For the nobility, that might not have had meaning. But for me it meant everything.” He stopped and held out a hoof. A crow landed on it, and he stroked it gently. Then he looked back to Daring Do.

“I had a cutie mark in mathematical formulae. Do you know what occupation was assigned to me, Daring Do?”

“No.”

“To design and maintain drilling tips. Drills. To labor in the mines, doing the same work every day. But I dreamed of greatness. Of being permitted to explore new mysteries, to write new theories…” He released the crow, and it flew away. “So I exiled myself, only to find a society that rejected me. Hated me. Because of what I was. Because only a unicorn can purue knowlage and magical theory. Isn’t that right?” Daring Do did not answer. “But then I found the Crystal Empire. I found Sombra. And he offered me space, resources, and freedome to pursue my ideas. Even though I was a male, and even though I was not a unicorn.”

“You mean he gave you permission to do evil in his name.”

“I will not deny what I am, or what Sombra was, no. I committed acts that you would define as unspeakable. Sombra committed many as well. Perhaps that does make us evil. But I respected him. Admired him. He had the qualities of a perfect king: strength, power, intelligence, ambition…but also levelheadedness, the refusal to be swayed by moods or emotions, an almost clinical dedication to ruling with precision.

“And he chose the best to serve under them. I was friends with several of the others, and I was honored to be trusted so greatly by such a great stallion.”

“You know he’s dead. You have to know that. Rainbow Dash and her friends…they killed him.”

Flock lowered his head. “No,” she said. “I refuse to believe it.”

“Then how can you be so sure.”

Flock looked at her. His eyes seemed somber, almost longing. And full of regret.

“Because I was the one who created the spell that gave him immortality. That gave it to us both.”

“Sombra’s Bane,” whispered Daring Do.

Flock nodded solemnly. “Except that I wasn’t strong enough. His soul was of such a caliber, it could be bound to pure elemental shadow. Mine was small and weak, as I was in life and as I am now. But I needed to persist. To carry on, even after the Empire fell. To wait for his return.” He looked up at the aviary. “So I used my birds. I always loved them, Daring Do. Do you know why?”

“Because they’re black?”

“No. Because they’re free.”

Daring Do looked up at the birds.

“To tell you the truth?” she said after a long pause. “I don’t really care who you serve. You’re right, I never knew Sombra. I don’t think I would have liked him, but who knows.”

“You would not have.”

“My point is that we need to do something. I know why you came here. To hide where time doesn’t pass the same way. But that won’t work forever. If you want to have an Equestria for your king to come back to, we need to stop the Hand of Doom.”

“I already told you. That isn’t possible. There is no way to gain control of it.”

A thought occurred to Daring Do. One that was obvious but that she had always dismissed because she assumed that Flock had previously considered it. Knowing know what his true intentions were, she realized he might not have.

“We can’t control it,” she admitted, “but can we destroy it?”

Flock turned his head to look at her sharply, looking almost horrified. “Destroy an artifact? You don’t mean to imply- -”

“I know. I know what I just said. But just humor me. Is it even possible?”

Flock thought for a moment. “No. Not while the Hand is dormant. It’s virtually indestructible.”

“But it isn’t dormant anymore. It’s attached to a host.”

Flock frowned, thinking, performing calculations within his head and recalling many ancient texts. “You’re right. This isn’t a normal situation. Under ordinary circumstances infection happens quickly by design. But the Questlords have slowed it down.”

“Would it be vulnerable?”

“Yes. At least until the vandrare manifests in its entirety, it might be possible.”

“‘Might’ is good enough. But we don’t have much time. What would it take to do it?”

“No ordinary weapon would be able to damage it.” Flock paused. “But I know one that can.”

Flock and Daring Do entered the room together. The others had not left it, being either too weak or too afraid to leave the main hall. Rainbow Dash was sitting in one of the higher bays, specifically the one with the plants. She was watching Caballeron like a hawk with the exact same expression that he was looking at Flock’s artifacts with.

“Don’t bother,” said Flock. “You would never be able to leave this dimension with them anyway. And most of them would tear your fragile dirt-horse body apart on contact.”

Caballeron gasped. “How dare you!”

“Don’t care.” Flock turned to the zebra. “You. Striped donkey.”

The zebra almost cried out at the insult. “I should dig a trench and bury you in a furro!/ Can’t you see that I am clearly no burro?!”

“Great, he rhymes. You have the Spear of Extinction on your back. Give it to me.”

“You know of course/ that you will have to take it by force.”

“Fine.”

“Wait!” said Daring Do. She stepped in front of Flock. “You’re name’s Zel, right?”

“That is my name/ or at least the one to which I have laid claim.”

“You’re a shaman.”

Zel took a step back as though he had been struck. Not out of insult, but out of sheer surprise.

“You mean a rhyming charlatan living in a tree? /No, can’t you see that I’m a noble mercenary?”

“Blue eyes. Constant rhyming. The capacity to use spells. A sacred zebric spear. You at least had the basic training.”

“I don’t always rhyme,” he protested. Then, more quietly, “at least not all the time.”

“Please. We don’t need to take your spear. Just the Spear of Extinction.”

Zel’s eyes met hers, and he blushed slightly. Then he lifted the Spear and presented it to her.

“Don’t give that to her!” cried Caballeron. “After all the trouble I went through to get that- -”

“And after all the trouble I went through to help you so that it would eventually fall into her hooves,” added Flock.

Daring Do took the Spear.

“What is all this about?” asked the changeling. “What are you planning?”

“Flock believes that it might be possible to stop the vandrare. But only with this spear.”

Caballeron laughed. “Well, good luck with that. The Spear is dull. It couldn’t even cut through your ridiculous little shirt.”

“Dull?” Flock stared at him indignantly. “Are you that thick?”

“You are pretty thick,” noted Argiopé.

Flock took the Spear from Daring Do. “The Spear is Exmoori. It is gene-locked to its intended owner. To Commander Hurricane.”

“Well that’s not much of a help, is it?” growled Caballeron. “Seeing as Commander Hurricane was alive over a thousand years ago. I highly doubt she’s in any condition to wield a spear. Let alone to be alive.”

“She is not, no,” said Flock, inspecting the Spear. “But the Spear is not linked to her specifically. Only to a gene she carried.”

“And what gene would that be?” asked White.

Flock looked at her. “The Spear will only respond to a member of the bloodline of Pegasus.”

Rainbow Dash dropped from her perch overhead. “Wait,” she said. “Pegasus? As in, THE Pegasus? As in the first winged pony? As in the guy we’re all named after?”

“That would be the one.”

Caballeron snorted. “Then we’re still out of luck, aren’t we? It is a known historical fact that Commander Hurricane bore no children. Her personality was far too harsh and overbearing to find a proper husband.”

“You take that back- -”

“This is the same history,” continued Flock, ignoring Rainbow Dash, “that states that the Exmoori never existed, isn’t it? And yet we have empirical evidence that both ‘facts’ are false.”

“Meaning?” asked Daring Do, still unsure where this was going.

Flock smiled. “The bloodline of Pegasus is unique among bloodlines in that it never dilutes. It brings its members unusual strength, courage, and speed, and all similar characteristics of their semi-mythic forbearer. However, it also carries with it a distinct visual trait.”

“Which is?”

“Historical evidence suggests that like Commander Hurricane, Pegasus had a unique multicolored mane.”

The room fell silent, and all eyes slowly turned to Rainbow Dash.

“Wait,” she said. “Why are you all looking at me?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” moaned Daring Do.

Flock chuckled. “You weren’t lying when you said ‘mission-critical’ resources.”

“Wait,” said Rainbow Dash. “You’re saying I’M part of that bloodline?”

“No,” said Caballeron, rolling his eyes, “He’s saying he wants you to make us all cupcakes.”

“I dig cupcakes,” said Withers from the back. The unnamed Pegasus punched him in the arm.

“Here.” Flock threw the Spear to Rainbow Dash. Instinctively, Rainbow Dash caught it.

The Spear responded instantly. Something inside it hummed and clicked, and the blade- -or what had been taken for the blade- -split open, unfolding as the front end of the Spear changed conformation. Beneath it was a glowing tip made of a different material, one that glowed with pure white light and hummed with energy. Rainbow Dash, likewise, seemed to take on a glow. Her mane- -which suddenly seemed longer- -drifted up and away from her head.

“GAH!” she cried, throwing the Spear on the floor. It clattered down and immediately closed before sitting inactive. “What- -what was that?!”

“Proof. You are a direct descendant of Commander Hurricane, and in turn Pegasus himself. This spear was destined for your use. And you WILL need to use it.”

“But…but how?”

“More importantly,” said Sweetie Drops, pulling herself forward, much to the horror of everypony watching. “Will it work?”

Flock smiled, and he produced a book. It was large, and bound in an ancient black cover sewn from pieces of material that were subtly different in color.

“Do you know what this is?”

None answered, although Caballeron looked at the book warily. Daring Do also seemed displeased by its presence.

“This book is how I know about the vandrare. And how I know many other things. Here.” He passed the book to Daring Do. “Open it.”

Daring Do took the book, and as soon as it touched her she nearly recoiled in disgust. Nearly. She, like Caballeron, knew the material it was bound with, and knew that at one time the colors had been much brighter.

Still, she opened it. What she found she did not understand.

Flipping through, she found that each vellum page was the same. Every one of them- -and there seemed to be thousands- -contained a perfect black rectangle. Always black, always the same size, and always the same shape. They never varied in the slightest.

“What is this?” she asked. “Wait…” She reached into one of her pockets and removed the folder that contained her copy of the ancient rubbings of the Mighty Helm stone. They were no longer useful, but they contained something else. Something she had only remembered at the sight of those haunting rectangles.

She removed a vellum sheet with an identical image. It was more faded, and the page older, but she understood. She turned to a page in the book that had been torn out. The page she held matched the ragged edge where it had once been attached.

“What is this?” she whispered.

“It is called the Book of the Black Tower,” said Flock. “I have copies of many works here. Eibon. De Vermis Mysteriis, the Necronomicon, Discord’s personal joke book- -but this is the most unique and the most precious.”

“But there’s nothing written in it.”

“Isn’t there?”

Flock extended his hoof over the torn-out page. The dial in his chest clicked, and his hoof ignited with a complex circle of strange square symbols. The page seemed to shake, and silver text began to glow within the rectangle.

Then it erupted outward. Words poured out, rising as holographic images. Words written in every language imaginable, and many languages that were not. They poured upward, rising and spreading out, forming themselves into impossible patterns of organization until they nearly filled the room.

“These images are not simply drawings. They are words. Thousands upon thousands of layers of black ink, all written over itself. Millions of words per image, all assembled into a single black shape. It took me nearly one hundred years to create a spell that could extract them. And it has taken me nearly four hundred years to translate just a pittance of pages.”

“But…why? Where did this all come from?”

“The author is unknown. But from what I was able to translate, I understood at least why.” Flock allowed the words to collapse, and then pointed at the black shape on the page. “The pony who wrote this, if he even was a pony, witnessed the Monolith. And understood.”

“The Monolith?” Daring Do shivered. Somehow in some deep part of herself, she remembered that name.

Flock nodded. “The Monolith is what created the vandrares. It is the master that they serve. Their world was long-dead. They fled to the void but found nothing within it…save for the Monolith. They witnessed it, and were overwhelmed. Anything that they were was ruined and driven out of them, turning them to husks. Husks cursed with persistent sentience.”

“And this book explains what they are…and how to defeat them.”

“This book contains a great many things. No pony- -mortal or immortal- -was meant to witness a Monolith. The it destroyed whatever the vandrares once were, and they only partially understood. This tome contains descriptions, maps, and powerful spells.”

“Descriptions? Of what?”

“Of worlds where ponies cross the gulf of space by feeding on the blood of youth. Where chaos and destruction have built mad, impossible worlds. Of long ends and ancient deities. Of a great many things I wish I had not known about.”

“And why exactly am I holding it?”

“Because the spells inside are forbidden to me. I sacrificed my body and bound my soul forever to this world in the name of the Eternal King. Those spells can only be spoken by one who is still pure.”

Daring Do stared down at the book. She felt twenty years older. “By me?”

“No,” said Caballeron, stepping forward. “I am the superior linguist. I will read the spells.”

“No,” said Daring Do, quietly shaking her head. “You can’t.”

“You don’t trust me.”

“No, Pontracio. You’re trying to be kind. But you can’t do this. It’s my fault. I was the one who unlocked it. And I’m going to make it right.”

Caballeron sighed and his brow furrowed. “That sense of constant heroism and self-sacrifice. Do you have any idea how infuriating it is?”

“We’ll have to work together for this,” said Flock. “But I still need more. I have a plan, but I need outside help.”

“From whom?” asked White.

“I need a certain artifact. And an old friend.”
 

Comments

[KeePony]

Yep it went Lovecraftian.

[AppleTank]

Oh boy, here we go.