In the Hall of the Mountain Queen 1. In the Shadow of the Mountain
Only a fool left the safe haven of Equestria for the Lost Continent of Panthalassa.
That ancient land lay beyond the vast Sea of Arbor, riddled with the scars and ghosts of the titanic clash between the Eternal Sisters and the wicked spirits and nameless creatures, older than time and more evil than the blackest pit, who called it home. Battles waged and blood shed in the name of all living things—pony, diamond dog, cat, wyvern, deer, and yak alike—who wished only to live and prosper.
Many had made the journey, of course. Scholars in search of ancient history, opportunists and businessponies eager for the chance for trade and wealth, daring heroes sure of their strength and mettle, ready to take up the Sisters’ crusade against the chaos and turmoil which had ravaged the land since the stirrings of the Old Ones, the Dawn of Harmony, and the Loss of Harmony’s Light. So many had gone, seeking fame, fortune, and history.
So few returned. And yet, they still went. Lured by something intangible—whether greed, intrigue, or some terrible curse, none could quite say.
Save for the greatest fool of them all.
The one who went in search of treasure long lost to pony kind, sure of her prowess and skill. After all, there were none like her in this world or that beyond the veil of death. There was no creature so cunning, so wily as she.
All she needed, after all, was to complete that one last task, then she could retire and be free of all her crimes.
Princesses weren’t supposed to moonlight as thieves, but as far as Twilight Sparkle was concerned, she was more of a liberator. A liberator of stolen properties.
It didn’t matter how long ago they’d been stolen or why, or whether it was part of some spoils of an age-old conflict. If it had been stolen, she was the mare to get it back. And get it back she would, regardless of what far off, exotic land she had to travel to find it.
But as she sat out on an open balcony in a dingy old bar in the middle of Sterling, sipping tea that tasted like it had been filtered with dirt and sweetened with sawdust, Twilight was starting to heavily reconsider her sales pitch. And, well, the fact that she came clean with her fellow princesses about her late night hobbies in the first place.
It was a rare sunny day in this part of Zestógis, the poor, sprawling nation situated on Panthalassa’s eastern coastline with a great mountain serving as its border to the west. Here one was more likely to see storms rolling in from the distant coastline, right up the river until they reached Lake Rover. A glimpse of Luna’s lovely stars, just one constellation at night, was enough to make her long for home. For the scent of Canterlot, the taste of Pony Joe’s doughnuts, and the warmth of her teachers’ embraces.
Twilight heaved a heavy sigh and let her tail flick. “Wouldn’t be in this mess if I’d kept my mouth shut.”
Why hadn’t she just said she was a dancer in one of those naughty clubs? At least Cadence wouldn’t have been so scandalized. Shining, maybe, but he still couldn’t even fathom his baby sister knowing what sex meant.
At very least she could’ve avoided taking this job on top of her own and that friendship quest business, or at least not such dangerous ones as this. What in the name of sanity had Celestia been thinking?
“Probably got the idea from Sunset, that damned nag,” Twilight groused as she let her eyes flit toward the door leading back inside, watching as if she expected it to explode outward at any moment.
In fact, she did. There were no small number of enemies back home. Plenty of rulers, warlords, self-styled “collectors”, and criminals furious that they’d been bilked out of their ill-gotten gains by a puny, bookish mare, of all things. The Lost Continent should have given her a clean slate. Not necessarily a safe place to work—heavens no, who would even think such a thing?—but at least she wouldn’t have that crowd breathing down her neck again. Especially that changeling.
A shiver ran down her spine at that memory. By Celestia, she needed to stop thinking about that one.
But Twilight couldn’t. After all, it was just another example of how her little talent for getting into trouble hadn’t left her, even on the journey to Panthalassa. Nor her talent for picking up enemies.
Her left ear twitched. She could hear steady steps, thud-thud-thudding against those creaking old steps through the battered wooden door. She readied the perfect spell to deal with whomever came through if they proved to be one of her new “friends”. With her luck, she could hazard a guess or two which.
And why they’d come calling.
Instead, the door shunted open with a rattle and creak of rusted hinges. A diamond dog stood hunched over, a tattered gray cloak sitting upon his misshapen form as he shuffled out into the sunlight and held up a paw to shield his amber eyes. The gold tag with the emblem of a lonely mountain hanging from the collar around his neck glinted and shone in the sunlight. Their goal.
Twilight let out a relieved sigh and set down her teacup. Her spell fizzled out in a shower of sparks. “Rex, we’ve really got to talk about your entrances or one of these days I’m going to put you through a wall!” she said with a laugh.
Rex returned her little joke with a crooked, and very forced, smile. Partners though they were for the time being, the self-proclaimed princess of thieves knew her talent for getting under ponies’ skin didn’t exempt Rex or his kin.
A few had even grumbled so. Right before the pair slipped away into the Silent Moor.
His red-brown tail flicking, Rex reached up to scratch his chin. “The pack’s closing in on Sterling,” he said in his gruff tone. “Told you that fire wouldn’t hold them off for long.”
Always so blunt and to the point.
And such a melancholy fellow, as well. Then again, given the rough hoof fate had dealt his pack and kin overall, that was to be expected.
Yes, fate. Not at all the very beast Twilight might come face to face with on this little escapade.
Her mood came crashing down faster than a rookie Wonderbolt cadet. Twilight let her gaze fall to her tea, or whatever was passing as its facsimile. “We both knew that fire wasn’t meant to do anything more than give us a chance to slip away and maybe get them lost in the Endless Fog,” she whispered. “And maybe put Clifford the Wondermutt out of action for a while.”
“You should have listened then, thief princess,” he scoffed. “Clifford will be leading the first hunting parties—if they’ve even split off. They’ll be baying for our blood.”
Baying. Always baying.
The so-called “True King” and his pack had certainly been baying for someone’s blood as they sang those old songs and recited haunting rhymes about that forlorn kingdom they’d lost so long ago. Though, how one could bay at something when they whimpered in feared in the same breath, Twilight wasn’t quite sure.
With a sigh and a moment to steel herself, she drained the rest of her alleged tea and set it down, then rose and began to fasten her pouches and wrap her cloak around her shoulders. Twilight glanced out across the vast Smoldering Fields, forever scarred and left little more than barren rocks and dirt with a single lonely river by the searing heat of dragon’s fire.
The hottest such fire since the days the Old Ones still walked the earth.
And in the distance, standing tall and dark as if to remind any who might dare think themselves able enough to venture forth and steal the riches of the mighty ruler slumbering within, the Solitary Mountain.
Erebark.
Smiling, she nodded to the diamond dog and said, “Well, let’s see how much truth there is to this Song of Rover your pack was going on about.”
If there was none, well …
Twilight would just have to figure out another way into the Solitary Mountain. After all, Princess Celestia insisted she keep that appointment with its Queen.
And she’d already disappointed her teachers enough for one lifetime.
The Smoldering Fields, as Twilight realized during their crossing, weren’t named so out of some old diamond dogs’ sense of mourning for their fallen kingdom and lost seat of power.
The princess of thieves reached up to wipe a bead of sweat from her brow. For the first time since her jaunt into Saddle Arabia, Twilight found herself cursing her insistence on wearing her cloak. A place to hide her weapons and wares, she’d told herself the first time she’d put it on. What’s more, it had served well enough to hide her wings and cutie mark in the past.
Unfortunately, that hadn’t been the same in Panthalassa. Too much time spent running or flying from danger, or fighting for her life despite her distaste for violence, tended to have that effect.
Frankly, it was a darn good thing no stable line of communication between Equestria and any Panthalassan nation existed, or word might get back to a few old marks with both the temper and means to vent it upon her homeland.
Still, though, the cloak and bags were a killer. Though Erebark’s fall had been centuries prior, the land around the Solitary Mountain had yet to recover from the she-dragon’s fiery breath. Any plants which managed to grow through the dusty, dry dirt were thin and wispy. At most, they came up to her shin—not exactly the best for providing any semblance of shade from the sun’s unyielding glare.
That even the dirt smoldered and seemed to reflect the heat right back up turned Twilight’s cloak into a portable sauna.
About halfway across the Smoldering Fields, she let loose a string of curses and all but ripped the blasted thing off her shoulders and unceremoniously stuffed it into her bottomless pouch. And promptly told Rex to stick his in his bag when he looked as though he might like to ask if she minded taking his as well.
Rude? Perhaps. But Twilight knew a bit too much about where his had been and how long ago he’d admittedly had fleas.
By the time they reached that lonely river, Twilight was almost ready to take a running leap into the shimmering, cool water like a foal rather than the young mare she was. She could not, however, resist dipping her hooves in the shallows and plunging her face right in for a deep drink.
“Celestia’s pinions, this job sucks!” she growled in between laps of sweet, sweet water. Then, almost as an afterthought, she drew back and glared at the river, then sighed. “When you said this place was hot, I didn’t think it’d be like its own mini-desert!”
Rex, too, had dropped on all fours and begun scooping water into his waiting mouth without restraint. “Dragon fire scarred the land and burned deep,” he explained. “Our fathers and grandfathers and their fathers and grandfathers before have come here countless times since she took Erebark, looking to see if they might be able to retake it for their own. Each such attempt has failed, and each has brought back tales of this land’s state.” With a snort and shake of his head, he added, “It’s fortunate we’re not here in midsummer, or the heat would be unbearable.”
A small comfort, perhaps. If anything on this job could be, she thought.
“So,” she began, wiping the back of her hoof across her mouth. “The song mentioned a light shining down upon the entrance way?”
Her partner nodded. “Only on Rover’s Day, when the sun’s last light shines upon the land through the sentinel towers of Remus and Romulus, thief princess.” Rex cast a fervent glance skyward, frowning, and began to rise. Droplets of water cascaded from either side of his jowls as he leveled his gaze at the mountain ahead. “We need to move quickly. If we’re not on the westernmost side of the mountain, we won’t have a chance to find it.”
Not for another year, of course. That hardly needed saying. Nor did a rather understood “if we can evade Clifford and the hunting parties.”
How very delightful.
A glance skyward didn’t exactly help her mood. Midday had already long passed them by. They needed to cross the last leg of the fields and make it to the complete opposite side of the mountain in six hours. Not to mention actually being in the right spot while it was lit.
“Then let’s get moving,” Twilight replied. She unfurled her wings, ready to take off, and cast a cheeky smirk back over her shoulder. “I suppose you’ll be asking for a lift?”
His ears perked up. Twilight could almost read “I don’t have to swim, thank heavens” right off his face—or whatever diamond dogs swore to.
That relief vanished the instant her horn flashed and a tendril of bubbling raspberry glow wove its way around his waist and jerked him into the air as she kicked off and took flight.
His frantic yips and cursing carried over even the rush of wind, and drew a bright grin and bubbling laugh from within her breast.
After a lengthy flight over the Smoldering Fields and a few more minutes of cursing and promises of pain if Twilight should ever think to cast magic upon Rex so unceremoniously again, the pair of thieves began their lengthy search for a good spot to observe the sun’s dying light revealing the secret path into Erebark’s halls. Of course, there was just one problem. One which, honestly, nearly saw Twilight lose her considerable self-control.
“What the hay do you mean you have no idea where the sentinel towers are?” she asked, goggling at the diamond dog.
Rex shrugged. “It has been over four centuries since any diamond dog was able to set paw upon the slopes of the Solitary Mountain, let alone enter Erebark, thief princess,” he replied. “There were many sentinel towers on this side, to protect from the northern cat armies.”
Twilight squeezed her eyes shut. This time, it was she grumbling curses under her breath for a moment before she managed to draw in a deep, calming breath. “Are there any defining features or markings?” she ground out through gritted teeth, the slightest hope that fate wasn’t completely screwing with her on this endeavor.
“The sentinel tower of Remus was marked with the crescent moon, but Romulus was unmarked to ensure the cats could not locate it and use the passage in the event they ever learned of it from prisoners.”
Sensible, given what Twilight knew of their history. But at present, she could only huff an impotent snort through her nose and kick a stray pebble from its resting place atop the rock formation on which they stood, down to join its larger brethren below. She let out a frustrated sigh and let her gaze wander to survey the area.
The sentinel towers weren’t constructed out of marble, brick, or even some sort of sandstone like Canterlot and so many other capital cities she’d visited in her time. Why waste extra materials like that when the mountain and surrounding terrain provided everything they needed?
To call them “towers”, honestly, was a bit of a misnomer. In reality, the towers were more like bunkers built into the high rising plateaus overlooking the western side of the Smoldering Fields and the rocky terrain—some dropping so steep they were nearly ninety degrees straight down.
Due to the random nature of the terrain, there was no real line of towers protecting the side of the mountain. It was all staggered, leaving a few low bunkers at the frontlines with higher raised locations looking down upon them. Not a bad setup, strategically speaking, if a bit unconventional.
But for the sake of using them as landmarks, it was an absolute pain in the flank!
“Which is the Remus tower?” Twilight asked evenly. “You said it was marked?”
“With a crescent moon, yes.” He bobbed his head, idly scratching his chin once more. “Though, it was said to be more prominent on all sides, since it was the greatest and strongest of all. And tallest.”
Typical of old world empires. How nice to know that some things were still constant. “Perhaps rain eroded some of the western facing side,” Twilight offered. “I’d imagine it would be tallest and nearest the entrance?”
“It’s a possibility. Though, if that were the case, the cats would’ve known it immediately, thief princess.”
“Fair. Then we’ll need to evaluate which are the tallest and go from there. Is there anything you might know from your songs or stories that might hint as to where the Romulus tower might have stood in relation?”
Rex furrowed his brows and gave a low hum which tapered off to a musical note. “The sibling towers, mighty and proud,” he murmured. “Rise to stand against Catalan shroud. As Romulus stands ‘till day’s last breath, with the moon, Remus stands to the very death.”
Her mouth set in a thin line. Not all that helpful at first glance.
What was it even supposed to mean? Could one of the sides have a rising sun etched upon it? Or perhaps, a setting sun, given rhyme.
The princess of thieves shook her head. One thing at a time. Just like the other jobs, getting ahead of yourself doesn’t lead to a big score, just big trouble. Unfurling her wings once more, Twilight turned to face the northern cluster. “It’ll probably go quicker if we both check for candidates. You take the south side, we’ll meet up in the middle closer to the mountain itself and see if we can narrow it down.”
“Would be faster if you take the ones further outward, thief princess,” Rex noted. “You cover more ground in the sky than I can on paw.”
She nodded once. It served to disguise the little grimace she wore at having her logic successfully critiqued by a diamond dog.
If word ever gets back to Canterlot, that nag will never let me hear the end of it.
Twilight kicked off her perch and pumped her powerful wings once, drawing a flurry of curses at the cloud of dust and rock her departure kicked up.
Maybe dealing with Sunset would be preferable to whining diamond dogs.
Twilight soared almost lazily, banking wide around a rather large, egg-shaped boulder as she crossed two candidates off her mental list. Too small and too far from the base, she told herself. If Remus is the greatest tower of them all and meant to look down upon the rest and protect the secret entranceway, it’ll be a lot closer.
She had a few candidates, but something just didn’t quite feel right. They just weren’t … grand enough.
Closer inspection didn’t show any sign of crescent moon markings, though she did get a rather nice look at a few towers that had been taken down either by the elements, a long-forgotten battle with the Catalan cats, or, quite possibly, a swipe of a massive dragon’s tail.
Again, Twilight scolded herself. One problem at a time, that’s what Celestia and Luna drilled into her head all those years.
If only they knew how she applied it to her little hobby—then again, they had probably figured that one out on their own.
A glance across the land brought a frown to her face. The sun had long since begun its slow, tortuous crawl toward the horizon, ready for its rest after a long day bringing light to the land. If only she could send word to Celestia to give her a few extra hours.
Alas, that was quite impossible.
At most, she had a few minutes.
In a few minutes if she didn’t find that damned tower, any chance of getting her slate cleaned would die with the setting sun. How very poetic.
It was then she saw it.
There, near the very base of the tower, in some nondescript little corner, was the image of a crescent moon barely the size of her forehoof. By Celestia, no wonder the cats hadn’t found it—the damned thing was in such a spot they’d have to get behind the tower and wander around with a torch in the dark trying to find it, all the while evading arrows, boulders, spears, and whatever else the diamond dogs might drop on their heads.
Clever.
And just in the knick of time.
Pumping her wings, Twilight shot toward the diamond dog sprinting for the base. “Rex!” she cried over the rushing winds as she hit the ground in a run, and very nearly knocked him straight off his paws. “I’ve found Remus, please tell me you’ve got an idea for Romulus!”
“Need Remus to find Romulus!” he snapped back. “Which—no, don’t you—not again!”
His pleas that his dignity be kept intact held no sway. The blasted pillar would be found if Twilight had to take drastic measures—by Celestia, she’d take the laws of magic, set them aflame, and use the energies to jumpstart a time dilation spell if need be!
Passing by a series of groove-like scars cut into the backside of the tower, Twilight had the grace to set Rex down on the rocky ground gently, despite a renewed bout of cursing and questioning her parentage. As she touched down, Twilight jabbed a hoof at the little crescent moon mark and said, “There, see! I found the stupid moon!”
“Do not,” he growled, “call my heritage stupid, thief princess. You walk upon ground which—”
“Was once some great empire that got torched by a dragon, yes, yes, can you wait until later to complain?” Her tail lashing, Twilight gave an anxious little groan and pranced on the tips of her hooves. Time, time, time! There just wasn’t enough of it! “We need to figure this out yesterday, or we’re going to need to find somewhere to hide for the next lifetime! Romulus stands ‘till the sun’s last breath and Remus to the very death—what would that mean?”
Rex’s ears splayed. Those amber eyes flitted between her, the Remus tower, and the horizon. Were it not for his cloak, Twilight would’ve thought he might be tucking in his tail.
He knew it just as well as she did.
Fat lot of help it brought.
“Something that makes them brothers,” he babbled. “A matching marking on the other towers! There are three near! If I just …” Without another word, he dashed off to one of the nearby towers, frantically darting around the base in search of a matching mark. Finding nothing, he hurried off to the next.
Well, there was the panicky attempt. Twilight took a deep breath and tried to think, fighting off the tide of her own anxieties. Now wasn’t the time to run around like an idiot—especially with the role filled so wonderfully. No, this was the time for observation and logic.
As much there could be within four minutes, tops.
Twilight took a few steps back, both in the literal and figurative sense. She needed to get a good lay of the land anyway if she were going to figure this out. “A little carving in the side would tell the diamond dogs where to find Remus—the moon itself is just the first part of the hint. There’s got to be something else.”
Romulus stood until the sun’s last breath.
Sunset. For once, not the nag who’d been in Twilight’s ear for years even prior to the revelation of her nightly activities, but the actual thing. It was a classic trope of poetry and older writing to refer to sunset or dusk as the last breath or death of daytime, preceding the birth of a new night.
West, then. The tower would have to be one of those nearest the Remus tower, but just farther west.
Glancing to her left and right, Twilight marked a cluster of two towers on either side off her mental list and took another step back. She needed to see farther still. She needed to survey every detail of the Remus tower, starting from the nondescript crescent moon of the base and working her way up along the eastern face.
Every crack, every groove cut in the stone was inspected by her watchful eye. From the smallest, spiderwebbing out from where some old impact had hit, to a pair of rather odd odd, sweeping gashes that seemed to begin from a spot no more than a pony’s length from the top, stretching out and downward as if arcing toward the center on the other side. But instead, they stopped just short and swept low to end near the base.
Curious, Twilight tilted her head and squinted. The lines themselves weren’t natural. They were too neat, too evenly cut. Even the gap between them was just too uniform—starting narrow, then widening as it neared the apex of its arc, then returning to original form again.
Her ears twitched. Those weren’t just gashes in the stone at all.
It was an unfinished carving of the crescent moon. All it was missing were the edges.
Twilight reached out with her magic and snatched Rex in mid-sprint, just as he was about to come bowling her over in his panic. A quick spell silenced whatever flurry of curses at fortune and her for daring to grab him again, and slowly gestured toward the markings.
“Look,” she commanded softly. “All this time, the Remus tower had a little moon carved in the base to get attention, then those for whoever might know how to look.”
Rex stopped his impotent cursing and froze in mid air. He followed her hoof, his jaw dropping as he noticed and began to babble something unheard. Then, he realized that she’d cast a second spell and fixed her with a glare.
“Right, hang on.” With a roll of her eyes, Twilight canceled her muting spell. “I only did it so you wouldn’t spend so long screaming this time. On topic. Looks like the crescent moon, agreed?”
“Yes, yes, yes!” He tapped his paw impatiently upon the stone. Rex let out a high-pitched whine that reminded Twilight of those domesticated dogs ponies kept as pets back home, though only for an instant. “The sun sets, though! If we don’t figure out where Romulus is …”
Panicking, still. Well, perhaps Twilight couldn’t entirely fault him for it this time. After all, this was his heritage.
Fortunately, her mind had been working out the problem as soon as Twilight noticed how neatly those carvings had been made. “Whoever carved this into the tower knew what they were doing,” she said. “As even and smooth as those cuts are, I’d wager they were an artisan of sorts. They had a specific tool for a job like this.”
“That would be sensible, thief princess, but what are you getting at?”
It should’ve been criminal to return his panic with as wide and confident a grin as she did. “It means I can do this.”
Her horn flashed a brilliant raspberry glow and tendrils of magic shot out toward the Remus tower and those spread out toward the western horizon. As her spell touched the carvings, the outline of the crescent moon shone a brilliant white, as did its smaller sister at the base. A little trick known as the Age of Iron, which Twilight had picked up on one of her jaunts to Saddle Arabia a few years back.
The perfect spell to find any cut made with the same tool during a similar time period. Naturally, this made it the spell every archaeologist’s best friend.
And an occasional ally of any thief after a score that might involve a bit of tomb raiding.
Curiously enough, her spell highlighted another marking she hadn’t noticed—a triangular shape that actually cut into the widest part of the crescent moon shape. And with it, a small groove cut into the very side of the tower and running along the southern side as if pointing to the west. Out toward the other towers.
Upon each tower, similar markings. Arcs and triangle patterns upon each, a few steps back revealing the image of the sun entwined with the moon. And in the distance, cut into the side of the tower farthest from the mountainside at the frontline where Erebark’s defenses began a similar groove to the one cut into the side of Remus tower.
It clicked.
“It’s part of a picture of the sun and moon together,” she realized. “But Romulus tower was always hidden farther out, out where the sun would set and day would end.” Her mind racing, a sudden flash of light through the groove cut into the Romulus tower drew a wince and forced her to turn away.
The light was being directed through the grooves. At the right instant, the last light of day would show the passage.
In a flash of raspberry magic and crack as air rushed in to fill the space she’d once occupied, Twilight teleported to stand atop the Remus tower and turned to face the Solitary Mountain. Her tail swishing and feathers twitching with excitement, it was all she could do not to prance on the tips of her hooves. This was it! This was the moment!
She just needed to time this next spell right to make sure she didn’t lose the damned passage.
Twilight could feel the warmth of her teacher’s sun slowly dying, as if Celestia herself could no longer hold her reluctant embrace over her wayward student and had to let go. She could almost hear a rueful sigh, then the first cool breath of night tickled the back of her neck.
All the while, she watched as the light filtering through the grooves cut into the sides of the towers began to grow more defined, more focused as if put through a lens. Why, it almost looked like a natural spotlight—the very rays of the sun like a beacon from the heavens—slowly tracing its way up the Solitary Mountain until, at long last, it reached its destination.
There, dug into a hidden ledge that was almost wedged between a crevice in the rocks. As that last ray of light pierced into the darkness, Twilight caught a glimpse of black iron door, with the visage of the Solitary Mountain and fabled Gates of Erebark emblazoned upon the face.
Bingo.
Twilight launched a bolt of magic through the air, straight into that hidden cave to light it a bright, brilliant raspberry as day at last gave way to night. Thus, ensuring she wouldn’t lose her passage into Erebark on the climb.
Sighing in relief, she leaned forward and let herself fall, gliding down to land next to a waiting Rex.
The diamond dog didn’t so much as glance at her. His eyes were locked, transfixed upon the illuminated door. “Four centuries,” Rex whispered. “It’s been four centuries since any diamond dog set paw inside.”
Twilight allowed herself a smile. Pain in the rear or not, she could definitely sympathize with that look.
She’d worn it herself the first couple times she found some old Equestrian treasure.
Taking a couple steps forward, she turned and jerked her head toward the mountain. “Well, it’s waited long enough, I think,” she said. “Let’s not make it another four, eh?”
Like she’d broken some spell over him, Rex scampered forward to match her pace. Together, they ascended the Solitary Mountain’s legendary, rocky slopes, careful to watch their steps lest some loose stone move and send them for a frightful fall. Twilight more so than Rex—thank you, delicate pony ankles—but she was at least kind enough to catch him when he slipped once or twice.
If not for her worry he might just break a leg in his haste or start shrieking if she picked him up again, she’d have just flown the silly dog and gotten it over with.
At last, they reached the ledge, each grinning despite their aching muscles and burning lungs.
The score of a lifetime and the redemption of a race both within their grasp. More importantly, the chance to wipe all of her crimes away and begin her life anew.
Free from the consequences of her thievery at last.
“Remember the deal,” Twilight said softly. “Whatever treasure you can carry in your paws and bags is yours, but the crown is mine. We get in, we get out, and we stay quiet as mice and avoid waking the dragon.”
Rex grunted an affirmative. “Yes, that was the deal, thief princess. I remember it well.”
If he’d still been wearing his cloak, Twilight might have missed it. That subtle little shift in his posture and the little glint of her spell’s light off steel came so quickly, with such practiced fluidity, it could only have been accomplished by a skilled assassin.
Twilight managed to rear up and twist just in time to avoid a thrust of his curved dagger, and pinned it beneath her wing. She snarled and snorted an angry breath in his face. “You idiot!” she hissed. “Us fighting this close might wake her!”
“Through that door and solid stone, I doubt it!” His other paw moved in a blur and struck her across the right side of her jaw, sending her stumbling backward into the wall. Rex tossed the knife to his right paw, grinning hungrily. “The True King will reward me well when I show him your feathers adorning my cloak! To think, he doubted his trusted blade’s plan—he might even apologize for his disbelief!”
Treachery. Of course.
How stupid. She was going soft. These weren’t the loafing, lolling mongrels who scrambled and scraped about the edges of poor towns back home. Rex, Clifford, and their pack were the purest breed.
The True Heirs, as they called themselves.
And they’d hatched a solid scheme to find their way in.
Still, Twilight found enough of that undying insolence in her heart so smirk at him, even pressed up against the wall at close range. “You? His trusted blade?” She laughed. “You’re really short on brains, Rexy-poochie, and Fido as well if he listened to this.”
Rex hesitated a moment, tilting his head. “And why is that?”
And this was why she loved diamond dogs on either continent.
They just couldn’t not take the bait. “Let’s be honest here, even if I dumbed it down, a mutt like you would never get it.”
He knew who she was. He knew her games. Why, the poor oaf even watched her trick Clifford and his best hunters by getting them to stop and talk a few seconds instead of just gutting her.
But she’d called him a mutt.
For the True Heirs, the only greater insult was to mock the collar around their neck.
Rex let out a primal howl and leapt at her, wild and frothing at the mouth. His eyes flashed with naked need to see her blood staining his fur.
Her horn flashed a brilliant white, blinding him as she simply shifted to the side and looped a tendril of magic around his wrist, then drove the blade straight into the rock. A second tendril caught him around the collar and gave it a twist, slowly lifting him into the air and floating him backward.
“Because,” Twilight crooned as she lined him up with the edge and took aim at Remus tower, “if you really wanted to catch me off-guard, you should’ve waited until we were walking back out that door and I had that crown in my pouch.”
Without another word, the Princess of Thieves quickly turned and delivered a full force buck right to Rex’s chest and sent him flying off the ledge, flailing and shrieking all the way until he hit the rocky ground below with a sickening thud.
Twilight gazed down upon his fallen form, her eyes wide and chest heaving. She cursed under her breath. Herself for not realizing, and he for making his play before they’d given the dragon slumbering within the slip.
At last, he moved, though just a slight twitch in his left arm and tail.
She released a breath. The idiot wasn’t dead. Probably had a few broken bones, but he wasn’t dead.
Not much in the way of solace for her heart, but it would have to do.
At least, that’s what Twilight told herself as she turned away to walk slowly toward the iron door and tugged it open to enter the fallen kingdom of Erebark.
The first visitor to enter those ancient halls in four hundred long years.
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My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Fanfiction
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Lot more atmosphere this time. I especially like the pulp novel style puzzle.
If people know where it is, how can this continent be Lost?
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Lost in the sense of no longer in their possession. They know where it is, they just don't own it anymore.
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9486518
Lost as in it has no idea where it's going, and really needs directions
You wrote odd twice in a row.
Extra word here.
Should be “to” there.
Fear
To