Errant Finale

by Doug Graves

64 The Warden

Darkness, all around. Pain, the pangs of a hunger that could never be satisfied, a yearning for that which he had tasted but was now lost. A dull ache in his muscles that weighs him down even without moving, like someone had strapped heavy weights to every arm and leg and left them there.

There is the briefest moment of relief, a respite that doesn’t last. Then the pain returns, the balm leaking away like a sieve, but droplets remain. He clings to them, desperately, the only solace against his agony.

A soft covering is yanked off his head. The sense of magic is close, deliciously close, but at the same time impossibly far away. If only he could reach it, but it disappears almost as quickly as it came.

“Ugh,” Tirek moans as he slowly comes to, blinking against the harsh lights directed straight into his bleary eyes. His head throbs, but only slightly from the glare. It’s more that his body feels… empty, and the only thing filling it is pain. A thin red hand raises with the clink of chains, slits of light piercing through his fingers. He feels so weak, it’s nearly impossible to keep the arm raised. Where…

Tirek looks around; just rough hewn stone for the walls, ceiling, and floor. A heavy wooden table sits in front of him with a pitcher of clear liquid, an empty disc of a thin white material, and a plain manila folder. From underneath the bright lights steps a clearly equine figure, unicorn, short mane tied up tight. He can’t make out anything but a silhouette, her mouth opening and chewing over her words.

“Finally.” Her harsh voice carries easily. “We were afraid you were never going to wake up.”

“You dare address me, you impudent whelp!” is what he wants to say, but after the first syllable he collapses into a hacking fit, his dry mouth cracking. It’s as if he hasn’t taken a drink in days, and he finds himself staring at the pitcher of water, craving it as a centaur dying of thirst, clumsily reaching his thin arms towards it. The chains attached to his wrist bindings yank him back, his screech of rage little more than a rasping cough.

“You’re thirsty?” the mare spits out, her horn lighting again. The yearning returns, worse than ever before, and his mouth opens wide to drink her in.

Except all she does is snicker, her harsh demeanor breaking for the first time. “You remind me of my little one. She makes the same face when she’s hungry.” The indigo glow around a glass pushes it towards him, the barest film of water along the bottom.

“I am no ‘little one’, cur!” Tirek grits out, every syllable coming only with great difficulty. He swings his arm to smash the cup to the side, barely managing to topple it over in his feeble state. He can’t help but gaze longingly as the water dribbles out, almost enough to get him to reach his mouth forward and drink directly from the table.

“Aww, is widdle Tiwek sowwy?” Her sing-song voice grates on his ears far worse than her coldness.

“Raagh!” Tirek roars as he raises his arms, slamming fists onto the table. His metal shackles leave divots in the wood and send shoots of pain coursing through his body.

The unicorn merely smiles at his impotent rage, as if she is watching a foal have a tantrum over an upset tummy. “I can’t wait until my sisters get to go through this same phase.” Then her head twists to the side, horn briefly flaring. Her attention turns, guard dropping as she looks to one of the walls.

Tirek takes the opportunity to drain her again, his mouth opening wide to imbibe every ounce of magic in her. But it fails again, and by the time she turns back he has closed his mouth, merely staring daggers at her. Of course, he realizes, you have to spend magic to take magic. And as drained as I am, I can’t even break through her feeble defenses.

A section of stone grates against the ground as it slides away, a pink alicorn stepping inside. She exchanges a nod with the unicorn, taking her place. The stone doorway slips back into place, grinding filling his ears.

Cadance places a tall, thin bag - the kind one might use to disguise a bottle of wine - on the table. She turns to one of the two lights, holding up a thin film with her pink aura. “It’s not too bright in here, is it?” she asks guilelessly as she moves one, then two, translucent covers across the light. She repeats this with the other light, the room darkening to a much more comfortable setting.

Tirek pays no attention to her, his mind focused entirely on the bag and what lies inside. It calls to him, singing in a melodious alto, the same pitch as the unicorn it likely came from. They couldn’t possibly…

“Oh, noticed that?” Cadance moves over to the table, pulling a bottle out with a hoof. She folds the empty bag, neatly placing it perfectly square to the table. Inside the bottle is an iridescent swirl that won’t stay still, dancing even as the tiniest portions disappear into the void. “We thought you might be… how would you call it?”

Pure, concentrated magic. He would do, or say, anything to get his mouth on that bottle. “Thirsty.”

Tirek cannot take his eyes away as Cadance uncorks the top. Wisps of magic float out, tiny bubbles that rise into the air and burst, scattering into nothing. He shudders at the loss, even if it is unpreventable. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Not terribly hard to make, if you have the inclination. Few uses for it, though, and a short shelf life. We had to pull this one from a hospital. Fitting.”

“How so?” he asks, opening his mouth as discreetly as a salted pony stumbling out of a bar. Still too far away, just like when I escaped that prison.

“Well, it saved your life earlier. At least, as far as we can tell.” Cadance goes so far as to right the glass Tirek knocked earlier, pouring a tongue’s worth of the scintillating solution. “We aren’t sure what exactly what would have happened to you, but if you’re like everypony else, it wouldn’t have been good.”

“I am nothing like you ponies,” Tirek spits out, wasting a precious bit of moisture.

Cadance lifts the glass, swirling the liquid magic inside. She peers into the dazzling depths. “If you say so.”

Silence lasts for several long seconds before Tirek asks, still unable to take his eyes away from the precious contents inside, “What do you want from me?” He lifts his arms, the chains clinking, quickly dropping them back down. “Since it seems friendship clearly isn’t on the table.”

“It is, actually, and this-” Cadance shakes the glass for effect “-and many other things are open for you.”

“And what,” Tirek says in a silky tone, bowing and spreading one arm to the side, “do you require that I do in order to get them?”

Cadance gains a hardness to her muzzle. “Give them their magic back.” Cadance’s uncharacteristically harsh tone joins her narrowing eyes, boring into the centaur.

“Give?” Tirek says with a hint of mirth.

“The ponies whose magic you stole. I’m sure you remember that much.”

“They were delicious,” Tirek purrs, his dry tongue licking his even drier lips, savoring the screams of terror from before.

Cadance continues without flinching, “They are not recovering. Every minute they grow worse, and not a single one has shown even a hint of getting better, only a slower decline.” She sighs at Tirek’s smirk and silence. “The ponies you drained first, they were doing… acceptably. Slowly recovering, as we might have expected from your magic.”

Tirek shrugs, saying nothing.

“Then, some time after midnight, that changed. What happened between you and Doug? Did you try to drain him?”

Tirek’s smug sneer stays right on his face, unmoving.

“We know you did, and it backfired somehow. After that, every one of them, to a pony, started declining. Some, the ones that you got to first, the fastest. Over time the rate slowed, matching up with each other.” Cadance studies Tirek’s face, watching for any hint of recognition or even just a tic.

That same condescending, self-righteous smirk. She wishes she could do anything to me.

“Then, unexpectedly, twenty minutes ago the pace slowed dramatically. Just as you were taken out of the train car, before you woke up.” Cadance peers closer. “Are you able to control it? To slow or stop the flow of magic? That while you were unconscious their magic drains, but waking you can change it?”

“Perhaps,” Tirek says evenly, eyeing the glass, “I could tell you. I’m sure we can come to an equitable compromise.”

“Tell us how to reverse it.” Cadance frowns as Tirek hesitates. The way his eyes shift to the ceiling, his mouth pulling back, his breath quickening tells her everything. “Really? You know nothing?” A pink hoof slams into the desk, punching a hole clean through the hard wood, the chunks clattering to the floor. “Foals are dying out there!” A hoof points to the wall she came in. “Her sisters, guards you stole the magic from, may never see their young! It’s only through these boosters-” she shakes the bottle so violently a little sloshes outside, staining the table “-that we’re even able to keep them and their unborn foals alive!”

“And the same thing is happening to me?” Tirek asks, trepidation in his voice, staring at the wooden table. That could have been my skull.

“We believe so,” Cadance says with a grim nod as she slowly gets herself under control. “They, and you, will continue to waste away until we are able to solve this.”

“Maybe it is the changelings.” Tirek smirks, a hand circling through the air. “They eat magic just like me, and they have found a convenient scapegoat to pin the blame for their insatiable hunger.”

Cadance huffs, a disbelieving shake of the head. “Next you’ll say it's Discord behind everything.”

“Discord?” Tirek’s eyes widen. “The Lord of Chaos? He escaped?”

“No, not as such.” Cadance peers at Tirek, studying him. “He claims to be on our side. Do you know something about him?”

“I should have known he would want all of Equestria for himself,” Tirek mutters, not looking at Cadance any more. “That lying, backstabbing fool!”

“What are you saying?” Cadance says, more than a little curious.

“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know?” Tirek replies, smirking. “It’s only a matter of time before the mad king betrays you, if he hasn’t already. He would never abandon his true nature to make friends with ponies.” He motions to the bottle expectantly.

Cadance glances at the bottle, then at Tirek. “You have given us only accusations and speculation, nothing we can use or did not already know. Perhaps when you have something useful, we can find a compromise.” She stands a little straighter, pity in her eyes.

“But, as you can clearly see,” Tirek says, worry staining his words as he motions to his emaciated body, “I do not have their magic.”

“Mm.” Cadance rises from the table. “That is too bad.” The glass of magic pours back into the bottle. Even the fragments in the table find themselves ripped out, bits of dust falling away as the colorful remains disappear inside. The cork comes back on with a pop of finality, levitating to Cadance's side. Tirek can only stare as the stone door grinds open, the pink alicorn taking two steps through.

“You cannot leave me here with nothing!” bellows Tirek, immediately erupting into a hacking cough.

Cadance turns from the stone doorway, indicating the pitcher with a point of her hoof. “You have water.” Then the door closes, the room silent but for his rage.

Comments

[ArchAngelGundam]

I do so love seeing an arrogant villain being put in their place. In the case of an unrepentant villain, this set up is just about the same rout I'd go. Looking forward to more.
Keep up the good work. Deus tecum.

[f0st3r21]

Cadenza playing bad cop? Interesting!