The Dusk Guard Saga: Hunter/Hunted

by Viking ZX

Chapter 22

With a wordless shout, Sabra sat up, his heart pounding, his breath coming in short, jerky gasps. For a moment everything was unfamiliar: The dark shapes scattered around him, the dull, red light coming from beneath a nearby door. The cot he was lying on.

The waking world caught up with him, and his rapid, jerky breaths slowed. The Crystal Empire. The Order station. The one he’d cleared with the torture cells. They were using it as a temporary rest location.

I … His hooves were still shaking. He couldn’t remember why, but he could still feel a faint coldness in his chest, like a snake had tightened its coils around his heart. He held his breath for a few moments, counting backwards and then letting out a long, slow exhale. What was that?

The answer came almost immediately. Jinamizi. A nightmare. And from the way his body was still shaking, a very bad one.

He let out another long, shaky breath and ran a hoof through his mane. His eyes had mostly adjusted to the dim lighting now, the dark, scattered shapes now recognizable as crystal ponies slumped over cots, furniture, and scattered across the floor. The team had offered to let all of them take the cots, but the crystal ponies had insisted that their saviors take the closest things to a bed that there were, refusing to take no for an answer.

Which, Sabra noted, limbs still shaking, had left one of the cots empty. Dawn was slumped over the nearby aid station she’d set up, still fully clad in her armor. As was Steel. Only Sabra had bothered to take off his helmet.

His ears twitched as someone else let out a whimper of fear, and he frowned. Now that he was waking up, he could hear more signs of distress coming from the scattered refugees. Some of them were even twitching in their sleep, their bodies making slight movements from side to side.

“Nightmares.”

The voice made him jerk in surprise, and he twisted to see a young colt shying away from his sudden movement, stumbling back toward the more well-lit front office.

“My apologies,” Sabra said quietly, lowering his hooves as a twinge of shame cut through him. “I was—”

“It is fine,” the colt said, shaking his head. “You did not know.”

Sabra eyed the colt. He was young, caught in that gangly phase between being a youth and a full-grown stallion. One of the prisoners from the cells he’d liberated the night before.

“You’re not asleep?” he asked, shifting so that he was looking at the youth head-on. “Why?”

“Same reason as you,” the colt said. There were bags under his eyes, and his face looked hollow. Whether it was from lack of sleep, or lack of food, Sabra couldn’t say. “I have always been a light sleeper. The nightmares … They make it worse. Most of us have gotten used to them, but …” He shrugged. “That does not make them go away.”

Sabra opened his mouth but then paused, There was something to the way the colt had spoken about their dreams that wasn’t normal. “You mean …?” he asked after a moment. “These nightmares. They come every night?”

The colt nodded. “The Order makes it happen. Some spell. They say it is to remind us of the horrors of the world outside Sombra’s rule, but …” He let out a small shiver. “It is just to remind who is in control. To keep us scared.”

Sabra gaped for a moment, his mouth opening and closing quietly as he struggled to find words. I … Everything the colt had just said felt like a violation of everything he knew. Princess Luna, of course, watched the dreams of her subjects, but only at a distance, and to aid and guide those under her care if intervention was required. Forcing nightmares on an entire city …

“They are monsters,” the colt said, sinking back on his haunches. “All of them. The unicorns.” His last words snapped across Sabra’s consciousness.

“They are not.” He’d spoken without even meaning to, and he saw the colt’s tired eyes widen in surprise.

“What do you—?”

“The Order are the monsters,” Sabra said, cutting the youth off. “Not unicorns. Sergeant Triage is a unicorn,” he said, pointing in the direction of the sleeping medic. “And a friend. She aids all of you. Nova Beam, another member of our team, is another. They use their magic to help and aid you, not to harm.”

“But—”

“My team has already found and fought crystal ponies that aid the Order,” Sabra continued. “Would you say that all crystal ponies are monsters, as well?”

“I—” The colt worked his jaw for a moment. “No, but—”

“But what?”

“But they’re just crystal ponies.”

“And unicorns are just unicorns,” Sabra said, shaking his head. His breathing felt almost in control again, and the cold, clammy feeling around his insides had mostly faded. “The Order is what makes those ponies who they are. And their choices. Not being born with a horn.”

“But—”

Sabra leaned forward. “Tell me. Do you fear me because I am a zebra?”

“I … No, but—”

“What?”

“Unicorns—” The colt cut himself off as his voice rose, looking around the rest of the room. “King Sombra is a unicorn. So are the rest of the Order. Unicorns did this.”

“The Order did this, unless those crystal ponies that joined their ranks are suddenly unicorns.” Sabra shook his head. “You’re young, but—”

“So are you.”

Sabra fixed him with what he hoped was a good approximation of one of Steel’s stern stares. It must have been close, because the colt gulped and shrank back.

“I am a Dusk Guard,” Sabra said. Then he let his voice soften. “Which means I serve Equestria, a nation founded on unification between pony tribes. There are bad unicorns, yes. There are bad earth ponies, pegasi, and even crystal ponies as well. And when many of them group together, they can achieve bad things. But do not,” he said, looking the colt in the eyes. “Do not make the mistake that simply because some are bad, all of them are. The Order have done horrible things to you and to this entire city. But while they may be unicorns, they do not represent all unicorns. No more than you are represented by any of the collaborators we’ve found so far.”

“Don’t make the same mistake they do,” Sabra said after a moment, his voice quieter. “The Order sets themselves above everypony else. If you start believing that all unicorns behave as they do, you’re falling into the same trap that gave rise to them.”

“I …” The colt swallowed. “I am sorry.”

“Good.” Apparently something about what he’d said shocked the colt, because they looked up in surprise. “Humbly admitting one’s own mistakes is the first step on the path forward. In the days ahead, you will likely see many unicorns in your city, and few of them will be from the Order. The Equestrian Royal Guard have unicorns in their ranks, as well as earth ponies and pegasi. They will be helping rebuild, helping to imprison the Order.”

The colt looked down and then away. “I … I don’t know.”

Sabra frowned. “Have you ever met a unicorn that wasn’t a member of the Order?” The colt shook his head, still looking away.

“I see.” And you’re probably the first zebra he’s ever met then too. The world was a smaller place a thousand years ago. “I’m sorry.”

“What?” The colt looked up at him in shock, eyes wide. “For what?”

“You’ve had so much stolen from you by the Order,” Sabra said quietly. “Equestrian is not my native language, so if … If my words sounded condescending, that is not what I meant. But there are good unicorns out there. I promise you.” He gave the colt a small smile. “Unicorns who will … Well, they won’t treat you with nothing but kindness, but they’ll try. They’re ponies like anypony else.”

“You said that before.”

“Because it’s true.” He took a deep breath, wincing slightly as somepony nearby let out a cry in their sleep. “Just … don’t hate all of them because of the actions of a few, as deplorable as those few are. Please.”

“I … I will try.” The colt scuffed one hoof against the floor, eyes down.

“That’s all we can do sometimes,” Sabra said. He tried searching his mind for other words, but his brain felt as empty as his chest. “Are you going to stay awake?”

“No,” the colt said with a shake of his head. “I should try and sleep. The nightmares might come back, but—”

“Here.” Sabra held out his helmet, and the colt’s eyes went wide.

“What?”

“The helmet repels magic. Like all of our armor. If you wear it, it might help you sleep. Keep the nightmare magic out of your head.”

“It will?” the colt asked, gingerly taking the helmet in his hooves.

“Well, my team members seem to be sleeping well. I am the only one that has awoken, and I was not wearing it.”

“But … won’t you need it?” the colt asked, looking up at him.

“I will,” Sabra said. “But not right now. We’ll be up—” he glanced around the room for a clock and saw none, “—soon, but until then, you can sleep with it. Just don’t strap it down over your head, and I’ll get it when I need it.”

“...” The colt looked down at the helmet and then up at him with an unreadable expression. “Thank you.”

“Get some rest. You’ll need it in the days ahead.”

The colt nodded and turned, beginning to trot away. Suddenly, however, he stopped. “Are you going to get the Crystal Heart back?”

“The what?”

The colt slumped slightly. “Nothing.”

“I don’t know what a ‘crystal heart’ is,” Sabra said. “But we’re only the first to be here. The Guard is coming after we’ve secured the city, as well as Princess Cadence. And the Element Bearers after that.”

“Element bearers?”

“Of the Elements of Harmony. Have you heard of them?”

“Only from stories. Weren’t they what were used to beat the mad immortal? Discord?”

“And trap Nightmare Moon in the moon,” Sabra said, only for the colt to give him a confused look. Of course. That happened after the empire was sealed. “Sorry. That was after your city disappeared. But the Element Bearers have faced down great terrors before and defeated them. If the empire needs this ‘crystal heart,’ then maybe that’s why they’re coming. To find it.”

The colt nodded but said nothing, staring down at the helmet. The moment stretched on, the silence between them growing like a vast gulf until the colt bridged it.

“Is it really true, then?” he asked, looking up at Sabra at last. “Were we really gone for a thousand years? Just … gone?”

Sabra nodded. “You were. My team and I spent all week flying over this plain. Your city was not here until just a day ago.”

“Oh.” The colt looked back down at the helmet in his hooves. “I had a friend, before … it happened. They lived outside the city. I did not know what happened to them after the sky changed. I do not … I do …” The helmet dropped to the ground with a light thunk as the colt began to cry, cupping his hooves up against his face. “They would have been outside the barrier. Away from everypony. If we were gone a thousand years …”

Sabra slid off of the cot and wrapped his hooves around the sobbing colt, pulling him into his shoulder. He opened his mouth, trying to think of something he could say, but nothing came. Because there wasn’t anything he could say. How could he say anything? They were coming to grips that the world they had known their entire life was gone.

There was nothing he could say that would help. All he could do was let the poor colt cry until his tears had dried out.

* * *

Eventually, the colt fell asleep, and Sabra lowered his body to the floor before setting the helmet gently over his head. He wasn’t certain it would work without the rest of the armor, but—

All the same, it cannot hurt. Helmet in place, he let out a yawn and then trotted into the front office, checking for timepieces. None of them would be very accurate, but at the same time …

Drat. The captain would be awaking before long. Or at least he would if the clocks he was seeing were somewhat accurate. Which meant that there wouldn’t be much to be gained from going back to sleep. The hours I got will have to be enough. Captain Song would want to move quickly to take advantage of their actions the night before, and to put an end to the Order as quickly as possible.

Which means we will move on the tower. Their attacks the night before had done their job, freeing up the rest of the city as every Order element had pulled back to the city center and leaving the streets open for the crystal ponies to move out and take care of one another.

Or, at least, until the voice of the regent in the tower had declared an enforced curfew. Which they had then acted upon by firing some sort of beam at anypony they spotted in the city streets, right from the tower’s peak. After several such shots across the city, silence had reigned.

And fires had burned, unchecked. How the crystal burned he couldn’t say, but they had taken several hours to go out.

The captain had seethed with them.

Sabra eased into one of the chairs in the front of the building, trying not to think about who had used it last or for what purpose. Breathe in, then out. Slowly but surely, the outside world, with its sounds and sights, began to slip away. In … and out.

It was hard to even find the lake this time. Not that its boiling waters weren’t easy to identify. But the outside world called for his attention, his bruises and aches slipping to the forefront as he sank further into his mind and competing for his attention.

Focus. Slowly but surely, the outside world shrank away, fading to a dull echo at the edges of his mind. And the lake …

He let out a sigh as he watched the currents swirl. Everything was churning in a giant rush, spiraling around as though massive paddles were stirring the waters of his mind below the surface. The question, his answer, his life in Canterlot …

All of it tangled up in this mission and—

The waters surged, and he let out a silent sigh. And things are only getting more chaotic. He needed time to digest. Time to let things calm. Time for his mind to make sense of everything that had gone on.

And I won’t find that here. Not today. Not without far more time than I have. Still, it was good to see that only a small bit of the restless nature of the waters seemed to be coming from the events of the last day—

The waters surged, violently, almost pushing him back. Not as calm as I thought, then. He could feel the walls now. Metaphorical ones, put in place to keep the events of the prior day … contained.

The walls will have to come down eventually. But not yet. Not until he could deal with everything that had happened in a controlled space. With Sky. The waters surged again. Talk it over.

Later. The waters calmed again, but only as far as they were already thrashing. Hopefully they wouldn’t get much worse.

So many pieces, all connected. He took a deep breath, coming back to the real world with a sudden rush, like he’d poured ice-cold water over himself.

“Welcome back, spec.” Captain Song was standing at a nearby desk, eyes on a spread of paper. How long had he been gone? His eyes darted to the clock.

Twenty minutes. It hadn’t felt like it’d been more than a minute.

“How are you feeling this morning? Well-rested?”

Sabra took a breath before replying. “I am well enough.”

“Good.” Steel still hadn’t looked up from the papers he was examining. “Enough for a heavy fight?”

“Yes sir.” He nodded, climbing to his hooves and coming to attention. “Is the sergeant awake?”

“Dawn? No,” Steel said with a shake of his head. “She needs all the rest she can get. I wouldn’t have woken you, either, but I didn’t have to. Difficulty sleeping?” The captain’s words came out like a question, but as he turned away from the desk at last, eyes locking with Sabra’s, it was clear that it was more a statement than anything else.

“Yes sir,” he replied. There was no sense in hiding it. “Bad dreams. I removed my helmet.”

That note seemed to give the captain pause. “What does that have to do with it?”

He doesn’t know, Sabra realized. None of us did. “I talked with one of the crystal ponies after I woke up,” he said. “The Order uses their magic to inflict nightmares on the entire populace every night.” Steel’s eyes widened with disgust. “I believe our helmets may have blocked it, but since I took mine off …”

“And then you gave it to the colt for the rest of the night,” Steel said, nodding in the direction of the room with the cots. “I saw that.” He shook his head. “How long ago was this?”

“No more than …” Sabra let his eyes dart to the clock once more. “Twenty minutes less an hour, captain.”

“And you gave it to him shortly after you woke up?”

“Ndiya.”

“Good. That’s more than six hours still.” The captain shook his head. “If you feel like you need more sleep, however, you’ve got about another fifteen, twenty minutes.”

“No, thank you. I would prefer to remain awake.”

“Pretty bad dreams?”

Sabra opened his mouth but then closed it before formulating a reply. “In honesty, captain, I don’t remember.”

Steel nodded. “If it helps, you probably would have had them with or without the helmet, Sabra.” He turned back to the papers. “The Order is doing some truly awful things, and you’re experiencing combat for the first time.”

“My … reaction … doesn’t worry you?”

“No,” Steel said, shaking his head. “In fact, I’d be worried if you hadn’t reacted. I did the same thing when I was your age—well, a little older—and saw my first combat. By the end of it, I was a shaky mess. But …”

“But what?”

“I still got up the next morning, Sabra. I got up and I put on my armor and I went back out. Sure, I felt a little confused. Chaotic even. But even in the middle of all that … I knew right from wrong. And I knew I could help stop something that was wrong.”

He looked up then, his eyes meeting Sabra’s, and he smiled. “I guess in a way it’s the same reason you gave that colt your helmet even though you knew if you went back to sleep, the nightmares would be right back thanks to that spell. You would rather that young colt didn’t go through them, and you’d suffer them instead.”

“I had to think about a lot of things when I built this team,” Steel said with a touch of pride. “But one of the constants through all of you is that you know when you’re doing the right thing, and you stick to it. You don’t ignore the hardship; all of you are wise enough to see it for what it is. But you work through it. And spending the last few months training with all of you has only cemented my faith in each and every one of you. That’s why Sky Bolt didn’t opt out when she started having those nightmares. She had to come around to it, but she chose to work through it.”

“So, you’re shaky. Last night was … rough. I understand, Sabra.” The captain still hadn’t broken eye contact, and as he spoke, Sabra could see a weight behind his eyes, a sudden glimpse of how much the captain had been through. “We all have a hurdle we have to pass. But you still got up. You still gave that colt your helmet. After this mission is over, if you want to sit down with someone and talk things out …” He shrugged. “We can do that. In fact, I’d advise it. Not just in an after-action report, but without the armor, without the trappings of rank …” He shrugged again. “We can do that.”

“But …” he said, turning, breaking eye contact at last. “You having had bad dreams after yesterday doesn’t surprise me in the least. Even if there wasn’t some crazy militant group trying to mess with everypony’s heads, you still were plunged headfirst into a fight—a real fight—against horrible ponies doing terrible things. After that? A few bad dreams are right in line for normal.”

“But you still gave that kid your helmet,” he added. “And are you ready to go take down the ponies in that central tower?”

“Absolutely, captain.” He felt chest swell a bit as he said it. “Nopony deserves to have bad dreams every night.” He watched as the captain turned his attention back down to the desk. “May I ask what you’re looking at, captain?”

“Blueprints,” Steel replied without looking up. “Well, at least, what pass for blueprints. I suppose it’d be more accurate to say that it’s a map. A detailed one, but a map all the same. Not an original either,” he said, flipping up a corner so that Sabra could see the scrawled ink. “Done from memory, trial-and-error, and a dozen different hooves over the last few years.”

“A map? Of what?” Sabra stepped forward, peering down at the collection of papers, eyes following the lines as they branched across it. There was a geometric familiarity to it he recognized. A snowflake, he thought, recalling the frozen structures he’d seen sketches of in his youth. But with too many arms. The same number of arms, in fact, as the city held, though spread across several different pieces of paper.

“Figure it out yet?” Steel asked, and Sabra shook his head.

“It’s something to do with the city,” he admitted. “But it cannot be the roads.” There were markings scattered across the sketches, small notes and symbols that he couldn’t make sense of. Coded, in all likelihood, and something put together by the citizens of the empire, but what?

“It’s a map of the sewer system,” Steel said, nodding, and suddenly the strange lines and familiarity clicked into place.

Of course. He could see it now that Steel had spoken. And the symbols and markings … Dangers, perhaps. Or warnings.

“As to why I have it,” Steel said. “That’s how I plan on getting us inside the central tower without just walking up.” He reached out and tapped the center of the map, where a number of the lines—Pipes or causeways, most likely—intersected one another. “Garnet was able to get in touch with some runners, folks who moved contraband around during the occupation through the sewer systems, and get their maps for me. They stayed clear of the central tower, but from what he told me, the Order didn’t care much about them or think of them as a threat. And with that tower giving them such a high-ground advantage, I’m hoping we can just walk in past whatever light security they have.”

“The only trick is deciphering a path there,” he continued, tapping the papers with a hoof. “A lot of these maps were patched together from various ‘runners,’ which means they’re full of notes and symbols that only made sense to the owner. Here, for example,” he said, pulling two pieces apart and showing that they overlapped. “This map shows that these two tunnels don’t connect, but on this map—” he slid the other back into place, “—they do. Which one is right? And here.” He reached out and tapped another segment of the map. “There’s a marking at this intersection. Does it mean that it isn’t an intersection, but the connections overlap at different elevations?” He shook his head. “Without any way to know, the best I can do is map a couple of different routes to where we want to go, and hope for the best.”

“And,” he added quickly, tapping the center of the map. “The area around the tower itself isn’t quite as heavily mapped as other areas. Garnet assured me that it wasn’t monitored, but I guess ponies didn’t like getting close to it for obvious reasons anyway. But that means once we get there, we’re going to spend some time figuring out a way up into the structure.”

“What if there isn’t one?”

Steel shook his head. “I asked. The central palace has waterworks like everything else. The city is actually pretty advanced for its time, all things considered. But they weren’t foolish; the ponies that built these tunnels made sure to leave everything a maintenance access. The central tower gets its water in and wastes out just like everywhere else in the city, which means there’s a pipe, or more likely, a conveyance of some sort using magic or machinery to bring things in and out. And moving parts—”

“Means something that can break,” Sabra finished, nodding. Sky dealt with the logic all the time. Anything that moved or functioned in some way had to have an access. “So there must be a way up into the tower.”

“Or something that gets us close enough that we can ‘cheat’ and get the rest of the way in.” Steel said, his eyes tracing over the lines. “And that includes taking down a wall or two, provided they aren’t load-bearing.”

“Then what?” Sabra asked, peering over the collection of pieced maps and tracing a path of his own. It terminated long before their destination, but there did seem to be a pattern to things.

“I have a few ideas,” Steel said. “I’ve already talked with Dawn about some of them. If we can get in the right position, we can gas them.”

“Gas them?”

The captain nodded. “We’ve forced them to pull back all of their remaining forces into a small position. Dawn has a few sedatives that can be diffused into the air. Enough to knock them out, or at least make them groggy and easy to deal with. Quietly, hopefully. We’ve got no information on the inside of the palace, though, so it’s all blind planning. But …” The captain shook his head and stepped back. “That’s the kind of challenge we excel at. After all,” he said, giving Sabra a grin. “I couldn’t have told a Royal Guard to clear two outposts without getting caught, each staffed by an unknown number of enemy combatants, and expected them to come out on top. This kind of job is our speciality.”

He took another step back. “In any case, we’ll want to move soon. I don’t know how long it’s going to take us to get through the sewer, but we’d best get to one of the closest entryways before it’s light enough for anypony to spot us. You should eat something and get your helmet back. I’ll go wake Dawn.”

Sabra nodded as the captain walked out of the room. “Yes sir.” Eating would be good. It would give him something else to occupy his mind with. Outside of crawling through a sewer to try and reach the tower. It was a good plan, provided they didn’t get lost and there wasn’t some creature living in the city’s sewer. Back home, there had always been stories in the larger cities of such things. Sobeks, giant snakes, and other creatures that lived in the ancient sewer systems.

Worse, sometimes they were true. Enclosed spaces full of water that creatures need to live. And cooled away from the sun. Even the cistern at the monastery had run afoul of creatures trying to claim it as their home, though thankfully nothing incredibly dangerous or large.

So what could lurk under this city? He stared down at the map, eyeing some of the symbols that looked like warnings. What sort of creatures would want to call these sewers home?

Then again, if there were creatures living in the sewers, the cartographers who’d penned the maps likely would have told tales of it. And Garnet would have repeated those same tales to Steel.

Meaning that you are likely worrying over nothing, he thought, sitting down and reaching into his saddlebags for a granola bar. The faint crunch of each bite filled the office as he waited, like somepony walking over rough gravel. A few moments later voices mixed in with it, Steel talking to Dawn in the back room.

He stared down at the map while they talked, thinking back to the cistern and sewer systems at the monastery. They had to be different—for starters the city was much more massive than his monastery had been—but similarities were bound to exist.

Such as small spaces, he thought, mind going back to how he’d been forced to squeeze his body into narrow, damp, and often slick passageways to reach something that had plugged the ancient waterways. And wetness.

Worse, at least in the Plainslands the climate had been warm and dry, so that cool and damp as the cisterns could be, one warmed once they left. Here, we will be below ground in a frozen city. A shiver ran down his back. If we get wet, we will stay wet for quite some time.

Heat modification, he thought, finished the bar and reaching for another. Unless … He paused for a moment. A sudden burst of strength would be useful, especially if he happened to get stuck. Which meant … Given that any event where I would need the strength mod likely wouldn’t give me the opportunity to change to it, I’ll have to wear it.

“Good morning, Sabra.” Dawn stepped into the room with a gentle grace, stifling a yawn behind one hoof even though she was wearing her helmet still. “Did you rest well?”

“No,” he said. “But I rested enough. Did you?”

“Barely,” Dawn said, hiding another yawn. “Captain Song has expressed to me that we’re going to be crawling through a sewer before long, so what rest I received will need to be sufficient. He said you were experiencing the effects of emotional magic?”

“What?” It took him a moment to connect her words with the meaning. “The nightmares. Yes. Everyone in the city did, according to—”

“Yes, so he said,” Dawn said, cutting him off as her horn began to glow, a matching one appearing around his forehead. Something about it made his skin itch.

“And there we go,” she said, her horn glowing brighter for a moment. “Same as the others, but weaker. No doubt because it was tuned for a crystal pony.”

“What?” The glow faded.

“The spell. It was designed to be self-repeating. There were traces of it across your mind. Nothing serious. Just raw, emotional magic. I couldn’t say more without a full examination, but from what I saw here and in there—” She nodded her head toward the back room. “I believe it was designed to amplify fear and feed off of innately generated internal magic. Granting nightmares at night, and then keeping that sense of uneasiness through the ponies for some time. Likely so that the casters didn’t have to cast it each night.” She reached up and pulled her helmet off, disgust written across her face. “Twisted and effective, as well as likely why so many of the ponies here seem so depressed.” She let out a sigh. “On another note, a night of rest appears to have done you good. You’re not in perfect condition, but the swelling is gone.”

He nodded. “Asante. That is good to hear.” He paused. “But that spell … wouldn’t it affect the Order as well?”

“Likely not,” Dawn replied. “The Order could have tuned it to specific parameters. Or worn something that countered the spell, like our own helmets.” She rapped her own with a hoof before floating it over to the table. “In any case, if I were you, I would prepare to depart; Steel doesn’t wish to remain here for long.”

“Of course.” He bowed his head in respect and then turned, heading through the back door and into the sleeping area once more. The colt who had cried himself to sleep was still lying on the floor, Sabra’s helmet oversized on his head.

“Pumzika vizuri,” he said, gently retrieving the helmet and sliding it into place. It felt … better to have the helmet on. Like the armor was complete. Sure, it was cracked and scuffed—particularly after the battles of the day before—but it was his.

“Ready?” Captain Song asked as he walked past, munching on one of the ration bars. Sabra wasn’t sure how the captain stomached the taste.

“Ndiyo,”he said, following him back to the front room. Dawn was standing in front of the table, her horn lit and glowing brightly as she cast … something, he wasn’t sure what, on the maps Steel had been looking at. That was, until an ink vial floated into the air, thin black strands sliding out of it and laying themselves down on a new, empty sheet of paper in neat, straight lines.

“Give me a moment, captain,” she said, her voice quiet. “Or rather, several. I must remind you that this spell is not designed for such work.”

“It’ll have to do,” Steel said, stopping a foot or so from the table and watching as the map began to take shape. “Just do your best.”

“It’d be easier without you talking.”

“Sorry.” Before them, the ink shimmered as it floated through the air, laying itself down in lines and clumps atop the once-blank sheet. Slowly but surely, each line was copied down.

Including ones that overlapped with one another, Sabra noted, leaving larger smears or bubbles of ink on the page. She did say that whatever spell she was using wasn’t made for this, he thought as Dawn continued to work. We’ll have to dab up the overlaps. Steel seemed to be thinking the same thing, stepping forward and grabbing a tool—was it called a blotter?—from a nearby desk, moving to—

“Don’t,” Dawn said, strain in her voice. “Not until it’s done.” Steel nodded and back up.

The ink continued to lay itself down, mapping out the entire sewer system. Finally, with a gasp of relief from Dawn, the last line went into place, and the orange glow winked out.

“Now,” she said, and Steel moved forward. “Before it spreads.” The blotter came down quickly, but even as the captain pulled it back, Sabra could see the smudges on the paper where the ink had begun to smear.

So could the captain. “Horseapples,” he said, scowling. “It’ll have to do. I guess it wasn’t like those spots weren’t going to be a messy tangle anyway.” He dabbed at the paper a few more times, getting what spare ink he could, and then stepped back. “Fine job anyway, sergeant. It’s not your fault.”

“Thank you, captain. But I didn’t say it was.”

“Well,” Steel said, setting the blotter to one side and blowing on the map. “All the same, nice job.”

Sabra stepped forward, nodding as his eyes traced the collection of old maps and compared it to the new, singular sheet. It hadn’t been a perfect copy—he could see a few “breaks” in the lines where one page had ended with another beginning and lines hadn’t copied cleanly—but even then Dawn’s work was clearly a replica of the collection of maps they’d had earlier. Even if some of the lines were thicker or smudged.

“We are …” He paused for a moment, running his eyes over the sweeping lines. “Here?” he finished, holding a hoof above the page.

“That’s an area of a couple of blocks,” Steel replied. “But no.” He picked up a quill from the desk and pointed to a small line a few inches from the tip of Sabra’s hoof. “If I’m reading this right, we’re here. Which means a close potential entrance point is …” He moved the tip of the quill several inches to the side, where a small symbol had been sketched next to one of the lines. “Here. North of us. Except …” The captain’s voice trailed off as he checked one of the original maps. “Right, that’s what I was afraid of.”

“What?” Dawn asked, cocking one eyebrow as she looked at the captain.

“Well, each runner’s map was different,” Steel replied. “And some of them were a bit more mindful of ‘operational security’ than others. This one—” He tapped the map in question with his hoof. “Garnet warned me that not all the symbols were accurate.”

“Misdirection,” Sabra said, nodding. “If they had been captured, the Order wouldn’t have been able to reliably use the map.”

“Not quickly,” Steel said. “So unfortunately, that entrance, if it does exist, is somewhere in a several block radius. We’ll have to look for it. Again, if it even exists.”

“Then we’d best get moving before the sun rises.” Dawn shook her head, and the new map she’d created floated up in an orange glow. “I do not wish to be the cause of more peril upon these ponies.”

“Agreed,” Steel said as Sabra nodded. “Can you handle the map?” Dawn nodded, her magic already folding the paper into small sheets, and the captain looked to the front door.

“All right. Then we’re moving out in ten minutes. Use the bathroom, finish your breakfast, make a last-minute check of a patient. Whatever you need to do. Then we move north, track this entrance down. Or find another if we have to. Dawn?”

“Yes sir?”

“You’re the cartographer. If we can’t find that entrance, I want secondary options.”

“Understood.”

“Ten minutes, ponies. Move.”

Sabra snapped a salute, and moved out of the room. Ten minutes to freshen up, fill his stomach, and check over his equipment.

Then we move on the tower. A faint shiver ran down his back, matched only by a sudden flame in his chest as his eyes moved over the still-sleeping colt lying on the floor.

And put an end to their bad dreams for good.

* * *

“Right,” Steel said, his whispered voice echoing up and down the dark, empty streets. “Fan out. Find that entrance.”

Sabra nodded rather than speak, waiting until the captain and Dawn had already begun to turn in their chosen directions to move out on his own, eyes low and alert in a direction they hadn’t moved. He moved slowly, scanning the street for anything that could be an entrance to the sewers beneath their hooves.

Not that it was easy. The sky was still dark, almost black under the faint shimmer of the weather shield. The sun was likely rising, or perhaps had even risen already, but it was impossible to tell as of yet thanks to the fury of the storm above the city. Every so often a bolt of jagged lightning would carve its way across the sky, providing a faint glimmer of illumination that refracted off the crystal streets and carved strange, jagged shadows.

Sabra moved down the street carefully, peering at the buildings and fencing around him, ears twisting as he extended his senses to their fullest. Water, he thought, pausing for a moment to eye a an unfamiliar structure across a fence. Running water. Or echoes. Those had been the marks of the sewers and cisterns back in the Plainslands. While it would be foolish to expect the Crystal Empire’s system to be identical, some of the same similarities had to exist.

Correct? He frowned. I wish Sky was here. She would know. Or she would know enough about the differences to tell them what they should look for. Or even just where to dig straight down, he thought as he passed another low wall, peering over it to look for anything that could be an entrance down to the underside of the city.

So much of what was around them was unfamiliar. Many of the buildings were open air, or built with only a few walls. They were likely workshops of some kind, but of what he couldn’t say.

It didn’t help that many of them were dark, their interiors hidden in shadow by the low light. Their purpose was clearly industrial, but past that …?

He slowed, glancing back at the intersection they had fanned out from. Nothing. Dawn was still making her way down the other end of the street, her figure little more than a faint shadow against the streets. Steel was nowhere in sight.

He brought his gaze back forward, resuming his slow but steady pace. Ahead of him, the lighting on the side of the road changed slightly, the shadows turning to faint slits, and he slowed. It was a grating. He came to a full stop, glancing back the way he’d come.

Curious. He couldn’t recall seeing any other grates along the street. This was the first and only one he had seen thus far. They must not receive much rain, to have so few, he thought, crouching by it and giving it a closer look. Otherwise, they would flood.

Furthermore, the opening was small, far smaller than the grates he could recall seeing in Canterlot. Even if the bars in it were loose—and they were not, he concluded after a quick poke with a hoof—he’d have been hard pressed to get more than his head through the resulting opening.

On the other hoof, however, he could feel a faint breeze tease across his muzzle. There was a current. Which meant open space. He closed his eyes, shutting out his sight, his ears twitching, and brought his armored hoof down on one of the bars in a sharp, quick strike.

An echoing tone rang out as the bar shook, a clear ring that echoed down the street … and down through the sewers, shifting and changing in pitch as the sound reverberated through the openings below him.

And there were openings beneath him. He could hear it in the way the ringing echo shifted. Beneath him lay a decently large space, stretching both forward and backward down the street. But there was something else too, something that was … off. He couldn’t quite put his hoof on it. His ears twisted, and he cocked his head to the side, bringing one ear as close to the grate as he dared.

Something about the echo had been off. Not by much, and he still couldn’t say what. But something had been … false. Muted.

He brought his hoof down again with the same force. Again the ring rang out, low and sharp, echoing through the quiet buildings around him … but more importantly, down the sewer once more.

There! His ear twitched as he caught the rebounding, softer echo, and the faint resonance that followed it.

A sharp double-rap against the street made him pull away, and he looked up to see Steel standing at the intersection, signaling with one hoof. Found?

He paused for a moment, running the signals through his mind before fixing on the right one. Unknown. Though that wasn’t quite what the sign meant. It was somewhere between I don’t know what this is and Situation developing, be alert for further developments. It would have to do. He lowered his head to the grate again, ear flicking at the air once more.

This time he chose a different place to strike with his hoof, closer to the edge of the grate. The sound his strike elicited was different, lower and duller. He waited patiently, ears tracing the echoes as the sound bounced around the sewers beneath him.

Interesting. The duller sound came back with a few differences. As soon as the sound had faded, he moved his hoof again, this time making a sharper, more crisp sound with his strike.

Most interesting. Again the echo coming from ahead of him was different. An opening, he thought, rising and taking several steps forward. This way. He measured each step carefully, eyes barely looking, the picture in his mind the sounds had painted far more important than what he could see. Right about there, he thought, coming to a stop. And heading … He turned to his right. To that.

It was another workshop, though unlike the others it was far less open-aired, with only one wall left absent from the whole of the structure. And even that had some sort of cloth draped over it.

Hmmm … He stepped off of the road and up to the low fence around the building. A sign by the gate was difficult to read in the low light, but a flash of lightning gave him enough to make out the basics. Stonecutting? He frowned at the front of the stop. Why would stonecutters need so many walls?

It certainly wasn’t to keep out the cold. He glanced at the lock on the gate for a moment, then hopped over the low fence and began making his way up the walkway, eyeing the odd building. And why would the opening lead here?

He paused halfway up the walkway and repeated the same signal to Steel. Who, he noted, had now been joined by Dawn. The captain shrugged and then signaled back. Moving to you.

Very well. They hadn’t found anything then. He turned his attention back to the cloth across the front of the structure and walked up to it.

Oiled. The pungent aroma caught at his nose. Why would it be oiled? Oiled cloth had been used in old times as waterproofing, but why did the building need that? Smooth stones had been sewn into the bottom of the cloth, weighing it down. He listened for a moment, ears twisting, but the only sounds he heard were that of Steel and Dawn coming down the street behind him.

With a simple flourish, he drew back one corner of the cloth, exposing a darkened interior that was almost pitch black. Shame I lack one of the new helmets, he thought, taking a few steps inside. Another faint flash lit the sky like a dull beacon, and he had a momentary sight of what looked faintly like a mason’s workshop … though there was something odd about it. There were tools, benches and worked stone … but also large hoses against the back wall.

The scene faded, and he turned as hoofsteps announced the arrival of Steel and Dawn. “Find anything, spec?” Steel asked quietly as he trotted up.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, shaking his head. “There is a shaft forking from the sewer beneath us that leads to this building, but …” He stepped past the opening, darkness sweeping over him. “I can’t say why?”

“One moment,” Steel said. Both he and Dawn stepped in, and then he let the cloth fall shut behind them. Dawn’s horn lit a moment later, a soft, white glow filling the room.

“Oh,” Steel said as the glow illuminated a series of hoses on the back wall. “Those look like Sky Bolt’s pneumatics.”

“How would that help stonecutting?” Dawn asked.

“It wouldn’t,” Steel said. “But I don’t think they’re pneumatics. They’re hydraulics. Water.”

“Oh! Of course!” Sabra said, raising his voice slightly. “High pressure water to cut the stone!”

“That’s a lot of pressure,” Dawn said, twisting her head and casting the light from her horn over several stone carvings.

“But it explains the waterproofing on the cloth cover, as well as the walls,” Sabra said, rearing up and putting his forelegs on a nearby workbench to get a better view of the floor. Sure enough, he could see tiny grooves cut into the crystalline surface, radiating from a single point. “They didn’t want to waste water. As well …” He dropped to the floor and trotted to the side of the room. “There needs to be a place for the water to run to.”

There, one side almost flush against the wall, was a heavy metal grate over an opening twice as large as the one outside had been. And along the crystal floor next to it … Scratches.

Sabra crouched, eyeing the grating as Steel and Dawn flanked him. This is it! But there wasn’t any space for his hooves to grip the grating. Which means that there must be another—There! He rose and pulled his Fimbo from his back. The tip slipped easily into a gap at the edge of the grating, a gap, he noted, that seemed to have been left specially for that purpose. The edge of the grate lifted up … and then an orange glow wrapped it and pulled it back, exposing a short drop down into a long, flat-bottomed shaft.

“Well done, Sabra,” Steel said, clapping him on the shoulder with a hoof. “I think you found our entrance.”

“Thank you, captain,” Sabra said, dropping the grate to the floor. And I didn’t need Sky after all to find it. She’d be proud of that.

Though I would have liked her to see it.

“I’ve got lights, so I’ll take point,” Steel said, dropping down through the opening. Twin beams of white stabbed out from the sides of his helmet, lighting the drain shaft. “This was definitely widened recently,” he said, his voice echoing up out of the opening. “Dawn, you’ve got the map, so you’ll follow me. Sabra? Take the rear and pull that drain cover shut behind us. Let’s not leave them any clues.”

“Understood, captain.” Dawn stepped through the opening, landing on the concrete below with a faint thump. Sabra followed as soon as she had stepped out of the way, landing in total silence. The shaft had indeed been widened, the ceiling lifted enough that Dawn was making her way forward in a low crouch down the slope.

Clever, Sabra thought as he reached up and tugged the metal grate back into place with a faint squeal. Nova would be, if not impressed, then at least grudgingly admiring about it, I’m sure. The grate came to a stop with a sharp clang.

He turned and peered down the shaft. Steel had already reached the street, the light from his helmet shining past the small shaft’s exit point. Dawn herself was still standing at the end, holding the map she’d made in her magic as she pinpointed her position. “East,” she said, her low voice carrying. “We need to go east.” The lights shifted as Steel nodded, and then changed direction.

Well, Sabra thought as he followed Dawn down the drain. We made it.

Now we just need to find our way to the tower.

Author's Note:

Another tough chapter.

New chapters Tuesdays and Fridays, as well as every hundred upvotes! If you're enjoying the story so far, don't forget to check out my website or my published works!

Comments

[Charedfirescale]

First

[Ytak]

Hope they don't run into any ROUS or alligators.

[Pepperbrony]

“This was definitely widened recently,” he said

Some time in the one-and-a-half millenia or so. Time travel: a headache for normal conversation.

[Black--Soul]

After all this Cadance taking over makes sence. Replace all there fear and hate with positiv emotions.
Well written chapter and story details

[Jack of a Few Trades]

Loved the bit with Sabra confronting the hatred that poor colt was harboring. Nice little bit of positive messaging in there