She was just behind the front ranks, stone-tipped spear in her hands. Her eyes flinched from the torchlight, burning like red Suns, dancing in the weak, chill wind. Suspense and fear were thick in the air.
And then they were pierced, along with one of the torchbearers, an invisible arrow burying itself in his throat. He gave no cry, an expression of shock frozen on his face as a grey pall crept over him, seeming to turn him to stone. It reached his hand, and his torch snuffed out.
"Dark elves!" the captain cried, pointing into the darkness from whence the arrow had come. "Dark elves!"
And then the dark elves were upon them, daggers and darts of amethyst cutting through her clan like molotks through vines. Torches guttered out, spears snapped, and her companions died, but all silently, the dark elves murdering sound as well as her kin.
Then one was before her, and before she could move, its dagger pierced her heart.
And Sugar Belle awoke with a gasp from a nightmare that wasn't her's.
The cold hardness of stone was under her, while a low ceiling leered out of the darkness over her. The air was cool, and heavy; whoever or whatever had attacked her must have moved her afterwards, dragging her... somewhere.
She scrambled to sit upright, but paused as doing so brought a clanking to her ears. Looking down, her eyes widened as they saw her new garb, a coat of bronze rings that went down to her knees over a kilt of copper links. Her old outfit, and accompanying equipment, were nowhere to be seen, though that wasn't saying much; there wasn't enough light for even a hint of a gleam on her newly-acquired armor.
Shaking her head to clear it, she carefully swung her legs over the edge of whatever she was lying on, wincing as her bare feet touched the cold stone floor. Shakily, she stood up, then looked around to see if she could find anything useful through the darkness.
The thing she'd been lying on appeared to be a stone table in the center of a small room, jars and urns lining three of the walls and a pitch-black gateway yawning in the one opposite her. Even through the gloom, the similarities in style between her new surroundings and the place she'd been attacked were clear to her; jars, stone, shadows, death.
"I'm still in the barrow," she murmured. "Just a bit deeper." That was good; she knew something of where she was, so she should be able to find her way back to where she wanted to go. Despite every nerve in her body telling her that where she wanted to go was most definitely not out the dark door before her, she forced herself over the threshold, into the abyss beyond.
As her eyes began to adjust to the gloom, she saw that she was in a corridor now, a bleak hallway without decoration. Thankfully, it also seemed devoid of debris and inhabitants, so she was able to move faster than a crawl, though her pace was still slower than she'd like; the barrow had seemed like a safe place to rest, after all.
She groped her way down the hall until her hand, tracing the right wall, traced a curve. Swallowing her fear, she followed the curve, and soon found herself in another small room, almost an exact copy of the one she'd awoken in; faintly-visible urns and jars along the walls, and an occupied stone table in the center.
"Lime Twist?" Sugar Belle whispered as she cautiously approached. "Caramel? Is that you?"
No reply was given. Taking a deep breath, she stepped closer and began to shake them awake-
-before quickly recoiling and biting back a scream as her hand touched bone.
"It's just a skeleton, Sugar Belle," she frantically whispered to herself, trying to calm her racing heart. "It's just a skeleton. This is a grave, you'd expect to find skeletons here. It's just a skeleton, it's not going to jump up and-" She covered her mouth before she could finish, turning back to the corpse in the room with dread. In the media, anyone who said "It's not going to hurt you" was always promptly hurt by the thing in question, teaching the viewer not to question authority.
Several moments passed. The corpse didn't move. Sugar Belle hissed angrily at herself. "Look at yourself, Sugar Belle. Jumping at superstitions and the elite's subliminal, media-dispersed messages. Before you know it, you'll turn into Caramel." She winced at the reminder of her companions, of her failure as a watcher, but set her jaw before she could drown in regret; if she'd failed to keep them safe, then she would just have to find them and bring them back to safety.
She turned around, face determined, and prepared to go find her companions, but paused as she turned; something had caught her eye, something in the skeleton's clasped hands. Turning back to it, she walked over and looked carefully at what it held, a finely-worked bronze sword, with a blade shaped like a leaf. Biting her lip, she gingerly untangled the weapon from the skeleton's bony grasp and carefully lifted it up, brushing off a few cobwebs as she did so. It was heavy, a fair bit heavier than her staff, and she didn't know how to use it, but some protection was better than none.
"I'll bring it back when I'm done," she murmured to the corpse. "I promise." Eyes widening, she shook her head, and muttered to herself, "And now you're talking to a skeleton. Come on, Sugar Belle, let's get out of here before you get any more superstitious."
And yet, as she left the room and headed down the corridor again, out of the corner of her eye, she could've sworn she saw the skeleton smile at her.
Two more rooms, two more skeletons, and no sign of her companions. She bit her lip as she returned to the corridor; were they anywhere near her at all? Had her attacker simply kidnapped her, leaving the others alone-or for later?
"Let the stars dance hundred thousand times..."
Her heart thudded into her stomach; were her friends the skeletons she'd seen? How long had she been asleep? If she did manage to return to the surface, would she even recognize it?
"When in trouble," Double Diamond reassured her mind. "don't focus on how much trouble you're in but on how you can get out."
He was right, she thought with a calming inhale, speculating about what had happened would do her no good. She needed to focus on fixing what she knew was wrong and figuring out just how much she needed to fix as she went along. Setting her face in determination, she marched deeper into the catacombs, clawing her way to the next turn.
This one opened up to a larger room, one that seemed almost as big as the Meeting Hall back in Our Town. The walls went back too far to tell exactly how large it was, though, or what lined them, if anything. On the edge of her vision, just barely visible if she squinted, she saw yet another stone table, larger this time, big enough to hold the three people on top of it.
She prepared to race over, to see if she'd found her companions at last, but paused; she heard a faint whisper in the distance. Eyes widening as it drew nearer and clearer, she desperately searched for cover to hide from the singer, distant but approaching quickly. But the room was almost barren, at least the area in her field of vision; her only hopes of cover were the table, a good distance away, and the darkness, something she was unsure would fulfill its hope. She shivered at the memory of the burning red eyes of the singer, searing into her soul through the darkness.
The singer's voice was almost understandable now; she had no more time to think. Desperately, she threw herself against the wall and held her breath, willing herself to go unnoticed.
A moment later, the singer stepped into the room, and Sugar Belle closed her eyes, trusting the childhood knowledge that if you can't see the monsters, they can't see you. Miraculously, that superstition appeared to be true, the singer apparently passing Sugar Belle by without note, walking with graceful, quiet steps up to the table in the center of the room. A hush fell when she arrived, all sound seeming to die as she stopped moving. After a few moments of silence, Sugar Belle carefully cracked open her eyes, seeing the faint outline of the singer standing at the head of the table, gently brushing her hand through one of the occupant's hair.
Through Caramel's thick, stiff hair.
The thunder of Sugar Belle's heart must have been loud enough for the singer to hear, at least until she overpowered its thunder and stilled its beat with a keening song:
Slumber worn watchers, burglars in these halls,
Slumber in silence though Sun and Moon fall...
A crippling weariness crushed Sugar Belle, threatening to drag her into sleep along with her comrades. It would be so easy, the song whispered, simply listen to it and she would need to worry no more.
Slumber till stars a hundred thousand
Circles and orbits and images dance...
"Listen to me," the song tempted. "You already did once, what's a second time? Who's to know? Caramel and the others are already listening to me, why not join them?"
Slumber though kingdoms fall and arise,
Slumber though friends and family die...
"You failed as a baker," the song whispered. "you failed as a warden, you failed as a guard; why not succeed in this? Why be a failure at everything in life?"
Slumber through wars, politics, and schemes,
Slumber through searches and sorcery,
Slumber till stars and sky and earth end,
Till family mine is whole once agai-
She was cut off by a shout of "I have to try!" and a slash of Sugar Belle's borrowed sword, ripping a crimson crevasse in the singer's hand and causing her to emit a piercing shriek.
While her opponent reeled, Sugar Belle tried to shake and call her comrades awake, to succeed in her self-appointed task, to no avail; whatever spell held them asleep refused to loose its grip.
The singer hissed as she turned back to her, eyes glowing with rage. Sugar Belle matched that rage, and loosed a battlecry as she charged, swinging her sword.
The singer dodged her first stroke, but was caught on the cheek by her swift second, and knocked to the ground by Sugar Belle butting the pommel into her stomach. Sugar Belle leered down at her and raised her sword for the finishing blow, driving its point down with her full-
The singer spoke a word, and Sugar Belle was thrown back, crashing into the stone table with a cry of pain. She hissed as she rubbed the stars out of her eyes, then clambered back to her feet, and raised her-
Her sword wasn't supposed to be grey at the tip.
It wasn't supposed to crumble to dust, either.
Soon, she was left only holding the hilt, and then that, too, melted away before her eyes. She turned them, widened, at her foe, shambling to her feet and muttering angrily under her breath.
Weaponless and faced with a doubtless-armed opponent, Sugar Belle did the only thing she could think of; throw Lime Twist and her companion over her shoulders (Caramel would be too heavy for her) and try to carry them away.
But both of them together turned out to be too much for her, and she was forced to make an impossible choice; which of her comrades would she save? Which one was more equal to her?
The singer hissed as she fought to her feet. Gently laying Lime Twist on the floor, Sugar apologized for failing her and Caramel, then picked up her companion and fled.
The barrow was a blur after that. The singer's faint hisses pursued her as she carried her comrade up countless flights of stairs, chance thankfully sparing her from any wrong turns in her escape route. Armed with nothing more than an iron will not to fail in this, too, Sugar Belle crawled up out of the earth which had swallowed her, the singer's dreadful voice hot on her heels all the while.
At last, she reached the top floor, the door which had lured her in faintly outlined in light, blinding after so long in the dark. She charged it, ramming it with her unoccupied shoulder-
-just as the singer's hand lashed around her ankle.
Her skin was a pale, sickly blue in the light, but there was an unnatural strength underneath it, one that began dragging Sugar Belle back into the abyss she'd escaped. Frenziedly, Sugar Belle kicked at the hand, trying to dislodge it, but it refused to let go, dragging her slowly but surely back into the darkness. Searing ruby eyes gleamed within the barrow, staring at Sugar Belle with an intense hunger, while a triumphant hiss slithered out of its gullet.
"Slumber, worn watcher," she crowed as she pulled Sugar Belle bark into the yawning darkness. "trapped in these halls, never to leave till Sun and Moon fall, till stars have danced hundred thousand times; you're trapped here, worn watcher-"
Her face leered out of the darkness, eyes burning like bloody Suns illuminating teeth like a shark's, stunning Sugar Belle with fear. That face leaned in to Sugar Belle's frozen one, and hissed, "-and here's where you-"
Once again, she was cut off with a screech, this time being driven back by a cast stone. Shaken out of her spell, Sugar Belle whipped around to see Lime Twist's companion standing, albeit shakily, and reaching down to grab another weapon. As she found it, though, the hand around Sugar Belle's ankle let go, and its bearer slithered back into the darkness with a hiss.
Quickly, her companion raced over and pulled Sugar Belle free of the barrow before slamming the door shut with a decisive thud. She leaned against it, panting, while Sugar Belle sluggishly dragged herself to her feet. They rested for a moment in the weak morning light, before her companion pushed herself off the door and said, "Come on. We should get back to the others, before she comes back."
"Caramel was right," Sugar Belle murmured. "We shouldn't have gone in there. If we had, maybe he and Lime would still be here."
"Maybe," her companion sighed. "maybe not. It doesn't matter. What does is that we're alive and we've got the intruder trapped, thanks to you."
"We might've all gotten out alive if I'd done better," Sugar Belle protested. "If I was strong enough to carry you and Lime, if I hadn't fallen asleep on watch-"
"The others aren't dead yet," her companion reassured her. "And even if they do die, their deaths aren't your fault. They're nobody's but the intruder's. You might have been able to do more, but you wouldn't have had to do anything at all if it hadn't been for her. The only thing that's your doing is saving my life, and that's an achievement, not a fault."
"To achieve is to fail," Sugar Belle replied. "Doing more than others is as bad as doing less."
"Whatever," her companion dismissively waved her hand. "It's a good thing is what I'm saying, not a bad one. A hierarchist would have fled as soon as they saw you were in danger; you stayed behind and tried to help your fellow Equals, even though it put you in danger. You did the right thing, Sugar Belle, the equal thing, even if you weren't strong enough to save all of us. Heh," she smirked. "You not being able to save all of us actually makes what you did more equal; carrying one person is what you would expect an Unmarked to be able to do, so if you carried more than one of us out, you would've done more than others, and like you just said, that's unequal."
Sugar Belle bit her lip, trying to think up a counterargument, before bowing her head in defeat. "I just wish I could've saved them, too," she murmured.
"You did everything you could," her companion gently reassured her. "That's all you can be asked to do. If they die, I'll miss them, too, but I won't blame you for them. Their deaths are the intruder's fault, not your's. The only thing that I'll admit was your doing was saving my life, and I'll admit that every day of my life. I won't forget this, Sugar Belle, I promise."
Sugar Belle sadly nodded, then began leading the way hopefully back to camp. She paused, though, as her companion snorted in laughter. Turning around to look at her, Sugar Belle found her chuckling as she held her armor up to the light, bronze dappling in the Sun.
"Looks like Dad was right," Night Glider laughed. "I was born to bronze."
"And just like Starlight said," Sugar Belle teased, trying to preempt the melancholy the thought of her family usually inspired in her companion. "so am I, just like every other Equal."
Night Glider laughed at that, but Sugar Belle's smile was empty; her thoughts went back to the other Equals they'd seen in bronze, coats of amber dragging them down into the pit the singer had made for them.
Coats of frozen fire, killing them as surely as the living fire had killed their comrades on the bus...
"I know that voice."
"We need to head back," Sugar Belle panted, eyes wide with fear. "We need to warn Starlight."
Night Glider frowned. "You think the singer was a scout for Captain Armor?"
"No," Sugar Belle shook her head. "I think that, unless we stop them, they'll do Captain Armor's job for him."
Before her companion could reply, Sugar Belle darted back along what she thought was the way they'd found the barrow by, racing back towards the heart of Hollow Shades.
Back towards what would, if they weren't able to stop the singer in time, become a vast source of new tenants for the crypts.
Out of the swiftly-receding barrow, or maybe the frenzied fear of her heart, a song pierced Sugar Belle's brain, all pretense of warmth vanished from the words. She forced herself to run faster, tapping into reserves that she didn't even know she had, desperately trying to outpace its mocking words:
Hurry, worn watcher, your time's running out,
The clock is a-ticking, the sand's running down;
Hurry, worn watcher, you're soon out of time;
Hurry, worn watcher, or soon they'll all die.
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Glad to hear you liked it! Writing her, Party Favor, and Double Diamond especially, people who've drunk Starlight's Kool-Aid deeply, has been really interesting. It's been kind of nice not having to worry about stuff like logic or consistency when describing their thought process. Sugar Belle's not that far wrong about the "anti-revolutionary activities," though; it's just not the government performing them, but their allies in the area, the Nocturnes. They're not just eyes in the dark.
Keyword there being "almost."
Exactly! You've got it!
Maybe it's too busy vomiting at all her misleading interpretations of events.
"Everybody mentions how badly the messenger messes up the message," Caramel grumbled. "Nobody mentions what it actually was. The message. What it was. Nobody ever mentions what the message actually is."
If you hear someone say "It's just a superstition/story" in a world with magic, chances are good it's not just a superstition/story. (Caramel would probably grumble that it's what people say right before that superstition/story kills them.)
BULL. FYAYING. SHIT.
I have to be amused by the chapter title. There's a Magic card very in keeping with the themes of the story... called Twilight's Call. Something you'd like to tell us, Ms. Sparkle?
"Hey, this is Shining's operation."
Fair enough.
But Sugar Belle, I thought "better" and "worse" were hierarchical concepts that had no place in an Equalist viewpoint.
I know, I know, I should be concerned for her—especially if she's wearing chain mail with nothing underneath to keep it from pinching her skin—but just like there are no atheists in a foxhole, it seems there's no Equalists in a barrow of the unquiet dead. Not without effort, anyway.
The fact that she thought she heard a smile only made her pick up the pace.
Ah. It's not the dead Sugar needs to worry about. Though she should really hurry up to warn the others and spend less time working her way through the logic knots of Starlight's philosophy. Now the question is whether Starlight will listen to these warnings... and whether dark elves know how to work around deepstone. Assuming she doesn't just abandon the lost (with a heavy heart and deep regrets, of course.)
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Has anything Starlight's said borne even a remote resemblance to the truth?
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*sees variable effect with a constant cost*
Either this is terrible, or it's completely and utterly broken.
Drinking game: take a shot whenever one of the Unmarked says something that "has no place" in an Equalist viewpoint.
The author thought that saying that she saw the skeleton smile when she'd turned to leave the room (i.e., away from the skeleton) wouldn't make sense. Maybe "she thought she saw, out of the corner of her eye..."
Foes surround the Unmarked, and begin to close in. How long can ~150 would-be revolutionaries hold out?
(Caramel would probably mutter something about how fitting their current location is, if he was still around. Where better to die than a graveyard, after all?)
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No thanks, I like my liver where it is.
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Also, I know this is 5000 years late, but I kind of take issue with the whole "there are no atheists in a foxhole" joke. I'm not personally an atheist, far from it (Catholic), but I don't think that the strength of their convictions is simply dependent on their situation. I can certainly imagine an atheist deciding that they want to believe in God when under pressure, but I can also imagine one simply gritting their teeth and trying without changing their beliefs. It's just a bit of a strangely personal thing for me, I guess.
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No offense intended; I was just trying to riff off of the aphorism.