Shattered Pentacle

by Starscribe

Chapter 18

“I can't believe we're actually doing this.”

Lyra wasn't sure how many times she'd said it. Enough times that even her familiar grew sick of listening to her, and rolled his eyes when she spoke. Considering Capper was captive in the hollow of a large tree, that was saying something. The cat sheltered there, keeping his head far back enough that he wouldn't be washed away by the downpour of rain. It helped—she knew from their shared sensations that the cat felt dry while she was totally soaked. Lucky him.

“I can. This behavior is so common from the Awakened that there's a specific word for it—Hubris. It's so easy to be on your mission, bringing light to the world, and being willing to rationalize any stupid decisions that cross your mind. Yes, we need to create this fetish from this dangerous spirit, surely none of its allies will come to save it! Yes we should venture into this ancient ruin, be damned the dangers. Yes, we should—”

“I get it,” Lyra said, exasperated. “I don't want to be here. We should be hiding in that safehouse Bonnie made, not... getting drenched.”

Their clearing high on Harmony Point had only a smattering of tiny trees, little saplings that wouldn't challenge them for the lightning they'd come to harvest. Lucky for Akiko's mission—unlucky for anyone who wanted to stay remotely dry.

It helped that most of her attention was on the many creatures living on the mountain, her mind wandering with them over fields and through rivers and sheltering in little caves. In the time since her Awakening, Lyra could now restrict her vision to only specific groups or types of creatures—in this case, anything bigger than a dog.

Their view was her view, their eyes were her eyes. At her request, they watched the mountain from every height, every side, and every angle. Nothing could approach without her hearing of it.

“I agree with your leader,” Capper said, so gently it was almost a whisper. But if it had been, she never would've heard him over the pouring rain, and the distant roll of thunder. “In this case, the danger is warranted. The risk is acceptable, given the stakes.”

Lyra's mouth hung open. In her silence, Akiko's distant voice cut across the clearing, speaking her demands of the sky. Without intense focus, the High Speech she used blended into the background, fading in and out like waves. But she didn't need to understand every word exactly to get a general impression.

Akiko was calling the storm, growing increasingly insistent with every word. When the thunder and lightning crashed down on Canterlot, most of its fury would avoid the city entirely, and instead come up here. And when it does, the Seers will know exactly where to find us.

“The Emperor's Diadem is more valuable than any individual life. The damage it might inflict, should it be taken by the usurpers and their thralls, is entirely unacceptable. You do a noble work tonight, Lyra. Better than merely attempting it, you should complete it, then survive it.”

She nodded weakly, the only coherent response she could manage. Some of that came from her split concentration, listening to the impressions of so many animals. Most was shock, total disbelief at the behavior of a creature she thought she knew. “It's okay if I don't? I thought you liked me.”

“I do.” The cat remained perched in his shelter, poised like the pet of some ancient pharaoh. And given the way he spoke, maybe he was. “But I like the universe more. Is your shield intact? Let's see that we keep both.”

She nodded absently. Of all the days to reinforce it enough to last until sunset, this was it. But she felt like being sharp with him regardless. She jostled the scales of overlapping armor on her chest, grinning slyly in his direction. “Do I even need to worry about that anymore? I've got this.”

He eyed the armor, expression unreadable. “A surprisingly useful gift from their kind. I have never known the fae to be generous. They can't help it—their nature is to insulate, conceal, and gather. They are another of the endless facets of the shattered ladder, and the gulf that now separates us from the Supernal.”

Then came the flash—thunder roared, briefly deafening her. Light came from behind, brighter than stadium spotlights. They were so bright that her life shield activated, insulating her eyes and ears from the damage.

She spun in place, expecting a crater of charred stone and baked mud where it had struck—but found nothing. Only Akiko in the center of a ritual circle, cradling the artifact in her fingers. Light now arced from it, like a piece of glowing jewelry under blacklight.

She wasn't the only one looking. Tabitha emerged from the shelter of a camouflage tent canopy, resting a heavy iron rod up on one shoulder. How she was strong enough to lift it, Lyra couldn’t tell—but she didn't seem bothered by it. Starlight slipped out of the trees, somehow dry despite the pouring rain and billowing wind.

“We good?” she asked, shouting over the rain.

Akiko didn't answer, instead repeating whatever words of power she'd been using to charge the artifact. More of the same pattern that Lyra heard from everyone, except her familiar. Some simple phrase about storing power, and being real Atlanteans, over and over again.

“I believe she anticipated far more strikes would be required!” Tabitha yelled back. “We should return our focus where it is most useful!”

Lightning flashed again, accompanied with another boom of thunder. This one felt loud enough to throw Lyra away from the clearing, rattling the air and splattering mud. She dug in her boots, and kept her footing. Barely.

When the light faded, Reagan had joined the group, moving slowly through the rain. She had a pair of sunglasses over her face, smeared with water and fogged against the chill. But even so, Lyra found herself wishing she had brought something similar. Maybe wearing those she wouldn't be getting blinded over and over.

“Akiko said she needed at least a dozen impacts!” Reagan didn't have to yell like the others did—her voice came mentally, echoing through Lyra's mind. Even so, there was something distinctly unnatural about the thoughts when Reagan sent them. Nothing like when she communicated with her familiar, which was almost an extension of herself.

Reagan's words were an obvious spell, one she could fight if she wanted to. She didn't.

“We should get to safety while she works! We'll go deaf if we stay here!”

Lyra didn't need telling twice. She returned to her tree, scooped her familiar out under her jacket, then moved far enough through the trees that they grew tall again, offering a wall of timber against the repeated barrage of noise.

The first few flashes might be coincidence, but by the tenth, their enemies were sure to notice something was wrong. No random patch of mountainside could attract so many impacts. With each one, a feeling of magical attention grew more intense, until even Lyra felt it clearly.

“That's the Seers watching us,” she whispered, not out loud. “They're doing the thing Reagan does—scrying.”

“Probably,” he agreed. “But not you. What you feel is something else—the Emperor's Diadem watches. The lightning you call rages with celestial fire, each strike captured within its pattern. It must be utterly bewildered—the world around it is fallen, the mage wielding it mumbles like a child. Yet as its vision becomes clearer, it will see there are no others. No city waits, no empress reaches to claim it. The hollow, fading world around it is all there is.”

“Akiko thinks it's a key,” Lyra muttered. “It opens some ruins somewhere, powering them. Is she wrong?”

“No. It will open almost anywhere. Yet this is not always an advisable choice—when the door opens, they will expect the Emperor’s return. Many of those who linger will not be pleased by the substitute.”

He kept going then, a long and meandering explanation of various reactions they could expect when impersonating the Emperor. But Lyra heard almost none of it—her attention was fixed elsewhere.

Not far below, at the edge of her supernatural perception, many creatures moved on the mountainside. They scampered over one another, they galloped and leapt away from danger.

As she commanded, the wisest and most discerning of the beasts ran towards her position, so she could ask about what it had seen. No matter how much her power had grown, her mastery of Mind remained nonexistent. She couldn't share its thoughts.

“Something is coming!” a deer told her, stopping beside her in the trees. She touched it's neck, massaging the anxiety and fear away as best she could. “Large, and many. Rolling this way. Metal.”

“Flee this place now,” Lyra instructed. “There will soon be battle here. Your lives should not be lost in this war.”

She knew better than to ask for more details. It was still just a doe—not a person. Despite what spending time with Capper might make her believe...

She broke into a run, reaching the clearing in a few seconds, and waving for her friends. Akiko saw, but kept her attention focused on her work. Tabitha gestured for her to join her under the tent canopy, sheltered from the worst of the water and flashes of light.

Not perfectly protected, of course. The floor was more mud than grass by now, and water whipped in at Lyra's ankles. A few other boxes of supplies were scattered in here—first aid kits, food, and camping gear they could use if it came to it.

“They're coming,” she said, urgent. “Animals feel them driving up the road. A few trucks. Don't know the exact number—deer aren't good with numbers.”

Tabitha nodded grimly. “It seems the moment has arrived. Let's see if Akiko is nearing completion of her ritual.”

As it turned out, she wasn't. The other girls gathered around the circle, just outside where they would be subjected to the terrible blasts of lightning. Lyra still kept her head mostly down, where she wouldn't get repeatedly blinded.

“She's trying to end the ritual,” Reagan explained. “But she can't. She's panicked—there are ways to accept a partly-finished spell instead of nothing at all. But she can't—the artifact is forcing her. She's terrified of what happens if she stops. It could kill her.”

Lyra's whole body tensed, expecting another dramatic blast of lightning. But none came—only Akiko's mumbled words of power, now audibly exhausted. Even without mastery of Mind, she felt a little of Akiko's fear there too. She wanted to stop, desperately—but she couldn't.

“So we teleport back to the Sanctum,” Starlight suggested. “Rip her away from the storm, and whoever's coming. How much more time do we have, Heartstrings?”

She shook her head weakly. “Hard to tell. I feel the cars now, but something's wrong. There's three trucks, and the animals see them full of people. But I barely feel anything alive in there.”

“If we teleport Akiko away, she'll get the full force of whatever that artifact can do. The ancient Atlantean key that's powerful enough to sustain a whole temple. The one that absorbed enough lightning to power a small city.” She flicked something out of her pocket—a piece of broken glass, wrapped in metal wire and covered in glyphs. Her magical tool. “We're stuck here, girls. Or we abandon Akiko to whoever's coming.”

“We should be able to see them from the ridge,” Lyra said. She gestured, and the group made their way over. Sure enough, that position gave them a clear view down at the switchback road leading up the mountain. Somehow, the road itself remained clear of mud and obstructions, letting the line of three APCs navigate together.

They weren't that far down—five hundred feet at most. Given the steep slope, the drive up would be several times as long, looping back and forth up the old access road.

“Delightful,” Tabitha said. “Guess it's a fight then. Starlight, how close do they have to be to give them a little car trouble?”

Starlight grinned. “It would be a shame for all three of them to get so unlucky. Almost like lightning striking the same place twice.” She gestured sharply through the air, almost as though swatting away an insect. Her smug smile quickly turned to horror, and she went tumbling backward, landing with a muddy splatter in the dirt.

Lyra was the first to her side, helping her into a sitting position. Smoke rose from around her body, hair now standing on end. “Maybe those odds are... worse than I thought. Those aren’t hunters.”

“Seers of the Throne,” Starlight said. “They’re here.”

Comments

[Diamondized]

Yep. Just as everyone thought.

[FanOfMostEverything]

Yeah, when the road is coincidentally clear during the storm of the century, that’s when you should be concerned about opposing willworkers. Hopefully Akiko can get this wrapped up quickly; sticking around almosy certainly won’t end well.