Chapter 1: The Tower
*~*Greenleaf*~*
Greenleaf’s hooves crunched through the icy crust of the snow as he ran, the weight of his sister heavy on his back. His breath, harsh-sounding in his ears, escaped him in plumes of vapor that floated behind him for a split second like tiny clouds before they dissipated into the frostbitten air.
Ahead of him was sanctuary; a tower, standing lonely in the middle of the Ice Plains.
Behind him was destruction - both his sister’s and his, now, since he had thrown in his lot so obviously with hers.
He could hear the guard’s shouts, so very clear behind him; sound carried well over the Plains. So well, in fact, that he thought they were directly behind him.
A fearful glance over his shoulder assured him that they were but specks in the distance. Returning his attention to his destination, he urged himself to a higher speed, fairly flying over the snow. After what seemed to be an eternity, he reached the thick, wooden door. After a moment to catch his breath, he knelt and allowed Faefire to slide gently into the snow beside him.
Turning his attention to the door, he examined it for a second, before twisting around and slamming his rear hooves into the thick wooden surface.
He repeated this action, over and over again. The healer was normally quite weak - Faefire’s hollow bones structure had made it much easier to carry her - but desperation lent him strength he otherwise could not have discovered.
The blows from his hind hooves echoed through the tower as hollow booms, drowning out the shouts from the ever-closer guards.
*~*Frostbite*~*
Frost looked up from sharpening his sword. Well, not exactly his sword, but… She had given it to him with her last breath. His Captain. His Sister. His…
He still remembered the day she had given it to him. They were the last two in the squad. The others had died long ago. Morning Moon had been killed in his first ever battle. She’d trained with him from day one. She’d always had a kind word or a bright smile. She had died surrounded by the very trolls that had killed her, two axes in her hooves and a defiant yell on her tongue. She’d killed a fifth of their number when she had forced her crystal to overload. She had been his first Sister.
He had always regretted never getting to know her better.
Three others had fallen that day, Amber Dawn, Shadow Wing and Grey Storm. They had died together, Grey Storm with his battle-axe lost long ago, embedded in the skull of a troll. Amber Dawn had run out of arrows some time ago and was down to her knives. Shadow Wing’s swords had shattered when Morning Moon had overloaded. They had turned to each other, smiled, nodded, and charged forwards for the last time.
They never found the bodies.
In that battle, Frost had earned his first scar. He’d also lost an eye that day. Sister Ironheart, their leader, had helped him up.and nursed him back to health. Sister. “Brother”, they called him. The Rangers held no rank, no titles, no lands. Joining was also known as dying, and any family you had didn’t matter anymore once you joined. Hence, Rangers referred to each other as “Brother and Sister.” They lost everything they had, but the highest honour was to join.
Frost was drawn out of his reverie by something pounding violently on the door to the tower. Sighing, Frost carefully, reverentially, placed Ironheart’s sword onto the table, went to the door, and threw open the viewport.
“Who are you? What do you want?”
*~*Greenleaf*~*
Greenleaf was surprised by the viewport’s opening - he had thought the tower abandoned - and staggered back a bit. Regaining his footing, he looked up at the impassive eyes - one clearly blind - and swallowed sharply.
“P-please -- Shelter --” He gasped out, one ear flicking back to keep tabs on how close the Guards were.
“Why?” The voice was cold, and Greenleaf cringed a bit before reminding himself why he was here.
“Because they --” He gestured with his hoof to the ever-approaching guards “-- are going to kill us!”
“And I should help barbarians, why?” The scornful tone in which the pony spoke caused Greenleaf’s fur to bristle a bit.
“If you won’t help me -- At least help her!” He indicated his unconscious sister - melted snow forming a puddle around her and steaming off her fur in small wisps.
As the pony behind the door hesitated, he threw a fearful glance behind him and yelped - the guards were but yards away!
“Please! For the King’s Justice and by the Princess’s Mercy, let us in!” He reared up and placed both front hooves on the door, meeting the pony’s eyes with his own pleading stare.
He fell flat on his face when the door flew open a second later. Looking up, he was surprised by exactly how huge the pony behind the door was.
“...The door vas unlocked.” Greenleaf flushed under his fur and scrambled to his hooves.
“Get her inside.” The blue pony ordered, and the unicorn scrambled to obey, slipping his head under her foreleg and half-carrying, half-dragging her inside.
He made his slow way up the stairs, taking refuge in the top of the tower. Once he had placed Faefire in a semi-hidden spot near an old bookshelf, he scrambled to a nearby arrow-slit to watch what was going on outside.
*~*Frostbite*~*
When the unicorn on the other side of the door mentioned the Princess’s Mercy, Frost knew that he had to open the door. He had sworn an oath, and he would be damned before he would break it. Not even Mayhem himself would make him break it. He threw open the door. “...The door vas unlocked.” Frost saw the smaller pony on the other side flush with embarrassment and scramble back to his hooves. “Get her inside.” The unicorn didn’t hesitate to follow Frost’s order. Frost could hear shouting outside, so he went over to the table and looked down at Dwimor-na-fosh. Ironheart’s sword lay there, its enchanted blade still as sharp as the day some ancient dragon had forged it. Despite the fact that there was next to no light, the blade shimmered and seemed to glow. It always did this when there was a battle coming. Judging by that, Frost doubted that whoever these ponies were trying to run from wouldn’t give up easily. Sighing, he picked up the sword and went outside. He doubted he would have to wait long for whatever was coming next.
*~*~*
The trio of Guards skidded to a stop, their Timberwolf-fur lined armor clanking softly. Coldheart – The leader of the trio – snorted angrily, stamping a hoof. A snow flurry had risen up, concealing the view of their quarry, and he had lost track of where they had gone.
"You – check back at the village. You – search the area." He ordered, and his two companions obeyed without hesitation.
Coldheart himself looked at the tower in front of him – and was surprised, a moment later, as a large, dark blue pony pushed open the door and stepped outside.
"You – have you seen two ponies run by here?" He demanded, arrogance clear in his voice and his stance. "One might have been unconscious."
*~*Frostbite*~*
“Perhaps.” The pony’s tone is guarded. “What does it matter to you if I have?”
*~*~*
“They are fugitives of our law, and will be brought to justice.” Coldheart lied smoothly.
*~*Frostbite*~*
“Our law? Your law, more like.” Frost shifts his sword from one shoulder to the other. “So, tell me. Why should I care for the laws of Barbarians?”
*~*~*
Coldheart’s ears laid back - he had always been quick to anger, and he didn’t take kindly to being called a ‘barbarian’.
Still, he would attempt to be diplomatic.
“If you would kindly step aside,” he said slowly, “I would like to perform a quick search of your...Home, there.” He gestured to the tower with his front hoof. “I promise I won’t disturb anything.”
Despite the ‘diplomatic’ approach, his voice was laden with a tone that made it clear he thought this other pony a fool.
*~*Frostbite*~*
Frost appeared to think about the other pony’s… ‘offer’. He shifted once more, limbering up and simultaneously attempting to keep warm. “No.” His voice was hard as iron, and Coldheart could hear the anger hidden within. “I don’t think I will.”
*~*~*
The unicorn snorted angrily, stomping a hoof and causing the snow beneath him to shift.
He turned his attention to the tower for just a moment - and noticed, in the upper corner, the tiniest hint of dark green.
He returned his attention to Frost, dark purple eyes narrowing. “Now, see, that just causes me to think you’re hiding something.” He pointed out reasonably, “and I am quite sure you’re aware that your tower there lies on ‘Barbarian’ lands.” Despite the fact that the situation was clearly degrading, the Captain still made one last effort at diplomacy. “I give you one last warning, old pony - Allow me entry, or I will be authorized to use force.”
*~*Frostbite*~*
Here Frost chuckles. It is not a mirthful laugh, but rather hollow and full of barely hidden grief. “Old I may be, but I am still a Ranger of the Waste, and I will die before I let some damned Yull-blorga into my tower!” His good eye narrow in challenge, and he hefts Ironheart’s sword into a ready stance. “So, barbarian,” Contempt drips from the Ranger’s voice as he stand up. “You want entry? You’re welcome to try. I’d love to see your… force.”
*~*~*
Coldheart smiled. “Whoever said I would be using force on you, old pony?” He asked smoothly, before abruptly charging forward. As Frost braced himself to meet him, Coldheart’s horn began to glow --
And just before the two met, he vanished in a flash of red light.
He materialized in the top of the tower, and - sure enough - there was his quarry. The novice Shaman stood, quivering, but refusing to leave his Sister’s prone body, guarding it with ears back and head lowered with his horn sparking threateningly.
*~*Greenleaf*~*
Greenleaf was afraid.
Never the less, he stood with his fevered sister behind him, using his magic to force his horn to spark.
Nevermind that his magic was only good for healing. Nevermind that his fear was causing his legs to shake, his ears to lie back, and his breath to come quicker. As a Healer, his first duty was to protect and aid the injured - and that included his sister.
“Come along, now, Greenleaf.” Coldheart’s voice was deceptively gentle. “You know our laws, our rituals. She must be sacrificed if our God is to return.”
“Nuh-No!” Greenleaf squeaked, standing his ground. “I won’t -- I won’t let you take her.”
The Captain smiled and took a step forward, startling Greenleaf into taking a step back. This action repeated until Greenleaf was backed against a wall, standing over his sister protectively.
“Last warning, Greenleaf.” Coldheart said smoothly. “I won’t even hurt you if you stand aside now. All we want is her.”
“I - I refuse!”
“As you wish.” Coldheart raised a hoof and cracked the apprentice Shaman across the jaw, causing the smaller pony to stagger drunkenly to the side.
He turned his attention to Greenleaf now, treating him as if he were a full-grown adversary, and he would refuse to stop until the apprentice couldn’t get up again.
He didn’t want him interfering again, after all.
*~*Frostbite*~*
Just then, a spear flew past Coldheart’s head, barely grazing the Unicorn’s ear. “In the name of the King, stop.” Despite the fact that Frost was angry beyond belief, his voice was deceptively soft. Just another thing that Ironheart had taught him. The Ranger drew Ironheart’s sword, relishing in the sound it made as it slid once more from it’s scabbard. “I won’t let you have her, heretic.” His eye narrowed again. “Turn, and face a true warrior.” Coldheart slowly turned to face the Ranger. His eyes, which had been a dark purple before, were now red. The unicorn captain began to laugh mockingly. “You’re annoyingly persistent, old pony. What makes you think you can stop me when I have the power of God on my side?”
“God?” Frost began to laugh again. “There are no gods, only spirits. But if it makes you feel any better, you can believe in your ‘god’. I’ll stick to the spirits and my Eallvarda.”
*~*~*
“Our God will punish you for your insolence!” Coldheart snarled, eyes narrowed. “Your ancestors are no match for Pholl!” His horn began to spark and glow, and he seemed to draw power from his very core.
Suddenly, there was a pop of displaced air, and his two companions from before appeared on either side, in a bright flash of maroon magic.
*~*Frostbite*~*
The older pony stopped laughing immediately. All of his mirth from before, forced as it was, vanished like snow in a heatwave.”Well, now. Three against one?” A grim smile appeared on his muzzle. “That’s nowhere close to a fair fight.” He looks at his spear, still embedded in the wall. “So, I’ll make it easier for you barbarians. I won’t use my spear.” Frost rears up to his full height and brings Dwimor-na-fosh into a guard position. “Now have at ye, curs! The Rangers will never die!”
*~*~*
The pegasus hefted his axe and smiled arrogantly. “You’ve made a grave mistake, old one. Now you die!” He flew towards Frost, using his wings to add power to the blow. There was the unmistakable clash of steel as axe head collided with Drakk-Isen blade. The pegasus continued forwards, unable to stop himself. There was a flash of light, and the pony’s head came flying off. Blood fountained from the clean cut as his heart continued to beat, trying, in vain, to keep him alive. Frost smiled grimly, his coat painted red with the blood of his foe.
“Still think I’m just a harmless old fool?” He taunted, irritating the two remaining ponies to no end. Coldheart didn’t bother to answer, instead choosing to trot over to the wall and pull the spear out of it. It became deceptively calm, neither combatant wanting to make the first move.
A cold wind blew in through a hole in the wall, bringing gusts of snow with it. Frost’s eye flicked towards the wall, and Coldheart made his move, jabbing forwards with the spear the second the Earth Pony dropped his guard. Frost grunted in pain as the spear found a gap in his armor. Blood dripped onto the cold stones of the floor, flowing steadily down the spear from where it was embedded in Frost’s shoulder. There was a short pause as both combatants took in this new development.
Frost moved first this time, kicking out at Coldheart with a hoof. The unicorn backed away, but was forced to pull the spear out or risk losing it. Frost wasted no time in going on the offensive, sending blow after blow at the barbarian. Coldheart quickly learned that trying to block the Ranger’s blows completely was a bad idea, feeling his telekinesis almost disperse fully simply from the first blow. Despite the ferocity of the fight, the battle was fought in silence, neither pony even grunting in exertion. In the heat of battle, neither pony noticed the third barbarian slowly slink away from the scuffle.
Both were evenly matched, with Frost having experience and strength over his opponent, while Coldheart had finesse and cunning in his favor. Spear lashed out, only to be expertly deflected by the hoof and a half sword.
*~*Faefire*~*
As the battle wore on, and both the combatants grew more and more tired, the unconscious mare stirred.
As Coldheart landed a particularly sneaky and shrewd blow, she did more than stir. Heat rising from her hide in visible distortions, Faefire slowly got her hooves under herself and pushed wobbling legs into a standing position.
She took one step, then another. The scent of scorched rock pervaded the room, and little fires played in her hoofsteps before winking out.
Coldheart finally took notice of the mare when he smelled the acrid scent of his own fur burning; leaping aside, he whirled and turned his spear on the slowly - but steadily - approaching mare.
She stopped inches away from the blade, and stood there for just a heartbeat --
Before her coat lit with blazing, burning light, and she threw herself under the spear with a equine shriek of anger. Coldheart couldn’t bring the spear around fast enough; Faefire slammed into him, lighting his fur ablaze.
*~*Frostbite*~*
Even as hardened as he was, Frost still was caught by surprise by the burst of heat that emitted from the mare he had thought unconscious.
He was caught even more off guard when his adversary was lit on fire by said mare.
Frost stepped back as the unicorn screeched, staggering about and flailing about frantically, desperately searching for a way to quench the searing flames.
A way that was nonexistent, unless he fancied a fall from the top of the tower.
Frost shifted Dwimor-na-fosh, making it so that one hoof held onto the crossguard while the other grasped the hilt. He lunged forwards, plunging the blade into Coldheart’s chest.
Everything seemed to stop as the two stared into each other’s eyes, one impassively, the other in shock. Coldheart looked down at the sword, then back up at Frost. His lips moved soundlessly for a few moments before he slumped down, the life having fled from his body at last.
“And thus the King’s Justice has been served.”
*~*~*
An eerie chuckle echoed through the tower; the body of the Unicorn, gone limp, slowly rose as if pulled on puppet strings.
The stench of singed fur and scorched flesh hung about the tower in a bitter miasma as the corpse pulled itself up to all four hooves.
Gripping the blade sheathed in his flesh, the unicorn -- no, the creature - slowly pulled it out, allowing it to clatter to the ground a few feet away.
“Doll Eoheard…” An ancient voice rattled the tower, shaking the very stones. “Dova novas...Alysan…” The voice wove in and out, as if not fully there, “Pholl...Los...neakk...Derocagan...! Pholl...sclud...fithan...Bivllk!!”
The creature opened his eyes, staring at Frost with bright, maroon orbs, and for one moment, radiated a malevolence so pure that even the hardened veteran had to take a step back.
“Eage...besllon…dova…”
The sentence was accompanied with an eerie laugh as the former Captain’s body began to glow.
“Afa neakkgen...ac DIE…obb...RUN...ac...DIE…”
The last sentence the thing inhabiting the corpse said was in clear Equestrian, if a bit distorted.
“It MAkES nO dIFFeRENce TO mE. LeT THE mAYhEM...begin.”
A crystal on a chain worked itself free of the Unicorn’s cloak; it began to spark threateningly, in a way that Frost had seen before…
*~*Frostbite*~*
Frost’s good eye widened, and without truly thinking, her rushed over to his two guests and tackled them to the floor, covering their bodies with his own. He ignored the sounds of protest from both, deciding that it would be more prudent to explain to them the reasoning for this after the fact… if any of them were still alive after, of course. “STAY DOWN!”
Without any action of Frost’s part, the crystal so intricately linked to his life began to resonate. Or it would have, had it been his. For once, Frost was actually grateful for his inability to let Ironheart go, if only for the fact that her stone was no longer able to detonate. For all intents and purposes, it was inert. Soon, the sparks died, unable to carry out the task set before them. There simply wasn’t a soul for them to draw power from, as the soul that had been linked solely to that stone had long ago faded, and gone to the halls of its Ancestors.
*~*Faefire*~*
Whatever Spirit was watching them that day, Faefire promised to burn incense, to sacrifice a lamb, to kill all the enemies that it deemed necessary - She didn't care.
Because when Coldheart's crystal detonated, they were thrown clear by the blast - from the top of the tower - and could easily have broken their necks…
But instead, they landed in a deep, deep snowdrift - deep enough to cover two ponies Frost’s size completely, from hoof to ear. It cushioned their fall considerably, slowing their momentum enough to leave naught but bruises - and perhaps a chipped hoof or two.
The tower behind them emitted an unholy groan, and the ground rumbled as it swayed from left to right --
Then collapsed completely, the hardy stones giving into structural flaws and falling in upon itself.
Under her, she heard muffled protests from Greenleaf. The healer had the unfortunate position of being under the pony-pile, and their combined weight was likely making it hard for him to breathe.
*~*Frostbite*~*
Frost popped his head out of the snow drift and looked at the remains of his home - his home - in barely contained fury and despair. Not just his home, but the place he had grown up. The place where he had finally had a family of his own. Brothers and Sisters who accepted him for who he was, who did not hate him for his flaws, but rather helped him fight through the tough times. And now it was gone. All of it, turned to so much dust. Despair quickly turned to rage. This spirit, this 'Pholl', would pay for what it had done. He swore it by his fallen Brothers and Sisters.